Baca PDF (OCR): The Political System of the Atoni of Timor

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM OF THE A TONI OF TIMOR

VERHANDELINGEN

VAN HET KONINKLIJK INSTITUUT

VOOR TAAL-, LAND- EN VOLKENKUNDE

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM OF THE ATONI OF TIMOR

H. G. SCHULTE NORDHOLT

THE HAGUE - MARTINUS NI]HOFF - 1971

An earlier version of this hook has been published in Dutch as a doctoral thesis submitted to the Free University, Amsterdam.

The original title was:

HET POLITIEKE SYSTEEM VAN DE ATONI VAN TIMOR

(Offsetdruk Van Manen & Co - Driebergen. 1966)

The English translation was made possible by agrant from Z.W.O. (Netherlands Organization for the Advancement of Pure Research), and was prepared by Miss M. ]. L. van Yperen.

IoS.B.N. 90.247.5137.3

1. Grave of a Sonba'i near Kupang in 1821; from: Reinwardt, 1858, p. 342.

Tal/fes ces misères-là même prol/vent sa grandeur. Ce sant misères de grand seigneur. Pascal, Pensées.

2. A meo in full array for a headhunting raid.

3. Father and daughter.

4. Mother anel chiJeI.

PREFACE

I owe the preset1J!: hook to the encouragement and guidance of my friends, fOor which I am most indebted to them. This applies in the first place to Dr. P. Middelkoop, who worked in Timor for more than thirty years as a missionary and bible translator. My gratitude for all the help he has given cao hardly he expressed in words, and I cao do no more than simply say that this hook is to a large extent also his hook - the writing of it could not have been accomplished without his valued assistance. He has given up many an evening to the answering of my countless questions with his inexhaustible knowledge of the language and culture of the Atoni.

lamalso deeply grateful to Professor L. Onvlee, who acted as my supervisor during the preparation of the Duil:ch version of this book for submission as a doctoral thesis (Het Politieke Systeem van de Atoni van Timor, Driebergen, 1966, 278 pp.). But for the many stimulating conversations I was able to enjoy with him I would never have acquired the approach to our subject which lies at the basis of this hook, namely that the essential point is the study of man in his culture, and that even in the analysis of ooe particular aspect of a cuLture we are dealing with ,the culture as a whole and with man as the bearer of that culture. His critical appraisal of virtually every sentenee of the finished manuscript of my thesis constituted a positive contribution to the shaping of my ideas.

I wouLd also like to express my sincere thanks to my colleague Prof. G. W. Locher for his Socratic guidance. This hook owes much of its present form to his maieutike technè. His research in Timor in 1941 to me was a lesson in the critical collection of data, and it was he who enjoined me in 1964 to work out my own material, which also served as basis for the first part of Cunningham's dissertation. He kindly undertook to read the manuscript of the hook, and the nine hour's uninterrupted conversation I enjoyed with him subsequently will remain engraved on my memory forever.

My sineere thanks are alsa due to my colleagues, Professors J. W. Schoorl and P. E. de Josselin de Jong, the farmer for reading the manuscript and the latter for perusing the finished dissertaJtion.

I am further indebted to Drs. P. L. Geschiere for helping me with the analysis of the literature, Miss C. H. Meijers for correcting the printing proofs, and Miss M. J. L. van Yperen for taking the responsibility for the English translation. I would express my thanks to ,the Netherlands Organization for the Advancement of Pure Research (Z.W.O.) for grat1J1:ing a subsidy enabling an English translation to be made, and to the Royal Institute of Linguistics and AnJthropology for accepting it for publication. Many thanks are alsa due to Mr. E. Wieland and Mr. J. Verhaar fOr'drawing the maps, and the Arcruvio Fotografico of Ithe Societas Verbi Divini in Rome for its pe1"ffiission to incorporate the splendid photographs taken by 'its missionaries in Timor' in trus publication.

In spite of all the help I have received fmm sa many people 1 cannot help agreeing with the staItement made to Codrington by a missionary in the Fiji lslands, namely that when a European has been living among a fOf'eign people for two or three years "he is sure to be fully convinced that he knows all about them; when he has been ten years or so amongst them, if he be an observant man, he finds that he knows very little about them, and so begins to learn. My own time of learning has been all too short" (R. H. Codrington, The M elanesians, Oxford 1891, Preface VI, VII). The missionary in question had been living in Fiji fOf' twenty-four years, from 1863 to 1887; I myse1f, though I have spent mme than three years among the Atoni, cannot claim to have spent even as many as ten there. But the fact that I have even sa aûtempted 1:0 give an analysis of the political system of the Atoni of Timor is due largely to the confidence inspired by my Timorese friends and informants, induding the Roman Catholic missionaries.

NOTE ON TIMORESE SPELLING

In accordance with the general practice I have called the language of the Atoni 'Timorese'. This is oot strictly speaking correct, as there are many languages spoken in Timor.

I have adopted Middelkoop's sySltem of spelling and also the practice of omitting accents which he has followed for the past few years; this is based on the following rules of pronunciation:

a. All sterns in Timorese consist of two syllahles with the stress falling on the first syllabie. If the second syllable ends in a or e, the e of the first syllable is always short (open), and oonsequently this does not need to be indicated by a grave accent; so it suffices to write: pena, meto. The reverse also holds true, e.g. ane, ote.

b. On the other hand, if the second syllable ends in i or u, then the e of the first syllable is always long (c1osed), and does not need to be indicated by an acute accent, e.g. peni, menu.

The oe in Timorese is a diphthong. (Middelkoop, 1963, 53). It should be pronounced as English oio

A further peculiarity of Timorese is the frequent occurrence of metatheses, e.g. usif (= lord), becomes uis, as in Dis Neno (= the Lord of Heaven).

The f occurs at the end of some nouns only where these are indicative of a certain c1ass.

CONTENTS

page INTRODUCTION 1. The area of research 1 2. The circumstances prompting the research. 1 3. Methods of research 5 4. Definition of some of the concepts used 9 PART ONE. THE A TONI AND HlS WORLD 19 CHAPTER 1. THE PEOPLE AND THEIR ENVIRONMENT 19 1. The Atoni 19 2. Geographical position . 19 3. The prople 21 4. The language 25 5. The physical environment 27 a. The soil . 27 b. Climate 29 c. Flora and fauna 33 CHAPTER Il. THE ECONOMIC LIFE • 40 1. Crafts and techniques 40 2. Anima! husbandry . 46 3. Trade 50 4. U seful trees . 51 5. Agriculture and its related ritual . 52 a. Choosing a plot 53 b. Requesting permission 55 c. Sharpening the rnatchet . 57 d. Felling the trees 58 e. Burning off . 62 f. Sifo nato - "extinguishing the bamboo" . 63 g. Eka hoë - "filling in the ditch" 69 h. Drought and failure of the erop . 70 1. Paying the tobe 76 j. Guarding the young plants . 78 k. The first corn . 80 x THE POLITICAL SYSTEM OF THE ATONI

page 1. The rice harvest (honu ane); ripping aff the rice . 83 m. The com harvest - seke pena . 86 n. Retuming to the village 88 Conclusion 89 CHAPTER lIl. THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 92 1. Re1ationship within the kanaf . 93 a. Residential pattern 93 b. Blood-relations. 99 2. Affines 105 CHAPTER IV. THE RELIGION . 141 1. God and man . 142 a. The hidden world 142 b. The spi rits . 146 c. The Ie' u concept . 147 2. Man 147 3. Man's relationship to the hidden world 151 PART TWO. THE POLITICAL SYSTEM. 157 INTRODUCTION 157 CHAPTER v. THE POLITICAL COMMUNITIES OF TIMOR IN THE PRECOLONlAL PERIOD . 159 CHAPTER VI. THE POLITICAL SYSTEM OF INSANA . 186 l. The village 186 2. The harvest gifts . 190 3. The death af the prince . 195 4. The structure of the princedom 200 a. The centre 200 b. The periphery of the centre 207 c. The guardians of the realm 209 d. The four usif 212 e. The great fathers . 220 CHAPTER VII. BELU, BEBOKI AND FIALARAN • 232 l. South Belu 232 2. Beboki. 239 3. Fialaran 255

CONTENTS XI

page CHAPTER VIII. THE IMMEDlATE SPHERE OF INFLUENCE OF SONBA'I 262 1. Sonba'i 262 2. Molo . 274 3. Fatule'u 277 4. Miomafo 279 a. The nucleus 279 b. The areas annexed to Miomafo . 287 Tunbaba . 287 Noimuti . 290 Manamas . 291 Bikomi 291 CHAPTER IX. THE PRINCEDOMS BEYOND THE IMMEDlATE SPHERE OF INFLUENCE OF SONBA'I . 307 1. Amanuban 307 2. Amanatun 310 3. Amfoan 314 4. Ambenu 316 5. Amarasi 319 ~A~. ~ 7. Kupang 321 CHAPTER X. THE FUNCTIONING OF THE POLITICAL COMMUNITY IN 326 TIMOR . 1. Warfare . . 326 The causes of war 327 The ri,tual preceding battle 333 The meo . 338 The headhunting raid 345 The ritual following the headhunting raid 348 The condusion of peace 353 2. Administration . 357 3. Administration of justice 361 CHAPTER XI. THE SYSTEM OF THE POLITICAL COMMUNITY IN TIMOR. 368 SUMMARY 368 1. Historica! background . 2. The structure of the political communities 371 a. The ruler 371 374 b. The usif . 376 c. The great fathers . d. Superordination and suoordination . 380 384 e. The unity of the political community .

page

CHAPTER XII. THE POLITICAL SYSTEM OF THE ATONI AS VIEWED BY MODERN SCIENCE AND AS CLASSIFIED BY TIMORESE THINKING • 392 1. The structural principles 392 2. Typology of the system . 397 3. The political system as approached in Timorese thinking 406 a. The symbolism of numbers . 408 b. Feminine - masculine (feto - mone) 411 c. Inside - outside; closed - open; silence - speech; Immobile - active . 412 d. West/north - eastjsouth left - right yell ow jblack? - redjwhite? 415 e. Earth - heaven; night - day . 419 f. Sun - moon; gold - silver . 421 g. Reversal of the usual order 422 h. Remaining categories 423 CHAPTER XIII. TOTALITY, UNITY AND ADAPTABILITY OF THE SYSTEM 428 A. Totality 428 1. The house 428 2. Agriculture 432 3. The kinship system 433 4. The political system 437 B. Unity and adaptability 440 1. Functional unity . 441 2. Unity of the structural principles 442 3. Classificatory unity 443 4. The structural model . 44.5 S. Adaptability of the system .447 6. Synthesis of the old and the new in Noimuti . 449 7. Conflict and disruption in Amanuban . 456 CHAPTER XIV. THE PLACE OF THE CULTURE OF THE ATONI IN THE INDONESIAN CULTURE PROVINCE . 460 480 LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE BIBLIOGRAPHY . BIBLIOGRAPHY . 482 LIST OF TIMORESE WORDS 501 INDEX OF NAMES SOS SUBJECT INDEX . 508

CONTENTS

page 43 Diagrams 1 A Timorese loom 2 Affinal relations 108 111 " 3 Affinal relations 121 " 4 U xorilocali ty 126 " 5 Genealogy of the House of Pa'i . 129 " 6 Kinship alliances . 229-231 " 7,8,9 The political structure of Insana 10 The sacred centre of Beboki . 246 247 " 11 The structure of Beboki 12 The genealogy of the rulers of Fialaran . 256 13 The structure of Fatule'u 278 14 The nucleus of Miomafo . 286 15 The structure of Amanatun . 314 16 The structure of Ambenu 317 17 A toni -stratification 380 391 " 18 The realm of Liurai-Sonba'i 19 The groundplan of a Timorese house 430 451 " 20 The structure of N oimuti .

MAPS

page 1. The languages of Timor . . . . . 18 2. West Timor ... 24 3. The Princedoms of Indonesian Timor 154 4. The Princedoms Miomafo, Insana and Beboki 156 5. A map of the princedoms in 1883 af ter 160 6. A map of the princedoms in 1898 af ter 160 235 7. The realms of South-Belu 8. lndonesian Timor. . . . At the back of the book

PHOTOGRAPHS

1. Grave of Sonba'i in 1821 Af ter titZepage 2. A meo . .... JJ " 3 Father and daughter JJ " 4. Mother and child . JJ "

af ter page S. Girl from Sooth-Belu 32 6. A family in Amanal1:un 32 7. Man from Central Belu . 32 8. A valley near the North coast of Miomafo . 32 32 9. Moontain grasslands near Mt. Mutis 10. Man from South-Belu wearing headdress . 48 48 11. Preparing the cotton . 48 12. Woman spinning 13. Woman weaving 48 14. A Belunese on horseback 48 48 15. The pig as domestical animal 64 16. Tapping the juice of a Zontar palm 17. Woman washing sago-floor . 64 18. A wooden fence . 80 80 19. Building a fence of corallite . 80 20. Women pounding padi 21. A ZikuraÀ, dance . 112 22. An Atoni hamIet 112 128 23. Life in an Atoni hamIet .

CONTENTS XV

af ter page 24. Abridal couple from Insana 128 25. A man taking his wife home 144 26. 27. Two types of sacrificial posts 144 28. Laurentius Taolin, raja of Insana 160 29. The late raja of Amanuban . 320 30. A woman offering a betel to a meo 320 31. An old woman in the entrance of her house 336 32. A lopo . 336 33. Section of a lopo 336

INTRODUCTION

1. THE AREA OF RESEARCH

The present hook deals with the political system of the Atoci of lndonesian Timor. Timor is the largest of the group of Lesser Sunda lslands. The western part of the island is lndonesian, while the eastern part plus a tinyenclave on the north-west coast are Portuguese territory (see map no. 1). The Atoni inhabit most of the western part of Timor. The name by which they sometimes designate themselves, viz. Atoni Pah Meto (= People of the Dry Land), possibly implies that in their mode of life they are centred emirely on the interior and have no dealings at all with the ooast or the sea.

The name Timorese is generally used with reference to all the peoples inhabiting the island of Timor, while in the colonial anny the term 'a regiment of Timorese' covered representatives of the populations of the surrounding islands as well. But as the lndonesian part of Timor is inhabited by different ethnic groups speaking widely different languages it is preferabIe to call these different groups by the names by which they designail:e themselves. According to a population survey held in 1966 the population of lndonesian Timor came to approximately 800,000, of whom more than 600,000 were Atoni.1 They live in the princedoms Kupang (except the Helon districts) Amarasi, Fatule'u, Amfoan, Ambenu, Molo, Miomafo, Amanuban, Amanatun, lnsana and Beboki (see map no. 3).

The actual field-work for this book was carried out in North Centra! Timor, approximately 200 km. to the east of Kupang, the capita! of Timor, with as main base the district capitalof Kefamnanu (see map no. 4).

2. THE CIRCUMSTANCES PROMPTING THE RESEARCH

From November 1939 until May 1942, and from September 1945 till July 1947 I was a government administrator in North Centra! Timor, an area comprising the princedoms of Miomafo, lnsana and Beboki (see map no. 4). Upon my first arrival there I was given a sealed metal box containing a nwnber of secret docwnents intimating that there had been a witch-killing, supposedly perpetraJted by the Raja of Inswa.

A four months' inveSitigation demonstrated the truth of these allegations. It appeared that when one of the ruler's children had fallen ill a medicine-man had pointed out a woman who was thought to have brought on the child's illness through witchcraft. Thereupon the mIer, Dominicus Taolin, threatenedthat if his child died he would have the witch put to death. The child died several days later, and subsequently an old woman and her daughter and granddaughter (a child of only a few years) were beaten to death.

The raja was sentenced i\:o six years' exile.2 As his succession posed a problem a commilttee of regents consisting of three chiefs was provisionally appointed. Following the war, in 1946, it was my task to investigaJte who was the rightfu1 successor. The results of this investigation are recorded in a report which was incorporated in the final memorandum written on the termination of my duties as govemment administrator in 1947.3

In December 1941 the problem of the succession presented itself in Beboki. The aged raja who had been appointed in 1915, when the N etherlands East Indies Govemment first established its rule in Timor, wanted to confer his office upon his son before the chaos of war spread to Timor. The son was accepted by the chiefs, but in March 1942, af ter the Japanese had invaded Timor from two sides (near Kupang and near Dili in Portuguese Timor, on 20th February, 1942), though before their occupation of Central Timor, an uprising broke out against the young ruler. The reason for this was that a seotion of the population desired the appointment of a member of the old ruling lineage.4 The government administrator of the area chanced to be a small distance away from the border of Beboki the following day, when a horseman de1ivered a note to him with only the words: "M oh on Tuan datang lekas, kalau tidak saja akan mati" (I beg you to come quickly; if you don't, I shall die) written on it. He did as requested, accompanied by the only

INTRODUCTION 3

six Indonesian policemen whO' had rernained IO'yal. When he reached the trouble spot there were groups of annecl Atoni scattered all over the hillsides, whilst the young ruler and his father and a few dozen loyal followers were anxiously awaiting further developments.

A quarter of an hour af ter the arrival of rthe party which had ha:sten:ed to the ruler's aid, the enemy began .10 advance on him in hundrecls along one of the valleys. Most of them were annecl with old, silver-mounted rifles, some of rthem muzzle loaders, but all O'f them at least a hundred years old. I) They had bought gunpowder from a Chinese who had salvaged it from Australian aircraft forced by lack of fuel to land on the northern coastal plain. One of their great warriors (meo naek), attired in fuIl battle array,6 advanced ahead of them, dancing a war dance. He danced on even af ter he had been hit by a bullet until finally he dropped to the ground dead. Suddenly all of them fled back into the hills. For the le'u musu or enmity le'u (le'u = sacred), which they had compounded with due observanee of the ancient ritual 7 had tumed out to be inefficacious. High on the hillsides the enerny waited to see what would happen next. Af ter an hour's negO'tation they surrendered.

In the abtemoon a trial was held in the village of the enemy. The insurgents were sentenced to a fine of two human lives, to he paid to the raja 8 - two Atoni having been killed in the bart:tle - and ordered to surrender their arms for the raja to keep in ternporary custody Furthennore, all of the chiefs were ordered to appear at the raja's pa:1ace the following day in order to swear a new oath of allegiance to hirn. Not one O'f them was absent.

This insurrection prompted me, af ter World War II, to make a study of the political structure of Beboki and of its methods O'f warfare.

In Miomafo, too, problems conceming the succession arO'se. The ru:ler, Vis Kono, had died in 1920 leaving two sous who were both minors. The rulership was first tempo1rarily taken over by someone who held no official function in the princedom at all but who had contrived to ingratiate himself with the local Dutch military commander. Af ter he was deposed V s Senak of Bikomi succeeded him as ternporary raja. 9 Meanwhile the two sons of Vis Kono had reached their majority. But Ithey were both rejected as their faJt:her's successor, as the elder had seduced or raped a few of the wives of his amaf naek 10 (= great father ) and the younger was a simpleton.

Af ter the burden of the war years, however, Us Senak was anxious to fiud a definitive solution for the problem of the succession. A1most half a year was devoted to an investigation of the politica! structures of Miomafo.

Thus my work led me to direct most of my attention to the politica! structures of North Central Timor for one and a half years.

In September of 1945 I took over for a shol"t interval the administration of South Central Timor, where Tua Sonba'i took much trouble to set forth his rights at great length. He coveted the title of raja of Oenam instead of raja of Molo, Oenam being the former centre of the ancient kingdorn of Sonba'i.ll In Belu, too, I took over the administration for five months, from the end of 1945 till the beginning of 1946. I had to hear almost a hundred murder cases dart:ing back to the period of J apanese occupation and the administrative vacuum of the weeks immediately following it, and although these hearings brought me into contaot with numbers of chiefs in their capacity as members of the different tribunals, as well as with their subjects, I was deprived of the opportunity of undertaking any sort of systematic investigaJtion this way.

Thus I had the opportunity to visit almost all of the princedorns in Timor - all except Amfoon and Arnanatun. BUIt: I was able to carry out research only in the three princedoms of North Central Timor.

A govemment administraJtor is generally speaking not in a favourable position for conducting research. Before the war the di stance between Dutch officials and the Timorese people was considerably great. The arrival of the J apanese was experienced in Timor as a kind of liberation ; this was partly the result of Japanese propaganda to the effect that taxes, both in money and in labour, would he abolished. Af ter the war the arrival of the allies was undergone even more strongly as a liberation - the yoke of the J apanese occupation had heen weighing down heavily on the Timorese for more than three years. In 1944, for example, the Japanese requisitioned a hundred per

INTRODUCTION 5

cent of the com and rice harvests, leaving the native population only tuberoos roots and foreSit products to eat.

When af ter the war the people saw the same administrator they had known before these difficult years reltum to their district, the relationship hetween them tumed into one of trust and confidence.

The nature of the Sltudy was such, moroover, that everyone - at any rate every chief, inc1uding every village chief - showed a greaJt deal of intereSIt. It concemed, af ter all, the appointment of the rightful successor of their ruler. One disadvantage is thait under such circumstances every group will try, quite naturally 80, to bring its own interests into the foreground. This is in fact whart: happened, and is bound to happen in every study of politieaa systems. After all, for the informants a study of matters political constitutes to some extent an opportunity for political campaigning.

3. METHODS OF RESEARCH

In order to obtain a reliable result in spite of the above disadvantages the following method was applied. FirSit the struOture of each district, as part of a princedom, was studied separately, as weU as its relationship to the whoIe; this was done in the presence of every chief of that district. Following this meeltings, which continued for days at a time, were held in the centre of the princedom, or in the case of Miomafo, at the pal ace of Us Senak, the acting raja of this princedom, in Bikomi.

Here the fact that I was carrying ouJt research in my capacity as govemment adminiSitrator had marked advantages, for my official authority could he brooght 1:0 bear in summoning certain people whose presence would be important but whose evidence 1:he raja would otherwise al most certainly have suppressed. At smaller district meeltings, which were not atJtended by the raja, people were able to speak more openly and bring their own intereSlts to the fore. In many more personal conversations with experts on the tradition the significance of certain words and relationships was often discuss.ed in more detail.

The advantage of the larger assemblies was that not a word could be uttered without its heing critica1ly assessed by rival groups. Every word and every turn of phrase of a part:icular myth (a myth always being the basis for the definition of the politica1 position of a group) would be carefully checked and weighed. Myths are always recited in a set, archaic, metrical form, and every deviation from this would result in a number of interruptions. This was especially 80 in Miomafo.12

In Insana a knowledge of Ithe agricultural ritual appeared to he af the utmost impo11tance for an analysis of the politica1 structure.13 I had been introouced to this ritual by a lucky coincidence. For in 1946 a study had to he made of land tenure rights in Subun, a district of Insana, in connection with an agricultural mechanization project in the Sekon plain. In this connection I recorded the ritual associated with traditional farming methods in order to descrihe the agricultural cycle in its light:.H It turned out that this ritual terminart:ed in the offering of harvest gifts to the ruler. This ritual is inviolable and not a word of it can he altered. It follows then, that the data obtained from it are complctely reliable. The archaic language in which it is couched, which even the Atoni himself does not always understand, poses some problems. I myself was not able to speak Timorese, but af ter the war I understood enough af it to he able to gct the gist af au ordinary conversation and to some extent keep a check on the interpreters. Most of the chiefs, however, spoke Indonesian reasonably weil, so that a large proportion of the research for this study was carried out in that language. But the myths and religious texts were always recited in Timorese and afu:erwards, aften the following morning, noted down in Timorese with the assistance of Timorese officials, teachers and experts on the tradition. An Indonesian translation was always made on the spot.

Thus the investigation into the succession in three priocedoms and into land tenure rights in part af Insana unwittingly developed into a study of the politica1 system and of agriculture in relation to the mythology and the ritual. The interrelatiooship between rites, myths and the political system could not but become obvious in rthe course of the study, as did the typical form of dualism which is to be observed within the centre of the princedom. This centre itself is in turn the synthesis of the masculine east and south and the feminine west and north of the political community as a whoIe. Cunningham writes with regard to these findings 15: "Schulte Nordholt, with Leiden University training in social anthropology as part of his administrative course, was prepared to meet symbolic dual divisions in Indonesia". I should point out, however, thart: I did not receive my university training in Leiden, but in Utrecht, where I was one of the first generation of Fischer's students. My first acquaintance with Leiden was made on reading Van Wouden's thesis af ter I had gone ,to Timor. At the time

INTRODUCTION 7

I did not understand the fuIl implications of his brilliant theory and the manner in which he had designed a model of the socia! structures in Timor, based on only scanty and rather unreliable data evoked my aversion because, as I saw it, it did not conform to the actual situClJtion in the Atoni area. However, the fact that ClJll accurate and factual description of a political community by a government administrator who lacks Leiden training nonetheless eaUs the "Leiden School" to mind is confirmation of the importance of the work done by that School. The reliability of the results of my work is confirmed by that of Cunningham 16 who, during his stay in Timor (from 1959 t1J11til 1961), passed several weeks in North Central Timor after reading my memornndum, in order to check the data which I had collected and to carry out supplementary research. Our data correspond almost exactly and the differenees in our interpretation are minor ones, except on a few points.

The question is, of course, to what extent sueh data are verifiable. Every social anthropological study brings to light structures of which the informalllts have up to that point been more or less uneonscious. This is especially so in the ease of politica! structures. As a result of my investigations the Atoni of Insana, Beboki and Miomafo have learnt to see their own political system more eonsciously. The point in question was, after all, the suceession of their orwn ruler. If af ter this some other researcher is to ask the same questions, the same persons, if possible, will most likely he asked :10 act as informants again. For why should the ruler then eleoted allow a different result to bel obtained a nexJt time? Cunningham was at a disadvantage in that he was more dependent on the ruler of Insana, whose guest he was, than I was as a govemment administrator. In my view it is to this that the difference in oor interpretation is to he atltributed. Moreover, there were doobtless more people alive in 1940 and 1946 who had consciously lived through the 1915 situation. Nonetheless Cunningham's study may on the whole he regarded as confirmation of and supplementary to my own work, which was focused on the legitimate suecession. In other words, the latter was concentrated on the situation whieh prevailed in . former times, prior to any form of intervention by the N etherlands East Indies government, that is, hefore colonial rule was introduced in 1915. The nature of the study was such, however, that the situart:ion that prevailed in 1946 also hClJd to be taken into consideration. For this reason the study has been focused partIy also on the changes which have taken place. These also form part, though in an incidental marmer, of the discussion in this hook. I have limited myself primarily to the old in order that the result might be a complete, integrart:ed whoie.

Although a knowledge of the kinship system, among other things, was a prerequisite in this case, unfortunately I did not get as far as investigating it thoroughly. For this purpose I had in mind genealogically charting a large village in Tunbaba, but as time ran short my research on the kinship system did not have the definitive results I had hoped for. It is not like1y that an opportunity of carrying out such a research project will present itself again, as it is possible only to record the present situation and not the system prevailing in 1915. Except, perhaps, in a few areas which until now have obstinate1y refused to admit any kind of change, as in the large village of Nimasi in Bikomi where sending one's children to school has been officially declared tahoo (nuni). Or as in Ambenu, in Portuguese Oekusi, the iIlJterior of which had not undergone any changes even as late as 1947.17

The chapter on the kinship system has therefore become primarily a critical analysis of the existing literature,18 based on my own data and on information from missionaries and Middelkoop.

The field-work has been supplemented by an analysis of the literature and of official records. One of the primary reasons for this is th3lt I wished ,to devote the second part of this hook to the changes that have taken place. The processes of cultural change, acculturation or social change are chiefly historical processes.

In the case of Timor these may be traced back in history to the time when the earliest sources concerning Chinese and European traders on the coast were written. The next phase is the settlement of these traders in Timor. Then smal I points of contact led to same mutual influencing. The beginning of the third phase in Indonesian Timor coincides with the beginning of the 19th century, when a Malayspeaking community of Eurasian Indonesians settled in Kupang, whose chief aim it was to change the Timorese culture. (In the beginning this was exc1usively the missian's concern). The fourth phase commences in 1905 when the Netherlands East Indies government began effectively to govern Timor, thereby destroying the autochthonous political communities of the Timorese. This is the chief cause of the undermining of the traditional system of life. These processes have probably generally been accelerated by the Japanese occupart:ion and Indonesian independence. The Atoni is in the process of becoming a member of the Indo17 Felgas, 1956, p. 376, also mentions only one boys' school for the whole of

INTRODUCTION 9

nesian natioo instead of merely a member of his traditional community. I hope that I shall later have an opportunity to describe this development from tribe to nation in more detail.

The results, for the present book, of the analysis of the literature and of official records are the historical outline of the political communities and the description of the political communities outside N orth Central Timor. In the analysis of the practical functioning of these political communities, too, my own research was supplemented with data found in the literature.

Finally, a comparison of my own material with the many texts which Middelkoop has published together with a Itranslatioo has enabled me, much to my own surprise, to make a few remarks in the final part on the Atoni's system of abstract classification and the symbOolie order which are SÜ' significant for his system of life.

Although in Java th ere are many traces left Ü'f the same symbolic order, this is not (or no longer) reflected in the social or poHtical order. In Sumatra th ere are similar societies, but up till now little has been wrirtJten concerning the interrelationship between the social, political and symbolie orders.19 There is a brilliant description of the religious and cosmological systems of the Ngadju Dayak but they have not been brought in relationship to theexisting social and political systems. Although in Bali this interrelationship between the symbolic order and the political system is also evident, it is denied by same. The inseparability of the social and eoonomic life with the cosmie order in Sumba has been indicated but nat further developed by Onvlee.20 The system of life of the Atoni in Timor demonstrates irrefutably the strong interconnection between rite, myth and social and political organizatiÜ'n and the symbolie Oorder.

4. DEFINITION OF SOME OF THE CONCEPTS USED

By system of life I mean the order which the Atoni himself sees in his life and his world, and which he himself puts il1l1:o words, thereby becoming partly responsible for its creatioo. He creates a pattern in his life, but does so only partially aware of this.21 'System' therefore does not denote a complete, integrated whoIe. The system of symbols is not a cIosed, static one; its structural principles tend in different directions, and within the structures tensions exist which are inherent in these structures themselves, so that these function oppositionally in part.

Now that a few key concepts have been mentioned, some sort of explanation of their meaning before we proceed with our study IS necessary.

'Function' is used primarily in the sense of 'operation', 'being in motion', 'effect', Ilamely the effect of a certain structure, and the significance of an element of the structure. Furthermore, it is the contribution made by a part to the whoIe; function is the relationship of iruterdependence, though this idea should not be confused with the typically functionalistic, holistic view that function, by analogy with its use in biology, is a reciprocal relationship necessary for the survival of the organism, or in terms of sociology, of the integrated community.22 Function may furthermore be used in the sense of eufunction as opposed to dysfunotion; but in this sense it does not do fuIl justice to the ten si ons inherent in the structure which are necessary to achieve unity and synthesis, aIthough they mayalso lead to scission, nor does it aIlow enough room for changes.

'Structure' is a difficuIt and controversial concept. It is an especiaIly difficuIt term to use unambiguously. For this reasou I shall only make a few terutative remarks which may give an approximate idea of the sense in which I have used this concept. If 'function' means 'process' then 'structure' is 'mould', 'matrix'. Bastide {X>ints out, rightly SQ, that the word 'struoture' is a derivation of the Latin word structura, which in turn is a derivation of struere (to construct). It denotes in the first pI ace "la manière dont un édifice est bati".23 Similarly we speak of the structure of an organism, a work of art or a human community. So 'struoture' denotes something permanent. René König defines structure as "das innere Gefüge einer Gesellschaft oder Gruppe".24 "But however we define it, the essential idea is that parts or components are arranged in an orderly way to constitute what may be comprehended as same kind of systematic unity", writes Beattie.25 This definition gets

INTRODUCTION 11

round the ehoice between the view aecording to which "structure means no more than an empirically observed regularity in processes" 26 and Lévi-Strauss' view that "Ie principe fondamental est que la notion de structure sociale ne se rapport pas à la réalité empirique, mais aux modèles construits d' apprès celle ei" 27 (the fundamental principle is that the concept of structure does not correspond to empirie reality, but Ito the models constructed af ter it).

In the context of this study 1 have used the word 'structure' in the first place in the sense in which Marion Levy Jr. defines it, viz.: "structure is a patJtem, i.e. an observabIe uniformity of action or operation".28 He clearly opted for this broad definition so as t0' make it cover bath very fixed and very flexible pattems. For the sake of clarity I would add that religious faith, thinking and language obviously also fall under the category of human action, and in these aotivities, too, we find certain observabIe, more or less fixed structures - there is always some sort of observabIe uniformity.

A deeper insight into the nature 0'f structure is afforded us by Jean Piaget 29 when he says that "En première approximation, une structure est un sysfème de transformations, qui comporte des lois en tant que système (par opposition aux propriétés des éléments) et qui se conserve ou s' enrichit par Ie jeu même de ses tromsforma.èions, soos que cel/es-ei aboutissent en dehors de ses frontières ou fasse appel à des éléments extérieurs. En un mot, une structure comprend ainsi les trois caractères de tota/ité, de transformations et d'autoréglage." (At first approximation, a structure is a system of transformations which presupposes cer<tain laws ina:smuch as it is a sySil:em (as opposed to the properties of the elements) and which maintains and enriches itself by the very interplay itself of its transformations, without the latter's exceeding its boundaries or appealing to external elements. So, in a word, a structure embraces the three characteriSil:ics of tOitality, transformation and self-regulation).

A second approximation, which follows from the first, is that a structure should allow room for a eertain measure of formalization.

Here it should he pointed out, however, thart: this formalization is the work of the theoretician, whereas the struoture itself is strictly independent of him.

The first characteristic of a structure mentioned by Piaget, then, is its tOll:ality. The opinions are unanimous conceming this. Although unquestionably a structure is composed of a number of elements, the laHer are subordinated to the laws characteristic of the system as such. Furthermore, these laws of composition cannot he reduced to cumulative associations, but they lend the whole as such a certain unity of characteristics which is distinguishable from that of the elements.

So he can see in addition to the models of atomistic associations and those of looming totalities a third approach, namely that of a dynamic structuralism. This assumes a rart:ional attitude from the beginning, according to which that which is of impoMance is neither the element nor a totality which forces itself upon the observer as such - without his being able to define how - but rather the interrelart:ions of the elements, or in orther words, the functioning or the process of composition, the tortality heing but the result of these interrelations or this process of composition, the laws of which are thase of the system.

This brings us face to face with rthe central problem of all structuralistic thought, namely the questian whether these composite tatalities have always existed, and if SO, how and why, or whether they were at one time in a state of development and always are and will be? In between the idea of development without structure - which presupposes atomistic composition and with which the empiricists have made us familiar - on the one hand, and the danger of landing ourselves in the field of the transcendenrtal essence of things on the other, structuralism has a calling rto either choose or find the solutions by which this dualism can he overcome.

It is because of the second characteristic of a structure, namely that it is a system of transformations, tha1: there exists a possibility of avercoming the dilemma. The characteristic nature of structural totalities lies in their laws of composition. These 'tend by their very nature to systematize reality. As aresuIt there is a constant dualism, or more correctly, bipolarity of charaoteristics in that struotural totalities are always both in a state of developmenrt and in some sart of a develaped state.

The rthird characteristic of structure which Piaget mentions is "l'autoréglage" or self-adjustment. As a result of the fact that structures are self-adjusting they are able to maintain themselves and are to some extent closed. This means that the ,transformations do not

INTRODUCTION 13

exceed the limits of a structure but are constantly characteristic only of that structure and maintain its laws.

These characteristics of self-preservation together with the stability of the boundaries in spite of the development of any random new elements therefore presuppose a certain degree of self-regulation of the structures. Without a doubt this essential characteristic strengthens the significance of the concept of structure as well as the hope which it raises in the different fields of the social sciences, for whenever anyone succeeds in cutting down a certain field of study to a self-regulating structure one has the impression that one is taking possession of the inner motor of the system. This process of self-adjustment realizes itself, for the rest, in accordance with the different opemtions or processes, which makes acceptable the idea of an order of growing complexity which consequently brings us back to the question of composition and, finally, deve1opment. Hence "rhythmes, régulations et opémtions" are the three essential procedures of "autoréglage".

WeshallIeave Piaget here. But first I would stress the great importance of the transforrnations and observe, following the same line of thought as Piaget, that when once one has recognized these characteristics as the essence of structures, differences such as that between Marion Levy Jr. and Lévi-Strauss are only differences in level of abstraction. I personally prefer to speak of structural principles in the case of Lévi-Strauss.

Strangely enough we find what is in essence rthe same theory - though used in a different way - put forward by a psychiatrist such as Rümke, who considers man's continuous state of development, or his dynamic growth towards different levels of integration, the most import:a.nt chara.cteristic of man. He says that "If we give attention to certain creative forces which determine the shape and composition of our psych ic life, we are here, .100, being dynamic and structural in accordance with a psycho-dynamic way of thought".30

As the Dutch original of the present hook dates back to 1966, needless to say 1 was not acquainted with Piaget's ideas at the time of original con1position. I have referred to him at such length in the present English version, however, because the whole of my hook shows an extremely close affinity to his theory on the point of the concept of structure. Here totality and change are constantly recurring themes. These I tried to explain by speaking of different, mutually contradictory structures in one and the same system, so that even though there is a directedness towards integration, conflict is of equally great importance, as a result of which there is constant dynamism and perpetual change. In addition, I have used the concept structural principle, which c10sely corresponds to the concept autoréglage. A structure has the tendency to re-adjust itself constanJtly. For instance, when a Sonba'i, a member of the exiled house of sacral rulers of Atoni Timor, settled in Fatule'u in West Timor, a new politica1 communirty developed around him in accordooce with the traditional structural principles. 31

Although structures exist in rea1ity, irt is the sociologist who gives shape to them. In the present hook the word 'structure' is of ten also used in the sense of the shape which is the Atoni's own creation, or the order as he sees it. For as soon as we speak of a certain regularity, a certain pattern, rule or norm is implied. The Atoni orders his life in a certain way, he gives it a certain shape, and so c1assifies the world around him. Whenever it is his way of arranging his world with which we are dealing I shall speak of his classificatory system.

When describing the re1ationship OOtween a man and his mother's brother, I am dea1ing not only with "a set of social relations" but also with the implicit rule or norm in accordance w~th which this man and his mother's brother have to behave in respeot of one another. This is regarded by them as an order which they must observe. The same applies to the complicated structure of dtual kingship.

When René König speaks of "das innere Gefüge einer Gesellschaft oder Gruppe" he gives the word structure a different accent. This seems to me to suggest that there are universa! frameworks within which human life is set. Although we can sense this, it is something we cannot comprehend, as here we are approaching the plane of transcendental ideas.

As I see it, structure as au empiric rea1ity in the sense in which Marion Levy uses it, and Piaget elaborates it theoretica1ly, implies a shape determined by the scientist's influence - possibly in the form of a structural model - as weU as by the members of rthe culture themselves, and points to certain universa! frameworks. These are different levels of abstraction and different approaches which are not in any way mutually exclusive.

Man systematizes reality by exploring it. This is a continuous, dynamic activity. Culture can, for instance, be regarded as the tillage (colere ) of the soil. The field constitutes the background in which man lives, and thus is thetangible reality of his existence, of which

INTRODUCTlON 15 the 'construetion' may be different each time. This is how the con32 Radcliffe-Brown, 1950, p. 83; d. pp. 138 and 392 ff. below.

he himself is part but which derives its shape from his creativity. This process of giving shape to reality implies at the same time the introduction of certain norms. Struetures and norms are two sides of one medal. Piaget touches on this when he says that a totality makes certain laws prerequisite. And the self-regulaJtion of social or religious structures is not independent of man's desiring and striving to attain the order as he sees it, which he considers to be normative and hence constantly wants to re-mould. The fact that these norms are continuously changing is a logical outcome of what I consider to be the most important characteristic of a structure, namely <tra:nsformation.

Now, there are a large number of structures within one particular aspect of a culture,and they combine to form a system. A number of kinship structures combine to form a kinship system, in the same way that a political system consists of a number of political structures. These systems are never static, but undergo a constant process of change because of the differences in the structural principles exerting their influence. Raddiffe-Brown says with reference to these structural principles: "J ust as an architeat in designing a building has to make a choice of structural principles which he will use, 50, though in a less deliberate fashion, in the construction of a kinship system there are certain limited numbers of structural principles which eau be used and combined in various ways. 1t is on this selection, method of use, and combinaJtion of these principles that the character of the structure depends. A structural analysis of a kinship system must therefore be in terms of structural principles and their applicaJtion".32 This representation is not entirely satisfactory, as man does not select his structural principles deliberwtely, even though he may develop <them more or less consciously. He knows them and certainly recognizes them when once made aware of them. But he is not fully aware of the way in which they operate or of the way in which he himself constantly rebuilds his 'house' with the use of these principles. So the image of "a building which he designs" is too rigid. We may be coming doser to reality by distinguishing the large number of structures which are, in fact, based on a limited number of structural principles by means of which these struetures are realized and combine to form a system. Weshall see that these principles are partly conflicting, thus giving rise to a constant, dynamic tension within the system. So man builds his house anew every generation, a:nd on the basis of the same structural principles tinuous process of change even wÎlthin the traditional system, in which the old structural principles have always remained fully in force, is to be understood.

Hence we can distinguish between functions, structures and structural principles in the systems of a culture, including a system of agriculture and cattle-raising, a kinship system, a political system and a religious system. Used in this particular co11ltext "system" is never to be understood in the sen se of a closed, perfectIy integrated whoIe, but rwther as a composite of structures realized through different structural principles and therefore not harmonious in their functioning, and never in a state of equilibrium. The Atoni tries to order this diversity, which constitutes the totality of his life, in a symbolic system of polar oppositions, which again do not form a c10sed order, and so the dualism which results is not a complete dualism. He also seeks to arrive at a synthesis, élJnd partly realizes this in the figure of the ritual ruler.

In order rto accentuate this state of openness and mobility we have sought to achieve as much historical perspective as possible, besides giving a cross-section of the Atoni culture round about 1915. Hence the synchronic approach includes a diachronie one. Weshall constantly refer back to the past in order to shed lighit on the present. This approach is a result of the view that a culrtural anthropologist "has to modify his picture of society in such a manner that ÎIt is seen to exist, as indeed it does exist, in time. In other words, he has to come closer to the reality in his conceptualisation of it without, for all that, tuming into a historian".a3 Evans-Pritchard expresses this as follows: "Historians write history, as it were, forwards and we would tend to write it backward".34 This is correct only in part, and only applies to ethnic groups for which we have vimually no historical sources. But it is never true of an analysis of the processes of change in the 20th century. Even in the case of groups which lack a script of their own, such as the Atoni and the Be1u, we are able to go more than three centuries back into history in the archives of the colonizing powers. This is far enough, in fact, to justify a historical oudine describing the deve10pment of the present-day political communirties in chronological order, whilst the book as a whoie, moreover, gives a description of the culture as it came to be at that pamicular time and in that particular place in Timor; a culture which bears a universal character, besides, because it owes its shape to the influence of universal human

INTRODUCTION 17

categories, of which Ernst Cassirer 35 says: "In all human activities we find a fundamental polarity, which may be described in various ways. We may speak of atension between stabilizaJt:ion and evolution, between a tendency that leads to fixed stabIe forms of life and another tendency to break up this rigid scherne. Man is torn between these two tendencies, one of which seeks to preserve old forms whereas the other strives to produce new ones. There is a cease1ess struggle between tradition and innovation - between reproductive and creative forces". Cassirer looks for polarity especiallyin the diachronie aspect of cuLture, in historica1 change and the counter-forces involved. But this polarity becomes more fundamental still when it is found to exist also in the synchronic aspect of the cuLture. Even where there is no tension between the forces of stabilization and evolution, between tradition and innovation, because progress as a norm is unknown, there exists, as we shall see, a marked polarity together with the atrt:empt to overcome this by means of a synthesis.

It is the aim of the present analysis of the politica1 system of an archaic culture thus to contribute to. the understanding of human culture in general.

We have adopted ,the following procedure. First a general outline of the world of the Atoni of Timor is given. This inc1udes a description of the rites accompanying the agricultural cycle, as the la.tter culminates in the hearing of gifts of homage to the ruler - an indication that agriculture is the basis for the politica1 system. Agriculture and its related ritual are important, moreover, in acquainting us with the way in which all aspects o.f the culture are interrelated. The kinship system is also of fundamental importance for the political system. In conclusion of the above, a few remarks on the re1igion will have to be made in a separate chapter, although we constantly touch on this in our discussion of the rites and myths. Only then can we commence our analysis of the politica1 system. The first part of this consists of a historica1 outline, followed by an analysis of rthe politica1 systems of the different princedoms. This is followed in turn by a chapter summarizing the Timorese political system in general.

Then we shall give, in retrospect, a summary of the data concerning the classificatory system which have emerged in the course of the study, and the significanee of the latter for the system of life.

In conclusion, we shall try to determine the place which this system of life occupies in the Indonesian culture province.

KAMBING R o L PANTAR Midic 0 Tetun à Manatuto Makasa Cairui Tocodé Midic U mic Idate Tetun Nauhete E Batugede m B T (n a k) 0 B 5 U II ATONI m ŠEMAU Kemak Tetun Helon Timorese N ROTI Scale.1:2500.000

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MAP No. 1 The Languages of Timor

PART ONE

THE ATONI AND HlS WORLD

CHAPTER I

THE PEOPLE AND THEIR ENVIRONMENT

1. THE ATONI

The people who inhabit the greal1:er part of Indonesian Timor designate themselves as the Atani Pah M eta (= the people of the dry land). The extreme western part of the island is inhabited by the Helonese, who used at one time to form a sepamte political community under the ruler of Kupang. In the course of the centuries, but particularly af ter the Dutch first settled in Kupang in 1653, the Helonese were pushed gradually further back to the west, as indicated on map no. lof the languages spoken in Timor. According to the most reliable census, namely that of 1930, the tota! number of Atoni came to approximately 180,000; in 1952 it came to approximately 300,000, and in 1966, according to a provincial survey, to 600,000.

The Atoni's eastem neighbours are the Belu, who were once united with the Atoni in one ritual, dual monarchy. The number of Belunese in 1930 came to approxirnately 85,000, and in 1952 >1:0 approximately 100,000. These figures are no more than rough estirnates, as on both occasions on which a census was taken the fact thart: the district of Belu is also inhabited by Bunak and Kemak was not taken into account (see map no. 1). The Tetun-speaking Belunese also inhabit large parts of Portuguese Timor. They were formerly also the subjects of the united kingdoms of the Belunese and the Atoni.

2. GEOGRAPHICAL POSITION

The south coast of Timor is separated from the Australian continent by the shallow Timor Sea, here approximately 500 km. wide. It shows some similarity with the AuSll:ralian continent as far as rthe climate, flora and fauna are concerned, but cultura1ly there is a wide difference hetween the Indonesian and Australian culture provinces, even though they have a few features in common.

In Timor we find traces of Me1anesian and Papuan culture, although i,t is extreme1y difficult to find any sort of concrete evidence for influences exercised by these cultures.

Timor is a marginal area also in the sense that in contrast to western Indonesia, which was subject rto Buddhisrt and Hindu cultural influences from India for about fifteen centuries, rthere are no traces of these to he found in Timor, which, however, is not proof that there has not been some indirect influence via Java. Buil: it is difficult to establish whaJt might he its heritage from the ancient Indonesian culture and what may have been imported later from Java or other parts of Indonesia.

Islam, too, has virrtually by-passed Timor. Except that since the days of the Dutch East India Company there have always been a number of Muslims among il:he government officials, and the police and military personnel who came from Java or other Muslim areas in Indonesia.

The island of Timor shares this marginal position - by-passed as it was by the main culture streams which have brought Indonesia into contact with the worlds of Buddhism, Hinduism and Islam for the past 2000 years - with il:he major part of the eastern Timor archipelago, made up of Sumba, Flores and the Solor archipelago, as well as Timor irtself. An exeeption to this is fonned by a part of the Solor arehipelago, name1y the Padji area, whieh became Muslim as far back as approximately 1600, mainly out of protest against Portuguese overlordship.l This was also the case in pant of Pantar and Alor. Similarly Islam has won some followers in and around Ende, the principal town of Flores.

Some of these islands c1early belong to the Indonesian culture province, as does Manggarai in Wesrt Flores, as well as Sumba.2 The similarities in social strueture, for insrtance, between these and Minangkabau and the Batak area in SuffiaJtra show this only too c1early. The point in question is to what ex tent the same applies to Timor, and especially rto the eastern Atoni area which is the more specific object of this study. It ean he said at the outset that there are similarities as regards the negative factor of heing by-passed by the main culture streams of Indonesia.

3. THE PEOPLE

We may turn to physica! anthropology to supply the answer to our question concerning the extent rto which the peoples of the Timor archipelago are related or otherwise.

Bijlmer 3 clearly sees Melanesian influences in Timor, as opposed to Sumba, which is rather more Indonesian. Vroklage has collected a great deal of material in North Central Timor which has been worked out by Lammers. The latter concludes that "a statistica! analysis of Vroklage's material has indicated thart: the population of East Dawan must he a mixed population".4 If we take into account the hypothesis according to which "the result of mixing different racial components is not a number of intermediate characteristics but, as it were, a mosaic of characteristics",5 this conclusion is not a surprising one, and may hold universally true for all peoples.

He considers two elements especially important: a Melanoid one (probably the oldest) and a more recent, Proto-Malay component. Veddoid characteristics, for which there are a few indications, may equally be explained as resulting from Proto-Malay influence. Larnmers excludes the possibility of Deutero-Malay influence wÎlth almost one hundred per cent certainty. Moreover, judging from the regional differences in the eastern Atoni area, it is "probabIe that Malay influence decreases from east to west".6

This we see clearly in rthe differences hetween the South Belunese - who have wavy to almost straight hair, like the girl in photograph 5 - and the Atoni, who have frizzy or spi rally hair, like the people from Amanatun in photograph 6. The Atoni also have more facial hair. This, however, they regularly pluck out with the aid of a pair of tweezers (naunu) (see photograph 7), in which groups of men sitting together are of ten seen to he engaged. So cultural habits can in many cases bring about deceptive differences in physical appearance. (See photograph 7).

The regiooal groups - Beboki, Insana and Noemuti in Miomafostudied by Lammers display remarkable differences in respect of each other from east to west. 7 Beboki and Insana have more in common with one another than wiJth N oemuti, and the differences between Noemuti and Beboki are, on the ave rage, wider than those between Noemuti and Insana. Skin pigmentart:ioo is darkest in Noemuti and lightest in Insana, while growth of bodyand facial hair is stronger in N oemuti than in Insana and Beboki. There is also an extraordinary increase in the cephalic index from east to west, the result of both a decrease in the length of the head (185.4; 183.1; 180.2) and an increase in the width of the head (146.0; 145; 150.8), so that Beboki and Insana are mesocephalic (79.1 and 79.4) and Noemuti brachycephalic (83.7).

Van Bork-Feitkamp,S who worked out Meijer's dart:a on Roti and Fatu Matabia in eastern Portuguese Timor, considers Papua influence possible in Timor, whilst Nyèssen 9 says: "In Timor we have the same sÏltuation more or less as in N ew Guinea, with small retarded meso~ morph hominids in the inrterior which have preserved the original form, and tall dolichomorphs along the coast!" Exactly the same findings as in the case of the Kilimanjaro and the Nuba in Africa.

Mendes Corrêa 10 considers rthat for the whole of Portuguese TimOT" Proto-Malay influenees are dominant, with both Europoid and IndoMelanoid traits occurring, but without either N egroid or Moogoloid characteristics being found. There are also very few more or less Mongoloid Deutero-Malay e1ements. And in the extreme interior are found Veddo-Australoid eIements, related to the Melanesians and Papuans.

Wh en larter on he returned to Timor for another month he wrote that the population of Timor is not the result of recent migrart:ions and thart: its earIiest inhabitants were contemporary with the pithecal1ithropos, Homo Soloensis and Homo Wadjakensis, with whom there was coosiderable intermixing a very long time ago. Timor is "mais um centra ou uma wea de differenciaçao racial, antropogenética, do que, coma se tem presendida, uma Baba.! resultante da convergênela das mais variadas estirpas humanas, um cadinho de fuslÎo inextricável de raças" 11 (rather a centre or an area of ethnic differentiation, aruthropologically speaking, so that it is like a Babel resulting from the convergence of more varied ethnic groups, or an inextricable melting-pot of ethnic groups).

Our conclusion must be, then, -that Timor is indeed a marginal area as regards its physical types, although it is impossible to draw an accurate line of demarcation. I t is furthermore a marginal area in the sense thart: clearly distinguishable ethnic groups are still found here.

Melanesian and Proto-Malay elements have blended with earlier ethnic groups, purer elements of which may still be found in the mountains of eastern and central Timor.

It is also quite likely that the present inhabitants have lived there for many centuries. Whether or not the earliest inhabitants existed as early as the pithecanthropos is of little relevance for our present study. It is further impossible to make an estimate on the basis of these data as to when the last migrart:ions may have taken place. Nor is there any more certainty as to whether the Proto-Malay groups arrived earIier or later than the Melanesian ones.

There was probably very little intermixing, or none at all, between these ethnic groups for many centuries. Although there was some mixing with neighbouring groups, as Lammers' study has revealed, there was none over larger di stances. Culturally speaking this is indicative of only a low frequency of sodal con,tacts over greater distances. Of course this proves little as regards differences or si mi lari ties in culture. It is only to be expected, however, that isolated groups will preserve their own culture and that with different groups a culture will evolve differently, irrespective of any differences or similarities there may have been to begin with.

One more implication - though a negative one - of the data supplied by physical anthropology for a cultural anthropological study is that any migrations which may have taken place from areas beyond Timor will be beyond our historical range of vision. Hence the dart:a derived from myths of origin will not be considered for historical verification.

All we can say with regard to the culture is that we must be prepared to find IndonesiaJ11 traits in the culture of the Timorese, while nonIndonesian elements may also be present. It is also to be expected that a distinctive cultural type developed because the last immigraruts entered the area many centuries ago.

Atapupu SE (TASI FETO) TUBU SO (OiPuah)945m. FATU BIBI 930m. S E A ( TASI MONE) Noilmina BAY OF KUPANG 1500 2000m SCALE 1:1.350.000

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MAP No. 2 West Timor

4. THE LANGUAGE

The languages of most of the peoples of the Timor archipelago fall into two groups: a western one, to which belang the languages of Savu, Sumba, Bima and the Manggarai, and an eastern one, which, according to J onker,12 is probably one of a large group of languages which extends from Roti, Timor, East Flores, Ceram and Buru to the Kei and Aru Islands.

Timorese, the language of the Atoni, and Rotinese have the c10sest mutual affinities with Tetun, Galoli and Mambai on the one hand and He10n on the other. Besides these there are the mutually c10sely re1ated languages of Kisar and Let!:i which also c1ea.r1y revea1 some similarity with Tetun, Timorese and RotineseP Approximately the same degree of affinity exists between the languages of the Timor group and the mutually more c10sely relart:ed languages of Solor and Sika in Flores.

As regards the languages of the Timor group, i.e. Timorese, Rotinese, Helon, Tetun, Galoli and Mambai, there are important similarities with their c10sest geographical neighbours, i.e. the language group comprising Savu, Sumba, Ende and Bima 14; such as, for instance, the absence of Indonesian suffixes in word formart:ion and the especially strong tendency to form compound words which is apparent in both Rotinese and the Bima-Sumba group. These are also found in Timorese.15

The difference in geni,tive constructions on which Brandes based his c1assification is, as Jonker 16 demonstrates, a development of more recent date. This makes it difficult to demarcaJt:e a c1ear boundary between Roti and Savu which may act as the dividing line between the two language groups.

Capel1 17 draws the conclusion that there are two types of language in Timor, namely the Indonesian type and a non-Indonesian, probably

pre-Indonesian type. This seerus to be the case, in fact. The non-Indon12 Jonker, 1915, XII, CapelI, 1944, p. 19. Ekris' vocabulary, 1864, reveals virtua11y esian and even non-Austronesian languages are found mainly in the interior of East and Central Timor. Moreover, according to him >the Indonesian language~ ean be divided into two sub-groups, the dividing line between which would coincide wi>th the border line running between the Atoni and Tetun areas. But he mistakenly draws the line from Oekusi to an opposite point on the south coast, which pI aces the regions of Insana and Beboki in the Tetun area although they belong completely to the Atoni language area.

CapelI arrived at this conclusion in what was only an introductory summary written during the war period when contaot:s were impossible. Later on, in his general survey of the languages of Oceania, he classified Bunak, Makassai and Dagada 18 among the non-Austronesian languages. Probably the languages of the peoples driven into the tnterior, namely Idaté, Cairai, Midic, Naumic and Nauhete, also belong to >this group. In Alor 19 and north Halmaheira 20 too, non-Austronesian languages are found. These linguiSitic data make a further interpretation possible of what indications we have from physieal anthropology.

The smalI, dolichocephalic people of Fatu Matabia, data about whom have been worked out by Van Bork-Feltkamp,21 live in the non-Austronesian language area in the interior of eastern Portuguese Timor. And the man who, according ,to Bijlmer, looked exactly like an Australian aborigine, lived in the Bunak language area. Nyèssen's 22 conclusion that here we have the autochthonous, at any rate much older inhabitants, is therefore quite plausible. Because of this we should certainly also consider the possibili,ty of some degree of relationship with the Papuans, as Van Bork-Feltkamp supposes with respect to the people of Fatu Matabia. Just as the north Halmaheira languages reveal vague resemblances with Papuan languages, we may suppose that the same may be the case with Bunak and the languages of other peoples driven into the interior. Berthe 23 suggests, however, that Bunak is not a Papuan language, but that it contains words related to the Proto-Malay of the Semang in the Malay PeninsuIa. This hypothesis has been refuted conc1usively by Cowan,24 who arrived at the conclusion that Bunak is related to the soulthern group of western Papuan languages. The fact that only a few of the 200 words listed by Berthe show some relationship to western Timorese languages would corroboraJt:e this.

5. THE PHYSICAL ENVIRONMENT

In acultural anthropologica1 approach >io the quesrt:ions posed in this study, which are focused primarily on the political system, it should he borne in mind that the basis of the culture of a community is formed by the use that is made of the natura! background in which that culture exists, namely the tillage (colere ) of the soil and the possibilities of survival offered by the land, and that its climax is the religious 'cult'. All that lies in the magnetic field between the two poles colere and cultus is connected with bath and cannot be understood without a knowledge of OOth these pol es of culture. Colere conveys that man fashions his cultur.e and cultus implies man's awareness of his dependence.

The way in which man fashions his exisrt:ence is determined by, among other things, the soil on which he constructs his house, or in other words, his culture. Our first concern is therefore to investigaJt:e what kind of land the Atoni cultivaJt:es, and subsequently the way in which he does this.

These questions concerning the physica1 environment of the Atoni and what he has done with it have been answered, in a manner difficult to excel, by Ormeling in his thesis enltitled "The Timor Problem". This work will he the point of departure for the present sub-chapter. A little more will he added aOOut the areas of Insana, BeOOki and Miomafo, however, which will he the focal point of this study. The location of these princedoms is approximately 90 S.Lat. and 1240 E.Long.25

a. Tbc soit

Together with Roti, Savu and Sumba, Timor forms a chain of islands which, unlike the other islands of this part of the archipelago, lack recent volcanic deposirts. They do contain large areas of lime and marl soils, however, and are therefore a great deal less fertile. The oldest geological rock types are found in the central mountains, whilst in the north of Indonesian Timor and in part of Portuguese Timor there are occurrences of old volcanic rock, making that part of Timor more fertile, provicled it is not too dry. This is the case in Manamas, where this ancient black, volcanic rock type ean he seen In a deep chasm with black cliffs, hundreds of mert:res in height, with loose, black, extremely femile soil at their foot. The river bed, on the other hand, is gravelly, the water seeping away immediately, even in the wet season (see photograph 8). In the crevices and on the inaccessibie, steep sides of these mountains many kinds of broad-leaved trees grow instead of the usual eucalypts.

The fonnaJtion of the mountain chains is very irregular and the mountains frequently slope at an angle of 25° or more.26 Such slopes occur mainly in the centra! mountains of the interior, from Fatu Le'u to Nuaf Miomafo, and in Amamutun and Amanuban in the south. Parts of the landscape of Miomafo are very mountainous, containing among others the Koki or Tufuf,27 the twin of the Mutis; it is 2251 metres high. A large portion of Miomafo and Insana consists of a 400 to 450 m. high central plain, relieved in Insana by slightly undulating hill country, after which it continues, extending as far east as southeastern Beboki and Atambua in Belu. Here it is still over 300 m. high. The heavy, loamy soil of the plain, which has a high calcium content and has a very poor drainage in Beboki, moreover , is muddy and boggy in the wet season. In the dry season fissures as deep as two metres appear in the soil. For these reasons the great plain does not favour communications. Traffic on horseback, still the most important means of transport, is difficult in both the wet and the dry season. In an experiment with mechanized cultivation in a part of this plaiu near Sekon, in Insana, the fertility of the soil lI:urned out to he disappointing. The yie1d was lower than had been anticipated and this corresponded with the results of a test of the different soil types, which, however, was earried out too late. 28 Red soil is frequently found higher up; eucalyptus trees 29 have a special preference for this type of soit. A group of eucalyptus trees on a plain is cel1tain 11:0 he an indieation of an elevation with red top-soit. This soil is mixed with gravel. It is avoided by the Atoni in their choice of suitable land for garden plots. Red soil occurs frequently in the hill country of Bikomi and Noimuti, where there are extensive eucalypt forests, as on the 26 See Ormeling, 1955, map no. 11, p. 34.

northern side of the watershed, i.e. in Ablal, Nilulat and Manamas. Red clay is also found, especially in Noiltoko and surroundings; it contains no gravel and is fertile, though very hard. Another soil type found here is grey loam, popularly known among roadbuilders as "soap earth", because it is known to cause landslides. This loam is frequently found in the hills on the northern side of tbe plain and is less fertile than the red clay, perhaps partly because it is much subject to eros ion. Only a few eucalyptus and acacia 30 trees and some grass grow here. Lastly, there is a great deal of karang rock in N oimuti, a corallite which is predominanrt: in Western Timor.

On the north coo.st, in northern Insana and northern Beboki, lies an extensive plain which is dry and consequently of littIe value for agriculture. As a result of a low rainfall and the limited size of the catchment area, and more especially because of the extreme1y wide riverbeds of sand and gravel, the water level of the rivers is low, even during the wet season. Between this plain and that of Central Timor lies a rugged mountain range, constituting the waJtershed between the NoilBenain, the largest river in Timor, which flows into the Timor Sea in South Belu, and the smaller rivers which flow into the Savu Sea in the north. This range forms the boundary of the Portuguese enclave of Oekusi or Ambenu; ilts highest summit, the Bifemnasi (old woman) , lies to the north of Kefamnanu. In one pant of this range in Beboki there are valleys which are difficult of access, partIy as a result of the steepness of the mountainsides but also because of the grey, slippery loam in which a horse may sink up to Ïlts knees in the wet season and in which deep fissures appear in the dry season.

b. Climate

J udging by its geographical position one would expect the climate of Timor to conform to the general Indonesian pattern with its characteristic succession of monsoons. This it does, in fact; but it also displays a marked difference with the rest of Indonesia as a result of the influence of the Australian continent, because of which the easterly monsoon is particularly dry.

During this season the nights are cool. In Kefamnanu, at an altitude of 400 m., temperatures may be as lowas 120 or 13° C.31 In the wet season the temperatures probably correspond with those reported by Mohr, that is, 18° - 13° C. in -the tropical mountain country between 1000 and 1800 m. high and 27° - 25° C. in the lowlands under 200 m. The difference is that between a temperate and a hot climate. In the dry season a large part of Timor is barren. Most of the trees shed their leaves at this time. The eucalyptus forests especially, which have no undergrowth, make a "wintery" impression with their white trunks and bare branches. But juSl1: before the rains break the buds begin to swell and burst into leaf at the first rainfalls or just before. Within a week af ter this "spring" makes its entrance in all its glory, with as many different shades of green as are to be seen in Europe in the month Oof May, if not more, with the trees which have retained their leaves (such as the waringin 32 or banyan) adding their 01 der, darker greens.

Another important characteristic of rthe c1imart:e of Timor is the tremendous variability of the rainfall caused by differences in altitude and location in respect of the mountain chains. Moreover, the rainfall is very unevenly distributed over a period of years. Orme1ing,33 for instance, reports a rainfall of 1041 mmo for Lahurus in 1930 and 7482 mmo in 1934. The year 1930 was admittedly a dry year for the whole of Timor, and, moreover, the rains had fallen irregularly in October of 1929 so that the first crop failed in many parts. 34 The year 1934 was a wet year for almost the whole of Timor except for Kupang. A rtropica1 cyclone as the one that occurred in May 1939, when within the space of one week the rainfall was between 350 mmo and 600 mmo in some places, has a misleading influence on the average rainfall figures for the month of May over a large number of years.

Annual and even monthly ave rages recorded over a period of years dOo nOot,therefore, give areliabie represe11ltation of the actual situation, especially as the times at which the rains actually set in vary agreat deal. In 1936 no rain feIl at all in Kefamnanu in OctOober and November, as against an average of 141 mmo for those months. Irt is especially difficult to present an accurate picture because frequently the rains commence to fall orJy tOo cease again for three weeks or so, resulting in the failure of the firSit crop of com. This is not n~essarily indicated by monthly rainfall figures.

Differences in altitude resuLt in considerable differences in rainfall and temperature. Of old the dry season in some areas of Timor has been roughly estimated at nine, six or three months.35 The north coast of central Timor for instance, has nine dry months and during the three wet months the pr~ipitation is heavy and irregular, w~th frequent faUs of 100 mmo or SO. The wet season here usually sets in a little before January. Similarly the entire area which lies to the north of the central mountains in the interior, with peaks as high as 1774 m. (the Fatu Timau) and 2427 m. the (Nuaf Mutis), has a positively long dry season even at very high alütudes. On the southem side of these ridges, which coincide approximately with the watershed between the north and south coasts, the rainfall is much more favourable. The wet season sets in earlier here, usually in November on the plains, and even in the months of April and May the pr~ipitation is over 600 mm., though under 100 mmo

Consequently these months, according to Mohr,36 may be c1assified neither as dry nor as wet months. They are "damp" months. The same phenomenon can be observed in the mountain country of the cent re on the southern side of the divide, except that it occurs later on in the year; in Noiltoko, which lies at an altitude of 550 m. at the foot of the Miomafo (height 1397 m.) Mayand June are the "damp" months. Here, however, Mohr's c1assification faUs short. According to Mohr a month may be termed "wet" in the tropics if it has a rainfaU of over 100 mm., because in that case the rate of absorption by the soil is higher than the rate of evaporation; if the rainfaU is less than 60 mmo the amount that evaporates is greater than that which faUs, 50 that the ground dries out. In Wini, on the north coast, where the ave rage rainfaU in February is approximately 100 mmo and rain faUs in only a smaU number of heavy downpours, the ground probably does dry out, whereas in Noiltoko, where the rainfall in May and June is slightly lower, it hardly dries out at all. According to Mohr 37 Noiltoko can be classified as tropical hili country, 200-1000 m. high, with temperatures of 24°_19° C. In Kefamnanu, 400 m. high, temperatures of 12°_13° C. occur in May, however, 50 that the rate of evaporation is lower. Moreover, these orographic rains in the easterly monsoon of ten fall as drizzle coup led with fog and lengthy periods of c1oud, 50 that these months must by aU means be termed "wet". In the rolling mountain country between the Miomafo and the Mutis, at an altitude of 1000-1400 m., the grass remains lush and green aU the year round except in the extremely dry period of 1946, which continued for months even here, when the grass was withered in October. The rainfall has never been recorded here, but it is probably higher than in Kapan where, at an altitude of 1000 m., it is 2000 mmo

Mohr was the first to make a satisfactory classification according to variatioos in the rainfall, based on the number of wet and dry months. This method has been improved upon by Schmidt and Ferguson, whose point of departure is the quotient of the average number of dry and wet months,38 thus ca1culating the ave rage length of the dry season. This way they arrived at eight groups, numbered from A to H. Groups A and Bare covered by the category of three dry months as against nine wet months (q = 0.33). Most of Indonesia, as well as the greater part of Java, falls under these. Group C is defined by a quotient of 0.60 and D by one of 1.00, i.e. a maximum of 6 dry mooths as against 6 wet months. Group C occurs in northern and eastern Java and also mainly in the Lesser Sunda Islands. The major part of Timor, narnely the north and south-west, is covered by group E and the north coast by F, the latter being defined by a q of 3, i.e. nine dry months to three wet months. However, if we consider the "damp" months in Noiltoko as wet months the quotient becomes approximately 0.50 for this part, so that it is then inc1uded in group C instead of D. And for Soë the quotient becomes approximately 0.85 instead of 1.096, i.e. D instead of E. Kapan, with ooly Iittle more than two dry months as against over ni ne wet months, belongs to group B instead of C as indicated on the Schmidt and Ferguson chart. Ormeling 39 observes in passing that the chart of Timor prepared by Meijer Drees does not sufficiently take into account the differences in a1titude. Trus is perfectly correct. All of the mountain country of the centre and part of the hili country on the southern side of the divide should be c1assified ooe category wetter whilst, conversely, the driest parts of the north coast beloog to group G instead of F; Manatuto to the east of Dilly, with only ooe mooth (December) with a rainfall of 103 mmo and 8 months with 60 or less and in total ooly 44 rainy days 40 even belongs to group H. Felgas, who uses the Schmidt and Ferguson classification in his statistics - but unfortunately not in rus chart - does not take these divergencies in both directions into account either.

We can therefore conc1ude that the rainfall in Timor is sufficiently irregular for the perfected classification of Schmidt and Ferguson to fall short here.

The mountain climate is beUer than these classifications would lead one to believe, in spite of the fact that a rainfall of 1500 to 2000 mmo is low for the tropics. Areas such as Lahurus and some areas in Portuguese Timor, with a rainfall of 3800 mmo and over, generally really only belong to group C (in which the quotient of dry and wet months is 0.60) even if the necessary corrections of the Schmidt and Ferguson c1assification are taken into account, whilst a similar rainfall in Java or elsewhere is usually c1assified under B. Most of the areas in question lie at high

5. (;irl from \\'ekmidar 111 South Belu. See also photograph 11.

6. Family in Lobar in Amanatun. Kote the tattoo marks on the woman's arms. The cooking"-pot is rrsting" on thr thrcc hcarth-stones. See p. 431.

7. 11an from ~Ianlea in Central Belu, the physical types of which are similar to those in Ikhoki alHl lnsana.

8. Entrance to the chasm between Manamas and Wini, on the north coast of Miomafo.

9. Mountain grasslands with mountain eucalypts (anpupu) in the central ranges near Mt. Mutis (altitude approx. 1500 m.).

altitudes but lie on the northern side of the mountain ranges. Here the rains are very heavy during the westerly monsoon, while the dry season is longer. In the drier areas the irregularity of the rainfall of ten bas disastrous effects, for, as Ormeling 41 sta.tes: "in general, the variability increases as the amount of rainfall decreases".

We have here, therefore, widely divergent types of climate, ranging from very dry to tropically humid as far as the rainfall is concerned, and from hot to temperaJte as regards temperature. According to Schmidt and Ferguson's classification they range from B up to and including G and in Portuguese Timor even as far as H. The latter is as arid as Alice Springs in Australia, therefore.42

The question is, then, to what extent these wide climatological differences have exercised an influence on the culture. The period when the supposition that culture is determined by the environment found so much credit has passed with Vidal de la Blache, as Ormeling 43 observes. Man is creative. Culture is what man makes it. But he fashions this culture out of what he finds ready at hand. He has to till the fields at his disposal. Differences in culture are therefore to be expected.

c. Flora and fauna

The soil and climate have been discussed in the light of their relevance to the culture, in relation to the possibilities presented to and the restrictions imposed on man in this respect. The flora and fauna will also have to be dealt with in this oonnection. Ormeling,44 in the first lines of his section on the natural vegetation, which is a subsection of his chapter on The Physical Environment as a Factor preceding the chapter on The Human Factor, refers to a competition between all elementary schools in N orth Central Timor which I organized in 1947. lts aim was to discover which school and which individual pupil could sum up the highest number of names of trees, shrubs and animals. The schoolchildren of Sufa, in Beboki, assisted by their teachers and all their relatives won the prize, because they knew 670 names of trees and plants. A partial explanation for Sufa's winning the competition is probably that in Beboki almost all young families live uxorilocally until, in many cases af ter many years, the bridewealth has been fully paid. In addition people here of ten have affinal alliances extending over quite large distances within Beboki, so that families from various districts live in Sufa. The raja family, for instance, originally came from the arid plain in the north. Sufa itself lies in the mountains, at an altitude of approx. 800 m. and the extensive Euroki Plain lies all: a distance of barely 10 km. from Sufa, at an altitude of 350 m. As a result the trees and shrubs of these climatologically widely different areas could he included in Sufa's list.

N early all of the other schools, however, submitted at least 500 names. The individual prize was awarded to a gir1 from a village near Kefamnanu who had collected, with the assistance of all her relatives, 331 names in the space of a few weeks. The above may serve as an illustration of the Atoni's strong <littachment to his natural environment, in particular to plant life. Not only is it remarkable that a village community, and especially one family, should know such a large numher of names, but this knowledge commands even more respect when we compare it with the numher of trees and shrubs that actually grow in Timor. Meijer Drees 45 has carried out socio-botanic research in Timor, making use of the Beboki list. He has compiled a list of approximately 575 Atoni names in various dialects, amoog which only 118 Beboki names, and subsequently a systematic list of the Lail:in names which, in his own words, "is probahly virtually complete". The latter contains 529 names as weIl as the Atoni renderings of 343 ll<Iiffies of trees and shrubs.

The cooclusion to he drawn is not only that Meijer Drees did not make intensive use of the Sufa school list in his research, but also that a village community knows almoSit every tree and shrub growing in its surroundings.

A knowledge of the names of trees and shrubs is an indication of the ability to distinguish between the differenJt kinds and to some extent implies an equally good knowledge of their uses. Giving names to phenomena in the environment is a cultural <liet of the first degree. In the description of a culture ÏJt is impossible to discuss the vegetation without relating it to man. Even if, or especially if we are to give a general impression of the landscape of Timor, the question arises whether it is the result of man's inrterference, whether it is "man-made" in other words, or whether it is a natura! consequence of the interaction between climate and soil.

Enden 46 points out that because of the development of agriculture and the possibilities offered by re-afforestation it is of the utmost importance to know whether or not the treeless aJang-aJang plains and the hilly savannah eountry thaJt gradually merges into what Kuperus 47 justifiably calls a park landscape were part of the original, "naturai" scenery of Timor.

In the latter case there is less like1ihood of man's interference than if the savannah country were the resuLt of the activities of man. Vall Steenis 48 states: "It was man who degraded all types of vegetation in semi-arid areas by one degree or more and who has tumed forest into treeless areas, savannahs into steppes and grasslands into deserts". It goes without saying that North Africa during the Roman period is listed here as an example of and proof for the destructiveness of man's aativities 49: Ollce eities and thriving agriculture, now desert. However, if we consider that Hadrian was revered as a god in North Africa because the first rain for five years feIl on the day of his arrival,50 it may be supposed that the reverse holds at least equally true and that man is also capable of tuming deserts into fertile land.

As far as Timor is concemed, the question as to how much of the present landscape is man-made and how much of it is in its original natural state is a difficult one to settle. Many a time the state of the soi1 has been a cause for alarm. In 1941, for instance, a forestry expert pointed out an area ten km. to the east of Kefamnanu where the grey loam of the mountainsides revealed deep fissures. There were traees of landslides and only grass and some eucalyptus and acacia trees grew here. He predicted that within fifteen years the soil in this area would be tOitally washed away and that th ere would he no vegetation left. And, moreover, thaA: during the lifetime of the present generation the steep mountainsides of Timor, used for dry-rice cultivatiOll, would he stripped of all their arabie soi!. At present :the slopes to the east of Kefamnanu still reveal the same fissures and the same sparse vegetation. The situation is completely unchanged, and the Timorese are still, or again, using the same slopes for their dry-rice cuLtivaA:ion.

Mohr 51 is inclined to wonder, therefore, "whether in former times, when the population was sparser, most of the island was, in fact, covered with forest". Probably one of the oldest eyewitnesses we can consult is

Bor,52 the seçretary of De Vlaming van Oudshoorn, who took part in the expedition against Amarasi in 1656. On the way to Amarasi, approximately four miles before it, a heavy downpour Itook the company by surprise. They retraced their steps to the last halting-place to seek shelter, "for which there was no opportunity, it heing a barren, hummocky mountain range". And on the seçond expedition the enemy could not he sighted in time because of the "trees growing here and there". The landscape is still exactly the same at present.

But even at that time man had prohably been burning down the forests on the mountainsides for centuries in order to lay out his garden plots. He had also most likely been burning down grasslands every dry season to ensure the growth of young grass as soon asthe firSil: rains began ,to fall. This way rain forests, traces of which are still to be found on the slopes of the Mutis and the Miomafo, probably originally gave way to secondary forest with fairly thick undergrowth. In places where the dry season is severe the rate of recovery is slow er , and where the grass is bumt on the plains all shrubs are likely to disappear aLtogether. Grazing cattle, too, and in particular goats, hamper the re-growth of shrubs. A striking example of deterioration is offered by 5010r. In 1630 Miguel Rangel, O.P., wrote of this land "as an earthly Eden, where only man was vile. His account extols the island's upland rice, which did not need the laoorious cultivation of the lowland paddy variety. He further praises its prolific sheep, goats and buffaloes, its tasty fruits and vegetables, and excellent drinking water".53 Rangel's description may be a little too lyrical, as he had just reconquered 50lor. However that may be, when in 1939 I made a number of tours in 5010r there was almost no spring water left, not even in the neighbourhood of the old fort. Most of the springs were even below the tidal line so, that they invariably produced brackish water. There were practically no buffalo, sheep, fruit or vegetables left on the island, where no trees grew except for the lontar palm. At present it is predominantly harren hill coullJtry with large boulders scattered among the grass.

The strongly increasing pressure of population growth especially is making it necessary for the Atoni to return to their abandoned ladangs earlier than they themselves consideradvisable, so that the trees harely have time to recover and only the bushes do. 1t is only to be expected that with frequent burning down the heavy downpours of the westerly monsoon will bring about erosion. Af ter deforestation the soil has a lower moisture-absorption rate, moreover, so that in the dry season the springs supply less water.

But it is extremely diffieult to establish with eertainty whether this does take place, as the processes involved are slow, and as in most areas the soil has been tilled as far back as man ean remember, while the springs have usually been carefully conserved. Of old the areas surrounding most of the springs have been taboo (nunz) for eultivation so that small groves have remained here.

Only in Manamas is Ithe position slightly different. This formed of old a bone of contention between Ambenu and Tunbaba (see map no. 4) and later, in 1911, hetween Portugal and the Netherlands. In 1913 there were 600 refugees from Ambenu in this no-man's-land 54 following an insurrection in Portuguese Timor. From the fact that when in 1915 it was brought under effective Dutch mIe Tunbaba no longer asserted any claims to this area it may he eoncluded thai it was practically uninhabited. It was then possible for Manamas to become a separate district, inhabited by the prople from Ambenu. In 1947 an investigation brought to light that people were forced to return to old ladang fields too 500n, within seven years in facto The old people who could still remember the first years af ter 1913 unanimously agreed that the springs had supplied more water then than at present. But this information is not altogether reliable, as in 1946 there was an extremely short wet season, followed by an extraordinarily long dry season.

The picture prf'.senrt:ed by the three areas of North Centra! Timor is a varied one.

The nucleus of Miomafo is the area surrounding the 1400 m. high mountain of that name. Here are the evergreen mountain pastures with scattered ad jau trees 55 and large shade trees surrounding the springs. On the slopes of the centra! Mutis range grow the splendid, extensive, sparse, evergreen anpupu forests 56 with remains of originaI, mixed forests. These are majestic, solitary forests alternating with mountain pastures, the whole giving an alpine impression (see photograph 9). N ot all of Timor is striotly speaking tropicaI. And in this area in partieular one imagines oneself in a different world alltogether. Lower down, on the northern spurs, extend the vast eucalyptus forests on the reddish gravel soils which are covered with sparse grass.

To the east of the Miomafo the Noilnoni (or Gold River) flows through a very steep valley into the Noiltoko, which has cut a deep gorge through the mountains and flows into the N oilmuti. Here it becomes a typically Timorese river, its bed covered with boulders, sand and gravel, and having a width of 100 - 300 m. At this point we reach the vast central plain of Timor, with eucalyptus trees growing on the elevations, and in the flatter parts coarse grasses and only relatively little alang-alang 57 (used for roofing). Here trees only grow in scattered clusters. Even if these plains have always existed here, which is not an unlikely supposition,58 they have undoubtedly expanded considerably as a result of annual burning down. Large numhers of cattle graze here; these have to he transferred to higher pastures during the driest months, however.

Such pastures are found in the hilI country with its unusual park landscape and its acacia trees, which are so typical of the scenery of Timor with their umbrella-like foliage of tiny, roIled, needle-shaped leaves. These leaves are used as hand-fodder for cattle during the driest months. The largest number of herds graze here; but here the impenetrable lantana shrub is also found. Encroaehing from the west it is found especially in Noimuti and even as far as Bikomi and Noiltoko, while irt also occurs in Portuguese Timor. lts habitat is especially on rocky grounds rather than the black soils of the plain. The lantana serves as a vegetable manure, but as these shrubs usually grow in clense clusters there is no grass growing underneath them, so that there is little to bind the soit.

These hills merge into the low mountain country to the north of the plain, which rises up to a height of 1000 m. on the border with Oikusi and in Tunbaba. On same of the steeper mountainsides there are graves conrtaining same excellent varieties of timher, such as hau meni, or sandalwood (santalllm album L.), for which Timor has become famous.

The fauna of Timor is not as rich and varied as its flora. There are relatively few species of birds and mammals. The results of the interschool competition in 1947 revealed that the Atoni knewonly 53 names of animaIs. Of course this may only he an indication thaJt they do not distinguish between more than 53 varieties. All species of butterflies, for instanee, are called napan, while on the other hand th ere are six different names for different kinds of flees which, as they are a greater nuisance, apparendy are more importaill.t than butterflies. The Atoni is only moderately weil acquainted with the birdlife, for 143 species and sub-species have been observed in the area. It should be nOited here, however, thart: many of these species are confined to either the eastern or the western half of the island. 59 There are no large beasts of prey.

Very important is the sporadically occurring crocodile. Ilts name, be'i, is the same word as that used for genetrix, grandmother. It occupies an importal1lt pI ace in Atoni mythology. "She" is, for instanee, the great ancestress (be't) of the house of Senak, the lineage of the most important chief of Bikomi in Miomafo. A daughter of the first Senak was named Bikomi, and she was turned into a crocodile, thereby giving her name to the area. Killing crocodiles is taboo for the Atoni, and if one is killed in self-defence, for example, Senak has 11:0 bury "her" as though it were a human being. 60 All over the island the croco-- dile is considered a holy animal, and is frequently depicted in weaving patterns.

It is extraordinary, though it typifies the Atoni, thart: he knows only a few names of fish, in spite of the fact that the seas surrounding Timor abound with fish. In Beboki, a large part of which borders on the sea, only thirteen names were known, while in Miomafo, which has only a short coastline, people were able to enumerate 27 names; the latter referred mainly to fresh-water fish, however.

CHAPTER 11

THE ECONOMIC LIFE

This part of the world was brought under cultivation by the peoples of Timor. In Miomafo, Insana and Beboki these were the Atoni, or, as they call themselves, the A toni Pah M eto (= people of the dry land). This name implicidy indicates the type of cultural choice made by them, as they avoid the sea and the coast. They do not know any nam es of fish, and do not go fishing or sailing - contacts with peoples from other islands were not established or maintained by them.

Of the six c1imatic zones in which they may choose to live - the coastal plain in the north (F and G), the adjoining hill country (E), the extensive central plain and the surrounding low mountain country (D), and the cent ral mountains (C and E) - they occupied almost exc1usively the lower mountain country (500-1000 m.) in earlier days. Here rthey lived in small communities (kuan) on the mountain tops or fatu, the inaccessible, easily defendable places, laying out their gardens on the mout1ll:ain slopes and tending their cattIe (buffalo = bidjael) on the rolling lowlands.

1. CRAFfS AND TECHNIQUES

An important factor for the economic life is the degree to which man has learnt to con trol nature or to master some form of technical development, i.e. the degree to which he is a homo faber.

The level of technical development reached by the Atoni is extremely low. As far as agriculture is concerned, the implements used are a stick for drilling holes in the ground, in which grains of rice or corn are dropped in sowing, and a digging-stick (2 m. in length, and pointed at one end) for turning the soil when reclaiming grasslands. With the aid of such sticks a large number of people can turn the sods simultaneously. The Atoni further uses an axe (fani) and a match et (benas); the latter he always carries about with him. He furthermore uses a large and a smaller weeding-hook. The surprising thing is that he has

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 41

never learnt to fashion these iron tools himself, which are nonetheless indispensabie to him. As early as 1518 Duarte Barbosa 1 writes that in exchange for sandalwood "axes, hatchets, knives, swords, Cambaya and Paleate cloths, porcelain, coloured beads, tin, quicksilver, lead and other wares" were imported into Timor. This trade with Malacca, and before that with Kediri and Majapahit and also China, had probably been going on for centuries even at that time.

Because of this trade the Atoni outgrew the stone age at a relatively early stage, but he has never learnt to forge iron objects himself, or even to cast a silver bangie. This is a remarkable phenomenon, for which I am at a lass to find an explanaJtion. A comprehensive comparative study of all the ethnic groups which lived outside the major streams of Hinduism and Islam, and so lived in comparative isolation until the end of the 19th century - or even, as in the case af Timor, tiII the beginning of the 20th century - apart from the trade contaots which existed all over the area, would be of great importance in throwing some light on the question as to why some of these peoples did adopt a number of skiIIs and techniques while others, like the Atoni, copied virtually none. Could it be that Timor's wealth in sandalwood, as a result of which it was easy to come by any article desired, w,as a factor in this?

The Atoni's silver ornaments are manufactured chiefly by the Rotinese and Belunese (see photographs 10 and 25). The Jatter are also their iron-smiths; prior to 1947, art: any rate, na Atoni engaged in this kind of work. He is able 010 do some leather-work, however. The men here wear wide leather beits decorated with silver coins or discs, in which formerly they carried their lead bull ets and powder for their rifles, and which nowadays fu!fi! the same function as trouser pockets in Europea:n dress. Ever since the 17th century muzzle-loaders were one of the most important import articles. The rivalry between the Dutch and the Portuguese prabably played a part in this. A!though a great many breech-!oaders were still imported in the 19th century, these imporrts have been prohibited for the past hundred years in order to avoid increasing the unrest in the island. The aid rifles have become precious fami!y heir!ooms. Their butts are of ten covered entire1y with silver strips. They were used in tribal warfare (see, for example, chapter V) and in stag-hunting.

The only craft at which the Atoni excels is weaving. In his weaving techniques a marked similarity with those employed in the remainder of the Arehipelago ean he detected. The Atoni does not have any garments made out of bark, but all garments are woven out of eotton, whieh in the drier areas is planted amongst the oom in the gardens. In addition, modern yams are used; these are great time-savers, but detract from the splendour of the eolours of the traditional fabries.

Cotton, whieh is home-grown, is separated from its seeds with the aid of a mangle, eaIIed bninis, and then loosened and cIeaned by means of a eord stretehed tightly on a kind of bow (see photograph 11). The same bow is also known in Sumbawa, Java, Flores, Roti, Alor and Borneo.2

The spinning-wheel is not known here as in western Indonesia and West Flores. Instead, the peoples of Timor as weil as those of the surrounding islands and North Sulawesi use a wooden spindIe (ike). This spindIe is rounded at the bottom, sa that it ean easily revolve in a tiny bowl or plate (suti). It tapers towards the top wh ere it also has a numher of grooves. The spindIe is tumed with one hand and the eotton held in the other (see photograph 12). Women of ten. do this work in between other ehores, as spinning is a very time-eonsuming task, the time needed for spinning enough yam for one large shoulder-cIoth (bete) heing estimarted at about two monrt:hs. Sometimes women ean he seen spinning like this on their way to market, earrying their wares on their heads.

As soon as there is suffieient yam weaving ean eommenee. In Indonesia various stages of development in weaving-.techniques are found, Timor oceupying a roughly intermediate position rtechnieally speaking. But in Timor itself techniques vary among the Atoni as weIl. On photograph 13 we see a loom wi,th a warp of different eoloured threads. The pat tem has already been appEed on the warp threads by means of the ikat (= to tie) technique. The latter technique involves tying bundIes of yam together before weaving by wrapping lonfar leaves, seraped thin beforehand, around them art: eertain points, so that they remain white. Then the bundIes are dipped first in the darkesrt of the dyes to he used, sueh as indigo.3 For the second eolour the bundIes are wrapped with lontar leaves in the plaees where they have already

THE ECONOMIC LlFE 43

..------ two poles ------. rope nekan or warp beam ·1 1 , made of bamboo sial hich nabi (heddle rod to w the strands are tied) ~ sial uta or roller --- • "uat senu or sword for p tlshing the I newly inserted weft into place atis or breast beam, consisting IJ of two wooden bars ~ ;- ~ scale, ± 1 : 10 ~ weaver ~+-oorn ""'- niun or lea ther backstrap A Timorese loom been dyed, while the rest remains unwrapped, and so <lire dipped in dye again. If a third colour is wanted, ooly part of the bundIe is untied af ter the first dip, while before the third immersion lontar leaves are wrapped around the parts dyed in the first and second, leaving the rest unwrapped. The art of ikat dyeing, in which very intricate pattems have to be applied from memory, is the most difficult part of weaving.

For weaving itself the warp is wound around a piece of bamboo at one end, called the warp-beam (nekan), and around the breast beam (Mis), coosisting of twO' pieces O'f wood - between which the fabric can be firmly secured and rolled up as weaving proceeds -, at the other end. The distance between these, O'r in other words, the length of the c1oth, is 10 to 2 metres. The nekan is tied by means of a cord to twO' poles inserted in the ground, or sometimes to a tree, while the beam at the weaver's end is tied with cord to a leather strap (niun) against which she leans back in order to tau ten the loom. For this purpose she needs something against which to support her feet, such as a pole or a rock (see photO'graph 13 and diagram no. 1). The weaver in the photograph is holding a flat piece O'f wood (senu), which is used to push the weft firmly into place. Then follows the puat, a bamboo rod around which the yam is wound spi rally. Together with the roller (uta) , consisting of a rthicker piece of bamboo, it serves to raise the alternate strands of the warp. Two vertically placed laths (sial) behind these serve tO' raise theeven and the odd threads in turns. The nabi between Ithe 'twO' sial is used for tying the strands to in order to prevent them from moving out of pi ace. This way a c1O'th of about 50 rto 60 cm. wide and 10 tO' 2 metres long results. For a men's shoulder-c1oth O'r a women's sarong twO' such c10ths are sewn together, shoulder-c1oths frequently being sewn together in sueh a way as to obtain a white band in the centre - inrt:O' which beaurtiful patterns are woven, as in Ambenu - and two red bands at the sides.

The main colours are indigo and red. To O'btain indigo dye the leaves of the indigO' plant are left to draw in water for several days. Chalk is rthen added tO' the extract, af ter whieh the yam is immersed in it and then wrong thoroughly. This procedure is repeated for three days in succession, the resulting colour being a deep, dark indigo.

Red dye is manufactured from ba.kunu leaves (Indon. bengkudu, L. morinda citrifolia) to which the bark of a certain tree is added. Thus the cO'lour terracotta or brown - depending on the quantity of bark - results.

In addirt:iO'n yell ow is used, obtained from hukil (Indon. kunit, L.

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 4S pattern of life and habits of dress. It is only as a result of the sandal4 See eh. XIIbelow.

curcunUJ, tonga), as weIl as green, which is obtained from an extract from the leaves of a special planJt:.

It is remarkable that apart from some wood-carving - e.g. the geometrical designs on the doors of the houses of heads - and the decoration of bamboo cylinders and of hom objeots, weaving should be the Atoni's only technical achievement, and that he should show such remarkable skill and artistry at this.

It is also worth mentioning here that every politica1 community or important, more or less independent sub-section of a community, has its own pattern, and that these are often alternately red and indigo. The most important nuclei of the old realm of Sonba'i, namely Molo and Miomafo, have red cloths with a white central band, for instance, although this is only true of part of Miomafo, as N oiltoko has chiefly blues, or at any rate a blue central band; Ambenu and Amfoan both also have red clOtilS with a white central band, as does Amarasi, although here the red tends more towards terracotta. Amanatun and Amanuban OOth belong together in a senSIe, but Amanatun has red and white cloths, while Amanuban has blue ones. The same applies to Tunbaba, while in Beboki terracotta is the main colour.

The question forces itself upon us whether this ca:n have anything to do wi,th the distinction made between the white-toothed people (nis muti) , i.e. those who do not file their teeth, and the black-toothed people (nis metan). But not enough is known aOOut this. The question also arises whether there are geographica1 similarities here. But the extraordinary fact remains that red and dark blue (black) as the main colours of cloths are spread in an extremely irregular pattern across Indonesian Timor. They are at the same time the colours which play an important, though rather vague part in the classificatory system.4 Black is the colour that belongs with the night, the north and the feminine, while red belongs with the day, probably with the south, and with the masculine. Further research is desirabie, though it is open to doubt whether all this can still be traeed. This is just as unlikely as in the case of the symbolism of the different designs, which is also intriguing. Is there a similarity with tattoo patterns here?

The art of weaving is of great economie importance for Timor. In times when imports are restricted the Atoni always has his own cotton to fall back on, without this involving far-reaching changes in the wood trade that formerly precious fabrics were imported into the country. These were destined exclusive1y for a small élite of heads. It was only in the ZOth century that yams as weIl as women's jackets were imported on a larger scale. But when, af ter the Japanese invasion, imports were Sltopped altogether for three and a half years, all cloths were made out of home-grown cotton again. Even in 1969 I saw most people still wearing their traditional dress, the only big difference being that the face of the provincial capital Kupang had changed completely.

The cloths have an important function in the social life, constituting the feminine presents offered by the bride's lineage as counter-gifts to the bridegroom's lineage, which has to pay bridewealth. In addition, they are important as winding-sheets at funerals. The finest cloths are reserved for such occasions, and at funerals of prominent persons scores of these cloths are tlsed for this purpose.

The chapter on crafts and techniques should also deal with the construotion of houses. There is little to be said about this from an economic point of view. The pillars of the house are of wood, the walls are made of the ribs of palm-leaves, and the roof of alang-alang grass. Notwithstanding, for the Atoni his house is a microcosm, and the lopo which serves as meeting-place a reflection of his political system. For these reasons it is described in chapter XIII of this baak.

2. ANIMAL HUSBANDRY

Of all the domestic animals the buffalo has the greatest social and religious importance for the Atoni, as it constitutes a considerable part of the normal bridewealth and is used as a sacrificial animal. Ownership of a large number of buffalo confers high social prestige on a person. It is generally said to have had little economie significanee in pre-colonial times. 5 But in that case the fact that - as among the Nuer, for wh om the cow has so much social value that killing one "for no particular reason" is inconceivable - every cow killed for sacrifical purposes or dying a natural death is ultimately eaten 6 is not taken into account. The milk of the buffalo is also used.

Ownership of buffaloes is to some extent the key to greater wealth and more prestige and power. For if an ume (descent group) has enough buffaloes to be able to spare some for killing, it will be able to tend larger garden plots. (In order to cultivate a garden sacrificial

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 47

mea.ls have to he prepared for the helpers. 7) Larger gardens give a grea.ter yield, and, furthermore, that part of the harvest which an ume does not need for its own consumption may he exchanged for other artic1es, especially in lean years (whieh are frequent in Timor) for what are considered by the Atoni to he the most important valuables : silver eoins, silver and gold jewellery and coral beads (inu leko).8 Hence the buffalo is the sou ree of wea1th.

Ownership of buffaloes is also necessary for establishing sound affinal alliances, as they eonstitute the main part of the bridewea1th. Together with silver coins, silver and gold jewellery and coral beads they are the "masculine" objects whieh the bridegroom's lineage (ume) 9 has to give to that of the bride. At the time of marriage and later, in cases of death, the bride's lineage presents hand-woven cloths to the bridegroom's ume. Sound affinal alliances and sueh alliances with various lineages, and possibly a second or third wife, inerease a man's prestige and that of this descent group. Buffaloes form the basis for this.

Chiefs are always surrounded by a circle of propie, such as messengers (Jwke), guards (abeat) and, in the case of prominent chiefs or the rul er, various functionaries with whom we shall make our acquaintance in the section dea1ing with the politica1 sySitem. To feed these they need riee and com, whieh they obtain from rthe yield produced by the gardens whieh they have their subjects lay out for them. In order to have this done they must kill animals regularly for the sacrificial mea.ls with whieh to reward those who work the gardens. Hence buffaloes and pigs are necessary for them to be able Ito harvest sufficient riee and eom. Thus the possession of buffaloes is the basis for their power. It is not surprising that in former times cattle-raiding was an important motive for war besides that of headhunting, which was always the chief objective of an expedition. Any politica1 system of any importance and with any form of hierarehy at all is able to survive only if there is a large enough agricultural surplus to feed those in power. Here again the possession of cattle is indispensabie.

Besides the buffalo the pig (fafi) is of great importanee. I t is a small, black animal kept around the house. Buffaloes are owned exclusively by the rich, bUIt anyone may own pigs. It is eaten especially on ceremonial occasions and is seldom killed without a special reason. The pig partly replaces the buffalo and, moreover, supplements it. At a sacrificial meal usually a buffalo is killed first and then a numher of pigs. It is tended by the women (see photograph 15). The goot (bibi) , too, has of old been kept as a domestic anima! and is found everywhere, but especially in the drier areas of Insana and Beboki.

Perhaps the oldest domestic anima! is the dog, its master's loyal companion when out deer-hunting. The Atoni used to go and beat game armed with spears (this is still done at present). Economically speaking hunting was of some importance for the daily meat supply. Hunting in the form in which iJt has been known by the Timorese for the past few centuries, however, has only been possible sinee the introduetion of the rifle. It gained in economie importanee with the establishment of trade relations with people from other islands, when hom became an e.'Cpo11t article. The dog has also at all times served as food, and it has an important place in the war ritual.

The hen (manu), too, has of old been an important domestie anima!. Every Atoni keeps hens. Egg production is low, so that the egg is not an important item of daily food. Hens, and especially roosters, are raised exc1usively for eonsumption. This finds ritual expression in the rule according to whieh at every sacrifice a rooster has to he offered first. In many sacrifiees only a rooster is killed, such as, for instance when the causes of a disease or the propitious omens for some prospective undertaking are investigated.

The Atoni's acquaintance with the horse is more recent. This is apparent from the fact that it is not used as a sacrifieial animal and that it has no place in any of the rituals. However, when a man dies one of his horses, one he himself has designated prior to his death, is given to his atoni amaf (= his wife's father or eldest brother). This is then called bikase suf muti (= the horse of the white flower).l0

Pigafetta, who sailed along the north coast of Timor in 1522, does not mention the horse, according to Le Roux.ll The latter finds this reason to suppose that horses did not exist in Timor at the time. But even nowadays there are very few horses, if any, to be found on the rocky coast of Atapupu and Batu Gedeh, where he landed, and the same holds true for the dry coastal plain of Amfoan where he touched land for only a very short time. Horses can he seen here only when wax or sandalwood is transported to the coast. And although at the time Pigafetta was there a junk from Luzon was at anchor in Atapupu for the sandalwood trade, this does not necessarily imply that he would have seen the sandalwood

10. .\lan from Bcsikama, in South Belu, \\'earing head-dress of the type also typical for the :\toni. The coins originate from different countries, e.g. the one hearing the image of King \\ïlliam III of the Xetherlamls (ca. 1890) \\'hieh is clearly visihle in the centre. Tht> coin ahove the left eye is a .\Iexican dollar </'I'!"I/"), ",hieh was still current in I'ortuguese Timor in IlJ47. These eoins form part of the hride\\'<:alth (cf. p. 115). In his left hand he is holding a sword (.l'lIlIi) of the kind formcrly used in hcadhunting.

11. Cotton, af ter separation from its seeds, is fluffed with the aid of a how (silo) with a stretched cord aml is pressed hy meal1s of a small mangle (South Relu),

12, \\'oman spinning,

13. Woman \\"eaving. The ikat horder is iinished; the counterpart ai this cloth will have its ikat harder on the leît-hand si de. This is a c10th Îrom Belu, \\"here the main colour is indigo.

14. :\ Belunese on horsehack. Tht' :\toni uses thc same kind of harness, as well as a cloth for a saddle. The horse is a typical Timor pony, which has all average shoulder height oi 1.22-1.25 m.

1.;. l'igs are l()()ked af ter hy tht' \\'omel!.

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 49

transports. Ormeling 12 supposes that the horse was introduced into Timor by sandalwood traders. Even so, this supposition leaves a margin of many centuries as regards the time of its introduction. Middelkoop 13 bases his theory on the etymology of the strange Timorese word for a horse - bikase, a derivation, according to the Atoni, from bidjaekase (bidjael = buffalo, kase = st range, from abroad). Hessing 14 lists the following example of folk etymology concerning the origin of the horse: a girl (bi/el) was changed into a mare, from which all horses in Timor descend. Hence the name bikase : the biof bi/el combined with kase (strange, here in the sense of unusual). With reference to Sumba, where the horse is a sacrificial animal, Hoekstra 15 quotes the information given by Onvlee to the effect that the horse does not feature in creation myths, but that it does play a part in myths of origin of special clans coming from other islands such as Bima, Lombok, Bali, western Flores and Sa vu, all of them linguistically related areas which maintained contacts with Java long ago in the past.

According to De Roo van Alderwerelt 16 horses' heads are depicted on very old gravestones on Sumba. The Sumbanese word for horse is djara and the Javanese djaran. Hoekstra 17 draws the conclusion that we should look for its place of origin in these areas. This throws no light on the question as to how long the horse has existed in Sumba, however.

It is certain from Duarte Barbosa's description from 151818 that the horse was found in the Lesser Sunda Islands as far back as 1500, for, as he. relates, the inhabitants of Oçapa, beyond Cinboaba or Java Minor, i.e. Sumbawa, we re good horse-breeders. Oçapa is more than likely the district of Sape in Bima.

Our conclusion concerning the origin of the horse in Timor can only be a tentative one. The horse must have come to the east from the west, probably from Java via the island of Sumbawa. It may have been known on Sumba before the Timorese made their acquaintance with it. It is difficult to conjecture when exactly it actually came to Timor; this may have been during the period of Majapahit's commercial expansion, i.e. in the fourteenth century or earlier.

We can assume, then, that the horse has played a part in the life of the Timorese for many centuries.

The horse has little economie importanee for the Atoni's day to day life. lts importanee is apparent only in hunting and the social life. Although joumeys between villages and from the villages to the political eentres usually take plaee on foot, anyone who is at all prominent praotically always travels on horseback (see photograp 14). The horse further has great importance as a beast of burden in the trade wiil:h foreigners on the eoast, especially because the major export article is the heavy sandalwood whieh has brought fame to Timor for centuries.

3. TRADE

In the case of the Atoni trade is focused first and foremost on the sandalwood which, as was said above, brought fame to Timor long ago. As early as 1436 a Chinese source states thaJt "the mountains are covered with sandal-trees and the country produces nothing else".19 But this says nothing about the possibility that trade might have been going on for many centuries before that. In view of the intensive contacts between China a:nd Java this is even likely. And in 1518 Duarte Barbosa 20 writes of Timor: "there is an abundance of white sandalwood, which the moors in India and Persia value greaJtly, wh ere much of it is used". How much importance was attached by the Portuguese to the sandalwood rtrade is apparent from one of the large world maps by Gerolamo da Verrazono from 1529, which are on exhibition in the Borgia Gallery of the Vatican Museum. On the map of South-East Asia only Surn.atra is mentioned - while Java is omitlted - apart from Timor and the spice isles, or "insule de Meluche" .21

In addition rto sandalwood Duarte Barbosa lists honey, wax and slaves as export commodities transported by ships which came from Malacca and Java. In exchange for these the Atoni received "axes, hatchets, knives, swords, Cambaya and Paleate cloths, porcelain, coloured beads, tin, quicksilver, lead and other wares". Although this refers rto the trade with Malacca, there were contacts with Majapahirt 22 even before that time, while, moreover, Timor is listed as one of the fifteen dependencies of the realm of Kediri 23 in the 12th century. As a result of these tradeactivities the Atoni outgrew the stone age at quite an early stage, alrthough, as we have stated above, he has never learnt to forge or work meta1s himself.

This trade was of little economic importance for the ordinary people, although it may have had an appreciabie political influence. This does not have anything important to say about the origin of the political system. If the major share in the profits from exports feil into the hands of the chiefs, these must have already existed. But accepting this as an established fact, it is nonetheless obvious that their power

THE ECONOMIe LIFE 51

grew as a result of their increasing wealth. Again, this says nothing as to the nature of their power.

Apart from this Timor did not have much to offer for trade. The only other articles listed by Duarte Barbosa were, as we saw above, honey, wax and slaves. This situation prevailed unchanged until well into the 19th century, when there were some exports of hides and horn.

The most coveted article brought to Timor from the West later on was the rifle. The Dutch and the Topasses 24 first imported it in the 17th century. Although virtually no rifles have been imponted for the past hundred years,25 silver-mounted rifles c011ltinue to constitute the most important family heirlooms.

4. USEFUL TREES AND PLANTS

Apart from the sandal-<tree we must mention here the various kinds of palm-tree.26 In the first place there is the lcmtar palm which is of great importance in the lives of the Timorese. It grows in and around the villages which lie at lower alütudes, found mainly on the hills and in the lower areas and on the edge of the plain. lts nourishing, vitaminrich juice is tapped and fermented until it turns into palm-wine (tuak), which in turn ean he distilled into the popular drink sopi (from Old Dutch zoopje = draught of strong drink). Considerable skill is required for tapping its juice (see photograph 16), and quite of ten fatal accidents happen. Palm-wine is relished even more when twice distilled. The trunk of the lontar palm is used in the construction of houses. The aren palm supplies palm sugar, the coconut palm an importa11lt item of the Atoni's diet and the areca palm an indispensable stimula.llt. The Atoni plants his fruit-trees - banana-, manggoand papaw-trees - in the villages.

Insana and Beboki conform with this pattern, except that the large coastal plain extending to the north is partly covered with den se ge bang palm forests, especially to the east of Wini. The ribs of its leaves are used for the walls of houses. There are also large clusters of sago palms. These are an important source of food for the inhabitants of the coastal plain, one tree supplying enough flour for a family to live on for two or three weeks. The tree is chopped down, and its trunk split into halves and the pith dissolved in water and subsequently dried (see photograph 17). As a resWt it is very important here, and people are prepared to travel di stances of up to 50 km., if necessary, to fetch its pith (putak).

The enormous, fire-resistant tamarind is found scaJttered throughout the lower lying areas of this region. It, too, may serve as a source of food at times when food is scarce. However, it frequently gives rise to gastric upsets. At such times bataten and other tubers are also eaten. Cassava, sweet potatoes and other tubers are of great importance, and on the north coast and generally in areas where no rain falls for nine months of the year, cassava is even almast as important as cam and millet, though it is less nutritious, being made up almost entirely of starches.21 Usually, when all the rice and com has been eaten, bataten and other tubers are the Atoni's staple food. In times of famine it is also necessary to look for tuberous roots in the forests. Then even wild pods (kata fui, L. datura factucia), which have to be boiled ten to twelve times to get rid of their cyanide of potassium content, are eaten.

The matani,28 too, is economically of great importance, as it supplies the best timber and, like the anpupu (eucalyptus), is fire-resistant; hence it and the latter are two survivors of the ancient rain forests.

5. AGRICULTURE AND lTS RELATED RlTUAL

Agriculture is of much greater economie importance than either animal husbandry or trade. Moreover, the agricultural cycle determines the rhythm of the A toni's entire life, while it is also the basis for the political system. The climax and culminating point of the agricultural ritual is the presentation of the harvest gifts to the sacral ruler, so that a knowledge of this ritual is of importance for understanding the political system.

The chief food crops are com and rice, which are cultivated in rotation. Rice is the most valued and is planted on the most fertile land, especially on forest land the first two years af ter it has been brought under cultivation. In some cases this is suitable only for cam

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 53

in the second, but usually in the third year. The garden is gene rally abandaned af ter the third or faurth year. In the drier areas millet is also grown.

The religious cult is intimaJtely bound up with the cultivation of rice and com. The agricultural cyele and its related ritual described on the following pages were recorded in Maubesi, the centre of the princedom of Insana, in 1946, partly in connection with a plan for the introduction of mechanized agriculrture in the Sekon plain near Maubesi.29

a. Choosing a Plot

At the beginning af the dry season, sometimes as early as Mayor J une, a suitable site for a garden is sought. Most people til! a number af plots at a time, usually three, the oldest of which is abandoned first in order to allow recovery of the soi!. Depending on the quality of the soil a fallow period of at least five to seven years is necessary befare the same land may be cultivaJted again. Usually a new garden is laid out each year. Virgin forest land is hardly ever brought under cultivation, and there is less and less of this becoming available. PopulaJtian growth is even making it difficult to allow the soil af older plots sufficient time to recover.

Usually three or four prople decide jointly on the choice to be made. In most cases these are members of rthe same limited agnatic lineage, so that those who collaborate in tilling a plot are usually brothers, brothers' sons and fathers' brothers' sons and their sons. The project is carried out under the direcrtion of the head of the lineage, or if he is very old his furture successor. If there is not sufficiel1ll: interest in the one ume (= Ht. house, i.e. agnatic lineage) its members can without the slightest hesitation ask people from other ume (e.g. affines) to participate in the undertaking. In the case of a large garden having to be prepared, or the reclamation of a patch of forest - hence land which has never been cultivated at all - usually ten rto twenty men, sometimes more, join in rthe work. Preferably the assistance of people of the natal clan (kanaf) or village (kuan) is sought, although others may also be approach ed. A kanaf is a group of kinsmen who all claim descent from one common ancestor, from whom the lineage also derives irts name (l:anaf). A lineage of a clan is also called kanaf.

Memhers of the one lineage of a kanaf used to live together in a residential unit called kuan, which formerly generally consiSlted of not more than five to ten houses. Hence the members of the one kanaf but of different kuan which were located close to one another used to join forces whenever a large plot had to he tilled. At present these may in some cases he people from different kanaf though of the one karmpung.30

As soon as a suitable patch of land has been found a few branches are lopped off one of the trees growing on it, as a sign that this land has heen chosen for cultivation.

Next is determined wh ether the choice is a good one. In order to do this the cultivators wait until one of them has a dream, which tlsually occurs not long afterwards. If this dream is propitious there are no further obstacles to overcome hefore the work on the garden can commence. But if it is unpropitious the medicineman's (mnané) aid is solicited; in order to he able to give this, the mnané must first have a dream about the plots in question. On the following day he has to relate this dream. Meanwhile a white rooSlter has to he sacrificed, white being the colour which helongs with heaven and with the Lord of Heaven, Uis Neno, to whom the sacrifice is offered.

A bamboo stalk is cut down and its top split into four or eight sections. This sèpè is inserted in the ground and the mnané delivers an invocation (on en) , in the recitation of which everyone present may join in, the parallel words, especially those following the long-drawn ma - (= and -), being repeated by the entire group.

"This day I stand, I present myself,

I bring a feathered one, a furred one 31

To Thee, 0 BriIHant One and - 0 Fiery One,

In order to announce unto Thee and - to hear Thee tidings;

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 55

May it bring forth a propitious oracle and - a propitious omen 3t for Thy people and - for Thy children,

So that the young plants and - the seedlings of Liurai-Sonba'i 33 May germinate and - give forth shoots,

So that there be health and - prosperity 34

For Thy people and - for Thy children.

Let no disease descend upon them, no disaster befall them.35

May it please Thee to remove the clouds, to withdraw the mists.

May it please Thee to hold them in Thine hand and - hold them Every day, every morning." [fast

While delivering this invocation he scatters rice grnins which he carries in a smal I basket of lontar leaves, as is customary throughout a prayer. The cockerel is suspended, dead or alive, depending on the mnane's instructions, on the split bamboo stalk.

If the mnane's dream is also unpropitious, another white cockerel has to be sacrificed.

At the end of this ritual the mnané dismisses the men planning to cuHivate the garden, instructing them to sacrifice a buffalo before clearing the land.

b. Requesting Permission

1t is not necessary to "inform" (mutonan,36 as the Atoni says) the tobé accordingly if one intends to cultivate a garden in the territory of one's own tobé, on land one has cultivated before or on land that has been previously cultivated by one's father, a1though formerly it was customary to do so. Permission has to be asked, however, (even nowadays) if one intends to cultivate a patch of virgin soi!. But there are virtually no uncultivated forest lands left which have not been set aside as forest reserves by the N etherlands East lndies or lndonesian government, or which are not part of the holy, inviolable, sacred (leu) areas. However, sometimes grasslands are cultivated, and in that case the tobé's permission is required; in return for his permission he receives the pak st/fan (= the f10wer of the land), which is usually a coral bead or a piece of silver.

If planning to lay out a garden in the territory of a tobe other than one's own - which is possible, as, for in stance, when one collaborates with someone who has land in that territory, or when brothers tend a garden in the area in which the family-in-Iaw of one of them resides - it is customary to inform the tobé concerned of one's plans to cultivate a certain patch of land. As is the custom whenever a request is made, a complimentary gift is offered to the tobe. The latter may withhold his permission, but is more likely to grant the request as usually the permission of those who have previously worked the particular patch in question has been obtained beforehand. The tobe is bound to say that a buffalo has to be kiIIed before cultivation can commence. Even if permission has been obtained in this manner one runs the risk of being evicted later on - if the tobe does not receive further gifts to which he is entitled, for instance.

The first people to cultivate a certain patch of land a1ways retain certain rights to it, even if someone e1se cultivates it af ter them once or even twice for a period of two or th ree years at a stretch, and they have neglected it for twenty years or more. If another person occupies it without their permission, this person has to compensate all the animaIs which the original occupants have sacrifieed for this garden, for e1se the newly sawn erop is doomed to failure. Religious sanetion is c1early the basis for the maintenanee of the legal order, as is of ten the case. The original occupant, moreover, may at all times, even af ter planting, demand that the new occupant leave the garden. Naturally in this case the matter develops into a legal dispute, the strong arm or physical power of the head being expected to implement the verdict by force if necessary. This is only a hypothetical case, however, - no-one was able to name an example of anyone ever being actually turned out of a garden. The tabe, lineage heads or, in same cases, the viIlage head usually work out a settlement th at is acceptable to both

THE ECONOMIC LIFE S7

parties. But this will never at any time have the power to interfere with the rights of the o-riginal occupant.

c. Sharpening the Matchet

The next ceremony takes place when the matchet is sharpened, before a start may be made with the felling of trees and shrubs.

In order to avert misfortune and to ensure the success of the crop an invocation is delivered to the ancestors. This is done first beside the ni monef (the masculine pillar) or the hau monef (masculine pole) in front of the lineage ~hrine in which the sacred objects ( le'u) belonging to the lineage are kept. This is always the house of the oldest member of the ume. From this itt is evident that the cultivation of a garden is primarily - as it has in all probability been of old - an ume concern. The lineage head or the oldest of the cultivators offers a sacrifice and delivers the following invocation (on en): 37

"0 my female ancestors (be'l), my male ancestors (na'i), old and

Thou who art far and Thou who art nigh,38 [young,

May it please Thee to come with me, to accompany me.

May I this day clear a space and - make room

For the young plants and - for the seedlings of Liurai-Sonba'i.

May there, until I come back, until I return,

Descend no clouds, no mists upon me." 39

He thereupon enters the house and approaches the maternal pillar (ni ainaf) 40 on which are displayed the sacred objects (le'u) and I1:he sirih purses of the ancestors, and says:

"0 my female ancestors, my male ancestors, old and young,

Thou who art far and Thou who art nigh,

Thou who art my origin and - my forebears,

May it please Thee to come with me and - to accompany me.

This day I wish to make room and - clear a space

For the gift bestowed upon me by the clouds, the sprinkling of the mists upon me.41

May there he health and prosperity.42 This is the case and these the words. May clouds and mists Be the cause of many sueh cases, many sueh wor ds. We lay it hefore Thee,43 the case is Thine."

d. Felling the Trees

Af ter this the trees are chopped down. First the shrubs and smaller trees are cleared. This is done in order that the number of large trees may be easier to survey. An estimate is made of the numher of men necessary to chop down all the trees which need to he felled in one day. Some trees, sueh as sandal-trees, trees in which hees usually make their nests and those providing timber suitable for the construction of houses and which is fire-resistant (such as matani or red timher) are left standing. Clearing of the undergrowth is commenced preferably as early as August. When this has been done the leader of the group preparing to tiII the plot approaches other inhabitants of his viIIage, or in some cases anyone who is prepared to help, for assistance; formerly he probably restrieted himself to a number of harn1ets of his own or related clans. He tries to rally the minimum numher of men he eonsiders sufficient to complete the work in one day, as he has to kiIl animals on every day he has peopJe working for him. This eharacterizes, and offers a partial explanation for, the Atoni's general mode of work - he gives preference to carrying out a project in coöperation with as large a number of prople in as short a time as possible. The Atoni invariably endeavours to finish the work to he done in a few days' strenuous toil. This lends the work a very special, and even festive character, especially when we bear in mind the meaJ at the end of the day. The smalJ group preparing the garden wouJd probably he able to chop down all the large trees in a few weeks' consistently hard work, but quite understandably the more companionable, festive method of working communally, whieh acts as a break in the monoil:ony of the daily routine, holds more attraction for the Atoni. Furthermore, there is the religious requirement ,to offer a sacrifice to Dis Pah, the Lord of the Eamh, each day on whieh trees are felled, which at the same time ensures the provision of meat for eating. This religious necessity also acts as an incentive for working collectively and finishing the work in

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 59 Therefore I clasp in my hand and bring (Thee), I hold in my

one day. Tt can be posed, besides, that economic motives play a mIe in determining this method of work, as in order to reward the helpers with a feast animals have to be killed. As aresuIt they work very hard, the young men especially showing off their strength and endurance and their dexterity at felling large trees skilfully and speedily with the aid of no other tools than their matchet (benas). It is far from surprising that they like to have a few days' rest to recover before rthey join forces again to help with the same work in another garden. Nonetheless, this far from inefficient method has met with negative critici sm on the part of Europeans who accuse the Atoni of being lazy and unsuitable for regular work.

In the aftemoon of the day on which the trees are felled the animals are killed - a buffalo and one or more pigs, depending on the number of people who have participated in the work. Here the head, or usually one of the oMest members of the group laying out the garden, a person wel! versed in the ritual, expresses the followLng invocation :

"This day I would express unto Thee and - inform Thee

that this is my ground, my land, my soil and my lake.44

I shall make room and - clear a space

for the small and the large nono,45 the small and the large trunk.46

hand and - bring (Thee)

This feathered one and - this furred one.

A few men help me clasp it and - help me hold it in my hand.

This I ponder deep in my heart and - in my mind,

if they help me hold in my hand, help me clasp

this sacrifice and - this offering,

let there, when this sacrifice has been offered and people go their way, be no talking about me, no gossiping abourt me.47 o my female ancestors, my male ancestors,

my hidden power, my progenitive power,48

come here, all of Thee, appear Thee here,

keep watch over us and guard us,

shelter us and protect us

against being wounded, against being struck.49

Of this I bear Thee tidings, of this I inform Thee."

Before nightfall, when the work is finished, the workers assembie for the mea!. The ornaments and sirih purses which have been placed in three baskets woven out of lontar leaves prior to this are removed and the baskets are filled wirth rice. One is for Pah Tuaf, the Lord of the Earth, and has to be placed near the hau monef (the masculine pole outside), 50 and one for the be' i na: i, the female and male ancestors, which has to be placed at the ni ainaf (the mart:ernal pillar inside the house).

Before the meal the senior occupant of the garden or one of the elders delivers the foUowing invocation :

"Af ter speaking to the Lord of the Earth, the Lord of the Lake,

To my female ancestors, my male ancestors,

My hidden power, my progenitive power,

I have finished preparing this 51 - cooking it,

Accept, then, receive (it).

May it bring us health and prosperity."

Af ter the meal everyone returns homeward and the work is considered finished. In more rece11ll: years - according to the Atoni - people have tried to some extent to avoid these obligations imposed by the adat by means of a system of mutual exchange of labour. Anyone planning to lay out a garden plot with his own peopJe, a few brothers or sons or other members of his lineage, will try to come to an agreement with prople outside his lineage totake turns at helping each other. In that case there is far less need for killing animals. If the sacrifice is omitted as weIl, th ere is no need for killing animals at all. Each worker brings along his own food. "This was never done in

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 61

olden days", according to ,the Atoni. In his culture the past is normative and is considered the ideal situation - it cannot but have been better than the present. Formerly the adat was much more rigorously observed, as the Atoni is bound to say, even though he may add that in former times the adat was not always observed in every case either; in some cases - if, for example, a large number of beasts had died in a drought - rw animals would be killed for the communal meal. Poor people cannot always (and could not always in the past) kill a sufficient number of animals, or in any case not enough buffaloes. This form of exchange of labour must therefore always have existed.

It goes without saying, then, that the wealthier, who wish to live up to the respect accorded them by the rest of the community, cannot and will not come to such agreements and shirk their adat duties. It is fitting for a wealthy person to invite the people of his lineage to work for him and to reward them afterwards with a plentiful meal. This boosts his prestige. A lineage head or any other man who owns sufficient numbers of ca:ttle and has thereby built up a repwtation for himself, will be able to have a large number of people work for him. He will be able to cultivate a large pélltch of land and expect a more plentiful harvest, 50' that the next year he will be able to offer another lavish meal wi,th rice as the main dish. (A host is always expected to serve rice élIt these feasts, and it is in fact always served for the first course, while com is served with subsequent courses. Com is, af ter all, the staple food, while rice is considered a greater delicacy and is hence more highly valued socially. The com is ground so as to look like rice.)

If the land to be cultivated is grassland, the heavy work of tuming the soil (with the aid of long digging-sticks) is similarly carried out by a large group of people working communally. They stand thirty to forty men in a row and all simultaneously thrust their pointed sticks (suah) as deeply into the ground as possible (approximélltely half a metre) and similarly push them back and down simultaneously in order to lift the heavy sods. They sing songs in accompaniment in order to indicate the rhythm, as during the rowing of a perahu. When this work is done they usually have buffa!oes tread the !arger sods to break them up. A garden laid out in one day in this manner cannot possib!y he large. The maximum size of the area worked by each man may be roughly estimating 80 to 100 square metres. As, moreover, wood for the enclosing fence is difficult to procure on the plain, whilst here the fence needs to he especially strong in order to keep out stray cattle, whereas on the mountain slopes trees are so plentiful that most of them have to be felled anyway, it is not surprising that the Atoni has always avoided the plain.

e. Burning of!

When the wood of the trees and shrubs thus felled is thoroughly dry - two or three months later, that is, towards the end of September or in October - it is burnt. This is done by the occupanrt:s themselves; if possible, a still night is chosen for this. First firebreaks are made around the trees which have to be spared (such as the sandal-tree) by clearing the undergrowth around them.

When the workers return home from this work they have to be Ü'n their guard against practical jokers, as in accordance with the traditional custom everyone is permi1Jted to "cool them down". Quite unexpectedly and unawares - when, for instance, they are peacefully finishing oH their meal - somwne will pour water (preferably dirty water) all over them and yell: "have a good harvest". The atoni amaf and his people (i.e. the bride-giving affines) especially have a right to play practical jokes of this kind.52 The Atoni is aware of the reasons for this, as the lineage which supplies wives supplies fertility; and the hot soil has to be cooled down af ter burning down (mainikin = cool, healthy, good, fertile; it is diametricaUy opposed to menas = hot, feverish, bad). This is the reason for the symbolic act of throwing water and wishing the victim a good harvest. The fact that tbe water may be dirty and that an element of teasing is involved is a result of the superordinate position of tbe bride-giving group in respect of the bride-receiving group.

Before burning, thick branches are put aside for the construction of the fence (bahan). Preference is given to bamboo, if a lot of it happens to be growing nearby, because it is easier to handle than the usually hard timbers.

These fences are constructed by the occupants themse1ves. This is quite a difficult task, for especially in areas where there are a lot of pigs, the palings of a fence have to be fitted close together. Where there is more open country there are fewer pigs, but a larger number of buffaloes, so that the palings have to be driven firmly inJt:o the ground (see photograph 18). If the garden is laid out on one of the rocky mountain slopes, on which there is usually a great deal of loose corallite - found particularly in western Timor - there are not normally such

THE ECONOMIe LIFE 63

a large numher of trees. In that case the surrounding fence is constructed of these rocks. This is an extremely arduous task, but the advantage is that this way most loose rock is removed from the gardens (see photograph 19).

Because of all the work involved in the construotion of the fence, the Atoni are frequently late in finishing it. If the rains set in too early they are usually too late altogether, so that they will have to rush to get the job finished after planting.

f. Silo Nopo 53 - "extinguishing the bamboo"

Whereas throwing water at the workers is a mere practical joke, though one with symbolic significance, sifo nopo is the solemn rite performed to restore the normal balance in the iuterplay of cosmic forces. The earth has to he made cool (mainikin) again and the forces of heat and fire rendered harmless, while the Lord of Heaven, Vis N eno, has to he implored to grant fertility for the next harvest. At the same time Vis Pah, the Lord of the Earth, has to he given an altar in the new garden plot.

The tobe, who is an authority in respect of the cuLt relating to plant growth, recites the long prayer appropriate at this stage at the gatheringpI ace, the seat (toko) of Vis Pah or Pah Tuaf, which is the sacred centre (le'u) of the area in which the garden to he cultivated is located.

Everyone who has cultivated a new plot in this area assembles at the same point, bringing fowls, pigs and rice. The sacrificial animals are killed and the tobe recites the great invocation, he alone being permitted to do so:

"Here then I stand, 1 present myself

before Thee, 0 Brilliant One, 0 Fiery One,

in order to sow my seed and - plant my seed 54

in my yard and - in my garden.

0, may it please Thee to hold in readiness for me the early andthe late rains,

in order that it may germinate and wax, that it may grow staIks and grow roots,

that it may he cold and - he cool, that it may constantly sprout, constantly take root.

In bygone days Liurai and Sonba'i roamed

around their land and - around their lake.

They have sprung from three trunks and - three roots:

the prople of Belu, the prople of Sabu and - the prople of Ti,55 Oenun, Maubeis, Oebiok, Hau Timu, Dirma and - Lakekun.56

This is the compound of the great, the garden 57 of the great.

There the great Kateri and - the little Kateri 58

raises its peak and - rises to heaven.

There they made a permanent enclosure, a lasting fence. 59

High was the enclosure and - high the fence.6o

They looked up to heaven before them:

to Fautbesi and - Hauna.61

High was the fence and - high the enclosure.

They continued on their way and travelled on,

to the great abode of princes 62 and the great garden pavilion;

it was near Mount Lobus and near Mount Tubaku.63

They looked up to heaven before them:

it was Keun and - it was Mone.64

There they made a lasting fence, a permanent enclosure.

They looked up to heaven before them:

16. An :\tuni from :-'Iauhcsi, In Insana, c1imhing a IO/l/ar palm lil order to tap juice at the top of thl' t rcl'.

17. Woman washing sago-flour.

is was Namkele and Noemuti.65

They looked up to heaven before them:

to the sky of Banam.66 There they made a permanent enc1osure, a lasting fence. Again they looked up to heaven hefore them:

There they made a permanent enc1osure, high was the fence and - high the enclosure. They looked up to heaven before them: it was Kopan and - Olain,67 that is, whence garlic and - the onion have come.68 There they made a lasting fence and - a permanent enc1osure. High was the fence, high the enc1osure. They looked up to heaven before them: to Babau and - Panmuti.69 There they made a lasting fence, a permanent enclosure, high was the fence and - high the enc1osure. Onee more they looked up to heaven before them: toward Mutis and - Bahnain.70 There they made a permanent enc1osure, a lasting fence, high was the fence, high the enc1osure. Toward Tulika and - Aenmat. 71 There they made a permanent enc1osure, a lasting fence, high was the enc10sure and - high the fence. Again they looked up to heaven hefore them:

Again they looked up to heaven hefore them:

toward SisaluIa and - Tamnanu,

Kolkohi and - Bastian, Numusu and Faunon.72

Again they looked up to heaven Wore them:

toward Toa and - Puitlelo.

Again they looked up to heaven hefore them:

toward Faifnesu and - Bokboèk.73 it was Faina, Maubeis, Naike and - Nofanu.74

These places are in the centre of the realm, and - in the navel of There two pillars were erected, [the realm,

the pillar of Liurai and - the pillar of Sonba'i,

there are sunrise and sunset, masculine sea and - feminine sea. 75 There we shall gat her and - we shall meet.

Let this not take place with empty hands, with empty arms, but with rain-tree (corn) and tail-graSIS (rice),76

heap these up and - pile them up

for the children of the moon and - the children of the sun.77 They are as ignorant vessels and - as unknowing platters.78 This is the case, this is the word." 79

The tabe, who has fi1led his basket (tobe) 80 with rice, scatters rice as he recites the above. The livers of the sacrificial animals are examined in accordance with the custom to see if the omens are favourable.81 Then some of the blood is poured into a bamboo stalk and sprinkled around the gardens. This may he omitted, however, if, as is frequently done, a sample of earth from the plots in question is taken to the gathering-place (toko) in order to he sprinkled with blood there.

Then a mea1 is eaten at the toko. Everything is served in separate baskets (kasui) - a separate basket for each kind of meat (buffalo

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 67

meat, pork and chicken). The rice is placed in the baskets first, then the meat. A porti on of each dish is placed in a basket: <me for the seat (toko) of Vis Pah, one for the ancestors (bc'i - ndi), and one for the hidden forces (Ze" u ). A basket bas to he set aside also for unexpected guests, such as the deceased (nitu) of the lineages of the atoni amaf, (the heads of the bride-giving lineages). Before the meal the tobc recites the following invocation :

"This have I prepared and - have I cooked.

This I wish to express and - this I wish to announce unto

the Brilliant One and - the Fiery One,

therefore I heap it up and - pile it up

hefore Thy heavenly countenance and - hefore Thy divine eyes. Accept it, receive it.

Sprinkle it weU, give it good black soil."

FoUowing this the Vis Pah is instalied in every garden. It consists of a large stone or of a heap of smaller stones with a larger stone on top of them. This stone has to be sought by the medicineman hefore the ritual. Beside the stone, or if there are more than one, in the midst of them, the "heartwood" (hau tcs) is erected and some of the sacrificial foods, such as the com cobs from the offerings to he sacrificed, and the lower part of a pig's jaw, or a buffalo skull, are suspended from it. A small quantity of the cooked food and parts of the sacrificial animal (the heant or part of its intestines) are placed on the stone - called bak-bak in Miomafo.82 At this initial sacrifice money and sirih pinang - seven pieces of each - are placed on the Vis Pah. In Beboki this numher is oot fixed though it should he an odd one, whilst in Miomafo it should always he au even numher. As the words: "All of thee, come guard and keep watch over my Liurai-Sonba'i, which I have planted" are said, four times four grains of com and an equal number of rice grains are quickly planted around the Vis Pah. The Vis Pah does not necessarily have to he instalied in the gardens on the same day - this can he done just as weIl on the following day - but is always done so as part of the ritual of cooling down the land, or "existinguishing the bamboo" (sifo no'po). Thereupon the tobc recites the following invocatioll :

"This day I wish to set Thee down and - give Thee a place in the midst of my yard and - my garden.

For now I intend to plant, to sow, Liurai and - Sonba'i.

o my female ancestors, my male ancestors, my hidden power, my progenitive power! All of Thee, come and behold, appear before us; keep watch and - guard until I have planted, have sown Sonba'i and - Liurai.83 0, may it please Thee to go thither also, to pay homage to the Brilliant One and - the Fiery One; sprinkie it well, give it good black soi!. Allow not the manggo to wither, nor the watermelon to parch.84 May they constantly grow shoots, constantly sprout. This is the case, this is the word."

All the seed for the garden is placed on the altar-stone; it is removed littie by little and immediately sown. If sowing is continued the next day the remaining seed is first placed on the altar-stone again. Once more an animal is killed and prepared élIIld the tobe or an amaf recites:

"This have I prepared and - cooked. Therefore I invoke, I summon the Lord of the Lake and - the Lord of the Earth, my female ancestors, my male ancestors, my hidden power, my progenitive power, to come nearer and - approach hither, to accept and - receive what I have placed before Thee, prepared for Thee, this heap (of rice), this pile (of meat)." 85

During these last words ilie baskets of rice and meat are placed before the altar.

The ritual of cooling down the ground, sifo nopo, is very important in that it includes an invocation to the ancestors, while the Lord of the Earth, Dis Pah, is assigned a place for the coming season and mad~ the Lord of this garden in a very tangible way.

As soon as the rains begin to fall planting commences - this is usually the same day on which the sifo nopo ritual is performed, or the day af ter, for this ritual is performed as soon as there is rain under way or even a~ter the first rain has fallen. Frequently the Artoni plants

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too hastily, for the rains do not a:1ways persist once they set in. Then the seed dries up and he has to plant a second time.

Planrting is women's work, just as felling and buming are exclusively men's tasks. Holes spaced two paces apart are made in the ground with a dibble; in each of these are placed theoretically four grains of com, or if rice is cultivated, four grains of rice; this is so in theory, but in practice this number is of ten four rto six, because, as rthe Atoni says, the grains are so small. The holes are closed with the feet.

Before planting the seed is carried to the garden by the women; noone, neither man nor woman, is allowed to speak during this time. The rice is planted in plots surrounded by rows of com. Art the same time native peas, gourds, cucumbers and watermelons are sown. When the rain has thoraughly soaked the ground cassava, bataten, peaS,86 bananas and sugar-cane are planted as weil. Banana-trees and sugar-cane, like coconut and pinang palms, are usually planted in the village, in the compound surrounding the house.

g. Eka hoë - "filling in the diteh"

The aim of this invocation is to prevent the seed from being washed away by heavy downpours. This ritual is performed shortly after planting.

Before the sacrificial anima! is killed the tobe or the amaf recites the following invocation :

"This day I hear Thee tidings and - I announce unto Thee

that my younger and my elder brothers, my morther and my father,

my distaff-side and spear-side kin,

who are seen here and - have appeared here,

have come to meet here and - ta assembIe here

before Thy countenance and - before Thine eyes,

hearing from Thy land, Thy lake,

its yield and - its fruit.

They have come not only with the yield and the fruit of the land, but with their hearts and their feelings (of gratitude).

Their hands are filled and - their arms are filled,

each one holding in his hands a feathered one and a furred one, that it may rise (to Thee) and - ascend (to Thee),

o my rock of renown, my source of renown.8T

May it please Thee to admonish the early and the late rains, do not allow them to escape me and - to elude me.

If they should escape me and - elude me

Liurai-Sonba'i

will surely not grow good shoots, not wax weIl.

My Lords,88 aged Vis TaoIin, aged Vis Fal,

aged Vis Pupu and - aged Vis Tonhesi,

who are the heads of the sacrificial basket,89 the heads of the sacrificial pannier ,

which comes from the lords 90 of the sacrificial basket, of the sacrificial pannier, namely

Hitu, Taboi, Saidjao, Banusu,

in order that, when I hear gifts of tribute and pay homage,

rain-tree (corn) and - tail-grass (rice) ,

to the Son of the Moon, the Son of the Sun,91

what lies hefore them, what is placed before their eyes may not he inferior,

so that we may praise Thee and - extol Thee greatly."

As soon as the sacrificial animal has been prepared and the rice cooked the tooe or amaf speaks the following words hefore the meal commences:

"This have I prepared and - have I cooked

in order that I may pile up (rice) and - heap up (meat)

hefore Thy countenance and - before Thine eyes.

Accept it, receive it,

in order that there he health for me, prosperity for me,

that the sacrificial basket he fiIled, the sacrificial pannier he filled."

h. Drought and lai/ure ol the erop

If the rains are late this is ascribed to some error in the ritual.

If the crop appea.rs to he wilting the tooe or an amaf who is well versed in the tradition is consulted. He spends a whole night in the garden hut, repeating aloud passages from stories (nanuan). In contrast to the invocations made at sacrificing here there is no-one else

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 71

present and there is no-one to join in and repeat in chorus the appropriate parallel wor ds. The contents of this recitation, like those of the great prayer recirted when the ground is "cooled down", refer to the group's descent from and relationship to Liurai-Sonba'i, who are also the origin of ri ce and eom. This myth of origin is of ten re1ated. Sacrificing takes pI ace by day, recitation of stories by night.

The tobe assembles all his people and investigates the possible causes of the failure. Was the tobe who was in charge of sacrificing at the sifo nopo (rooIing down of the earrth) ritual a minor one, that is, the tobe of a few small lineages or of a large lineage living by itse1f, and did he eommirt an error, so that the aneestors have failed to eome? Did he perhaps omit part of the invocation ? Or was the Vis Pah - that is, the stone representing Vis Pah - instalied ineorrectly, or not at all, in a particular garden? Or have the unpropitious omens of the augural egg or of the liver been ignored and has a second animal not been killed?

The eause eannot but lie in an error in the ritual. 1t eannot possibly be some secret sin, sueh as murder or incest, as misfortune is bound to strike the person eommitting sueh a sin; it would not enter the Atoni's mind in the first instanee, however, to associate drought or failure of the crop with the misdemeanour of a member of the group. For this reason the ritual requires great aecuracy and people pray that: "when this sacrifiee has been offered, let there be no talking and no gossiping about us".

If an error has been committed, mention of it, which would bring it out into the open, ean only aggravarte its consequenees. The question as to whether Vis N eno, Vis Pah and the ancestors would not themselves have noticed sueh an error was evaded, as was the question as to whether an error in the ritual would nort automatically have unpleasant consequences. This is a line of thought which is beyond the Atoni's mental scope. He reasons that an error in the ritual is bound to have adverse consequenees, while making sueh an error publie will ma:ke the manifes.tation of these consequences even more inevitable.

Conversely, it ean be said that if the ritual has been performed fault1essly a good harvest may be expected. This never follows automatically, but a bad harvest has a doser causal re1ationship with an error in the ritual than a good harvest with a perfectly faultless ritual.

If the rains are late, a b!aek anima! has to he sacrificed. Propte in 1nsana said that it had to be b!ack because b!ack c10uds were needed here.

When the tobe thinks he has discovered the error he utters the following inv<>CaJtion :

"0 my rock of renown, my source of renown, I have transgressed and - have committed an offence. This transgression, this offence I shall not suppress and - I shall not conceal ; therefore I approach and - come near (Thee) bringing Thee a feathered one and - a furred one. It is thus: my nono was immature, my tani was unripe. I confess and I admit (lit. : to split) . that I have committed adultery, that I have been foolish. I shall be forgetful of Thee no more, shall disregard Thee no more."

This prayer is important in that it throws a great deal of light on the Atoni's way of thinking and his attitude towards the powers of the hidden world.

The sentence "It is thus: my nono was immature, my tani was unripe" is difficult to translate. N vno and tani are used in parallelism with each other, the words literally meaning: liana, forest creeper. However, nono is also the word for the fertility power of the clan and its related ritual. Each clan has its own nono, so that nono also denotes the circle of all those who have the same nono. As a verb it means "to roam around" - Liurai-Sonba'i 's wanderings are nono. NOM can also he a qualification of le'u (= hidden power). Le'u nono then is used in parallelism with le'u musu (hostility le'u), the former heing the secret power of fertility and le'u musu the secret power by means of which one's enemies may he conquered. Together they make up the two complementary spheres in which the Atoni's life is set, namely fertility and defence, life and death, peace and war, or, in the Atoni's own words: "mainikin ma menas" (coolness and heat).Nono - tani covers the totality of the concept of fertility power. This was immature (maté = green (of fruits and crops), raw (of meat), not quite cooked). The meaning of this sentence appears to he that the fertility power was not able to function properly; the manner in which the nmo was served or in which the ritual was performed, was "raw", crude, rash. People in Insana said, however, that it meant: "In order that my vital force may remain vigorous, my fertility power remain vigorous" on the analogy of the phrase tak Jeu oke, tak mate oke (= we all eat the new, we all eat the fresh, i.e., the new, fresh com) in the ritual in which it is announced to the implements thai!: there is new com. This is not a very like interpretation; it is rather an indication that

THE ECONOMIe LIFE 73

people no longer understand the full meaning of their own ritual, partly because the ritual language is archaic and not at all like the spoken language.

The prayer continues in the first person, with the confession that he, i.e. the tobc, "has committed adultery", which was a "foolish" thing to do. "Foolish" (man) is frequently used in this connection. Adultery is an offence against the rules of conduct governing life, in accordance with which people are supposed to act; if they do not conform with these something goes amiss with this "life". That is why adultery is "foolish", "stupid". A sensible person would not commit an offence such as this. The same applies to the tobc who has not observed the ritual forms through inadvertence.

Af ter the sacrificial ceremony, before the sacrificial animal is eaten, a prayer is said, as follows:

"A heap (of rice) and a pile (of meat) before Thy

countenance and - before Thine eyes

have I prepared and - have I cooked.

Pray accept it, pray receive it.

May Thou accept it in all sincerity, receive it in all sincerity."

Now tlre tobe has repaired his former omission. Formerly he would probably have had to pay a fine to the kapitan, the principal tobe of the whole suh-territory.

If it appears by the continued absence of rain that the error still has nat been repaired, or that there is anather error requiring requital, the kapitan is consulted. The latter then rallies all his tobc, traces tlre error or offence, and informs the lord (usif) of his sub-territory accordingly. According to my informants in Insana the usif thereupon givers orders to assembIe 3It the kapitan's 92 tola (the wooden pole erected in the midst of a pile of rocks, hence the cent re of tlre altar and the ritual centre of the community). Then a sacrifice is offered on the spot on which the error was committed or on the kapitan's sacred cliff (fatu le'u) itself.

The prayer appropriate to this sacrifice is recited by the kapitan as the principal tobc. For the sacred cIiff (fatu le'u) is the place of origin of the whole of that particular group: it is "tlre rock of renown and the sou ree of renown" of the great sifo nopo prayer. That is why saerifiees are also offered here before the men go to war.

This time a white buffalo has to be sacrifieed - white because the group has to be purified and c1eansed of the offence whieh has been eommitted. The colour of the buffalo previously sacrificed, when the objective was to rectify the error that had been committed, was blaek; this time the objective is purification - hence the white eoloured buffalo, even though the rains have not come. The buffalo has to walk up to the fatu Ze'u, where it is killed. As it is slaughtered the kapitan speaks the following words:

"0 my bearded rock, bearded tree,93

at the gathering-plaee of the tribe and of the people and - at their meeting-plaee,

the saerificial basket and - the sacrificial pannier

was wielded wrongly, treated wrongly.

I professed Thee not and - paid not homage unto Thee.

I stood not and - did not pr·esent myself.

Therefore I bring Thee a feathered one and - a furred one.

Thou hast admonished me, Thou hast reproved me.

Thy grave admonition, Thy stern reproval

did not send down disease upon me, nor a eurse upon me, but a eurse and disease upon Liurai-Sonba'i,

upon his erop and his harvest.

bringing Thee a feathered one and a furred one, [reverently, because I have eommitted an offenee and have transgressed.

Therefore the early and the late rains have been delayed and For this reason am lafraid and do I fear, [detained.

so that I come with bowed head and approach Thee most

Alas, I shall be forgetful of Thee no more,

I shall neglect Thee no more.

May it please Thee to lend this case Thine ear, lend this word Thine ear,

Sprinkie the erop and the harvest of Liurai-Sonba'i, give them pray send the early and the late rain. [good black earth,

in order that the stem be eold, the root be cold (mlllinikin),

that it may constantly grow shoots and constantly sprout,

so that I may aeknowledge (Thee) as lord (usif) and not deny Thee as head, not be disloyal.

Let the moon know of it and let the sun know of it."

Disease, menas, heat, evil, is opposed to nwinrikin, eoolness, well-being.

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A curse (bunuk) is the consequence of a transgression of the ritual mies or of a taboo (nuni) or of the desecration of a holy plaee or a sacred object (le'u). If the individual comrnits such an offence he is bound to be struek by a eurse, whieh will bring disease upon him or his next of kin. If the ritual is not observed in every detail sueh a curse will strike the community as a whoie, while if the ritual concerned is a fertility rite, as in this case, the curse will strike the erop. When the kapitan has, as he himself confesses, "eommitted an offence and transgressed" (the words tanhai - laksae bath mean "to transgress, to overstep the bounds") he has violated the rules which constitute the norms governing the life of man and overstepped the bounds imposed on man. And this is the essence of the "transgression" , as a result of which he has brought down a curse (men as and bunuk) upon himself.

The kapitan does not address Vis Neno, the Lord of Heaven, or Vis Pah, the Lord of the Earth, but the ancient moss-grown rock of origin. There the ancestors of the tribe have emerged from the earth, as many Timorese myths relate. This is almost a form of deification of the origin of the natal group. Not sa much sa because the Atoni considers his own community to be sacred - this is altogether beyond his mental horizons - but because a person's origin lies in the hidden world, of whieh his ancestors also are part and to which he will one day himself belong.

If ,the drought nevertheless pers'ÏSIts, bringing with it the threat of failure of the greater part of the erop, and efforts to trace the error whieh may have been made in the ritual, and likewise the saerifiees to the ancestors and to the rock of origin have been to no avail, the Atoni tries to find a different salution.

During the famine of 1930 the people of Amfoan sought help from Lauf Neno,94 a woman living by herself in a shack in a river vaIIey. Her only cIothing eonsisted of a ragged 10in-c1oth, and she had no other belongings than a cooking-pot and a sirih purse. She had been discovered in 1927, when there was alsa a food shortage, and was reputed to have descended from heaven on to the Mutis, sa that she was a neno anan, or celestial ehild. Others said she came from Kauniki where Sonba'i, the great son of heaven, once lived. She was said to have attended school and to speak many languages. People brought her quantities of sacrificial gifts, sueh as hens, pigs, c1oths, beads and sirih pinang, in order to bring on rain. Her fingers were deformed, except for the index fingers and thumbs. She had the appearance of an old woman, although she was probably not much older than 30. lt was believed that if she opened her right hand the drought would continue for a very long time to come, and if she opened her left hand many people would die. The fetM (district head) decided to send her to Kupang, but when she became aware of his intentions she was litera1ly struck dumb and wept so much, for days on end, that the fetor, prompted by apprehension, released her. But a few months later she was conveyed to Kupang aft er all, on the orders of the Netherlands East lndies Government. Here people continued to bring sirih pinang to her in jail. She was charged with fraud and died a month later. She had opened the fingers of her left hand before her death and was buried with her hand in that position. And many people indeed died, for the drought continued.

The above is an example of how popular imagination pI aces a 10ne1y and disfigured person in the sphere of the hidden world and how such a person is expected to mediCLte when people are in di stress themselves. The woman herself probably had no part in this at all.

The case of a man from Bekwin, also in Amfoan, was different. This man had a vision in which a man and a woman from heaven, in shimmering garments, revealed themselves as Vis N eno, the Lord of Heaven. The larter gave instructions to "no longer c1eave (i.e. till) the earth and the rocks. For we have created thy father and thy mother from dust and their bodies have turned to dust and rocks again". The meaning of this was that corvée labour for road-work was no longer to he rendered and that anyone who disobeyed this order would die. They did have to pay taxes, so he said. Ris followers had to pay these to him, either in money or in animais. The government exiled him, but this did not put an end to people's fear of him.

Neno Sonba'i, too, a descendant of the old Sonba'i dynasty in Fatule'u, wandered around the country organizing sacrificial feasts, as Sonba'i as the son of heaven is associated with the rain from heaven.

These examples will serve to illustrate how prople may act deliberately in order to bring on rain and win fame and fortune for themselves. This does not imply that the man from Bekwin did not believe in his own vision. Sonba'i certainly was aware of the position accorded him as mediator hetween man and the hidden forces of heaven and earth.

i. Paying the tobe

After wee ding, and usually before the crops ripen, people assembie

THE ECONOMIe LIFE 77

once more to pay the tobe his fees (noin tobe). The sacrificial basket (tobe) is placed on the altar stone (toko) of the tobe, who sits down beside it. Formerly everyone placed rice and corn in it, according to his means, $0 that a large number of baskets belonging to the tobe were fi1led with the latter. This rice and corn could be exchanged or $Old back in return for cattle, bangles or cloths in times of famine. The cattle would then be tended by the tobe, and the other objects and the rice and corn stored in his tola. Here the meaning of tola, the wooden pole in the centre of the altar, is: central storage house for the territory of the major custodian of the land (tobe naek). Each tobe has two tola or sacred storage houses. These have the same shape as ordinary storage houses (lopo) but because they are tola they are inviolable (le'u). There is a tola molo and a tola metan, which are due west and east of one another respectively (mala means 'yellow' and belongs to the west, metan is 'black' and is of ten associated, in a different context, with the north).

Obviously the tobe had to be paid af ter the harvest, as is at present still the case with the kapitan, the usif and the ruler. But people did not agree unanimously that this was $0. Some said that the tobe - i.e. the tobe of a smaller ter ri tory inhabited by a few clans - had to be paid at the beginning of the wet sea$On $0 that during the months to follow, when food could be expected to be scarce, (there is a period of food shortage every year, though sometimes it is not serious) he would have oorn and rice to sell.

During the colonial period the amount paid him was a guilder or the equivalent of five Chinese coins of 20 dollar cents each, which were officially in circulation in Portuguese Timor up to the second world war.

The old system contained an excellent social institution. The surplus of the harvest of a community was committed to the custodianship of the tobe, so that in times of famine the people of that community could re1y on him for food, having an opportunity to purchase it from him, as long as the supplies lasted, at prices that were more or less fixed. The returns al$O felI under his control, although they never became his own - he could never dispose freely over them or use them for his personal benefit. Just as he is the custodian of the land of a number of clans, he is the trustee of their reserves and of the cattle and objects paid him in exchange for food. The lndonesian term "toon tanah" ("lord of the manor " , landed proprietor) which is commonly used and is even translated into Timorese with Pah tuaf is definitely incorrect. Pah tuaf or its possessive form Paha in tuan may be used only with reference to the prince and the usif because they represent the political community as a whoie, but never applies to the tobe, not even to the major custodians of the land or kapitan.

A suggestion which was put at great length to the chiefs, the lineage heads, village heads and tobe and which involved re-introducing this oid adat institution in a modern form in order to provide for a reserve to draw on in cases of shortage of food met with little response. The reasons for this were several. The Atoni has little desire to pay the tobe a substantial tax, as was formerly the custom, in addition to the taxes he now pays to the government. Another reason, which is closely connected with the first one, is the shift in power which took place during the colonial period. 1t is no longer the kapitan, or tobe naek, and under him the tobe and the amaf (lineage head) who are the chief authorities, but rather the usif (who has been created district head) and the village heads. The latter are not always recruited from the ranks of the most prominent lineages and, what is more important, wield authority by virtue of different considerations. The whole of the traditional system has been undermined and it is impossible to reinstate it at this stage.

j. Guarding the young plants

After weeding, a constant watch bas to he kept against birds and monkeys. This is done by the entire Iineage, or all the families which have participated in cultivating the plot. By day usually the old men and women and children keep watch, whilst at night the men dO' this. They keep an especially sharp lookout for wild boars and buffaloes. They are always armed fO'r this purpose and try to shoot or spear any stray animal which is likely to cause damage. Because all the members of the lineage are engaged in this activity the village (kuan) is practically deserted during this time, of ten only a few oid men remaining behind. People at this time live in small garden huts erected on 'taU wooden pillars high above the garden fence. Sometimes the hut is built against the tronk of a tree, and the floor may be raised more than two metres above the ground. It is a very simple cO'nstruction and is of ten quite small because it serves only as temporary dwelling (although sometimes people live in it up to three or four months). The only requirements it must meet are that it be waterproof and that it provide enough room for all its occupants to sleep in, with some room to spare for the hearth stones. 1t frequently lacks a front wall, and if the hut is sheltered from the wind there may be no walls at all.

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From the hut there is a system of wires with leaves or pieces of cloth attached to them strung across the plants. These may be set in motion by pulling them inside the hut - an effective method of keeping birdis at bay.

In the mountains, especially on the steep slopes of mountains with limestone cliffs, which are usually riddled with caves and deep fissures, it is an especially difficult task to keep monkeys out of the garden, and they frequently cause a great deal of damage. Buffaloes and pigs may al50 cause serious damage. I t is permissible to spear down any buffalo or pig entering a garden by jumping across the fence, or pushing its way through it, provided this is sufficiently strong and adequate to prevent animals from entering any other way. The following morning this has to be reported immediate1y to the owner of the beast and to the village head concerned or, as was formerly done, to the lineage head and, if the owner belonged to a different lineage, to the head of the clan or even to the kapitan or usif.

The owner of the wounded or killed animal may come and collect it, but at the same time has to pay compensation for any damage the animal may have caused to the plants. The lineage head (amaf) or the village head (temukung), who is himself usually an amaf as weIl, then tries to settie the affair by mutual agreement. He may not always be successful in doing 50. Of ten the owner of the garden will exaggerate the extent of the damage, whilst the owner of the animal is like1y to assert that the fence was not strong enough. If a pig can push its way through, then it cannot have been adequate. Complications arise if the pig has dug the soil away underneath the fence. If a settlement cannot he reached the case is brought before the kapitan or the usif. If two lords are involved because, for instance, animals from another district are responsible for the damage, these two hold counsel and the kolnel, the masculine counterpart of the central ruling authority, becomes inolved in the case as weil. At present this may he the district head (fetor) or the raja. If the case concerned cattle from another princedom hostilities might break out, especially if the owners were convinced that their cattie had been speared even hefore the fence had been damaged.

During the wet season, when people occupy the garden huts to keep wart:ch over the crops, the supply of corn swiftly dwindles. There is probably no rice at all1eft because most of it will have been consumed at the feasts organized during the dry period. A small quantity of rice is always put aside immediately af ter the harvest and is reserved for planting (fint), but what is left of this is never eaten until the rice and the late corn begin to swell. Then it is distributed among all the members of the cornmunity, and the water in which it has been boiled is sprinkled over the new plants.95 This coincides approximately with the ripening of the young corn, sixty days after planting.

But this surplus may be so small that supplies may run out altogether. Then the time of the mnahat (Indonesian lapar biasa) or annual famine sets in. This may be ex:treme1y serious, as during the first months of 1966. The reason then was that in 1964 the wet season set in too early, so that preparatory work on the gardens could not be finished - some plots had not een been humt down. Hence the new gardens could be only partially planted. In addition the rains ceased far too learly at the beginning of 1965 - before or at the beginning of April - so that most of the rice crop failed and the late corn bore smaller cobs than usual.

k. The first com

At the end of 60 to 70 days the short variety of com, the one with small cobs, is sufficiently ripe for eating. In the mountains this is at the end of December or the beginning of J anuary and on the north coast not until February.

In ,every garden plot the first com harvested is placed as a sacrifice on the Vis Pah, the altar stone for the Lord of the Earth, and a number of cobs is taken by the tobe to the holy rock (fatu le'u) of the tobe na ek or kapitan. He announces that the new harvest is ripe and that there is food for the children and the buffaloes.

Back in the village "the feeding of the buffaloes" (bidjae nah jeu = buffalo, to eat, new) now takes place. The buffaloes are corralled and people with armsful of oom plants (with roots and cobs still attached) walk around the pen, making a complete circ1e beginning and ending at the gate, and back in the opposite direction. This symbolizes the buffalo walking to its pasture and its return to its corral. The plants are fed to the buffaloes while the following words are said:

"Steal not someone's side-dish,

Rob not someone's side-dish.96

Know Thy enc1osure,

Know Thy shelter." 97

18, ,\ sturdy wooden fence ("allaH) with gate,

19, Building a il'nel' oi corallite (ha/.·; ),

20. \VOtllCJl pounding /,<1di into "cras.

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 81

Af ter this the younger children are allowed to roast and eat the corn cobs, this being their exc1usive privilege. 1t is considered a disgrace for an adult to .eat of the young com, as it is reserved for the young life.

Whilst the children are engaged in this a few men take same cucumbers and watermelons and smash them to pieces on the withers of the female buffaloes. The symbolism of this is: bear male offspring (the cucumber symbolizing the masculine because of its phallic shape), and: give birth to female offspring (the cavity of the water-melon symbolizing the womb). Sometimes designs are carved on the skins of these fruits to ensure that calves bom will have similar markings; or they are coloured black or red for the same purpose.

Af ter the first com (Pena sain or pena masa 98 = fine carn) has been reaped for the children the other early variety (pen balu, pen molo = the nourishing corn, the yellow corn) which ripens in 90-100 days is harvested for the adults. Again sacrifices are offered on the Vis Pah and at the tola, the kapitan's central altar. Corn stalks with the cobs still on them but with the roots removed are also placed on the boundary stones marking the tobe's territory. The tobe is informed accordingly and the first "white corn, yellow corn" is eaten at his tola. Again a sacrifice is offered and a communal meal is eaten. This is the "new food", the actual ritual harvest feast. During the sacrifice the tobe or a prominent and capable lineage head de1ivers an invocation in front of the masculine pole (hau manef). 1t runs as follows:

"0 my female ancestors, my male ancestors,

old and young, far and nigh,

my hidden power, my progenitive power.

This day the daughters and sons have come.

They come to announce and - to bear tidings thereby

that Thou hast given us succour and - hast not turned away from us,

that the early rain has favoured us and - the late rain has favoured us,

that the sprinkling has been abundant and the soil plentiful for Liurai-Sonba'i.

His roots grew constantly and - they pushed constantly deeper into the soil,

the shoots increased constantly and the sprouts waxed large all the time.

I have kept guard constantly, I have watched continuously.

Now I have received him, now I have gathered him in. N ow let everyone seize and dasp his feathered one and - his furred one in order to express it truthfully, to bear tidings of it truthfully."

Only hens and pigs are sacrificed on this occasion. Before they are killed a number of corn staiks with cobs still on them are lashed to the masculine pole (hau monef) and the maternal pillar (ni ainaf). Af ter the animals are killed the sacrificial meal is prepared. Corn is boiled in the cob. Then a cob is taken, a grain removed from it between the thumb and finger and rubbed all over the arm, four times up and down between the elbow and the finger tips, once along the upper surface and once along the lower surface of each arm. The word tui 99 is uttered a few times while this is done, indicating that with the new harvest people gain renewed vigour. This vigour is also communicated to the men's tools and the women's implements, which are all placed before the maternal pillar before sacrificing commences. When the food is cooked, boiled corn mixed with rice and meat is scattered over the implements before commencement of the meal. As this is done the names of all the implements are uttered in pairs:

"Axe and matchet (jan i, benas),

large and small weeding-hook (tofa, hoka),

spindie and distaff plate (ike, sut~VOO

cotton mangle and cotton bow (bninis, sifo),I°1

weft sword and breast beam (senu, atis),

rods and rollers (sial, uta),

backstrap, warp beam (of the weaving-Ioom) (niun/02 nekan),

I express unto Thee, I inform Thee,

We all eat of the new, we all eat of the fresh."

Af ter this the meal conunences, but not until the following prayer has been recited in front of the masculine pole:

"This have I finished prepa.ring and - have I finished cooking, This heap (of riee) , this pile (of meat) ;

I place it before Thy countenance and - before Thine eyes.

Receive it, accept it,

that there may be health for us, prosperity for us."

Then the same prayer is recited in fronrt: of the maternal pillar.

1. Tbe rice barvest (bonu ane),. ripping olf tbe rice

THE ECONOMIe LIFE 83 my souree of renown and my rock of renown.

When the riee has npened the ehief occupant of the garden looks around for a small stone which he then places near one of the pillars of the garden hut. Vsually the medicine-man (mnane) he1ps him with this, as this stone may resembie others and only the mnane ean distinguish the proper one to which the vital foree (smanaf) of the riee, or its "soul", may be "tied".

This ceremony is called fut ane smanaf (the tying of the vital force of the rice). A sitting-mat on which the "soul" of the riee is to be placed is spread out. Sirih mixed with eertain herbs has to be ehewed and spat OIlitO the riee about to be harvested. These herbs are a compound of banyan bark and leaves. Each person does this in his own fashion, acting upon his own knowiedge. Then everyone walks in a circ1e around the .garden, spitting the chewed mixture onto the riee in order to prevent its vital force (ane smanaf) from escaping. Thereupon an old woman, usually the wife of the amaf of the lineage to which the occupants of the garden belong, approaches the Vis Pah in the centre of the garden in order to eut four bundies of the riee planted there during the sifo nopo ritual. Because it is she who bundies the blades she mayalso be called afutu smanaf (she who ties the vital force). Then she spits chewed herbs on them. Steinmetz 103 reports that two nee blades are tied above the altar stone to prevent the "soul" of the nee from escaping. Kruyt 104 also says something to this effect. Then the amaf kills a sacrificial animal, reciting as he does so:

"This day I invoke, I call loudly unto

my female aneestors, my male ancestors,

my hidden power (le'u) and - my progenitive power (matauk),

I shall make room for them and seat them during the weeding of the garden and the tapping of the lontar for I have had good fortune and - prosperity, [palm; thus I announee unto Thee, I own

that the good fruit,lOS as a result of the early and the late rains, has swelled and has waxed to maturity,

its roots reaching deep into the soil, deeply penetrart:ing the soil; it budded forth constantly, sprouted constantly.

Therefore we display this feathered one, this furred one.

May it please Thee to rise with us, to lay Thee down to rest [with us."

When the meal is ready to be eaten he says:

"This heap (of riee), this pile (of meat)

do I place befare Thy countenance and - befare Thine eyes.

For I have finished preparing it and - finished cooking it.

Receive it, accept it,

in order that there be health for us, prosperity for us."

Af ter the vital force of the rice has been tied in this manner harvesting may commence. Care still has to be taken to prevent the "soul" from escaping. The senior oceupant of the garden erects a stake, of ten with a red c10th attached to it, on the side of the fence nearest to the path leading to or running alongside the garden. This is a taboo sign (nuni) by which passers-by know that it is prohibited to talk in its vicinity. If anyone disregards this taboo through inadvertence or for any other reason, one of the men keeping wateh will confiscate, without saying a word, some object he is wearing or carrying with him, sueh as the c10th he is wearing around his shoulders or his match et. This is later produced as evidence. Then everyone goes on silently harvesting. In the evening the chief tiller of the garden returns this piece of evidenee to its owner or to one of the elders of his village, such as the amaf of his lineage. It is carried in a large basket made of lonfar leaves. When the artic1e is hélJtlded over to its owner or to the village elder he has to fill the basket (which has a capacity of approxirnately 30 - 40 kg. of rice) with unhusked rice. This is the penalty imposed for violating the taboo. Af ter all, the offender has ehased away the "soul" of the rice with his noise, leaving the ears empty and thus causing the owners to suffer aloss.

Harvesting is women's work. It is earried out by the women belonging to the lineage of the cultivators of the garden - their wives, unmarried sisters, mothers or, as the case may be, daughters. The work

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 85

is carried out in utter silence. As they harvest, the women keep their face tumed towards the Vis Pah, the altar stone in the centre, in such a way that all of them circulate in the same direction - what direction is not important. No implements are used, but the ears are stripped of their grains (or the ears are ripped off the stalks) by hand. As this becomes very painful to the hands sometimes a piece of cloth is wrapped around them for protection. Frequently this method is abandoned af ter the first few days, when a small, usually straight, knife is used for cutting off the blad es. The women carry a small basket suspended from their waists, and place the rice in it. When it is fuIl the ri ce is transferred to a larger basket (ainaf = lito mother ). Some of the grains of the rice harvested in this way are left in the ear, though most of them are separated from the ear. The rice is poured onto a mat in the garden hut and threshed with the feet to separate the remaining grains. During this work also strict silence has to he observed. Prior to this the hut has to he locked; if there are no walls, makeshift walls are quickly improvised with the aid of a few palm-leaves, for in stance. Then the "door" is lockecl and a cloth or some other object fastened to it as a sign that it is taboo to open it from outside. Absolute silence reigns inside. Anyone who absolutely must say something to one of his or her fellow wor kers will have to leave the hut with him and speak in a whisper even outside. Threshing is done by both men and women, but af ter threshing the men go outside and leave the women to do the winnowing inside. Formerly threshing also used to he exclusive1y women's work. The rice (ane) is placed in a heap and its vital force (ane smanaf), the sheaf of rice stalks, placed on top of it. The woman who has tied the vital force seats herself on top of it and the other women sit down in two groups beside her on a mat on the floor. This mat has to be placed in such a way as to run east-west lengthwise. At the eastem end the leo maka is placed undemeath the mat; it is a "loop" made up of the same ingredients used for spitting onto the vi,tal force of the rice, the purpose of which is to keep the rice fastened down. At the other end medicines are also placed beneath the mat: pandan and nikis leaves 1041 which will make the vital force of the rice cool (mainikin). Everyone has to sit on the floor, and no-one is allowed to sit on the bamboo bench (halak, Indon. balé-balé). The old woman then chews some medicine compounded of banyan lOT leaves and other things "to make a.bundant the rice". This she spits onto the outside and inside of each of the winnows. This is the so-caIled "piling up (na.saib) and maldng heavy (hafena) of the riee". As aresuIt the quantity of riee put in the winnow will inerease before it is tipped out again. Wh en the winnows have dried they are filled with ri ce and retumed to their owners - the last one left is for the old woman herself. Then the women begin to winnow, all eommencing at the same time. The winnowed rice is tipped into open baskets. lOl! There are two of these: one to the right and one to the left of the old womau. The group on her right puts its rice into the former and the one on her left in the latter. When the winnow is empty its lid is put back on it and it is returned to the old woman, who refills it and returns it. This is done in the same order as before. This procedure continues until the old woman is finally sitting on the mat. Now the taboo on speaking is no longer in force - "the closing of the mooth" (ek fefan) is over. Everyone rises and speaks aloud again.

Vsually the riee is kept in the garden hut for some time, to he carried to the village a few weeks laJter and stored in the lopo. Young women pounding riee are a regular sight here (see photograph 20).

m. The Com Harvest - Seke Pena

The last erop to he harvested is the late variety of corn. This is the taU variety, which takes 150 - 170 days to ripen. It matures latest on the higher mot1llJtain slopes. It is left to die off completelyon the stalk and is gathered in well-ripened and dry. In this case, too, the "tying" of the vital force of the oom (fut pena smanaf) takes place hefore harvesting. There is no taboo on speaking during the oom harvest.

A few corn plants growing around the Vis Pah are tied to a pillar of the garden hut. This is helieved to he the "soul" of the eorn (pen smanaf). It is a fairly large sheaf, consisting of approximate1y eight to twelve stalks (Middelkoop 109 and Steinmetz 110 report thaJt it consists of only foor stalks; in any case, it is a multiple of four). The pen smanaf is placed on the mat in the garden hut and the harvested eobs are laJter piled up around it. Before harvesting a few black hens or a black pig are sacrifieed, the owner of the harvest, or in OIther

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 87

words, the chief occupant of the plot, reciting the same invüCaJtion delivered during the sacrifice oHered before the rice harvest.

Af ter the meal harvesting commences. The cobs are placed around the vital force of thc com. As was the case when the rice was harvested, the work is done by people of thc one Iineage; but this time the men do the work. The cobs are broken oH the stalks, which remain Sltanding in the field - they are bent back laJter, before the plot is abandoned for the remainder of the year. This keeps the soil fertile. As soon as harvesting is over a number of outsiders are asked to help with the binding. Everyone is eager to help and many hands indeed are needed because the binding has to be finished in one single night if possible, and may not be commenced till night has fallen. The family head of the group cultivating the plot seats himself on the pena smanaf. The cobs are tied in bundies of SiX,111 called aisaf. (Ten aisaf (or 60 cobs) make up a kabutu and three kabutu make up a horse-load.)

In between the work finely pounded roasted com is eaten and generous quantities of palm-wine (tuak) are drunk. During the work the men sing the praises of Liurai-Sonba'i, as follows:

"Food 112 from Dis N eno is Liurai-Sonba'i,

He beholds us, He tends his children, his people."

and:

"White, strong corn has a profusion (of leaves) hanging down, If they resembie cloths I shall use them, wear them."

By this is meant that the cobs are so large that the leaves covering them could be used as cloths.

When all the corn has been tied up in bundIes the workers have another feast on tuak or sopi, and uk, i.e. distilled palm-wine. During the meal pantun are said, and the two missing, final lines of these have to be made up before the men return home at dawn. Anyone unable to supply the missing lines has to remain behind, even if it means having to stay until the next evening. Stories giving examples of people racking their brains for hours on end, in some cases until late in the afternoon in order to complete a pantun - to the great hilarity of the others, although they do their best to conceal their mirth - are told with great rclish.

This merry harvest feast marks the climax of the entire agricultural cycle.

n. Returning to the Village

Af ter the harvest has been collected the owner has to take it to the viIIage himself. It is usually carried on horseback, a few weeks (in same cases up to two months) af ter harvesting, depending on the easterly monsoon rains. In the mountains this may not be until July, as the farmers invariably wait until they are certain of dry weather.

The garden is now finally abandoned for the remainder of th at particular agricultural year. The pena smanaf is detached from its pillar in the hut. This is referred to as "the closing of the door" (taek eno). On this occasion, too, a sacrifice has to be offered. Afterwards the vital force of the com is taken to a brook to be made cool - it then becomes ordinary com again and is Iifted out of the sphere of the sacred.

The owner of the harvest, or his amaf, delivers the following invocation :

"I bear Thee tidings, I announce unto Thee,

o my female ancestors, my male ancestors,

my hidden power, my progenitive power,

my source of renown, my rock of renown,

Liurai-Sonba'i are here this day,

their life, their vigour,

these large, fine fruits,

handsome in appearance, beauteous to the eye;

now I bear Thee, now I carry Thee,

to my house, my granary,

in order that there I may continue to keep watch over them, there continue to guard them.

I shall have them guarded for

Hitu-Taboi, Saidjao-Banusu,

in order to call unto them and invite them to be there,

together with the lords of the land,113 the lords of the lake.

These are Us Taolin, Us Fal, Us Pupu and Us Tonbesi.

They are as great baskets, great panniers

for rain~tree (com) and tail-grass (rice),

who are the lords thereof, who are the usif thereof,

Therefore I express unto Thee, I inform Thee,

go back cautiously, go back warily

to Thy seats and to Thy chairs."

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 89

Before the sacrificial meal is eaten he delivers the following invocation :

"This heap (of rice) and pile (of meat)

Do I set before Thy countenance and - before Thine eyes,

For I have finished preparing and - have finished cooking.

I indicate it unto Thee and - announce it unto Thee.

Receive it, accept it,

that there be health for us, prosperity for us,

for I have preserved, I have kept watch over

the large fruit, the fine fruit

in my house and in my granary.

Lend my case Thine ear, hear my word."

The ancestors invoked at the sifo nopo ceremony before planting now go back, each to his own pi ace. This nmrks the conclusion of the cycle of the crops. N ow the time has come for attending to the numerous social activities which take place in the village during this period. All aspects of life take on a new dimension. There is food in abundance, the harvest ,and its appropriate sacrificial meals are over, and other feasts are approaching. Now that everyone is back in the village the sociallife reaches its climax (see photographs 21,24 and 25). Weddings are celebrated, mortuary feasts ,are held, relatives exchange visits and, when the time has come for burning down the grass in the lowlands, it is time for stag-hunting as weIl.

And then the time comes anew to choose a suitable patch of land and to cultivate it. The garden laid out the previous yoor is usually no longer suitable for rice-growing, but will produce com, while the soil of the ladang that has been cultivated for three consecutive years will most probably be too exhausted to grow anything at all. The plots already under cultivation are fertiIized to same extent by buming down branches (usually eucalyptus branches) and weeds, the ashes acting as fertilizer. Cultivation of a patch of which the soil is exhausted may be resumed after a fallow period of seven to ten years.

With the renewed energy which results from having an abundance of food aPter the recent harvest a new patch of land is reclaimed in its place. Theagricultural cycle is also a cycle of waning and waxing vigour.

CONCLUSION

From this agricultural cycle, which was to be observed in Insana and, with slight deviations, throughout the entire Atoni area before the war it is evident that culture in the primary meaning of the word - namely "the tilling of the soil" - is intinmtely bound up with the religious cult, which is in this case the worship of the Lord of Heaven and the Lord of the Earth, the ancestors and the place in which the clan has its origin, and the en ti re host of forces of the hidden world.

A salient feature of this culture is that only the cultivation of corn and rice is related to the religious cult - none of the secondary crops are ever mentioned in the rites. The latter are more or less silently understood. To the question as to why these sometimes very important food crops such as cassava and sweet potatoes are not mentioned the reply is invariably: "if the corn and the rice flourish all is weil"; although every crop is important the chief food crops are more so than the others and therefore occupy a central position in the Atoni's thinking. Cassava and bataten, moreover, are more recent imports ; their non-mythical origin is weil koown, like that of the onion and garlic which, accordiing to the Insana ritual, were introduced to the area via Kupang.

AIlJalogous to this the fertility rite in animal husbandry is focused entirelyon the buffalo. We have &een how, during the harvest of the first corn, female buffaloes are struck with cucumbers and water-melons. At approximately the same time the pen suf bia (corn, flower, buffalobia is probably the original f01'm of bidjael) is held, while a ritual to increase the fertility of the buffaloes takes place when the later variety of corn is ripe. And, according to the Atoni, these cover the CJlther domestic animals as weil.

The Bali cow, only introduced during this present century, has no pi ace at all in the religious cult, althoughits qualities make it a more highly valued animal than the buffalo. But the Atoni would not wish to do without the latter, as it is indispensabie as a sacrificial animal and even where sacrificing is na langer in practice people are attached to it by tradition.

Another important feature of this culture is the more or less rigorous division of labour between men and women, which has been fitted into a more general cosmological categorization (formerly it was emphatically prescribed by the adat). The men feil and burn down trees and clear away the undergrowth. The women are resjx)!1sible for planting. In addition to this there is a further division. While the names of Liurai-Sonba'i, the givers of rice and corn, are used as alternative words for these plants, it is erroneous to say that Liurai or Sonba'i refers either to rice or to corn by itself, as the names denote the dual unity of rice and corn. (They also refer to the two ritual princes at the apex of the political hierarchy in whom heaven and earth

THE ECONOMIC LIFE 91

and the male and female prineiples are united.) But as soon as the harvest of eom and riee eommences an extraordinary division of labour oceurs: the women harvest and winnow the riee; they perform this work in the daytime under observanee of the str1ctest silenee. Furthermore a woman, usually the wife of the lineage head (amaf) , but in any ease the wife of the oldest member of the agnatically related group engaged in the cultivation of a garden plot is responsible for the "tying of the vital force of the riee". The bundling of the eom, on the other hand, is the responsibility of the men and the "tying of the vital foree of the com" is the amaf's task. This work is done by night and the men drink palm wine and ask each other pantun in between. So they may speak as they do this, while there is of ten even boisterous hilarity.

Now, the word feto (female) also denotes "the interior" - during winnowing only wamen from 'Within the lineage are present - while another connotation of the word mone (male) is "exterior" - wh en the com is bundled men from without the lineage are invited.

Another fact worth noting is that the erops in question, namely eom and rice, are never onee referred to directly by their awn names throughout the entire ritual. They are referred to as "the young plants", "the seedlings" of Liurai-Sonba'i. Or Liurai-Sonba'i by itself may he used as a synonym for the words "corn" and "riee". Metaphors sueh as kaidjulan (rain-tree) and ik-elo (tail-grass) are also used to describe eom and rice respectively, the latter heing a poetical designation for the finest variety of rice. Similarly the rice used for sacrifieing is not referred to by name. The passages in whieh it is mentioned say: "I plaee this heap (riee), this pile (meat) before Thee". But the aetual word for riee must never he used on these occasions. Perhaps we should put it as follows: pena (corn) and ane (rice) are nam es used in the sphere of day to day life, and never in the sphere of the sacred. Through the sacrificial ritual everyday matters are lifted above their ordinary plane and transferred to the religious sphere. The ritual aet is powerful. Not as much as in the case of the Vedanta, where the priest has absolute contral over the forees of the hidden world through his ritual. But it is powerful enough to elevate sueh objects as eom and riee to the sacred sphere and put them into relation with the hidden world so that man may, as aresuIt, expect the favours of the forees belonging to that world. In fact it is so powerful that when the erops threaten to fail this must surely be attributable ta an error in the ritual.

CHAPTER III

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM

The ume (= lit. 'house'), i.e. the territorially localized descent group, fonns the basis for and nucleus of the entire social organization of the Atoni. As a limited lineage it is part of a clan (kanaf) whieh eomprises all those who claim descent from one and the same aneestor and th erefore all have the same name or kanaf. They all share the same settlement (kuan) of origin, whieh is the "saered rock and the saered sou ree" with whieh their name is associated. The descent group and its territory are inseparably bound up with one another. The kanaf, moreover, has a totemistie aspect, its memhers being associated with one or more partieular anima! or plant whieh it is taboo for them to kill or e3J1:. The reason why eertain taboos (nt/ni) apply to certain kanaf is a!ways explained by a myth.

The ume is exogamie. Little is known, however, as to the nature of affinal rel3J1:ionships between ume. In theory the kanaf is also supposedly exogamie, but although this may he the nonn it is eertainly not the practice. Aeeording to Van Wouden 1 th ere is some evidenee for the existenee of an asymmetrie, eireulating connubium eonnected with a double unilineal kinship system. Ethnographic material on Timor was then, and still is at present, too scanty to provide eonclusive proof thatthis is in fact true for Timor. Middelkoop 2 has sinee offered some

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 93

valuable contributions to our knowledge of the way in which an affinal relationship is establi shed. He did not touch on the network of clan relationships, "the web of kinship", however, although he did pass on detailed kinship terminology to Fischer, who concluded on the basis of this terminology that instead of there being a circulating connubium "kinship tenninology even suggests a real marriage by exchange".3 CUlmingham is also of the opinion that the kinship tenns found here "indicate that there is a two-section system of marriage alliance, i.e. one based on direct exchange".4

Locher,5 who conducted research in Central Timor in 1941, the material of which was lost during the war, however, tends to agree with Van Wouden as far as the main points of his hypothesis are concerned and suggests that the system does not exist (or no longer exists) in its original, pure fonn, and that actual relationships are much more complex.

As far as the social structure is concerned we shall deal first with descent and then with affinal relationship. A genealogical survey of a number of kanaf and of an entire village, which at present is inbabited by lineages of different kanaf, would provide the ideal point of departure for an analysis of affinal relationship; it alone could solve the controversy between Van Wouden and Cunningham. So far, this has never been attempted. (My own efforts to analyse a village in Tunbaba in 1947 were in vain for lack of time.) Yet on the whole the system is quite clear.

1. RELATIONSHIP WITHIN THE KANAF

a. Residential pattern

As we have seen, a clan comprises all persons who bear the same nanle and have the same place of origin. It bas a territorial origin, therefore. In actual fact, however, a clan has various ramifications spread over different areas. There is no doubt that this is not a new development, as a number of old traditions relate of royal marriages to princesses from other princedoms. Such princesses were always accompanied by a number of "names" of their own, that is, people of their own clan, as weil as people of others, who perbaps would settIe in the vicinity of the ruler's residence, thus resulting in considerably large communities. Groups of people might also flee rto another area as a result of war and be given land in the territory of another ruler. There are numerous stories of these migrations,6 and there must have been such migrations in every period of history.

The residential patrtern of such groups is certainly very different from what it used to be in Central Timor a hundred or even sixty years ago. Then a hamIet (kuan) was only inhabited by people of one "name" (kana!). Such a kuan used to consist of not more than four to ten houses, each occupied by one family. This was the pattern generally found in most of Timor. With regard to Amarasi we find references to such a pattern as early as 1656 in Bor,7 and in respect of the part of Portuguese Timor which lies to the south-west of Dilly in the Tetun language area in Forbes.8 In fact, all references in old journals dealing with Cent ral Timor point to the same pattern. It was not until the Colonial Government actually took over the administration of the interior and established an administrative centre there (i.e. from 1905 - 1915) that largel' villages sprang up everywhere as a result of people being forced rto move from their mountain villages near ",the rock of renown, the source of renown" to lower lying areas. These offered more space and favoured the deve10pment of larger communities. And here groups belonging to different kanaf combined to form one community. Although the process actually sert in several decades before this, as the presence of the Dutch in Kupang and Atapupu on the coast had led to increased security, later on coercion was sometimes used to make people move to lower lying areas. Nonetheless, the Timorese have never shown any inclination to return, though a few elders usually remained behind near the sacred pi ace where people conrtinued to sacrifice, as we have seen in the case of the agricultural ritual.

An excellent and very c1ear account of the way in which these groups live si de by si de with one another in a present-day village and its constituent hamlets is given in a chapter of Cunningham's dissertation 9 on Soba, a village in Amarasi.

The Timorese has not forgotten, however, how formerly his people lived in small hamlets as described above - in 1940 there were even

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 95

some old men who remembered this from their own experienee. Stories are of ten told of clusters of four such kuan forming a residential unit, each of these kuan being inhabited by a group from a different kanat. This is h.ow the Atoni represents the pattern which prevailed in the past, and it is confirmed by Dr. Middelkoop, the oUltstanding authority on Timor. But it is quiJte possible, of course, that such a tradition is the reflection of an ideal pattern which found no echo in real life. There are in fact few traces left of such a pattern in present-day Timor, although there is remarkable evidence for such a traditional structure in reports concerning refugees from Portuguese Timor during the insurrection of 1911. On two different occasions four villages fled together from Camenase, one of the former sub-territories of the old realm of South Belu.10 H, in order to save their lives, people had to leave everything behind - the land and the graves of the ancestors - the initiative was taken by the basic social unit, namely the cluster of four villages. The first group of four villages from Camenase numbered approximately 750 people and the second approximately 600, so that these villages must have been much larger than those in the Atoni area. This is quite plausible when we consider the fertility of the plain of South Belu, which favoured a different residential pattern.

Another example of the prevalence of this tendency towards quadrupartition is furnished by a cluster of four villages on the oorth coast of Be1u asking the Colonial Government for asylum. Hence the same basic pattern is found in the Kemak-speaking area. No numbers are quoted in respect of this particular migration.

There is a third, more recent example. Some years ago the Indonesian government decided - in consultation with the village and district heads concerned - to turn the old villages into larger administrative units. In a number of cases four different villages were combined to form one unitY

We should bear in mind, however, thai\: the numher of villages which formed a cluster says nothing as to the number of the clans represented by the lineages inhabiting them. AIthough there used to he four-village clusters even in the isolated, praotically independent district of Mutis, in the central mountains, these were inhabited by many more kanaf (lineages ). Each of these villages consisted, in turn, of various hamlets, each of which was probably originally inhabited by one single urne.

Generally speaking kuan (hamlets) in the mountainous country of the Atoni area remained small because the available farming land lay more wide1y scattered. Here th ere was probably a stronger tendency towards scission within lineages because of this. In that case a number of kanaf, possibly four, may have been grouped together, and inhabited more than four hamlets, which in turn were arranged so as to form four villages.

The reason why there was such close unity between four such villages was that they constituted the basic social unit within which most affinal relationships were confined.

Economically speaking, too, they acted as one unit, as they shared one custodian of the land (tobe) between them.

The inhabitants of a hamIet consisted of a man and his wife, his adult sons and their families, his brothers with their wives, and the latter's sons with their families. When the younger generation began to grow up th ere would be marriageable daughters as well, who would marry and be joined by their husbands in their natal hamIet until most or all of the bridewealth was paid. Then the marriage would become patrilocal and the wife would be admitted to the nono, the fertility circle, of the husband's kanaf, to which she would thenceforth belong. Such is the general norm, bUIt needless to say it was a very flexible one. It is this group which forms the nucleus of Atoni society. It is the Atoni's ume (house). This, then, is the descent group or limited lineage which inhabited its own hamIet (kuan). Instead of the word kuan the expression ume mese, lopo mese (one "house", one cornmunal house) mayalso be used with reference <10 this tiny nuclear community. (See photograps 22 and 23). The lopo is the village granary and meeting-place. It is a house without walls, wrth four pillars in addition to a maternal pillar (ni ainaf) in the centre. The latter is no1 inserted in the ground as is the case in ordinary dwellings, but rests on the ceiling. It has a conically shaped roof. (Cf. photographs 32 and 33). In the term ume mese, lopo mese the word ume tends to rder to the genealogical unity and lopo to the territorial unity of the group.

It is the Atoni's traditional conception that the original clan sprang forth from the earth near the rock of origin and the source of origin. There the first ume lived, being in this case identical with the kanaf. Later on this ramified, giving rise to a number of ume which went to live separate1y, each around iJts own lopo. A number of lopo or hamlets would then make up one kuan (village).

Such was the terminology used in Amanuban. In Molo, however, the concept of lopo as the name for a residential unit is unknown. In

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 97

Miomafo, where it is found, people do not use the word Iopo for the residential units of one kanaf, but speak of the different kuan of a kanaf; here the word kuan is used both for a hamlert: and for a village with its constÎltuent hamlets.

Nowadays attempts are made to make the distinction clear by the introduction of Indonesian terms. Thus a number of kuan in combination make up a kampung (village) or ketemukungan (the area headed by a temukung or village head). But in Timorese the word kuan is still always used, even to denote the whole village.

Even at present each separate hamiet of the kampung is dominated by a particular kana! in which case a number of lineages of this kana! usually live together. Other lineages of the same kana! may live scattered through· out the other hamlets of that kampung, where they do not usually occUPl a dominant position.

One of the lineages, usually the senior one, supplies the amaf (= father) for the entire clan. He is charged with the safekeeping of the clan's sacred objects (le'u) and is usually recognized as its leader. As a result of the poliJtical changes of the past fifty years his political authority has been partly supplanted by that of the village heads. But his moral authority has remained intact, and sa has his religious authority inasmuch as people still cling to the traditional religion. As the ritual leader he is the link between the living and the dead and represents the kanaf (clan) as a whole when addressing the ancestors. He is supposed to live near the ancient "rock or renown, source of renown", the kanaf's place of origin, from which it usually derives 115 name. Even now he usually lives in the kuan nearest to this cliff.

Hence we may distinguish between : (a) the kanaf as a whoie, or, in other words, the clan; (b) the kanaf as the lineage of a clan; and (c) the kanaf as a limited lineage or ume. Where it designart:es the clan as a whole it covers all persons who bear the same name; but it hardly ever functions as such, except art: funerals of prominent clan members, where all groups are usually represented. However, the clan amaf always represents his clan as a whole in its external relClitions. There is no separate word in Timorese for the kanaf a:s a lineage. The latler is that part of a clan which can trace back ÏJts descent to the original ume withOUit difficulty, and the ume of which live close together - usually in one village or district.

Kanaf in the sense of ume or limited lineage is therefore always terriltorially localized, while an extended lineage may be sa localized, although it would be far from the truth to say that the kanaf as such has the disposal over a well defined territory, or ever had in the past.

In the chapter on agriculture we saw that land tenure rights were exercised by the tobe or custodian of the land. Not every kanaf has a tobe, howiever. There is reason to believe that originally the kanaf which lived together in four kuan and together formed the basic social unit shared one tobe between them. In this connection we would point to the prominence given to the number four in Atoni .thinking. The planting of four grains of oom in one hole may derive its symbolism from the fact that four kuan tilled their garden plots in the ter ri tory of one tobe - it then becomes asymbol for the four kuan tilling the one field.

This residential pattern of four separate villages in one particular territory was probably prevalent until quite recently, but has at present disappeared altogether. Even before the advent of the Dutch Administration it had been abso·rbed by larger political affiliations, of which it nonetheless constituted the nucleus. For example, rthe villages of Camenase constituted part of the realm of Ithe rul er of Camenase, which in turn was a constituent part of the realm of South Belu.12

When dealing with the political structures we shall see how the lord or usif constitutes the fifth in the centre in this system of four-fold division. As a result of the c011centration of people and power around the usif a large number of other clans settied near his palace or sonaf, each the bearer of a particular functiOl1. Members of clans from different political communities accompanying their royal misrtress when she was married outside her natal community resulted in an even greater complexity of the original pattern.

In modern times, when kuan combined to form larger villages in the more open lowlands, the traditional pattern virtually disappeared except in a few isolated areas. Burt the principle of quadrupartition still asserts itself as a structurizing principle to this day, as we shall see in the case of Insana. In a modern village like Soba in Amarasi, a description of which is given by Cunningham, there are no traces left of the old pattern, alrthough the kuan as hamIets or separate residential units have retained a large measure of social, economie and ritual independence, under the dominanee of certain lineages which Cunningham calls "hamIet owner lineages".13

Leadership in the hamIet in its traditional form, i.e. comprising a single ume, was vested in the oldest male member until such time as he

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could no. longer perfo.nn the sacrificial ritual. He was the amaf (father) o.f the co.mmunity. He was always succeeded by his eldest son. A village (kuan) is inhabited by mo.re than o.ne lineage (kana!) and by more than o.ne ume o.f the do.minanrt: lineage o.r kanaf. As a rule the o.ldest male member o.f the senio.r ume o.f the latter is the leader and he is succeeded by the eldest son o.f the senio.r branch o.f his ume. He is also called amaf, but as tlrere are mo.re than one amaf, and even amaf o.f o.ther lineages, he is also called mnasi o.r elder. So. the fathers o.f a village fo.nn a co.uncil of elders. The laJtter has no. fonn of o.fficial organizatio.n whatever.

b. Blood-relations

For co.nvenience sake we give belo.w a list o.f kinship tenns used by the Ato.ni fo.r the different kinds o.f relatio.nship falling under this heading.

na'if grandfather, ancesto.r

be'if grandmother, ancestress

amaf father, father's bro.ther, fa. fa. br. SO., and further all male members o.f the same agnatic lineage who are of the preceding generation

mo.ther, mo.ther's sister, father's bro.ther's wife, and all ainaf female members of the same agnatic lineage who. are of the preceding generation, including those who. have been admitted as members o.f the }ineage thro.ugh marriage

anah child, all members o.f the ume who. belo.ng to. the next generatio.n do.wn

an mane son

an feto daughter

alif yo.unger brother, used o.nly by el der brother;

yo.unger sister, used o.nly by el der sister

tataf elder brother, younger brother speaking; elder sister, younger sister speaking. The same applies to. all members o.f the ume who. are o.f the same generatio.n.

nauf brother, term used by sister

fe tof sister, term used by bro.ther

grandchild. upu

All social ties within the ume are detennined by kinship, which furnishes the catego.ries in which the Atoni expresses all his social relatio.nships. The same nomenclature is also used to. designate political relatio!1JShips. Authority is vested in the amaf (father ), in the first place in respect of his children (ana). He exacts obedience from his son(s) (an mone), who leams from his father how to tend the livestock and how to till the soil. Older sons are allowed to be present at ritual performances and to join in the communal recitation during sacrificing and repeat the key words of the parallel phrases. They also leam the myths of origin of the clan from their father. These are recited in set phrases chanted in a fixed rhythm. 11: is most important that all names featuring in these myths be leamt.

A son al.so leams from his father how to make and use tools. These tools, if fashioned by the Atoni 'themselves, are extremely crude. The digging stick (pa/i) and the planting stick (suna) are easily made by sharpening into a point one end of the branch of a tree with the aid of a match et (benas), the Atoni's most important tooI, which he always carries about with him although, as was said above, he has never learnt to manufacture it himself.

Sons learn all sorts of things from their amaf, who is not necessarily always their own father. The sacrificial ritual and Ï!ts performance are taught them by the amaf of their ume. Furthermore, all the men of the preceding generation of a boy's ume are called amaf by him. They gradually leam everything that ÏJt is importalllt for them to know, and in this way are the receiving party. In return, obedience and respect are expected of them. They have to listen quietly when stories are being related, and have to help not only their own father, but all the amaf of their community.

The relationship between father and son is marked by affection, but it is also characterized by distance. There is respect for old age on the one hand, and the young man's pride in his increasing strength as against the growing weakness of the older generation on the other. Especially high esteem is shown to the elder capable of reciting the numerous texts belonging to the ritual accompanying the various phases of the life-cycle - which culminate in the mortuary rites - the ritual of the agricultural cycle and, last but not least, the war ritual. 14 There is even greater respect for the man who has the ability to welcome his guests in rhythmic language and to complete pantun, or who can make up such difficult pantun that no-one is able to add the missing lines. On the father's side th ere is admiration for the strength and ability of his sons and for their prowess in hunting, and he win praise

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 101

them especially on their attainment of meoship (meo = warrior, champion, lit. cat), aker they have taken their first head. This they have been taught by their amaf.

Weshall encounter the term amaf again when dealing with the politica! organization, as an appellation for the heads of the clan and for all the heads who are colleotively termed amfini (fathers ). The relationship between political communities is sometimes a1so designart:ed with the term ama - ana (= father - child).

The seoond relart:ionship in which a boy is involved is that to his mother (ainaf), which is complementary to that to his father. She has less authority but more concern for the welfare of her children when they are smal!. The tie between a mother and her children is usually an intimart:e, more affectionate one than that between father and children and less marked by respect; the distance between them is smaller. Outside the family it is not a very significam relationship.

There are besides the mother her sisters, who are also addressed as aina. The relationship to them is more or less close, depending not only on the personality of the ainaf sm"u (= other mother) but a1so on where she is resident. If she has married into the same village the tie may be a strong one. The same applies if both sisters are resident in their own village during the first years of their marriage, before payment of the bridewealth has been completed. Sisters wil! look af ter each other's children and even nurse them if necessary and possible. The relationship between sisters is usually very good.15 They help each other and have no secrets from one another. Even if living in different areas they conJt:inue to visit each other, provided the di stance is not too great (women do nat as a rule travel large distances). However, affinal relart:ionships used to be, and still are at present, confined within limited areas. Children never lose touch with their "other mothers" and will a1ways continue to visit them, even when they have grown up.

The relationship between father and daughter is also characterized by affeotion and trust. I could think of no better illustration than that offered by the superb photograph by Father Belt jens (photograph 3) - words are superfluous here. Middelkoop 16 gives an account of an extraordinary incidem which also characterizes extreme!y weil the close tie between father and daughter. The approximately fourl:een years old daughter of an Oematan (the name of the princely family of Molo) danced an individual war dance (oomsa) , as though she were a boy, at the final mortuary ritual held for her father four years af ter his deaJl:h. She was attired in the array of a meo. Suddenly someone remarked in tones of delight: "Her posture (nasen) is like her father' s", meaning that she was the image of her father, as nasen means both posture, gesture and character. She danced precisely as she had seen her father do, moving only when her fart:her's gongs were' being beaten, and rtaking a rest whenever his gongs ceased to play and the borrowed set of gongs took over.

The upbringing of a girl is mainly her mother's task. It is from her mother that a girl leams everything she neoos to know; this she does wÏlth a matter-of-factness that is similar to that described by Margaret Mead 17 for Samoa.

The relationship between brothers is more formal, with a higher conflict potential, as here there is a greater emphasis on a certain order of precooence, as reflected by the kinship terminology. The eldest son is the an mane = masculine child and an mone naek (naek = big). The second son is called an toooo (middle child), and the ones younger than him an ikun (ikun = to follow). The relationship between them is expressed as alif-tataf (younger-elder brother), the elder being superior. There is no word to designate the relart:ionship between two brothers as such in Timorese, so that in talking of brothers a certain inequality or a certain order of precooence is always expressed. There is a genera! word for brother (i.e. nauf), however, which is used only by sisters when speaking of their brothers. Sisters are also distinguished into olif and tataf, and only brothers use the general word fetaf when speaking of their sisters. All of fart:her's elder brothers' sons are referred to as elder brothers, even if they are chronologically younger than ego. Tataf exercise authority over their alif. But as there is less di stance between them than between fathers and sons, th ere is more likelihood of tension between them.

The tataf has the custody of the property of the ume. If he dies before his sons reach adulthood (that is, before they are married) this custodianship wil\ pass on to his olif. If the latter lives long, his sons wil\ try to keep the articles themselves, even though they are oli! in respect of their father's elder brother's sonS. If the articles are traditional heirlooms belonging to the lineage's nono or vital force, such as an old rifle or old coral beads used for paying bridewealth, or a herd of buffalo reserved for

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 103

the same use, it is a c1ear-cut case: the senior branch will receive them, if necessary through the mediation of the head of the clan or of the amaf IUJck, the head of the most prominent kalUJf (clan) of the district, or the flsif. The case becomes more complicated if a man has bought a rifle and leaves it to his sans, upon which it passes into his elder son's custody. If the latter dies when still young his olif will gain "custody" of the article, and if the latter lives long his sons will claim possession. They can depend on the support of their mother, who is bound to defend the rights of her own children against those of the children of her husband's ta taf. This, too, is a potential conflict situation, especially as the issue is a subtIe one. Custodianship over a period of many years gradually confers rights of tenure. If his sans actually do inherit it they will attain ownership rights, as their grandfather did at the time of purchase.

Tensions such as those between olif and ta taf, especially if they involve a junior and a senior branch, of ten give rise to quarrels and estrange· ment and may induce lineages to move away. The junior branch, consisting of two or three brothers and their families, will move off to found a new settlement. This will not usually take place without the intervellJtion of an amaf, usually the lineage head, as the new branch will have to take with it some of the le'u or sacred objects of the lineage. These are the repositories of special powers. The new ume will need some of them to hang up on the main tnaJtemal pillar of the amaf's house in the new hamIet. The entire gamut of conflict situaJt:ions is found here, ranging from mild rivalry or reluctance to acknowledge the senior branch's superiority (this is always present) art: the one end right through to feuds (which, as far as I know, are not permanent. however) at the other end. Cunningham 18 says with some justification thart: brothers "may fight a great deal". But he goes even further by suggesting, pal'1:ly on the basis of information from Atoni government officials, that many cases of maltreatment and murder are to he interpreted in this light. My own experience does not corroborate this. Most serious cases had their origin in the violation of ownership rights, such as cattle theft, damage caused by cattle to garden plots, or quarrels over a woman. Other quarrels fuat arise are practica1ly always hetween two branches of one clan which stand in an olif-tata! relationship to each other, and nOl: hetween the sons of one father, or even between "brothers" of the same ume. And such quarrels, which were frequent indeed, were not usually put before the Council of Chiefs for which the Dutch government official used to act as advisor, but were settled by the local chiefs. Only if these failed to reach a satisfactory settlement, or in ot her words, if one of the parties refused to accept the verdict of the chiefs, or if a serious 0'ffence had been committed, the matter was referred to the Council. BUIt really seriOU6 crimes, such as that of causing grievous bodily harm or worse, were not on the whole committed very of ten, lelt alone on these grounds.

The relationship between alilineages of a clan, even if resident in different political communities, is referred to with the term olif-tataf (younger - elder brother) which at the same time indicates their order of precedence. In the chapter on the political orgaruzation we shall see thaJt the relationship between the leading clans of a princedom, and even that between princed0'rns, is referred to with the same term.

Within the lineage the relationship between grandparents and grandchildren is also important. (Grandfather = na'if, grandrnother = belif, and there is only one w0'rd for gmndchild, namely upu, which does not differentiaJte between male and female.) This is a warm, affectionate and intimate relationship, in accordance with what is probably a universal human pattern. If the grandparents happen to be still living in their own house the grandchildren will visit them of ten, especially during early childhood. Cunningham 19 quotes a wonderful remark made by an Atoni in this connection, namely that the grandchildren are expected to rouse their grandparents from their nap when they doze off outside their house "to let the old people know that they are still alive and have people who love them". As the children grow older the idea of respect due to old age becornes more dominanrt:. Af ter their death the grandparents become rthe ancestors (au be'i, au na'i = my female ancestors, my male ancestors) who are invoked in ritual prayers. Then fear of them begins to predomioote. In Tunbaba and Insana the deceased grandparents are also called am koko, ain koko, the koka being a myrthical animal by whose name the ruler is sometimes referred t0'. The best translation for am koka is probably "rnuch dreaded father". The usual form of address is au be'i, au na'i, however.

Finally there is the relationship between sisters and brothers (fetofnauf) within the lineage, in which the brother is superior. He has authority over his sister, watches over her and gives her his help and protection. This is of the greatest importance for the brother himself, too, as he is also <10 some extenrt dependent for the marriage he makes on the bridewealth received for his sister. That is why she will not marry without her brother's being consulted. This protection is given

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 105

especially by the eldest brother, who will replace their farther after his death. This is very important in view of the fact thaJt: the father is his daughter's husband's atoni amaf (masculine father). This brings us to the second caJt:egory of relatives, namely affines. The relationship between husband and wife (mone-fe) belongs to Ithis category until the wife is adopted into the nono af her husband's lineage.

2. AFFINES

The terms used to designate relationships falling under this heading are:

mone - ie husband and wife

babaf all male members of the wife's lineage who belong to the preceding generation

mone fe'u (= lit. new man), son-in-Iaw, all men who have married a woman from the natal lineage, and who belong to a younger generation

nanef married-in-woman of a younger generation

ba'ef affine of the same generation

atoni amaf mother's eldest brother, and af ter his death his eldest son, head of the bride-giving lineage

fe lalan mother's brother's daughter

mone lalan father's sister's son

am baba mother's father, affiinal father

ain baba mother's mother, affinal mother.

Affines inc1ude all those with whom rthe lineage has affinal relationships of any kind whatever. If they belong to the preceding generation they are called babaf md if they belong to the younger generation they are ego's mone fe'u (new man) or nanef in the case af wornen, whereas affines of the same generation are each ocher's ba' ef: ba' ef monef or ba' ef fetof, depending on their sex. The sharp distinction drawn between agnatic and affinal groups explains the deviations in kinship terms for grandparents in Amfoan in Middelkoop's list, which are confirmed by Cunningham, who also worked in Amfoan. In Amarasi, Amanuban and Molo mother's father is caJled na'i (grandfather) and mother's mother be'i (grandmocher), like father's father and father's mother. But in the case of Amfoan we find arn baba and ain baba = affinal father and mother. These terms are also found in Tunbaba, Insana and Beboki and are, in asense, the correct ones. Mother's father and mother's mother are am baba and ain baba because they are affines; but they are generally called na'i and be'i, especially by the younger children, and certainly if they are resident inthe same village. That they are not strictly speaking na'i and be'i becomes apparent af ter their death. The invocation au be'i, au na'i (my female 3incestors, my male ancestors) refers exc1usively to the ancestors of the ume, who are members of the same kanaf and nono. Middelkoop once presented me with a prayer - in a different context - which is said in cases of illness, beginning with am baba (= my male ancestor, i.e. maternal ancestor).

If the Atoni made no further distinctions it might follow from the fact that for a male ego bath father's sister's daughter and mother's brother's daughter are ba' ef fe tof and that a marriage with a ba' ef fetof is given preference, that the affinal system is based on direct exchange, as Fischer concludes. He could hardly have arrived at a different conclusion, as he restricts himself entirely to the terminology, which would even tend to support Cunningham's hypothesis of a reciprocal affinal alliance between two groups.

However, the Atoni distinguishes between two groups of affines, namely the feto or feminine affines, i.e. all those re1ated to his lineage via marriages of its women, and those belonging to the groups of the atoni amaf (masculine father, i.e. the head of a lineage to which it is related via a marriage of one of its men).

This distinction determines the social c1assificaJtion into feto and mone groups. The bride-giving lineage is superior in respect of the bride-receiving one. The former is mone (masculine) and the latter is termed feto (feminine). The bride-givill1g group receives presents, services and respect from its bride-receiver.

J ust as the term olif-tataf is used with referenee to the relationship between clans, sub-territories of a political community or even between political communities - although strictly speaking this relationship exists only between men of the same generation within a particular lineage or ume - the term feto-mone has similar applications, though strictly speaking it designart:es a re1ationship between two ume.

This distinction between feto and mone has important implications for both the kinship system and the political organization. As far as the kinship system is concerned it means that once a feta-mone relationship exists between two ume it should be endeavoured to perpetuate this relartionship, or, in other words, that marriage with mother's brother's daughter is preferential, though not prescriptive. This dis-

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 107

tinction which Needham 20 makes, but which Lévi-Strauss 21 ignores, has far-reaching implicatioos, as we shall see later. If ego does in fact marry his mother's brother's daughter the bride is referred to as fe lalan, the wife of the (trodden) path, lalan being the word for the path connecting two ume. Her husband, who is her father's sister's son, is caIled mone ldan (the husband of the path, i.e. a man bom of a woman of her own ume). They are each other's panu: the two halves of a coconut which fit together. In the diagram helow a man (1) from time (a) of clan A is married to a woman (2) from ume (b) of clan B. Their son, A 4, wiIl preferably marry B 5, whose father, B 3, wiIl he his at ani amaf or bab hanit (= life-giving, life-generating affine), just as his own father is called am hanit or ahanit (life-generating father, procreator). This way the ume of B will remain superior to that of A. Of course the agnatie composition of the lineage implies that A4 may equally well marry his mother's father's brother's son's daughter, B 8, the daughter of B 3's parallel cousin. Af ter the death of his mother's brother the latter's son, that is, ego's wife's brother, B 6, becomes A 4's atoni amaf in the stricter sense of the word, whilst the amaf of the latter's ume is the atani amaf who will lead the negotiations preceding the marriage and who will perform the appropriate rites.

It is this atani amaf whom the young bridegroom fears. Whereas he has respect for his father (ama!) he fears his atoni amaf.

If the "paved way" for a marriage is that from ume (a) to ume (b) it is to he expected that A 4's brother - either his own brother or, for example, his father's brother's son, A 9, who is his ta taf, will also follow that path and marry B 7, for instance. This is not prescribed, however. He may equally weIl, or even preferably, marry a girl from a lineage of clan C or D. If this bas happened before in previous generations marriage to a girl from C or D will aIso be a fe lalan.

He may aIso marry a woman from an ume of a clan wi,th which no previous affinal ties exist, aIthough this will present some difficulties. Ti the way has been paved not only will social relations between the two groups have been long-establ i shed , but the bride-receiving group will have some idea as to the extent of the bridewea1th. In principle this will be the same as that paid to the mother's relatives when she was married. But personal qualities sueh as physicaI attractiveness, a good name or skill at particular tasks may raise the sum of the bridewealth, or conversely, if the bride has some defect or other, lower it.

A and B are clan names, a and bare the names of the lineages of these clans

If an alliance is established with a new clan, the sum of the bridewealth will be higher and will be fixed only af ter protracted negotiations. But the possibility exists. The difficulties may be evaded by resorting to marriage by abduction - the bridegroom accompanied by a number of armed members of his lineage simply goes and rtakes the bride->t:o-he from her viIlage by force. The number of helpers usually exceeds by far the number of people who belong to his ume and includes both men and women. The term "abduction" is not strictly speaking correct, therefore. The bride is merely rtaken away and the negotiations foreed, and a~terwards gifts are brought to the bride's ume to induce her relatives to attend the wedding.

Middelkoop 22 furnishes an example of another form of "abduction" , where ooly two women go to feteh the bride from her house. They are aecompanied as far as her village by twenty or thirty men, so that the threat of violenee is present; but in reality violenee cannot he used.

Both types of marriage in whieh the bride is rtaken away from her viIIage, so that the marriage is patrilocal from the beginning, are exceptions.

In the third place there is the possibility of marrying within the clan or kanaf (name). The ume, however, is strict1y exogamie. Marriage

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 109

w~thin the ume is out of the question and sexual intercourse between members of one ume amounts to incest and will bring on disaster for the entire ume. The clan, on the other hand, which has lineages in different villages and some even in other princedoms, is not s.trictly exogamic in practice. It is difficult to determine whether it ever was in the past. Tt is said that "formerly" the clan used to he strict1y exogamie. Even at present prople prefer to marry outside their own clan. But endogamous marriages do take place, he it chiefly between poor people - they are OO11Itracted chiefly by young men from ume which have no property. And it is not unreasonable to suppose thaJt poor lineages have "always" existed. It is the least desirabie, though not the least frequent form of marriage, and Ïlts unpopularity is not so much a matter of the Atoni's condemning marriage OOtween blood relations as perhaps one of prestige and social status.

Hence marriage with a large numher of ume is possible; even marriage between a girl from A and a man from another ume of B which is only diSltantly related to the urne from which her f<lJther obtained his wife. Only marriage between the sister of the bridegroom and the brother of the bride, A 10 and B 6, which would amount to a direot exchange of women, is against the rules and definitely disliked, as in that case A 1 (or A4) and B 3 (or B 6) would become the atoni amaf of each other's children, which is an impossibility, as Middelkoop '.l3 confirms emphatically. The feto-mone relationship, thaJt of socially subordinate and superordinate groups, would in that case become self-collitradictory.

This does not exclude the possibility of its taking place in praotice. But even rthen it will never take pI ace between direct cross-cousins, that is, between A 4 and B 5 and between B 6 and A 10. Such marriages are probably more frequent in Amarasi, where Cunningham worked, than in Central Timor, where there have been fewer changes and where influences from Be1u are sometimes stronger; this is certainly the case in Beboki and, in some respects, in Insana. In the case of political marriages, however, exchange of sisters may take place. It is cuSitomary for a ruler to endeavour to establish affinal relationships with princes of neighbouring princedoms. In this case an exchange of sisters may bring about a relationship in which both parties remain each other's equals. At the conclusion of peace the promise of an exchange of brides marks rthe climax of the negotiations. Although this may imply au exchange of sisters,'.l4 rthe kinship system remains unaffected in spite of such marriages, as the amaf naek of the clan which is the ruler's traditional bride-giver remains his atoni amaf - it is impossible for a ruler of a different princedom to become this. At any rate, such an exchange of sisters never takes place in the case of a first marriage.

It is customary to marry a woman from one of the groups which are mone in respect of the bridegroom's group, which win therefore remain feto. This feto-mone relationship hetween clans, between sub-territories of the princedom and hetween any large groups in general is a fixed one usually based on some affinal relationship established in the mythical past. But hetween lineages this need not in praotice he a permanent relationship. A reversal of the feto-mone relart:ionship is quite common and is to he expected in the first place ifthere has been no marriage between a man from (a) and a woman from (b) for one or two generations, either because the men from (a) have had a choice out of various other possibililties, or because (b) had very few women in a particular generation. Royal lineages usually endeavour to effect such areversal; in any case they try to create the impression that reversals do occur. Us Taolin (the lineage of the present raja of Insana), for inSitance, is feto in respect of "Liurai", and win immediately admit this, but will not omit to add that such and such a woman from the house of Taolin was married to a Liurai. However, this in itself is not significant, "Liurai" heing a collective name for all the royal lineages in the realm of Waiwiku-Wehale in South Belu, among whom the Meromak O'an (Son of Heaven) was the central figure. He was Sonba'i's tataf (elder brother) and was mone or bride-giver in respect of many royallineages. Conversely these latter may at times have given a bride to one of the Liurai lineages who formed a unity toge!l:her with the Meromak O'an. But this ean have had no effect on the fundamental, original feto-mone relationship.

Now the en ti re web of kinship becomes clearer. In diagram 3, A 1 is married to B 2, so that ume (a) of clan A has a feto-mone relationship with ume (b) of clan B, as (b) has with (c). A l's son, A3, will preferably marry his mother's brother's daughter, B 4, while A l's brother, A5, could marry B 6, B 2's sister, and follow the path trodden by his brother. According to Middelkoop 25 the same bridewealth as that paid for their mother may in some cases be paid for both daughters

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 111

together. This is only possible if both follow the same path as their mother.

In this connection it is il1Jteresting to note Cunningham's remark in respect of mother's sister. She also is called aina (mother) because, according to the Atoni, her husband is amaf (father). Cunningham ~6 rightly infers from this that this woman must therefore he married to an agnate, that is, to one of her sister's husband's "brothers". In our example A3 calls his mother's sister, B 6, mother, because her husband, A 16, is amaf, being his father's father's brother's son, hence a parallel cousin of his father's. So if A 3's mother's sister marries A 16, the statemel1Jt that her husband is his amaf is correct. Cunningham proceeds to say: "On the other hand, whomever that woman married would he termed 'agnate' (i.e. amaf)". But this contradicts Middelkoop's 27 data and my own experience. If B 7, A 3's mother's sister, i!l married to D 17, the latter is A 3's babaf, that is, an affine of the generation before his, and not his amaf. Two things are clear from the Atoni's statement according to which mother's sister is ainaf because her husband is amaf, name1y that (1) she is not ainaf simply by virtue of the fact that she is mother's sister (just as father's brother is "father" simply because he is father's brother), for she belongs to a different clan and is her sister's husband's ba'ef fetof, the latter being her ba'ef monef (= feminine and masculine affine respectively). Neverthe1ess, because the tie between two sisters is usually close she is norma11y addressed as aina by her sister's children, even if she marries into a different clan. Forms of address used by children cannot be decisive in determining the relationship, however. 1t is furthermore c1ear that (2) a marriage between the husband's c1assificatory brother (e.g. A 16) and the wife's sister (B 6) is usually presupposed. This would point to the existence of a prescriptive unilateral connubium. But in practice this man may equally weIl marry a girl from clan E (as A5 did), to which his father' s mother al$O belonged; then (e) like (b), will be one of (a)'s bride-giving ume. A 9, A l's and A S's sister, is not allowed to marry a man from (b) or (e) because these are (a)' s bride-giving ume, but she will marry someone from a different ume, e.g. F 10 from ume (f). And in that case A3 will not be allowed to marry F 11, not only because A 1 and F 10 would then be each OIther's atoni amaf but also because A3 would be marrying his father's sister's daughiter. Cunningham 28 reports this too. He says: "Blood is transmitted through agnation, and they may justify their dislike for marriage with F.Z.D. on these grounds. Though F.Z. is an 'affine' (baba!) and her daughter is also an affine (ba'e!), they say that F.Z. (being a daughter of F.F.) is really na' mese, one blood".

This is correct. We need only add that father's sister, A 9, will only become A 3's babaf through her marriage to F 10, or rather, only af ter she has been admitted to the nono (life-circle) of ume (f).

Looking once more at the affinal kinship terminology ~t will now become c1ear that there is only one set of names applied to affines: babaf as against mone fe'u and nanef for members of different generations, and ba' ef used reciprocally by members of the same generation. If a distinction were made between maternal and paternal crosscousins this might support the theory of a unilateral, circulaüng connubium. But in practice there is a choice out of many possibilities. There is, admittedly, a preference for méIJternal cross-cousins, but instead of marrying mother's brother's daughter ego may equally well marry father's mother's brother's $On's daughter, as AS did in our example. There is also the possibiHty of creating a new affinal relationship. Marriages may take place in the opposirte direction a few gener ations later, or in some cases earlier. Such a reversal of the feta-mant

relationship may even be desirabie in view of the payment of bride28 Cunningham, 1962, p. 211.

21. Performance of the likurai dance at a wedding feast. The dal1Cers move in a line twisting in and out, resemhling the way in which a snake moves along.

22 .. \11 .\tolli hamiet, :-'lal1llflli.

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 113

wealth. Apart from paternaJ. parallel cousins, obviously because they are regarded as brothers and sisters and call each other brother and sister (nau-feto) , maternal parallel cousins and patemal cross-cousins trom the same urne (limited lineage) are excluded from the range of possible marriage partners. This rule does not apply strictly, as the prohibition concerns only the daughters of a young man's father's full sisters and of his mother's full sisters. Marriage with a daughter of mother's or father's classificatory sister, if resident within ,the ume, is not desirabIe either, but if they live in different villages the taboo hardly applies. All these relations - father's sister's daughter, mother's sister's daughter and mother's brother's daughter - are ba'ef, while father's sister's husband and mother's brother are both babaf. In spite of the fact thaJt these kinship terms are the same, behaviour towards each of the two groups of affines is markedly different, however. In our example F 10 is A 3's babaf, bab mone, namely the husband of his father's sister. And as Cunningham 29 writes, "Babaf are in a superordinate age level, but ego's relationship tothem is familiar, in contrast to that with his amaf ainaf. He may joke with them, laugh freely, behave generally with less restraint, and he may touch tthem (as when jabbing during a joke)". For af ter the death of A 12, the faJther of A 9 (F W's wife) , A 5 (A 3's father's brother) will become F W's atoni amaf as A 9's eldest brother. This is why A 3's behaviour towards F 10 may be free, even Ithough A3 belongs to a younger generation, and why this babaf will usually help him and give him small presents - not simply because he is his babaf.

The respectful behaviour that is due from him towa;rds an older generation is counterbalanced by his superiority as a member of a mone group in respect of a member of a feto group. For F 10 is his feto, having received a wife from (a). In the chapter on agriculture we came across an example of "a joking relaJtionship". When F 10 has been burning off a garden plot together wi,th the members of his wife's ume, A 3 will be one of those who throw dirty water all over him to "make him cool" (mainikin). He will not actually throw the water himself, as he belongs to a younger genemtion. This will probably be done by A 16, F W's wife's (A 9) father's brother's son, who is his ba'ef or affine of the same generation without being an atoni amaf. The atoni amaf himse1f will not throw the water either, because there is too great a distance between him and F 10. More likely F 13 will be the butt of a joke played on him by A3, his maternal ba'ef, who will only become his atoni amaf af ter the death of the latter's father.

On the other hand, A 3's behaviour towards B 14 is altogether different. For although B 14 also is his babaf, he is élJt the same time his atoni amaf or his bab hanit (life-generating affine) by virtue of the fact that he is his mother's eldest brother as weil as his father-in-law, and there is no trace of a joking relationship or even of the slightest familiarity in respect of this babaf. I have seen newly married men in Beboki talk of their atoni amaf with fear in their eyes. His respect is due first of all to the a.maf mnasi, the eldest father of his wife's ume, although his wife's amaf and the amaf of his wife's ume may be one and the same person. This babaf is the person who demands payment of the bridewealth and reprimands the bridegroom if he does not pay his instalments in time. He demands the bridegroom's services during the period of bride-service. And even when the bridewea!th has been paid and he is living with his wife and children in his own village md the relationship to this babaf has become less marked by tension, he is supposed to be prepared at all times to help with such things as the felling of trees or the building of a house; in return for this work he will receive the counter-gift of a mea!. He is also expected to be of assistance in less important situations. Even af ter the death of this babaf his wife's eldest brother is at all times allowed to impose on him for sirih pinang or tobacco.

His behaviour towards his ba'ef or paternal cross-cousins, bfle mone and ba'e feto, F 13 and F 11, is equally complex, though this is less pronounced. His behaviour here is relaxed and gayand clearly superior. He is allowed to play jokes on his ba'e mone, F 13, father's sister's son, and to tease FIl. This playful banJter will sometimes develop into an erotic game, though marriage will not ensue, as we have seen. If he desires an adventure with this girl he will send her sirih leaves with a yellow thread tioo around them, yellow being the colour of subordination. She will send back the sirih leaves without the thread if she consents.

Conversely, A 3 wil! treat his ba'e mone, BIS, with more respect. He eau expect to be élJt the receiving end of any practical joke B 15 may wish to pLay. And when they grow up B 15 will keep a watchful eye on A 3's behaviour towards his sister, B 4, a fact of which A 3 is weIl a ware. A 3 will need his coöperati011 when he begins to court his ba: e feta, B 4, his mother's brother's daughter, who is ideally his potential

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM l1S

bride. And he will therefore give him tobacco and other small presents, even when they are still young boys. Similarly he may direct hls art:tentiOOI to any other girI from ume (b), all of them heing his ba/e feto. GirIs from other ume which have supplied brides in previous generatioos are also potential brides.

But in all these cases the social relationship in respect of his ba' e mone is the same - as their social subordinate (for he bas to ask favours of them), his behaviour is caU/tious. And this similarly determines his relationship to his ba' e feto. She beIongs to an ume which is socially superior to his. He bas to treat her with deference and wiII send her presents as a sign of his intentions to court her. The first token of affection wiII he sirih leaves with a red and a green thread tied around them, to which she will respond, is she wishes, with a present of sirih Ieaves tied up with a green thread. Red is the colour of superiority. If she is not indined to respond she will Iet him know that she is too strictly watched or that there is another man. She wiII send a bottle of palm-wine as a consolation gift. If both do become serious there will follow an eIaborate ceremonial exchange of gifts and smaller counter-gifts up to the time when the bridewealth is determined and the marriage is finalized. This is accompanied by an exchange of manus luman or mnuke (i.e. the empty or young sirih pinang) , the first bridewealth. Sirih pinang (areca nut with betel leaves and some lime) is always offered to guests. It is a tangible symboI of a valued relationship, the fundamental gesture of hospitality and the introduction to all relations with people outside the ume or lineage. In the case of marriage it symbolizes a series of exchanges of small gifts which accompanies the relationship hetween a boy ail1d a girl from the first day of their acquaintance until their wedding day. It is largely a formality, hence the term luman (empty). The bridegroom's ume presents a cylindrical container with a few coins, coconUJts, bananas and sugar inside it. These are the bridegroom's introductory gifts. The bride's return gift to the bridegroom consists of a belt and a sirih purse (aluk). This belt is a symbol of both ume becoming linked to one another. Besides, one or two shoulder cIoths, two sirih containers and headbands are presented to the bridegroom's parents.30

The bridewealth which is to he paid later is the puah mnais-manus mnasi (Iit. the oid sirih pinang). This consists chiefly of cattIe, strings of coral beads, silver ornaments or coins, and bride services. Each time au instalmem is paid the atoni amaJ gives a pig and a cloth in return. When the marriage has been finalized the husband is mone and the wife Je (husband and wife respectively), with the implication that he is superior. This is striQtly speakiug true only when she forrnally ceases to belong to her father's ume and joins her husband's ume and its nono (lianas which encircle the clan and hence symbolize its fertility). This is not possible until the greater part of the bridewealth, the old sirih pinang (puah mnais-manus m1UJSt) has been paid, which in some cases is not until many years af ter marriage. By means of a formal ritual act the woman then leaves her own ume and is incorporated in the nono ofthe husband's clan. This ritual is called kasu nono, kasu being the word for taking off a sarong by pulling it over one's head: thus she symbolically casts off her own nono. Then she enters that of her husband, the ritual symbolizing this be~ng called nanta (to enter). Henceforth she will be allowed to return to her natal ume only as a guest - she may come back to eat but not to sleep. She will be expected from then on to observe the totemic taboos of her husband's clan. Theoretically she will be able to disregard those of her own clan, but in practice she will continue to exclude the totem animal or plant of her own clan hom her diet.

In this connection we shall have to say a few words also about the problem of patrilinearirt:y of descent and patrilocality of marriage. It is a problem because in Belu, the culture of which is very much akin to that of the Atoni area, there are two types: a chiefly patrilineal kinship organization in N orth Belu and a matrilineal organization coupled wÏ<th uxorilocal marriage in South Belu. It is impossible to say anything about South Belu until ,the publication of the results of Francillon's research.31 The Atoni area presents a similar variety. There is a remarkable series of differences which form a scale of gradations from a purely patrilineal and patrilocal to a chiefly matrilineal and purely matrilocal system. They vary from one political community to the next.

At one end of the scale we have Ambenu, a group from which princedom lives in Manamas in Miomafo. As everywhere else, first the payment of puah manus luman or mnuke, the empty or young sirih pinang, is made. Following this a very high puah manus mnasi (old sirih pinang) is decided upon. This is the substantial part of the bridewealth, consisting of cattle, beads and silver coins. Here too, the bridewealth varies with social status and wealth, but it is always a heavy

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 117

burden on the paying party. The second characteristic of Manamas is that this bridewealth has to be paid as soon as possible. Marriage is first uxorilocal, the husband being required to render bride service during this time, but the norm here is that the couple go to live in the village of the husband's father as soon as sufficient bridewealth has been paid. Hence marriage here is clearly patrilocaI. The social and ec0- nomie life is restricted to the ume, the territorially localized agnatic lineage. It should be added, however, that the atoni amaf, that is, mother's eldest brother in the immediate sense of the word, and the head of the agnatic bride-giving ume in the general sen se of the word, have an important social and ritual function. And this direct atoni amaf ideally speaking becomes ego's father-in-Iaw.

Amfoan is Ambenu's immediate neighbour. In the politica1 organization both princedoms are closely united in a mone-feto relationship - as Ambenu is Amfoan's bride-giver - and in an olif-tataf relationship because their founders came to this area together, according to the myth. Amfoan is markedly patrilineal - all children are iIlJtegrated into the father's lineage - in contrast with all the other Atoni princedoms where according to Cunningham 32 usually one or more children are incorporated into the mother's ume.

In Molo and Miomafo and in the entire area that was once under the sway of Sonba'i, as in Amanuban, the bridewealth is not so high, even though it varies much with the social status of the ume concerned ; it may reach considerable proporti011sin royal lineages and usif's ume as weIl as in lineages of heads of prominent clans. And in the former realm of Sonba'i th ere are many prominent ume. But in general the bridewealth is not considered to be high by the people themselves. This means that a considerabIe pomon of it may be converted into bride service, a widespread practice. As aresult the bride's ume does not usually press for payment. Hence the marriage will remain uxorilocal much longer, so that the first children are bom iIlJto the wife's time and thus bear her name (kanaf). Even the husband is temporarily admitted to the nono of his wife's clan. Although he continues to be regarded as a member of his own clan he is temporarily adopted by the ume of the other clan. In some cases the bridewea1th may no1 have been wholly paid at the husband's death, so that the members of the husband's ume will have to pay rthe remainder so as to be allowed to take a son bom of the marriage and admit him to their own ume. 1t is more difficult to have one of the daughters transferred, because she herself wil! secure bridewealth and services as soon as she reaches a marriageable age. Here we see a shift away from rthe agnatic system. Although it still operates as a structural principle, it is counterbalanced by the principle of bride service, which tips the balance m favour of uxorilocal marriage and partially matrilineal descent.

Hence in the entire area of the former realm of Sonba'i and m Amanuban - i.e. in the major part of the Atoni area - a corporate Iineage comprises in the first place a number of limited lineages (urne), each in turn consisting of a number of nuclear families each occupying its own house. Descent is patrilineal, except in the case of children for whose mother bridewealth is not yet fully paid. These then belong to their mother's ume, or rather, to that of their mother's father. There are examples in many ume of children remaining in the mother's ume, while in others examples are quoted of this occurring in the past. Hence the system is extremely flexible, but is mainly patrilineal and patrilocal. It is important to note that the corporate unit of the ume is the fundamentaI, strictly exogamie unitt. A boy who has been incorporart:ed in his mother's father's ume wil! in that case call his mother's brother's daughter fetof (sister) and not ba'ef (affine of the same generation). If she were his ba'ef marriage with her would he desirabie, but now it is out of the question. The husband residing with his wife's urne is admitted to the nono of his wife's clan, as we have seen, but lives among his ba' e mone and with his father-in-Iaw - he lives with the group in respect of which he is feto (feminine, and hence inferior) because in a sense he remains a member of his own urne. In the course of time the di stance wil! decrease. His son is wholly integrated into his wife's clan, even to the extent that he may obtain a leadership function and become amaf of his ume if his motheris the eldest mem her of the senior branch of her ume and there are no descendanlts in the male line.

We find the same pattern in Insana.33 (See photograph 24). When a boy and a girl decide to make public their relationship the young man has to give the girl's parents puah kolo, manus kolo (the hidden pinang). This gift consists of some silver coins, twenty at most, a sarong and,

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 119

in modern times, under Western and especially church influence, a ring. The meaning of this "hidden" first: gift to the bride is that the relationship which has hitherto been kept secret is now made public. In the words ofthe Atoni: as a result of the presentation of puah kola, manus kola it becomes puah mtonan, manus mtonan, the announced sirih pinang.

The second gift is determined af ter this. Here it is called puah oenun, manus oenun. Oenun designates the confluence of several rivers ; and so ,the idea of an alliance between two groups is apparent here. The me~l.lling of the word in this conrt:ext is that now the bridewealth to he paid to the whole ume of the bride is to be decided upon. It will amount to a hundred silver florins at most. Other objects may he and are given, and their worth is nowadays usually assessed in terms of monetary value. It usually consists of cattle, however, so that there is little deviation from rthe supposed basic pattem according to which the ume's herds serve as payment of bridewealth.

In addition a silver bangle has to he presented. lts name is oe maputu, ai malala (= hot wart:er, glowing fire). According to the Atoni this relates to the "heat" or danger of the first childbed, when a fire is lit in the hearth and mother and child are washed with warm water. A female buffalo is included in the bridewealth. It is the symbol of the milk with which the mother will feed the child.

This bridewealth is T1OI!: usually paid all at once, so that at the heginning a marriage is usually uxorilocal. The children bom during this time belong to the mother's ume. Although the husband will always endeavour to pay the bridewealth this does not necessarily mean that it is in faat always paid, even though the church insists on fulfilment of the payment. There are some marriages in which the second instalment of the bridewealth is never paid at all. This also used to occur formerly. In that case the children remain memhers of the mother's clan. This is especially true if there are many sons and few daughters in a particular ume, for then rthe balance is unfavourable for that ume in respect of payment of bridewealth in that particular generation.

If a second bridewealth instalment is paid the Atoni say that it is for the tsea bife fe'u (the drawing of the new wife, i.e. her removal to the husband's village and admission to his clan). The young family is accompanied by the members of the wife's lineage who are paid a sum of twenty florins for providing this escort, called tub nabij - the covering of the tracks. Hence there is no return for her, and she has left her own clan for good (see photograph 25).

Then, when the wife reaches the age at which she is no longer able to bear children the final instalment of the bridewealth is paid. This is called sinab besi tofa - putting away the weeding hook. The woman is the field which has borne its fruits and now the final affairs relalting to the harvest (i.e. the children) have 1\:0 be settled. The husband brings five silver coins, a pig, rice and palmwine for a meal to the wife's ume. Then it is decided which of I\:he children, a boy or a girl, will belong or continue to belong to the mother's ume, where it wil! replace her. Hence even if the bridewealth is paid completely, in accordance with the nonnal practice, the descent of one of I\:he children is matrilineal.

Beboki presents a slightly different picture again. Here too a moderate bridewealth is required in theory, bul\: many men continue to live with their wife's ume, so thalt marriage here remain:s uxorilocal longer, whereas in the Sonba'i area and in Insana it was chiefly pa!l:rilocal. This implies a gradual shift towards matrilineal descent, for if the husband remains with his wife's ume the children will belong to her clan. Yet people generally say that bridewealth oughi\: to be paid, even if alt the end of many years, and thaJt the family is to become patrilocal from then on and has to be admitted to the father's clan. The actual practice is very different, however, and as a TUle the young family will live uxorilocally for years; in every present-day viIIage there are families which have remained uxorilocal, as a resull\: of which the descent of the children is matrilineal. Here, too, one child is always assignedto the mother's clan when the resil: of the family joins the father's. If in diagram no. 4 a man, BI, marries A 1 uxorilocally and remains in her ume all his life, children bom of the marriage wiII be integrated into clan A. In the next generation B 2 marries A 2 and the marriage is again pennanently uxorilocal. N ext C marries A 3 on the same terms. The children bom of these marriages are then similarly inl\:egrated into clan A. If all future marriages remain consistently uxorilocal descent will become maJtrilineal. For instanee, in our example A 4 and A 5 belong to the lineage of their mother's mother's mother's father.

Vet another variation is found in Noemuti, where the "old" gift (puah manus mnasi) does not exist. N otwithstanding, most of the marriages here are patrilocal. Descent is not uniformly patrilineal, however. Instead of bridewealth being paid an agreement is made that some of the children will belong to the mother's clan and ume. Noemuti is exceptional in any case because, together with Lifau on the north coast

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 121

of Oekusi, it wasthe centre of the dominion of the Topa.sses and of Dominican missionary activity for many centuries. (The Topasses were Portuguese-speaking mestizoes.) This may have had some influence on bridewealth customs as the Mission regarded this as a kind of purchase price for a bride, which was not in keeping with Christian doctrines concerning marriage. N evertheless, this variation per se fits in quite weil with the scale of variations presented by the Timorese kinship system. For in the district of Mutis, which is now part of Molo but used to he practically independent partly as a result of its isolated

DIAGRAM No. 4

position in the Mutis mountains, a secona gift has never been the practice among common people, a1though the cu stom is found in the families of heads. This is usually eXplained as follows: "we are only poor people and have never had enough money for bridewealth".34 The elevation of the Mutis area is too high for sandalwood, hees' wax and areca nuts so that it never had any export prooucts. There are not many buffaloes here either. The usual form of marriage is that beginning with bride service and ending with the incorporart:ion of the wife and children in the husband's clan. Especially because here it is not customary to pay a second bridewealth instalmeIll1: - its payment is liable to postponement as a result of unforeseen difficuLties - the family will 3IS a rule live patrilocally and descent become patrilineal. So it most resembles Amfoan, to which it is akin in other respects as weil, and Ambenu, the two areas which are most markedly patrilineal.

In conclusion we have an example, in the Atoni-Ianguage area, of the opposite end of the scale. In Anas, the former N enornetan, which is now part of the princedom of Amanatun, marriage is permanently uxorilocal. This means that the men leave their own ume and women remain in theirs, so that marriage is matrilocal. Descenlt is matrilineal 35 inasmuch as the husband and children remain in the wife's clan if she dies first. But if the husband dies first the wife and her children will have to move to the husband's ume. If there are no children when the husband dies the wife's ume will be required to give thart: of the husband a gir!, a "sister" of the wife. Kruyt's 36 information that inheritance is matrilineally transmitted is in agreement with rthe matrilineal system of desceIll1:. He writes that the eldest daughter receives the entire inheritance and distributes some of it among her sisters and brothers as gifts. This means that the inheritable properrty of an ume, i.e. cattle amd valuable objects such as coral beads, jewellery and silver coins, remains undivided.

The system prevaleIll1: in South Belu more or less corresponds with this. Francillon writes in this context: 37

"What happens in Wehali is that the uma is a local exogamie extended matrilineage sometimes part of a fukun, sometimes coterminous to it. A fukun is only a ritual grouping and is neither an endonor an exogamie unit per se. Now the most important thing in my view here is that marriage is exclusively uxorilocal, and I have chosen the term with care. Men at marriage leave their natal house and move to their conjugal house. They do not in the exchange become any sort of significant members of their conjugal houses. And they lose much of their rights in their natal houses. What a married-out brother represents for his natal house (his mother and sisters) is that one of his daughters wil! be returned to

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 123

them af ter his death. As younger daughters adapt themselves best to a new environment, it amounts for a man's sisters to wish him to go away and die early. Great difficulties arise from the fact that such a girl (called mata musan, pupil of the eye) whom one obtains in exchange of a dead man does not cease to be a daughter of her mother, i.e. a member of her mother's lineage, and never becomes one of her father's, even if she comes to reside with her patrilineal kinswomen. Endless complications follow when a man marries outside his fukun into another one which has a different set of ritual prohibitions (matrilineally transmitted). This may give some ground to the hypothesis that a fukun unit is normally endogamous, but it is not actually so at the present time. Fukun endogamous and exogamous marriages are found in equal proportion.

There is no circulating connubium in this south plain of Belu, both patrilateral and matrilateral cross cousins are marriageable and both types of parallel cousins are prohibited. Given the matrilineal and uxorilocal emphasis one is led to think, contrary to the opinion which you expressed for Atoni-Timor, that marriage takes normally the form of an exchange of brothers. If it were regularly done, there would be no necessity for mata musan child exchange (one man being at once replaced by another), but actual cases of brother exchange are rare, less than 2 %, marriage with MBD or with FZD do not exceed 5 % each. All other marriages are with women who fall in neither of the categories "mother", "sister" or "daughter", i.e. outside the uma.

The uma of the hili Belu is not completely patrilocal. On the other hand Wehali and Suai uma groups are completely matrilineal. Very little is transmitted from the father's side to his children (only his personal name which is only wom by his children af ter their own personal name, sometimes by his grandchildren as weil, but not further down)".

With such a diversity of forms in the kinship system one rnay weil ask what model to design with which 10 cover this diversity. Designing such a model is by no means an arbitrary task, for what we have to do is construct our model in such a way that it will furnish the key to an understanding of the social reality of the area under discussion. Van Wouden 38 suggests as model a double unilineal system, but he arrives at this hypothesis in the supposition that in Timor too there is a unilateral, circulating connubium among four agnatic groups as a result of which matrilinearity mn in fact: be distinguished genealogically speaking. We may question with Goody 39 the use of supposing that: there exists a double unilineaI system if the local people do not have a term for it and recognize only one lineage - either tthe patrilineage or the mart:rilineage. P. E. de Josselin de Jong,40 on the other hand, suggests with good reason that: if in adjoining areas both types of descent occur, the hypothesis of a double unilineal system may he useful in explaining the existence of these two systems side by side in a related culture province. This is certainly true for West Africa, where in the c10sely related Akan-Ewe area the Akan were c1early formerly double unilineal, having separate terms for the mother's and the father's lineages,41 whereas the Ewe, Fon and Ga are patrilinea1.411 And in Sumatra, for example, the Minangkabau are matrilineal although they have an implicitly patrilineal structure.43 Their neighbours the Batak are patrilineal,44 however, while in Atjeh descent is patrilineal and marriage matrilocal.45 Not only is the desire to find a key 1:0 furnish the explanation for the existence of these systems side by side reasonable, but it is one of the dernands of science, which not only seeks knowledge through analysis but wishes to explain and c1arify by disoovering the structural principles determiningthe social reality.

We may dismiss the supposition of the evolutionists that here we have to do with phases of deve1opment, for their approach is only pseudo-historica!. We may similarly do away with the cultural-historical idea that a society with nrort:rilineal descent, inheritance, and sa on, forms a more primitive stratum, as V roklage 46 still maintains. (He sees two different strata of culture in Timor.) P. E. de Josselin de Jong 47 alsa favoors "an historical reconstruction of a social system which shows a greater measure of integration than the system of today" in his study of the Minangkabau and N egri Sembilan. But he states most emphatically that this in no way amoonts to a pseudo-historical reconstruction, "for we c1early recognize that perhaps all: no time in the past did the actual facts complete1y agree with oor reoonstruction. This reconstruction may he compared with a word marked with an asterisk in a linguistic publication : iil: represents the most acceptable form that ean he constructed from the available dall:a, and the best suited to explain the present-day facts - bUil: it is pure1y theoretical and has never been observed in actual existence". What we need, as Poower observes, is a "structural explanall:ion", "the underlying integrative idea or model,'.48 This does involve, however, thall: the facts will have to point to a past that approached more c1ose1y the ideal pattern containing the structural principles which underlie the present-day situation as weIl.

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 125

This is how Van Wouden should have set to work, and doubtless would have been able to had he made use of official memoranda and records. As far as the Atoni area of Timor is concerned he referred to not more than about ten articles, the only good ones among which are those by Heijmering and Salomon Müller. Van Wouden's ingenious hypothesis is based on the pre-supposition of a unilateraI, circulating connubium whereby men from clan A marry women from B, men from B marry women from C, men from C marry women from D, and men from D marry into A, the women therefore circulating in ,the opposite direction. But this kind of unilaterality is oot, and as far as we know never was, in practice here. Yet people knew the precise details of affinal relationships extending many generations back. Middelkoop 49 gives a very eloquent example of the Atoni's knowiedge in this respect in a text recorded from the mouths of some chiefs of Molo in 1930. This story tel1s how the house of Pa'i possessed a sacred stone, that is, an object which is charged with mystical force directed against the enemy. When these heads turned Christian they handed over their le'u 11IUSU objects and on this occasion related the story of how the Pa'i line had gained possession of this sacred stone as a result of avision. Here the descent of the Pa'i line is traced as fol1ows (see also diagram no. 5). Bi (= woman) Kon Neonsaban possessed mystical gifts. Her husband was Nai Naju Pa'i. She gave birth to Nai Tal Pa'i and Bi Kau Pa'i. The latter married Nai Tae Abakut. They begat Bi Ena Abakult, who married N ai Auken Tanono, Bi Sil Abakut, who married Nai Bul Pa'i, and Nai Keba Abakut, who married Bi Beto Pa'i and moved to the Pa'i lineage. Nai Tal Pa'i (Nai Naju Pa'i's son) 50 came to Molo and married Bi Esu Kune and begat Tal Pa'i, who married Bi En Pita'i. They gave birth to N ai Eli Pa'i, who married Bi Kol Niuflapu. They begat Nai Teok Pa'i, who married Bi Maul Taboen. They begat N ai Kol Pa'i, who married Bi Lauf Sanam and Bi Sain Abi. Of the first marriage were bom: Nai Sain Pa'i, Bi EI Pa'i in the vil1age of N umenis 51 and Bi Eok Pa'i. Of the second marriage were born Nai Nos Pa'i in the village of Bisene,sl Nai Tal Pa'i and six more children. The eldest son, Nai Sain Pa'i, married Maria Manu Lolomsa'it. They safeguarded the le'u and begat Nai Antoin Pa'i and Bi Kon Pa'i.

Bi Kon Neonsaban Nai Naju Pa'i Kau Pa'i Tal Pa'i QEsu Kune Tae Abakut Auken Ena Sil Bul Keba Beto A Tal Pa'i En Pit'oi Tanono Abakut Abakut Pa'i Abakut Pa'i Kau Bait Seba Feka Eli Pai Kol Niuflapu Tanono Tanono Manu Feka △Oe Na'u Teok Pa'i Maul Taboen Kol Sen Fo ∆ En Na'u Sain Abi Kol Na'u 4 Lauf SanamQ Pa'i Lolomsa'it Na'u Sen Maria Manu Sain El Eok ANos Tal Maria Manu Lolomsa'it Pa'i Pa'i Pa'i Pa'i Pa'i Lolomsa'it Lolomsa'it Maria Manu Lolomsa'it 8 Antoin Kon Tal O Pa'i Pa'i Pa'i

DIAGRAM No. 5 Genealogy of the House of Pa'i

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 127

Nai Sain Pa'i feIl ill, his body shriveIled up and he died. Then Nai Tal Pa'i weeded the field 52 for the aged Maria Manu Lolomsa'it, and looked af ter her. She bore him Bi Tal Pa'i and five more children, the youngest of whom, Bi Sani Pa'i, "finished off the milk".53

Then follows Bi Maria Manu Lolomsa'it's genea1ogy: "Nai Auken Tanono married Bi Ena Abakut and begat Bi Bait Tanono and Bi Kau Tanono. Nai Seba Feka married Bi Bait Tanono and begat Bi Manu Feka. Nai Oe Na'u married Bi Manu Feka." They had ten children, the sixth of whom was Nai Fo' Na'u and the seventh Nai En Na.'u, the narrators of the story. The second was Bi Kol Na'u, who married Nai Sen Lolornsa'it. They begat Nai Sen Lolomsa'it and Bi Manu Lolornsa'it, tOOt is, the aged Bi Maria. Diagram no. 4 represents the genea10gy in table form. It offers positive confirmation of the above. Men from Pa'i do not marry women fronl one group, but from eight different groups (printed in italics in the diagram), a different group in each generation. While in the seoond generation Pa'i is Abakut's bridegiver, .the situation is reversed in the third generation. Here we have an example of a reversal of the feta-mane relationship in two successive generations. It may he the resWt of the paymerut of rthe bridewea1th for Kau Pa'i by Tae Abakut nort being fulfilled. The daughter, Sil Abakut, was probably married to a Pa'i by wayof "payment", as her mother's replacement. Her brother al50 married a Pa'i, 50 rthart: here we have, to all appearances, a direct exchange of sisters. However, formally speaking this is not 50. In this generation Abakut is the bridegiver and therefore the amaf of Abakurt is Pa'i's atani amaf. Now, in order to avoid Pa'i becoming at the same time Abakurt's atani amaf as a result of Bi Berto Pa'i's marriage to Nai Keba Abakut, that is, to avoid their becoming each other's atani amaf (an impossibility) Keba Abakut simply had to he admitted to rthe house of Pa'i. He paid no bridewealth for his wife, and his children were made memhers of the Pa'i clan. In the Atoni's categories of thinking this does nort constiJtuJte an exchatnge of sisters - one ume, Abakut, has simply given another ume, Pa'i, a brother and a sister.

The above is an example of the astounding amoulllt of knowledge possessed by the narrators, Fo' Na'u and En Na'u. They are familiar with the genealogies of their sister's daughters' husbands and know how they are re1ated to these via their mother's mother's mother's mother.

The genealogy must be reliable, judging from the faat that every detail fits in exactly, for Maria Manu Lolomsa'it marries a man who, like herself, belongs to the seventl1 generation, counting down from their common ancestor, Naju Pa'i.

This genea10gy was enumerated in 1930 by Fo Na'u and his brother, En Na'u, when their sister's daughter had eight children. Hence they must have been at least 60, and the genea10gy must go right back to before 18(X) or even before 1750. The numerous genealogies of royal éIIlld chiefly lineages found in old memoranda confirm the picture presented by this one, as well as the data of my own research in Miomafo. We must draw the concIusion, therefore, thaJt the daJta concerning the Atoni area before the colonial period, which began here in 1910, give insufficient evidence to support the theory of fixed, unilateraI, circulating affinal alliances in this area. The ancient principle of quadrupartition which was in faat fOUlIld by us to operate as a structural principle sheds insufficient light on the matter of affinal relationship. But, as we shall see laJter, it is important for the politicaI struoture.

Van Wouden's concIusions are too speculative, therefore. The supposition that such a system may formerly have been in force, or may at any rate have existed as an ideal pattem which operaJted as a structural principle, is in actual fact no more than a historical speculation which, moreover, is far from capable of fumishing the key to an understanding of the social reality in Timor. This does not mean to say that his model is not of use as a hypothesis in a wider context, however, although it is not even workable for Timor as a whoIe.

In the Atoni area of Timor we find neither an exchange of women via a unilateraI, circulating system such as that proposed by Van Wouden, nor a direct exchange of women between two groups as Cunningham suggests. There is st rong preference for an asymmetricaI connubium, however. If irt is strictly prohibited for a male ego to marry his father's brother's daughter and if marriage to father's sister's daughter and mother's sisters daughter is undesirable, then only mother's brother's daughter remains. We have seen, however, that although theoreticaIly correct this concIusion is not supported by whaJt happens in practice, because there is nothing to deter ego from marrying a daughter of one of father's or mother's cIassificatory sisters, there being a greater social di stance between them. The same applies to father's cIassificatory brother's daughter, provided the sociaI di stance is sufficiently large, which it may be as a result of her living in a dif-

23. An Atoni hamlet. On the left can be seen a lopo, which serves both as a storage-hut for rice and corn and as a meeting-place. On the right is a traditional house, which is oval in shape and has a roof coming almost down to the ground. Cf. p. 429, photograph 32.

24. .\ hri<lal rouple from 111sa11a.

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 129 speculation, there being little or no evidence for it in the presentDIAGRAM No. 6

ferent village, for instance. Of course we could surmise that formerly this used to be differenl But this would amount to mere historical

day network of affinal relationships atany rate. Although preference is clearly given to marriage with mother's brother's daughter, ego's choice is never restricted to one particular, fixed group, at least not to the extent that we can speak of a closed, circulating connubium. At most we can say that there appears to be a preference for the perpetuation of existing affinal re1ationships with different groups, so that what we have here is primarily an open, asymmetrical system, using the distinction made by Salisbury.54 Thus we arrive at the diagram above.

Here ume (a) of clan A is the bride-giver of (b), (c), (d), (e), (f) and (a 1), and is therefore mone in respect of these ume. And (a) receives brides from (m), (n), (0), (b), (aZ) and (a 1), and is therefore their feto. Ume (al) and (aZ) beloog to the same clan as (a), that is, clan A, so thart: marriages between them are endogamous as far as the clan is concerned. Ume (a 1) and (b) both receive brides from and give brides to (a), although this will happen in different generations. Ume (a) will endeavour to give brides to as varied a number of groups as possible, and to restrict the number of groups that supply it with brides. We find a similar practice in Sumba.55

1t is important to note that it is not in the first place a number of triads with which we are dealing here, but always a number of double pairs, as (a) is to (b), Cc) and so on as mone is to feta and 1:0 (m), (n) and so on, as feta is to mone. They are not invo!ved in a combination as, for examp!e, (f)-(a)-(o), and (f) and (0) are oot re1ated via (a). The key re1ationships are those involving (a) with a number of bridereceiving ume and with a number of bride-giving ume. The re1ationship in question is therefore always one between two groops. Any affinal relationship that may exist between (f) and (0) does not concern (a). We do not presume to deny the existence of another form of tripartition, namely that involving (a) as an independent ume with a number of bride-giving and a number of bride-receiving ume. This triad has an important hearing on the Atoni's socia! life. 56

The basic, predominating fact is that the Atoni belongs to a corporate lineage which he caUs his ume (= lit. house). This ume is the nucleus of the social structure. He is also a member of a kanaf (clan) and from this he derives his name (kanaf). But the residental unit in which he lives is the locally defined ume which constitutes part of a village (kuan). Formerly it probably constituted a separate part of the village as a hamiet (kuan or lopo). Like a dwelling, the ume has its specific location. When the ume has outgrown its territory or if there have been quarrels, scission will result and a junior branch will settIe elsewhere, usually in the immediate neighbourhood; in the case of war it may settle far from its ancient place of origin. The senior branch usually remains. An ume, even a recently established one, always has its fixed location, its ktUm. Together with a number of other [opa or kuan it shares a specific, bounded territory, which is in the custodianship of a tobe. This gives rise to speculations concerning the possibilty of a traditional division of a territory into foor communities, as was mentioned above, and as we shall come across in the politica! system. However, as far as the kinship system is concerned we must restrict ourselves to taking as oor point of departure the primary importance of the ume as a corporate unit. Those who rnarry into this group, this ume, are admitted to its nono, that is, the circle and the fertility power of the clan to which it belongs. They will henceforth observe the taboos (nunt) which are in force in that particular clan, of which they become memhers, while their children are members by virtue of their birth within it. This does not prevent their transfer, in some cases, to the clan of the married ... in parent, as a consequence of which the child(ren) will

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 131

have to move to a different locality. The members of an ume furthermore include strangers who have been admitted to it, these usually heing slaves or a wanderer or refugee.

When we discover that the ume, as part of a clan, may he patrilineal as well as matrilineal, the question as to the line of descent becomes of secondary importance. Both patrilineal and matrilineal forms of descent are found in the Atoni area - both fit in with the system. The customs vary with virtually every different political community, and although the Atoni is quite capable of discerning these differences in adat he takes them for what they are: incidental differences which have no effect on the basic structure of his ume as a corporate lineage, nor substantially affect that of the clan. Land tenure, inheritance and hereditary succession are internal ume affairs. Leadership of the ume is vested in an amaf (father) also called mnasi (elder).

The question which now remains to he answered is whether this kinship system should he termed ambilocal and ambilineal, as Pouwer 57 does in respect of the Mimika. These terms do not quite fit the situation in Timor, however. The term "ambilocality" presupposes a free choice. Any variety of marriage within the range encountered in Timor commences uxorilocally and is supposed eventually to become patrilocal. The question as to whether or not descent may he termed ambilineal is a more difficult one to settle. An ume which always adopts one of the children of its daughters, as happens in Insana, and sometimes adopts the entire family of one of its daughters can hardly he said to he unilineal. On the other hand, these children are integrated into the clan of the mother's father, so that the accent remains on agnatic descent. This is also evident in the distinction made in the nam es for father's father and mother (na'i and bél) and mother's father and mother (am baba and mn baba); the literal meaning of the latter two is: affinal mother and father respective1y. The clan of the agnatic lineage is the most important one. The daughter's children born while the marriage is uxorilocal observe the nuni (taboos) of their mother's father's clan. Even the man who resides in his wife's ume for a long period of time is temporarily admitted to this ume in the sen se that its nuni also apply to him.

We can therefore only descrihe the rnarriage organization as being first uxorilocal and then patrilocal and the system of descent as chiefly unilineal, namely patrilineal, although when uxorilocality is repeated for several generations descent becomes matrilineaL We have seen this to be the case sometimes in Beboki. It is in this sense that Francillon regards South Be1u as purely matrilineal. Of N orth Be1u he writes: "the non unilineal (patrilineal) descent system is in fact matrilineal with the possibility always open for men to purchase the rights of the father by drawing their wives into their own natal houses".58 I would say the reverse of adjoining Beboki: descent is traced through the father's line, but as the husband's ume may always remain in default with regard to payment of the bridewealth, one or perhaps all of the children will belong to the mother's lineage. But perhaps I view the situation too much from the perspective of the patrilineal system prevalent in the western Atoni a1"'ea, and Francillon too much from that of the purely matrilineal system of South Belu. 1t occupies a typically intermediate position, but the hypothesis of a double unilineal system fails to ex.plain it entirely. The model underlying diagram 4 is a much simpier one. Depending on whether marriages in Timor are more or less frequently and permanently uxorilocal or patrilocal descent will be more or less matrilineal or patrilineal respectively. The advantage of this model is that it corresponds directly with the social reality in South Belu, which is matrilineal, and the western Atoni area, which is patrilineal, as weU as being capable of explaining all intermediate forms in N orth Belu and the eastern Atoni area.

Thus, by taking as our point of departure the ume as a locally defined group of kin, all further grouping will branch out into two different directions : the territorial and the genealogical one. Various ume of different clans live in a particular geographicaUy defined area. They share a tobe between them. Although the function of the tobe is therefore not restricted to a particular genealogical group, it is connected with one of the ume which have joint rights to a certain territory, namely the territory of the village. Formerly each ume lived apart from the others, and the residential communities thus formed were also called kuan (or lopo, as in Amanuban). The different ume sharing one common territory and one common tobe form one group. That is why, when later they began 10 live closer together, whether of their own accord or under coercion on the part of the colonial administration, this was not felt to be a drastic change in the traditional structure. For this reason little resistance was offered to this measure, and people continued to live in larger villages even when the pressure

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 133

on them to do so eased. A major factor responsible for this was the greater measure of security enjoyed under colonial rule, moreover. During the ] apanese occupation, when the population was heavily oppressed, prople began to spread to isolated areas again, but nonetheless kept away from the ancient, lofty cliffs which did not offer protection against the ]apanese anyway. The tendency was to occupy isolated garden huts so as to be able to suppress a smal! portion of the harvest, the whole of which was requisitioned by the ]apanese. Thus the risk involved in moving it to the villages was avoided.

The growth of settiements around usif and kapitan was also a logical development and one which is consistent with the traditional structure.59 A large village like this always has only one tobe, however.

Hence the territorial and genealogical principles coincide in the urne. A number of urne make up a clan (kanaf) which is not a territorial unit. In between the urne in the sense of a limited lineage and the clan as a whole there are the lineages of varying sizes. When an urne outgrows its territory, or if there ar,e quarrels inside it, scission takes place. But the amaf of the senior branch will remain the custodian of the le'u, the sacred objects of the lineage. The fathers (amaf or arnfim) of the various urne are the lineage elders (rnn~) Similarly there is a "senior", leading branch and a leading urne in each clan. There are, however, no separate words in Timorese for any kind of intermediate genealogical grouping between the ume and the clan.

Analogous to this there are a number of elders (mna.n) in each village occupied by urne of different clans. Together these form a council of elders which wields considerabie authority, in spite of the fact that tt is not instituted by a higher political authority. The tobe, the amaf of one of the urne, is in charge of the ritual of the agricultural cycle.

The amaf who is also atoni amaf, that is, the head of the bride-giving group, is in charge of the ritual of the life-cycle of his affines in the bride-receiving urne. Apart from that each amaf conduets the affairs of his own urne. The degree of authority with which he acts is very much dependent on his personality, but in accordance with the traditional institution he definitely has allthority. He is expected to settle all matters with allthority, though in consultation with the prople concerned. For instance, the marriage of a girl of his urne is a matter that concerns her parents. It is her father, and, af ter his death, her brother who is her children's atoni amaf in the stricter sense of the word, though actually in a ritllal sense it is the amaf of the bride's 59 Cf. p. 186 below.

ume who is atoni amaf. The larter will, in consultation with the girl's father, negotiate about the bridewealth. The anwf is also responsible for the behaviour of the members of his urne. If, for example, one of them has a fine imposed on him by the ruler or his representative the usif, the amaf is responsible for its payment. And it is he who has to see to it that the orders of the heads (nakaf) are carried out. Here we see the village acting as a united whoIe, however, nowadays under the leadership of the temukung as village head. But even in the remoter past a mnasi, who was one of the mnaf of the urne inhabiting the village, was the primus inter pares to whom the usif's messenger always addressed himself. This brings us to the political structures of larger units. Each village was part of a district at the head of which stood an amaf naek, a "great father" , of the leading clan of th at district. He was a genealogical head (amaf) as weil as a territorial head (nakaf) and as such was also tobe naek (major custodian of the land). We shall devote a later chapter to this political structure. Our present concern is solely to demonstrate how inextricably the kinship system is interwoven with the territorial organization.

It was a long time before this fact was recognized. McIver, thinking along the same lines as Maine,60 wrote as recently as 1947 in his book entitled The Web of Government: "Tribal government differs from all other political forms in that the territorial basis is not sharply defined. In its primary sense a tribe is a community organised on the basis of kinship".61 Of course the social anthropologists themselves were partly at fault in this respect. Same artention was given, it is true, to the geographically defined comrnunity, but then only to "the little community" as such, to the ''band'' or the village, and nat to the geographically defined comrnunity as a genealogical group. The study of kinship organization developed into a separate specialization, as a result of which in present-day scientific terminology the use of the terms "corporate lineage" or "corporate clan" is enlphatically called for to indicate that the genealogical group is territorially localized. A reversal of this method, that is, by taking the smallest geographical unit as the point of departure for the study of kinship organization, may lead to greater clarity. For this geographical unit is probably of universal importance in the progress of mankind. This is certainly true as regards the groups or "bands" which live as independent units in Bushman society. These bands roam the desolate Kalahari desert

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 135

and live by hunting and gathering food; each of these bands is made up chiefly, though not exclusively, of a genealogical group which claims a soo.rply defined territory as its own.62 In these chiefly agnatic groups we sometimes see husbands permanently living with their wives' kinsmen.63 The agrarian Tallensi, one of the West African Volta peoples, have "houses" (yir) which are almost identical with the ume of the Atoni, that is, in the sense of "the joint family as a coherent social unit residing in its own dwelling".64

Territorially defined groups are found even among the semi-nomadic Somali. Lewis 65 says of these that "in relation to their ecology, the Somali have developed a system of grazing where no firm titles attach to pasturage except those which depend on force". This is not altogether correct, however. A Somali who has experience in such matters by virtue of his function as government official once put it like this to me: "The Somali is so firmly insistent upon his rights to pasture-lands that he will fight for them at the slightest pravocation".66 The result is the same - constant conflict over grazing-lands - but the method of approach is diametrically opposed. I personally favour the latter. Besides, Lewis himself also draws the conclusion that "although primary lineage-groups are not geographical units, people of the same lineage tend to camp side by side where they are temporarily gathered in a region of pasture" . And "the same tendency for lineages to provide nuclei of settlement is found also in the villages and towns".67

In ancient Israel too the social nucleus was the bëth-'äb, i.e. the paternal house. Like the Timorese agnatic ume this comprised the family of the father or those of a number of brothers and those of their married sons, as well as their servants. A group of these "agnatic houses" made up a clan (mispächäh) which usually, though not always, oonstituted a separate settlement. The actual unit was the bëth-'äb as a territorial and, chiefly, genealogica.l unit. The head of a bëth-'äb was a zaqën or elder, and the combined elders of the mispächäh were responsible for the welfare of their clan, for its ritual and for blood-revenge.68

These are only four examples, drawn from four culturally totally different areas both as regards language and mode of ex:istence.

Among t1:he patrilinea1 Karo Batak in the Indonesian culture province itself we find the lineages of the marga (clan), ealled rumah (house), which have lands of their own. These lands are the terpuk (seotions) or kesan (compounds) of a village. Each house has its own name.8D

Among the matrilineaI Minamgkabau all those who descend from the same mother and live in one large house (rumah) are memhers of aparui' (= womb). If this hecomes too large it may ramify into various "branches" (djurai), each with a dwelling of its OWl11 and thus forming a new "house". Each "house" bas its own possessions. Rence it is nat the parui' or the djurai per se that is the nucleus of Minangkabau society, but the parui' or djurai as it is resident in one rumah.70 Umar Junus,71 in his study of the genealogical structures of the Minangkabau, takes the locally defined land-owning peruik or parui' as his point of departure.

In general it ean he stated that even in a society in which genealogical ties are of prime significance the social nucleus of that society is 10 he found where the genealogical organization and rthélJt of the territorial units cross-cut. When once we recognize this fact a remark such as that made by Versluys,72 namely that in Timorese society the genealogical ties still exceed the territorial ties in importance, becomes meaningless. It would he beyond the Atoni's own comprehension, and is quite incorrect structurally speaking. All it does is create more confusion. Wh3J1: Versluys means when he says this is that the function of district head is still hereditary in certain lineages.

And when Cunningham 73 says: "Social life is primarily ordered in terms of agnation and affinity, but territorial ties (from hamIet to princedom) are important, with implications in economic, social and religious life, and in Iega! matters" he unjustifiably separart:es from each other the principles of genealogical and territorial organization.

In the past few decades the inseparnbility of the basic territorial and genealogical unit of an archaic society has been c1early recognized, as the examples listed testify. But in practice irt: has been insufficienJtly taken into account.

In conclusion a word about the principle of reciprocity. Reciprocity

is of prime significanee in <the Atoni's affinal rel3Jtionships. Not, how89 Batak-spiegel, 1910, p. 195; Vergouwen, 1964, p. 34, speaks of village ward

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 137

ever, in the sense of an indirect exchange af women with the implication that the latter circulate in the one direction and rthe bridewealth in the other, a balance being achieved in bath directions. Nor is there reciprocity in the sense of a system of a direct exchange of women between two groups. Here again we must take as our point af departure the locally defined ume. The ume contains a numher of peop1e, living souls (smanaf - the word is also translatabie with "viltal force"). Now, when a woman capable of reproducing life is married iruto 3lI101ther ume her own ume loses not only one smanaf, but future lives as well. It therefore exacts life in return: in the first place in the fonn af bridewea1th, which is paid in instalments, each instalment heing regarded as compensartion for a part of the body af the woman in question. For example, one part of the bridewea1th is given in return for her head, another for her hands and feet, and so on. The nwnher af payments and their names vary from case to case, but they are always named af ter parts of the body. Origina1ly the bridewea1th consisted mainly af cattle, while later on silver was introduced, and later still silver in the form of coins. These latter are not actually money in the economic sense of currency bUjl: as objects with an irutrinsic, fixed value, which may he used as ornaments and thus permanently retain their value in the exchange af life (smanaf) (see photographs 10 and 24). In the second place the ume exacts bride services. Through his labour the husband produces riee 3lI1d corn, which are also smanaf, for his wife's ume. He works the soil, which brings forth life. Hence the husband's ume pays for what it will receive, namely smanaf, by means of bride services. That the Atoni himself sees it this way is apparerut from the faat that the words for the implements which he uses, i.e. a match et (benas) and a weedinghook (tofa), which are of ten used in parallelism with each other and each of which denotes the kind of work for which it is used, are also used as a metaphor describing a husband's relationship with his wife, in which he also creates life. The tilling of the field and the re1ationship hetween husband and wife run parallel with each other.

In areas in which the husband is integrated into the wife's ume and rernains th ere permanently there is of course no bridewea1th, as in that case the husband's ume itself is giving a smanaf, which it has returned to it in the form of one or more children.

The method by which the balance between two ume is achieved and the principle of reciprocity is expressed may vary a great deal. It may vary from a substantial bridewealth and a short period of bride service, as in Amhenu, to an insignificant bridewea1th, or none at all, and a long period of bride service, or the definite obligation to return a "soul" brought forth by the wife to her ume.

When once we have established whart: the basic struotural principle is, the different fonns which are distinguished by instiJtution in the different communities become easier for us to understand. Even inside a particular community there may be a considerable degree of flexibility. They are nOl!: to be seen as exceptions to the structural principle, as this principle may find expression in different ways. The principle of reciprocity does not furnish the answer to the question as to the backgrounds of an asymmetrical affinal relationship or a direct exchange. In this context that is a questioo of secondary importance only, although the rule of establishing asymmetrical affinal relationships with a number of ume is of primary importance for the social structure as a whoIe. For as a resuLt of it a large l1umber of ume of different kanaf are linked togeither in a lasting alliance. And, moreover, for the Atoni relélltionship, both agnatic and affinal, is the basis for nearly all social and political relationships, as we shall see when dealing with the political structures.

In accordance wÎith the structural principle of reciprocity per se a direct exchange of women would lie within the range of possibilities, and this would not even be too much in contradiction with the other principle, according to which affinal relationships should be established in as many different directions as possible. Although a direct exchange is sometimes found, it is an exception. For there is a different objection to it - ilts practice would be in confliot with anOlther structural principle, namely the one operating in the relationship between bridereceiver and bride-giver, i.e., the feto-mone relationship. Cunningham 74 gives a very clear account of the nart:ure of this relaJtionship. Each ume has its an mone (masculine children), that is, the members of the ume into which its sons have married or those which have given it one or more of their daughters and whose amaf are therefore iI!:s atoni amaf. These are socially superior, then. Besides these there are the an feta or feminine children, thart: is, all members of the ume of its daughters' husbands, which are thereforesocially its inferiors. When feasts are given, alt the death of one of the members of the ume, for example, the an mone and an feta of the various ume wÎlth which it has, or in the preceding generation had affinal alliances, are invited. Cunningham says that the ume organizing the feast "refers to itself on such occasions as the uem tuaf (house master)" (uem = ume). Now, a host may 74 Op. cit., !>p. 244-249.

THE KINSHIP SYSTEM 139

never refer to himself as house-master, for, as Cunningham brings out clearly, he plays the part of the subordinate. He is, in fact, inferior in respect of his mone affines. But although the ume of the deceased is responsible for issuing the inviil:ations, it is the atoni amaf who is in charge of the actual feast. Only in respect of its feto affines is the ume superior, as becomes apparent during the feast itself.

This relaJtionship involves nOot only a triad, namely feto-ume-mone, bUIt alw two pairs. The ume is feto in respect of all bride-giving ume and mone in respect of all bride-receiving ume. Generally speaking only a few groups will he represen.ted on such occasions as the name-giving feast of a child. But at the death of the amaf of an ume all the amaf of the bride-giving ume will come, if possible, while the atoni amaf of the deceased person is in ehargè of the ritual. In addition, bride-receiving ume and those ume of the clan with which social relations are still maintained are invited. Especially the amaf who is the lineage head, and possibly the amaf naek of the parenil: clan will alw he present on this occasion.

Ilt is evident from the nature of this relationship thaJt a direct exchange of women is almost impossible.

The situation is slightly different in the case of a marriage inside the clan. This is a very common occurrence, although people prefer not to talk of it. It is a sign of poverty, as within the clan bridewealth does not have to he paid, except for the small gifts hefore and during the wedding ceremony. Bride service is required, on the other hand, and possibly in most cases the return of a child. Marriage inside the clan is possible, as the social nucleus is the ume, which is strictly exogamie. Any form of sexual relationship between two memhers of one ume is tantamount to incest. The decisive factor is the Sil:ructural distanee between two ume of the same clan. If they have split only in the preceding generation, marriage between memhers of the two will not he possible. However, if the two lineages have been living apart for many years there is not such strong objection and it is prompted mainly by considerations of social status, as such marriages are looked upon as a sign of poverty. Yet!: such marriages take place even in lineages of distinguished families. There is an example of it in Taolin's genealogy : the grandfaJther of the Kahalasi Taolin who became raja in 1915 was married to a girl from his own clan.75 Marriage inside the clan is never considered ideal, neither from an economie nor from a social or political point of view. For each marriage to a fe laJan (woman of the trodden path) guarantees the perpetuation of a social relationship, or, 10 the case of marriages of heads, a political one. Efforts will invariably he made to increa.se the numher of U11U' wÏlth which there are affinal alliances, especially, of course, by marrying daughters into them so as to become mone in respect of these U11U'. There is, however, another possibility of establishing alliances between ume. Cunningham bas pointed this out in an importanrt: article of his entitled: Atoni borrowing of children, an aspect of medwtion.76 The point in question is that ties are established by lending children to families belonging to a different clan. Apart from lending them rto their grandparenrt:s, children are most commonly lent to the father's sister's family.

Hence we can infer that the following structural principles which control and shape the kinship sysrtem, operate.

1. The indissolubility of the ties of a particular group of kinsmen with a particular territory.

2. The necessity to extend the ume as an exogamic, geographically defined genealogical sub-group of a clan and to reinforce its smanaf or vital force.

3. The principle of reciprocity by means of which ÎIt is endeavoured to maintain the stabilirty of the balance of life. The ume always requires the same amount of smanaf it has given away to be given in return, no matter by what means.

4. The superiority of the ume which gives away the source of life (woman) in respect of Ithe receiving ume. This principle requires that affinal relationships he asymmetrical.

5. The superiority of the elder brother in respect of the younger. There is no word for brother in general - the tenns used always denote some order of precedence. This way [here is never any unceItainl!:y as to who is to he the head of the ume, lineage or clan.

6. The tendency to perpetuate existing affinal alliances, thereby increasing the stability of existing groupings.

7. The tendency towards establishing and maintaining affinal re1ationships with a large number of clans, I!:hereby strengthening the ties between various genealogical groups and resulting in a closely kniJt social fabrie.

8. The preference, at least in the major part of the Atoni area, for agnatic descenrt: and hence paitrilocalÏlty of marriage. This preference is not general.

THE RELIGION

In this chapter we do not, by all intents and purposes, aim to give anything like a detailed account of the re1igion of the Atoni, the objective of the present hook heing to descrihe the political system. However, we wish <1:0 do this in such a way as to place this systerr. against the background of the total culture. A few introductory remarks will therefore also have to he made on the religion. It is impossible for me to do more than that in any case, as the necessary material is far from complete.1

In the description of agriculture we saw how c10sely it is bound up with certain rites. Culture in the primary meaning of the word, namely the tiIIing of the land, and the religious cult here form the two opposed poles, the magnetic field of which encompasses the entire cyc1e of the crops and, connected with ÏIt, the year-cyc1e of the Atoni community.

The same applies to the life-cyc1e. All important phases of human ex;istence are accompanied by rites de passage. The rites performed by the atoni amaf at marriage and death are by far the most important socially speaking. For they relaJte to the establishment of contacts hetween various ume and rthe breaking off of these ties af ter death. The rernaining rites, which the atoni amaf performs throughout the lifecyc1e of the children of his daughter(s) or sister(s), such as at namegiving ceremonies and circumcision, are related rather <1:0 the integration of a man into his own community or ume. I have not recorded any of the life-cycle rites, partly because my work did not put me in frequent contact with these and heca.use the rnajority of them can he found in

Middelkoop's work anyway.2 On the other hand, in a study of the political system it will be absolutely essential to include an examination of the rites as wel! as the myths, the latter especially because they always form the basis underlying any existing political relationship.

If we wish to discover the interrelationship between the Atoni's ways of expressing himself in the economie, social and political fields we cannot omit to make a few remarks concerning his religion.

1. GOD AND MAN

a. T be bidden world

Vis Neno, the Lord of Heaven, is the supreme god. We have gained some insight into the Atoni's oonception of Vis Neno from the numerous prayers said during the agricultural ritual. Middelkoop 3 has rendered a magnificent text which mentions Vis N eno in his various manifestations.

1. Vis N eno, Crocodile: water of the moon, water of the sun.

2. He bestows righteousness (tetus), gives coolness (mainikin), coldness (oetene).

3. A shining body (au mina), a splendid body (au leko), as we say.

4. Vis N eno of the water.

5. Vis Neno the radiant one, the brilliant one (apinat, aklaäl), the sun (manas).

6. Vis Neno who art a vault (aöbet), who dost give shelter (abenit), who dost shade (aneot),

7. He who brings about change, who alters,

8. Who provides and supports (afatis, ahaut) ,

9. Who burns and scorches,

10. Who raises up (atetus) and admini&t:ers justice (amnit),

11. Mayest Thou give us coolness and cold.

12. Star (afkoen), morning star (faif nome) and full moon (meuk funu),

13. Are the younger brothers (oli!) of Vis Neno.

14. The moon (funan) is the wife of Vis N eno,

15. His spouse (kato) is the moon.

16. When Vis Neno sleeps (tupan) we do not go forth.

17. The divine man (neon atoni) we call sun (manas).

18. The divine woman (neon bifel) we call moon (funan).

19. Le'u moon, le'u sun.

20. Thou art both radiant.

21. Thou art both brilliant.

THE RELIGION 143

22. Awe-inspiring, both of you.

23. Thou art both taboo (nuni).

24. We pray Thee

25. To provide for us,

26. To support us,

27. That we may walk upright (tetus),

28. That we rnay he just (nit),

29. Because Thou dost raise us (muteut),

30. Because Thou dost justice umo us (munik),

31. Mayest Thou give us coolness and coldness.

In lines 1-4 Dis Neno is the god of the water. He is identified with the crocodile whose abode is in the waters, in nvers and lakes (nifu). He is Dis Oe (= Lord of the Water) just as the python is Dis Meto (the Lord of the Dry (land)). Here Dis Neno is the God of the fertility of ,the earth. He dispenses justice (tetus), or right in the sense of upright, hence also righteousness in the re1ations between men. In this context it intensifies mainikin, oetene (coolness and coldness) in the sense of well-heing or health, prosperity and shalom.

In these lines he is almost identical with Dis Pah, the Lord of the eamh, who is his pendant and the deity that is complementary to him, though its nature is entirely different. Dis Pah is also the name of the altar stone placed in each garden plot.4 Although he constitutes a multJiplicity of forces, he is everywhere the one and only Dis Pah. This multiplicity is probably a consequence of the different ways in which the Atoni encounters him. He meets Dis Pah in numerous spots. Dis Pah is much the same as the earth spirits. These first four lines especially c1early express that the earth is fertile because of Dis Neno.

Dis N enD is the Lord of Heaven, neno meaning both "heaven" and "day", while it ean also mean "sun", especially when mentioned in paralle1ism with the moon. 5 Neon saet meaJI1S "sunrise", that is, the east. But the usual word for sun is manas. Dis N eno is radiant and fiery as the sun, but is also the vault of heaven stretehing its sheltering arch over all mankiind. He eauses the appearance of the earth's surface to ehange in the suceession of the seasons. He provides for man by giving him oom and riee, though he is also the agent responsible for the dry, arid months of the year, during which everything wilts and withers. Immediate1y following this he is said to raise (tetus) and administer justice (nit), in other words he dispenses justice and sees to it that there is righteousness in the re1ations between men. Tetus and nit here belong to the same category as mainikin and oetene.

Then his re1ationship to the moon and the stars is described. The latter are his younger brothers, while thc moon is referred to as his wife, moreover. In this text Vis Neno emerges almost as a nature god, although the Atoni certainly does not disassociate ,the mighty manifestation from the supreme power which reveals itself to him through it. My informants, especially those in Miomafo, categorically denied that Vis N enD could be referred to in terms of the categories based on the differentiation between the two sexes. But in Beboki there was some mention of a marniage between Vis N eno and Vis Pah. Everything on earth has sprung from this marriage: man, the dry land (pak meto), cattle and other animais, trees and planJts. Beboki borders on Belu, where the rain is said to be the sperm of heaven. Hence the idea of a sacred, divine marriage between heaven and earth is clearly present here. In Miomafo, on the other hand, the possibility of characterizing the relationship between heaven and earth in terms of a feto-mone relationship was vigorously rejected. Vis Neno is high up in the sky and far away. He is the elevated one, the high one (afinit, amnarnut) - the supreme being. He is le'u, which is perhaps best translarted with "holy", "awe-inspiring", "deus tremendus". He is nuni, taboo, in the sense tthat he stands aloof and is unapproachable. I t is forbidden to approach him.

A distinction is made between two forms of Vis Neno: Vis Neno Mnanu and Vis Neno Pala (the high (here the tall) and the short Lord of Heaven). In most Atoni villages (kuan, here in the sense of hamIet as inhabited by one ume or lineage) there are two altar poles near the amaf's house (see photograph 26). Every lineage is supposed to have them, but lineages which have broken away from the parent lineage of ten do not. The altar pole for Vis N enD Mnane is taller than that for Vis Neno Pala. Their alternative nam es are hau monef (the masculine pole) and hau tes (the heartwood). Together with the ni ainaf or maternal pilIar inside the house they form the trinity of the Atoni's sacrificial cult re1ating to the life of the ume. An altar pole mayalso branch out into three prongs, Olle of which is longer rthan the others. The longest one is the Vis Neno Mnanu, the second the Vis Neno Pala, and the third represents the female and male ancestors (be'i, na'~). There are supposed to be three sacrificial stones at its foot (see photograph 27). Vnder-

25. A man taking his wife home to his uome.

26. A rooster being offered before the U is N CliO MII<lI/u (= tall Lord of Heaven) anel Uis NCllo Pala (= short Lord of Heaven). This photo was taken in Kiupasan, the ritual cent re of Insana. In the background can be seen a large lopo.

27. The masculine post on this photo is three-forkecl. its prongs having the appropriate length, though there are more than three stones at its base. Thc house has only four 11; 11/(11111 (lit. "chicken pillars") in the front part or siu of the house. Cf. p. 430.

THE RELIGION 145

lying this distinction of Vis Neno inIto different entities is the Atoni's recognition of the fact that Vis N enD is present nearby and far away. In his invocation during sacrificing the Atoni frequently first addresses Vis Neno Pala as, in his own words, he is nearby. Vis Neno Pal a is then asked to transmit the prayer to Vis N eno Mnanu, whose name may he translated as High or Supreme Lord of Heaven. In this light, it is incorrect to classify Vis N enD with the dei otiosi, for although he is far away, he is also nearby and is very much part of the Atoni's day to day life.

Man is surroundede by a host of spirits and invisible forces. One might even say that they stand hetween man and Vis N eno. In his daily activities man has more frequent and intensive contact with these spi rits, which he also invokes in his prayers. But Vis N enD occupies a central position. The AtoI1lÎ expects all good things to come from him, though in the final analysis Vis N eno is also responsible for all evil things, such as famine, failure ~f the erop, diseases and epidemics, disaster and death. These are usually the immediate consequences of an error in the ritual or the contravenbion of a ta1x>o, or are thought to he brought about by hostile forces.

50 we ean infer that Vis Neno is more than a nature god. He is the origin of all things. Yet the Atoni has no clear creation myths or cosmogonies. Vis N eno is higher than heaven and earth, the transcendant heing, the Lord of the hidden world, whose most tangible manifestation is the sun. This is why in the Atoni's mind he is especially associated with the vault of heaven and the sun. He is the "shining one" (cf.Sanskrit div = to shine,6 cognate with deus and perhaps with dewa, which is the Sumbanese and the N gadha 7 word for God, although in Sumbanese the attribute of "shin~ng" is not associated with dewa 8). What ELiade says with reference to the celestial gods: "dieux ouraniens: Le ciel révèle directement sa transcendance, sa force et sa sacralité " , and "La catégorie transcendentale de la "hauteur", du supra-terrestre, de l'infini, se révèle à l'homme tout entier, à son intelligence comme à son ame. Le ciel "symbolise" la transcendance, la force, l'immutabilité par sa simpte existence" 9 is applicable to Uis N eno also. Vis Pah is Vis Neno's pendant. They form a dual divinity, in which Vis Neno's superiority is obvious. That is nat to say that Vis Pah has emanated from Vis Neno. They are two distinct entities, but are inseparable from each other - one cannot exisl: without the other. All these names for Vis N eno, all these attempts at defining his nature and essence represent the Atoni's efforts to come to terms with the enigma of the hidden world and to fit it into the categories at his disposal.

b. The Spirits

The fact that Vis N eno is regarded as the supreme heing does not imply that the Atoni's religion is monotheistic, unless Vis Pah (the Lord of the earth) and the earth spirits (pah nitu), the spirits haunting springs, rocks and trees, should he regarded as emanations from Vis N eno. Even then it would not he monotheism in the historical sense of the abnegation of polytheism 10 which we find in lsrael.

The first four lines of the text quoted above might justify the assumption that the Atoni has only one god. Vis N eno is the origin of all things, inc1uding the fertility of the earth. But the tendency towards bipartition which is predominent in all Atoni thinking asserts itself here too. Speculations about the possibility of a development from monotheism, where Vis Neno was originally regarded as the sole deity, are irrelevant. It may he supposed with as much or as little justification that as a result of four centuries of contact with Christianity, no matter how Joittle influence this may have had, Vis Neno has received gradually more emphasis than the other deities. In any case the view is never put forward that Vis Pah, like the heavenly bodies, is an emanation from Vis N eno.

The degree of individuality of the Vis Pah of every garden plot, of the Pah nitu (earth spirits), and the pah tuaf or naidjuf (the lords of a particular territory) is very limited. They are much the same as the more anonymous forces. The term pah nitu must he related to nitu (deceased person, the spirit of a deceased perron). However, the Atoni does not say explicitly that the pah nitu are spirits of the deceased.

In general not much good is to he expected of the spirits. They have to he appeased and man has to he careful not to provoke their wrath. In some situations it is feared that they will bring on misfortune. That is why a certain group of spirits is now called diaba, li-abu or djapu (derivations of the Portuguese word diabalas, devil) by the Atoni. There is no Timorese word for these. They are of ten associated with

THE RELIGION 147

the owl (sman), which, together with the atois or ataois 11 is ealled "witch bird" (kol alaut). There is strong belief in witches among the Atoni.

c. The Le'u Concept

In this context we should also say a few words about the le'u concept. Le'u means "holy", "sacred", "awe-inspiring". The sacredness denoted by this word is objective, that is, ut1JÎnfluenced by man. It is a force which ean be dangerous on the one hand, or beneficial on the other. High cliffs are called fatu le'u (there are numerous examples of mountains which are le'u). And in the text quoted above Uis Neno, the sun and the moon are described as le'u. Whatever is le'u is also nuni (taboo). An altar pole is le'u and it is therefore taboo to soil it. Le'u and nuni are two very closely connected concepts. In Tetun there exists only the luli concept, the word being etymologically equivalent to nuni. In the Tetun language area the uma luli, analogous to the ume le'u in Timorese, adjoins the ruler's residential quarters.12 Anything may become le'u as a result of some act of consecration. For example, a tree may be designated le'u consequent upon a dream. It will then be nuni to pick its fruits. Or a le'u musu (hostility le'u) may be found as a resuLt of a dreamP And the leaves and roots of a le'u musu should be sought anew each time.14

The Atoni distinguishes between the following kinds of le'u 15: le'u nono or fertility le'u, and its complement, the le'u musu (hostility le'u) 16; le'u fenu 17 a medici ne used during pregnancy and childbirth; le'u abanat, another medicine, used for taming buffaloes, and le'u kinat, applied in conjunction with the manufacture of dyes for weaving (kinat).

2. MAN

There are no creation myths or cosmogonies that we know of in Atoni tradition. Every clan, however, has its own myth of origin, and sometimes these myths mention the creation of man or the origin of the universe. But they contain agreat many influences which appear to be biblical.

For example, in the story concerning the origin of Lasa 18 it is said that in primeval times heaven and earth were one, all was dark and all was water. Thereupon Vis N eno decided to cause the earth to descend, the sky to ascend and the oceans to recede.

In primeval times there was a bubuk 19 (banyan tree) which grew together with a sandal-tree. lts fruits were like those of the papaw tree. At their foot a snake (dragon) named koko 20 had its nest in their shade. Once upon a time a deer came and lay down in the shade at the foot of the banyan so that there was no shade left for the koko. Suddenly a reed shot up from the ground and the koko lay down at its foot, whereupon the snake suddenly became the lord of the earth (pah tuaf). Vis Neno looked down upon him every day. Then pah tuaf decided: let us take a spear and kill the deer with it. The deer's fur was as prickly as a cactus. The lord of the earth took the spear and ran the deer through, inserting its hairs into his sides. Thereupon he scared the hees away with his spear and climbed up the tree; breaking branches with leaves off the two trees he put them into a heap to form a layer on which to place the deer. lts flesh he cut into long strips with the aid of a stone knife, taking care not to touch the hairs, which fell onto the layer of leaves and branches. He ate the flesh and impaled the head on a forked branch, where he left it to decay. An animal without legs, hands or eyes fell out of the deer's nostril onto its hide, upon which Vis Neno asked the pak tuaf, "What is that ?". The reply was, "It appeared of its own accord, 0 Lord, out of the deer's nostril". Vis Neno said, "I shall return. If it develops into anything I shall come back. I shall he back in five days." Vis Neno returned at the end of five days, when the animal had grown big and fat and round in shape. Vis N eno then ordered that the pah tuaf pick up the animal, bear it on his hands, and dffer it to Vis N eno. The latter stretched out his hand towards it, whereupon it suddenly had hands and legs and turned into a man. It became a perfect human being. Then Vis Neno blew into its nose and all of a sudden it breathed. Vis Neno ordered : "Shout", and suddenly he shouted with resounding voÎce. Vis N enD said to the pak tuaf, "I wish to call him Lasa neno nima (five-day Lasa)". Then Vis N eno ascended to heaven. He looked down upon him every day

THE RELIGlQN 149

for five days, af ter which he came down again and said, "Does Lasa have a spouse or not?" He repeated it once, and onee more - th ree "voices" (that is, three times). Then Vis Neno removed one of the pak tuaf's ribs, kneaded some earth together and created a woman. He breathed into her nostrils and she breathed. Then he gave her to Lasa neon nima to be his wife. She bare him Nai Kit Nina. Vis Neno informed the pak tuaf, "I shall return. If anyone eomes, Thou shalt give them a name. Their only food shall be the fruits of the banyan tree. If it dies, the papaw will replace it". It has been so unto the present day.

In this myth Vis Neno c1early emerges as the supreme lord who has the right to give orders to the pah tua!. The meaning of pak tuaf is "lord of the earth". When the raja is referred to as the lord of the land the possessive case is used - paka in tuan. It is evident from the context that pak tuaf here stands for Vis Pah. For he is represented as a snake (koka) - in the shape of the python Vis Pah is the lord of the dry (land). Generally a pah tuaf is au earth spirit, however. The theme of a primeval earth whieh is enveloped in darkness may be a result of biblical influence. A theme that is widespread in Timor - it is found also in Fialaran in Belu - is that of the sea covering all the land exeept for the highest summit in the neighbourhood. This is where the c1an's first aneestor lived. An interesting detail is the appearanee of a kind of worm from the head of the dead deer and its subsequent development into a human being; it symbolizes the emanation of life from death. The live-giving agricultural crops sprout forth from the quartered body of Sonba'i's sister in a similar way.21 Similarly, head-hunting is necessary to sustain the life of the eommunity.22

The Atoni refers ro himself as au (I), au being the first person personal and possessive pronoun. The form in whieh the au manifests itself is the auk (body, in the sense of "the whole man", the sum tatal of the human functions). The auk eats, sleeps, lives and thinks.23

The Atoni feels that his smanaf, the principle of life, the soul or vital force is seated in his pul se-beat (kliuka), in his blood (na:a). Blood and the smanaf are associated with each other.24 Man is aware of his smanaf wherever he feels his blood pulsing. With reference to the pul se-beat the Atoni speaks of a smanka ali' (left soul) and a smanka ne'u (right soul), although he does not assert that there are two separate souis. He does distinguish between two souls on the basis of his notions about dreams, on the other hand. Dreams occupy a most important place in the Atoni's life. The two souls thus distinguished are the sman atoni and the sman kolo (bird soul). The former belongs entirely to his body and is an inseparable part of it. When the sman atoni leaves the body the person dies. The sman kolo may escape the body during a dream, however, in the shape of a bird. This soul is of ten carried away by the bird and experiences what is seen in the dream. Yet even this distinction is only rather an arbitrary one. As soon as there is question of the soul being snatched away by a witch (alaut) there is no diSitinction between sman atoni and sman kolo. The witch "bites" the smanaf, carries it off and drives it into the body of a pig or some other animal (any animal except the horse, which is a more recent import). When the animal is killed the person will also die, or he will fall ill and waste away. The victim will therefore make every effort, with the co-operation of a medicine-man, to recover his soul. Spirits mayalso carry off the smanaf. In this context the smanaf is always spoken of as a single entity. The Atoni does not understand questions about this, as to him it is out of the question that there should be more than one smanaf where a dream is not concerned.

The aged philosopher Sikone Alumut of Beboki volunteered the information that thc breath (snaska or snasa) is the smanaf. Others said that they did not know.25

When a man dies his smanaf leaves him. A small bird, the poitemu, fint announces his death, and some people believe that it then carries the smanaf off with it. The birds which carry off the soul immediately af ter death are said to be the feneklios and later the nus.26

No-one in Beboki knew where the smanaf goes. Some said that it went to Vis N eno, but this is probably attributable to Christian influence. Others said to Kajuna, a marsh on the north coast. People in Insana said that the sman atoni abandons the body af ter death. The body remains behind and the individual is dead. The deceased person is nitu and manifeSits himself as a nitu spirit. These nitu spirits rise from their graves at night and dance, while their voices may be heard imitating the grunting of pigs and the clucking of hens. They should

THE RELIGION 151

always he avoided. The realm of the dead is in Miomafo, in the vicinity of the Mutis mountains.

To recapitulate the above, then, all living persons have an auk and a smanaf. Vpon death man continues his existence as a nitu. These are the three aspects of human life. As far as I know this dichotomy and trichotomy are not associated with any other categories of c1assificatory thinking.

3. MAN'S RELATIONSHIP TO THE HIDDEN WORLD

Little remains to he said explicitly about this re1ationship. The thought underlying the Atoni's conception in tros respect is that man is dependent on Vis Neno and the spirits and forces of the hidden world. It is not "the other world" in the way in which we are familiar with this concept, because this is the world which, combined with his own, forms an inseparable unity; in it live Vis N eno and the spirits and forces which transcend the human world and on which man is dependent. From the awareness of his dependenee on these it is evident that the Atoni is a homo religiosus. This hidden world is not supernatural in the sense that it acts counter to the normal order of human existence. On the contrary, the order of the Atoni's world has its very roots in this hidden wor ld. That is why a correct performance of the ritual is of such great importance. This hidden world does oot altogether conform with European ideas of an invisible world, as the Atoni sometimes sees much of it in his dreams and he sometimes hears voices from this world. Nor is it the hereafter, because to the Atoni it is a very real world, which surrounds him while at the same time it is hidden in the sense that it is mysterious and therefore sacred (le'u).

Vis Neno, the spirits and other bidden forces control man's destiny. The Atoni is aware that danger lurks on all sides and that he is always prone to failure. And he knows that that which overpowers him is never a human force, but the forces of the hidden world, . even when he meets with an accident or is killed by an enemy. On the other hand he knows that he mayalso expect justice, prosperity and health - these come to him from Vis Neno in the first place, and from Vis Pah and the spirits in the second - provided he perlorms the appropriate ritual correctly and observes the rules of the order imposed on him, i.e. the !ais meto or the ritual of the dry land. If he performs the appropriate ritual correctly and has powerful le'u objects for his le'u musu to back him, and if the latter is properly compounded by him, he may trust that the powers on his side will be stronger than those on the side of the enemy. He can never be sure, however. Even a witch may employ evil powers against him. And sooner or later death, the inescapable enemy, will get the better of him, either through the medium of hostile powers or as a result of his own smanaf becoming increasingly weaker. Then his nitu will go to the "other side".

The boundary between the diesseits and the jenseits is of ten tangibly represented by a river in the vicinity of the village in question.1J7 The deceased belong to the realm "on the other side of the river". The objective of the mortuary rites is to cause the deceased to "fly to the other side of the river" . Once the ancestors, both female and male (be'i-n«f) are there they are c1assed with the forces of the hidden world, the nitu; they are now the "spirits of the deceased" who are invoked during the rites performed to ensure a good harvest and in all the rites of man's life-cycle. Is this sufficient justification for supposing that the Atoni deifies his ancestors? Perhaps it is, though not in the sense that they come to belang to some sort of pantheon, as the Atoni is definitely not familiar with this idea.

This brings us to the dichotomy of the hidden world and the familiar, ordinary world which underlies the polar opposition of the sacred and the profane.IJS Parallel with it is the opposition of the diesseits and the jenseits, though bath of these opposites belong to the terrestrial plane, with the dome of heaven arching over them. This is where Vis Neno is "who is a vault, who shelters and shades". Here we have a dichotomy, then, but above the two sides is the dome which unites them bath. This is a familiar pattern, and we shall come across it again in the concept of the two halves of a princedom, with abave them the raja (neno anan = the son of heaven). The comparison is obvious, but the Atoni never makes it, and there is no evidenee whatsoever for this in the political structure.

In the discussion of the political system we shall see, however, how important the implicart:ions of these fundamental religious notions are for all aspects of life, and especially for the politicallife, where the raja is the mediator between·the living and the dead and between the community of the living and the dead on the one hand and the forces of the hidden world on the other. He is the most important being, the apex of the hierarchical order, which is not only a political one, but

THE RELIGION 153

pervades the whole of the lais meto. Lais meto is a contracted fonn of lasi atoni pah meto - the words or affairs of the people of the dry land, that is, the words handed down by the ancestors, especially those laid down in the ritual. They are the things man does or oughrt to do. lt is the Timorese definition of the lndonesian adat concept.29 The raja is the principal preserver of this divine order. He is responsible for the ritual performed art the presentation of the harvest gifts, when his great altar (tola naek) is used for sacrificing, and for the ritual accompanying war. The latter takes place in the shrine (ume le'u) adjoining his pal ace. Thus he is also the religious centre of his realm.

Not el:

Af ter writing the present book I noticed that I had used the term "sympathetic magie" onee, namely in the passage deseribing how in cases of drought the Atoni of Insana kill a blaek saerificial animal, as they then expect dark rain clouds in return. I later on erossed this word out, as we may weil ask whether this is perhaps a rationalization on the part of people who no longer understand the symbolism of eolours, seeing that the final offering which can he made in sueh cases of drought consists of a white buffalo.3o The word "magie" cannot possibly he used in the context of the religion of the Atoni without doing violenee to it. Similarly I diseovered later that Sehärer 31 never speaks of magie either.

Note 11:

Not until reeently, during a restudy in Timor in the seeond half of 1970, I discovered that in Insana and Miomafo too a sexual relationship exists hetween heaven and earth with the same central meaning in the world view and religious thought of the Atoni as it has in Belu.

For the Atoni this marriage is visualised in the saerifieial pole, hau monef, with three prongs. Vis Neno Mnanu, the longest one, the tall Lord of Heaven, who is far away, represents heaven, and Vis Neno Pala, the second one, the short Lord of Heaven, represents earth. She is close by. They are related to eaeh other as male and female and the rain is the sperm through whieh Heaven impregnates Earth.

N evertheless, it is remarkable that both are called Lord of Heaven. Thus the divine, cosmic unity is visualized, to a higher degree than in the duality of Uis Neno, the Lord of Heaven, and Uis Pah, the Lord of the Earth: an approach also of ten used, especially in the agrieultural ritual.

Atapupu DJE- NILU A N R Meng BUNAK wini Lifau BEBOKI CAMENASE NSAN Halilulik Suta Mandeo Manufui nu Dirma Oilolok Fatu Aruīn Lakekun M ©Noiltoko WEHA LE o @Oenam Noimuti Bidjeti Haltimu Besikama WAIWIKU Lelogama M L o z Kapan AMANATUN Kauniki N U FATUMEAN Soe 4 E B u U Tjamplong M Desapl 1 B A MA M TAEBENU S Portuguese territory LITTLE Boun R SONBA1 KUP M SEMAU SCALE 1:1.350.000

Geogr.Inst.VU

MAP No. 3 The princedoms of Indonesian Timor

ATAPUPU Maniea N o R H ATAMBUA Harneno E B Toitoh Fafinesu Oetasi Bukifan HALILULIK Ustetu MANUFUI Tunbab la Maubes! AUBESI Oilolok KEFA OILOLOK Subun Naktimu Bikomi Ainan M Nolltoko H Noimuti M BESIKAMA AMANUBAN AMANATUN MIAMAFO INSANA BEBOKI Geogr.Inst. VU

MAP No. 4 The Princedoms of Miamafo, Insana, Beboki

1,5

PART TWO

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM

INTRODUCTION

The objective of this study of the various political corrununities of Indonesian Timor is to gain an insight into the system of the political organization before the far-reaching changes brought about by the introduction of colonial rule. To do so we shall subject the political communities existing then and still existing at present to a careful analysis.

Even before these changes the political organization was far from static. But only when the Netherlands East Indies Government was actually established in Timor did the nature of the changes become revolutionary, that is, only then did they result in the disintegration of the basic structures. In order to discover what the old structures were we shall turn to North Central Timor. It is essential to ascertain beforehand, however, whether the communities found here have always been independent political communities or whether they once formed part of a larger whoie. In our discussion of the agricultural ritual it was shown that the most important culture crops, namely rice and corn, are referred to in the rites as Liurai-Sonha'i, the titles of the ritual rulers of the realms of South Belu and the Atoni area. Does this point to the one-time existence of a more extensive political unit? If so, when and how did this dissolve? Will it be possible to say more a:bout the relationship towards a sacred centre which may once have existed, or the interrelationship between the individual princedoms?

In order to give even an approximate answer to these questions a historical analysis is essential. The oral traditions of the Atoni fail to supply concrete data, and the only reliable method is that of an analysis of the available literature and official records. Much has been written on the history of Timor and there are still a great many docwnents which have up to now been drawn on only in part or nor!: at all. But all that has been written and that is contained in official records is focused, as in the chronicles of the crusades, on the gesta Francorum, the feats of the Dutch and the Portuguese, and contains only oblique references to the Timorese prineedoms. Weneed only concern ourselves, for our particular purpose, with what has happened to the Atoni and his political communities.

The resulting historical survey, therefore, is history as written on the basis of sou rees written by outsiders, though concentrated exclusively on the Atoni. It aims to be a sample of the type of historiography with which for the greater part a start has still to be made, namely Indonesian historiography on the basis of colonial sources. lt is essential that all such sources be re-read, this time with a different aim in mind. This method is dependent on the close coöperation between Indonesian and Dutch (or Dutch-reading) scholars. Moreover, for 16th century history, as well as for the history of Eastern Indonesia, a knowledge of Portuguese is also essential.

CHAPTER V THE POLITICAL COMMUNITIES OF TIMOR IN THE PRE-COLONIAL PERIOD

A large part of Timor was at one time covered by the realm which had its cent re in Belu, in the Tetun language-area. A story recorded by Jonker in Amabi,1 in West Timor, begins as follows: "A long, long time ago there was one ruler of this island in Babiko-Babali" (i.e. Waiwiku-Wehale). The ritual ruler of this realm had three subordinate rulers (liurai) immediately under him, each of whom exercised the executive power in his own territory. The first liurai was the liurai of South Belu itself, the second was Sonba'i, and the third was the liurai of Suai-Kamanasa, the Be1u area in Portuguese Timor. Sonba'i was the "younger brother" of the ruler of South Belu and was himself the ritual ruler of arealm comprising the major part of the Atoni area. Even until well into the 19th century his title was liurai,2 a Tetun word, this being a further indication that South Be1u was the political centre.

It is impossible to judge at this juncture what the extent of political unity in the realm of South Be1u was. Duarte Barbosa,3 who was in the service of the Portuguese unrtil 1516 or 1517 and who visited Malacca, writes that beyond Greater and Lesser Java there were a great many islands inhabited by heathens and a few Moors. "Among these there is one which they caU Timor, which has its own independent king and tongue". In Malacca, which carried on a brisk trade with Timor in the 14th century, Timor was therefore thought of as one single, unitary realm. But this statement says nothing about the degree of unity. Fei Hsin 4 in his "Genera! Report of my overseas Wanderings" says of Kih-ri Ti-mun (the charaeters still used with reference to Timor) in 1436: it is situated to the east of Madura and "there are twelve ports or mercantile establishments, each under a chief". Most of these twe1ve ports must have been situated on the north and south coasts of the realm of South Belu. Clearly there were political subdivisions even at that time. But this conveys nothing as to the relationship between the parts and the whoie.

Pigafetta has left a slightly more informativereport. He travelled on the Victoria - the only ship of MagelIan's fleet to later complete the first voyage around the world - and made a landfall on the north coast of Timor, in the vicinity of Batu Gede (now part of Portuguese Timor, close to the border of present-day lndonesian Timor), in 1522. He writes: "On the other side of the island there are four brothers, who are the Icings of that island. Where we were there were towns and a number of their chiefs. The names of the communities of these four Icings are: Oibich, Lichsana, Suai and Calbanaza; Oibich is the largest" . 5 Oibich is Waiwiku, the centre of the executive ruler of the realm of South Be1u. Sonba'i is not mentioned - it must have been sufficiently independent at the Üme nat to be classed under South Be1u. Or possibly Lichsana referred to Insana,5a which had an important port in Mena on the north coast, and perhaps represented the whole of the Atoni area, that is, the realm of Sonba'i, to the prople in Batu Gede where Pigafetta must have obtained his information. I t is even more likely still that as a result of trade the heads of the ports were able to win an independent position for themselves. Apollonius Scotte, who conquered the Portuguese fort in Solor in 1613, writes about Timor, where he had been trading for sandalwood, that the kings of Mena and Asam on the north coast of Portuguese Timor, were "the two most important and prominent kings of Timor". And in another passage he eaUs the "Raya Mena" the most important of the "different kings" of Timor. The latter was already playing a distinctive part in lndonesian polities by maintaining relations with Muslims in Adonare in order to provide a counter-balance to the power of the Portuguese. This he could afford to do because the power of the Portuguese had been temporarily weakened as a result of a defeat suffered at the hands of the Dutch.6 Scotte left a merehant, Jan Gijsbrecht de Vrije, behind in Timor, who

2il. Lat:rentius Taolin. raja oÎ I nsana slIlee 1942.

~[AP 5. The princedoms of \\' est Timor. 1883. Part of p. 13: Lesser Sunda Islands 1 : 1000.000 from: Atlas der ~ederlandsche Bezittingen in Oost-Indië, hy J. VI'. Stemfoort and ]. J. ten Sicthoff, Thc Hague 1883-85. Collcction Free lJniversity, Amsterdam.

1[AP 6. Timor. The princedoms of \Vest Timor. 11\<)1\. Part of p. 15: Lesser Sunda Islands 1: 1000.000 from: .\tlas van \'edcrlandsch Oost-Indië, ed. by the Topografisch Bureau, Batavia in 11\97-1904 [revised edition oi the :\tlas by J. \\'. Stemfoort aml J. J. ten Siethofi J.

died in "Batu Mian" a year later, in 1614.7 Batu Mian is the Timorese Fatu Mean, the cape on the south coast of Amanatun whence sandalwood from Amanatun and Anas was exported.

At this time the rulers in control of these ports were acting independently, and they had considerable power over their subjects. Crijn van Raemsburch writes: "The Timorese are a people whom one should treat with the utmost patience. When one arrives there to trade one is required to offer a few gifts, which they caU sirih pinang, to the kings and their ndbles, as is their custom of old. Then one has to negotiate with them as to the amount of roubbe-roubbes, i.e. toll, and lonbebata, that is, anchorage dues, and other such things, that has to he paid to the king. With regard to this, it is customary for it to be given to him first before anyof his subjects are allowed to bring wood. The latter are then given his consent to sell this on the heach. They sell it at ridiculously low prices, so that they are hardly compensated for theirtoil. All other profits are for the king and his most prominent nobles".8 According to a Chinese report of 1618, too, the power of the ruler was considerable. Trading was not allowed to commence until he appeared; he then had to he paid taxes each day, though these were not heavy. The Chinese were impressed by the marks of respect shown the ruler: "When they see their king, they sit down on the ground with folded hands".9 This was still the custom in 1947 in respect of honoured or feared heads. But "the liurai of Wehale and Sonba'i were regarded as Emperors; same kings acknowledged them as such, while others paid a smaU tribute" wrote a governor of Portuguese Timor a hundred years ago.10

According to the Count of Sarzedas' instructions Timor was inhabited by Belus and Vaiquenos (the Portuguese name for the Atoni)

"who differ a great deal from each other, making up as it were two provinces and two peoples, the eastern part being inhabited by the Belu, who live in the province dominated by the Belu, and the western part by the Vaiquenos in the province called Serviäo".

There was furthermore the realm of Kupang, situated on the southern tip of the island.

"These two provinces were divided into kingdoms or reinos. The province of Belu comprised 46 kingdoms of varying power, but they were all free and independent one of the other". "The province of Serviäo consists of 16 kingdoms, all of which recognize Sonba'i as their supreme ruler. He bears the title of emperor (imperator) and is Icing of the kingdom of Serviäo, whence the province derives its name".

These documents describe the situation which prevailed from 1722 to 1725, and "as it is still found in 1777".11 That is to say, in fact, they contain a summaryof the 46 areas which once lay in the sphere of influence of Dilly, and of the sixteen areas to the west of this which made up the territory of Serviäo. It is clear from this that there was once a certain measure of unity. The princedoms were mutually free and independent, but they all recognized either the ruler of South Belu or Sonba'i as their over lord. This must have been true also of those areas which now claim never to have been subordinate to Sonba'i. We shall endeavour to discover what was the nature of these relationships.

Some evidence that Ambenu, which bas beyond a doubt been independent of Sonba'i since 1641, originally had some kind of a link with Sonba'i is found in the myth according to which Liurai-Sonba'i, Ambenu-Amfoan were four brothers who came from the east together.12 Liurai and Sonba'i are described as the elder, and hence the superior pair. We find a similar mythical allusion to a connection with Sonba'i in Ama:bi, where Abi and Sonba'i are mentioned as two sons of "Belu Liulai" .13 Y et another indication is given by the name Serviäo, by which Sonba'i's realm is designated. This is not a corruption of the word Sonha'i, as SOl1Jba'i is mentioned (spelt Senobay) in the same documents. Serviäo probably derives from Sorbian, the name of an important sandal-trading port in North-East Amfoan which occurs on a Portuguese map as early as 1613 14 ; Oenam, the ancient centre of the realm of Sonba'i, is within easy reach of it, at approximately 50 krn.'s distance. It is not at all unlike1y that it was once Sonba'i's own port handling the export trade of the realm. Later on the port of Sorbian became a more or less independent part of Amfoan, in the tradition of which it plays an important part.l5 This makes a close tie between Amfoan and Sonba'i most probable.

What the sixteen princedoms which made up the realm of Sonba'i were cannot be established with any degree of certainty. In the 19th century only Miomafo, Molo and Fatule'u belonged to the realm of

Sonba'i in the strict sense of the word. N orth of these are Ambenu, the present-day Portuguese enclave, and Amfoan. To the south we have. once more from east to west: Anas, Toianas or N enometan, now joined to Amanatun, and Amanuban, Amabi and Amarasi. To the east are Insana and Beboki, where Timorese is spoken but which had doser political links with South Belu than with Sonba'i. In total there are, therefore, twe1ve Timorese-speaking areas. The Documentos Sarzedas mention the following as belonging to Serviao: Drima (Dirma in Belu), Aynanan (Ainan in Insana), Mena (the port of Insana) , Ascambeloe (unknown - probably in Belu), Vaale Amanélito (Amanatun), Amanecy (Anas), Vaibico - Waiwiko (the realm of South Belu), Ocany (unknown) , Serviao (Nor th Amfoan), Mossy, which produced gold and copper (unknown), Amaluno, in which Lifao is situated (hence Ambenu or part thereof), Vaigame, SéliCunoba, a gold-producing area (bath unknown), Amanobau, a gold-producing area (Arnanuban), Amarasi and Amassuax (also unknown). These come to sixteen, and at least three of them lie in Belu and therefore cannot have been under the sway of Sonba'i.

Finally we have, in the extreme west of the island, the Helon language-area of Kupang which was probably never connected with the realm of Sonba'i. It is furthermore mentioned separately in the Documentos Sarzedas.

The éliCcount in the Historw de Som Domingo 16 also gives us some idea as to the degree of unity and disunity in ancient Timor. Tt deals with the "fall of thc power of Behaie". Sonba'i is not mentioned separately at first. There had been an insurrection against the Portuguese influence. In the same year in which MaléliCca fell into Dutch hands the Portuguese moved their trade and influence further east. MéliCassar became the centre of their trade, and in Timor, the wealthy sandalwood island, Wehale tried to maintain itself in the face of the threat of the Portuguese, who had now moved closer. On the other hand, there was a tendency on the part of the different rulers to become as independent as possible of the centre of Wehale and of Sonba'i. This explains why some of the miers on the coast had had themselves christened, the Queen of Mena first, in 1640.17 The political implication of this was that they had become the allies of the powerful Portuguese and therefore most probably no longer paid tribute to

Sonba'i and Wehale. The ruler of Wehale reacted by embracing Islam, as the Muslim Macassarese and Buginese were the powerful opponents of the Portuguese. At the beginning of 1640 the Kraeng of Tolo, near Macassar, tried (possibly at the instigation of the Dutch or with their connivance) to cripple the Portuguese in their hold on Timor. The sole outcome of this was that three coastal towns, including Mena, were bumt down and that some sandalwood and numerous people were carried ofU8 As a retaliative measure Captain Major Francisco Fernandes of Solor 19 was sent to Timor together with 90 musketeers and three Dominicans in May of 1642.20 This was the first time a Portuguese force ever ventured inland - until then there had only been commercial contacts there, from the fort of Solor and from Larentuka. They were aided by the kings of Batimao, i.e. Timau, and hence the interior of Amfoan, and by Serviao or Sorbian, the coastal area of Amfoan. From Sorbian they rnarched against Behale and first came upon Sonba'i, who offered next to no resistance and had himself christened. Then they marched right across Timor to Wehale. In this story the realm of Sonba'i is c1early regarded as part of the realm of Wehale. Wehale was the main objective as it was the centre, bath politica1ly and religiously. This is apparent from the following story:

The news of the destruction of the mighty potentate of Belos spread rapidly through the other kingdoms in the neighbourhood; the people of these kingdoms seized this opportunity to indulge in festive manifestations, and the kings of the other realms also asked the priests to instruct them in the teachings of Christianity".21

This was the turning-point in the history of Timor. The great kingdom of Liurai-Sonba'i had been destroyed. Irrespective of the question as to what the structure of this kingdom may have been, It IS c1ear that the centre of its power was crushed. The consequen.ces were overwhelming. A large number of rulers turned Christian, probably because the le'u must! or enmity le'u of the Portuguese was obviously more powerful than that of the Meromak O'an, the divine son of Wehale.

The hypothesis that the unity of the realm was gradually undermined as a result of Portuguese trade with the coastal rulers appears to be an acceptable one. For as a result of this trade these rwers gained riches and po'wer. At first the power of the Portuguese was limited and there was no danger yet of Portuguese influence on the mIers which would induce them to break off their ties with the realm of LiuraiSonba'i. They were at that time still able to play the Portuguese off against the Dutch, the Muslim traders of Celebes ~~ and the Chinese. As late as 1614 a Dutchman writes aoout the latter: "the greatest damage is to be feared from the Chinese, as they tra de in articles which are unprocurable for us. B esi des, they can afford to pay much more than we, as in China manufactured goods are abundant and cheap".23 Rockhill's ~4 statement that there can have been little contact between China and Timor since the 15th century because the sources contain no further data aoout this, is therefore incorrect. He supposes, mistakenly so, that the Chinese obtained their sandalwood exc1usively via the market in Malacca.

The position of the Portuguese was consolidated by the rise of the Topasses, however. These Topasses were Portuguese-speaking people of mixed descent - there were many of them in India and Malacca as weIl. They called thernselves Gente de Chapeo ~5 and the Dutch aften referred to them as the Black Portuguese. The Topass co!ony made its first appearance in this area af ter the founding of the fort of So!or in 1562. When the Dutch captured this fort in 1613 they guaranteed its occupants, consisting of "250 able blacks and mestizos and approximate1y 30 Portuguese, both fit and disabled, together with 7 Dominican monks" a safe retreat. A few days later the Portuguese fleet returned from Timor where it had been trading for sandalwood. The crews of this fleet consisted of "at least 80 whites and 450 mestizos". Scotte knew that this fleet was like1y to arrive at any moment and could therefore hardly have done anything but offer the Portuguese a safe retreat. He himself writes, however, that the reason was that "this place had been made out to be much smaller than we actually found it to be".lI6

Boxerll7 writes: "This apparently harmiess transfer of a few fugitives was the seed of a growth which in later years prevented the Hollanders from extending their hegemony over the whole of this part of the Archi pelago" .

But in actual fact this was anything but a "harmiess transfer of a few fugitives", as the Dutch weIl knew. The power of the Portuguese was greater than that of the Dutch. But they were only powerful owing to the aid af the Topasses who were to prevent the Dutch for more than a hundred years from extending their hegemony over Timor.

The Topasses sett!ed in Larantuka in East Flores. Their first leader was the dominican Augustinho de Magdaleno.lIs But is was under the capable leadership of Jan de Hornay, the Opperhoofd of the Dutch fort af Solor who defected from the Dutch East India Company in 1629, that they became really powerfuI. This all but dealt Dutch trade in Timor its death blow. From 1624 to 1636 the journal of the Kasteel of Batavia mentions only one yacht returning from Camenase, on the south coast of Be1u, with a good lood of sandalwood - this, furthermore, was only af ter De Hornay, still in his capacity as Opperhoofd of Solor, had reached an agreement for truce with the Portuguese.lI9 The extent of the power of the Topasses becomes apparent when we consider that in 1630 they captured a Dutch yacht and i,ts entire crew in the Bay of Ba1umean on the coast of

Amanatun. Five of the crew "who took to the shore were massacred". A second yacht, at anchor in the roads of Camenase, narrowly escaped the same fate. 30 And in January 1636 Governor General Brouwer writes to the H eeren XVII (Lords Seventeen - the representatives of the different Chambers of the Dutch East India Company) in the mother country:

"Because of their longstanding and frequent trade with Macao the Portuguese are in a much better position than we to please the Timorese and also know much better how to deal with them, as few strangers come here ... ; the most skilful traders in Timor have withdrawn to Larentuca, so that as aresuIt the abovenamed Portuguese are in a stronger position".31

The Topasses were in fact permanent settlers in the Archipelago, who had intermarried with the local popula,tion and spoke their language, even though they did not definitely settie for good in Timor until 1642. Then, when the realm of Wehale or the realm of Liurai-Sonba'i met its downfall in that year, the independence of its confederate states was seriously endangered as long as the Topasses retained their dominant position. Their efforts were neverthe1ess concentrated on maintaining as much of their independence as possible. Hence the political tactics of the Timorese rajas were completely influenced for the next few centuries by the changing balance of power between the foreigners, i.e. the Topasses and the Dutch. Now that their own religious and politica! centre had proved to be incapable of holding its own against the foreigners they tried even more than before to play the foreign powers off against each other.

The Dutch were given a friendly reception as early as 1613, af ter their conquest of the fort of Solor. The king of Kupang "offers his land for the construction of a fort and expresses his willingness to have himself christened, together with all his subjects, as he promised the Portuguese on (viz. before) our arrival", writes Scotte.32 The king of Amanuban also asked for a supplementary contract, and the kings of Mena and Asson pledged that they would sell their sandalwood to the Dutch. And when Solor was once again occupied by the Dutch in 1646 and Dutch ships dropped anchor at Kupang once more two years later the Dutch immediately won the ruler of Kupang over to their side. For the missionary Frei Jacinthe had had a small fort built near Kupang only a year before that "with a stone wall facing the sea and a palisade on the landward side".33 In Mena there was even open rebellion against the Portuguese, and "27 people, both whites and mestizos, were massacred" on the orders of the queen.34

N onetheless Dutch influence was negligible at this stage. When the Dutch returned to Kupang in 1653 and took over the Portuguese built fort without having to strike a single blow their difficulties really only began.

The king of Kupang was made to pay dearly for his friendly attitude towards the Dutch. The inhabitants of a village which lay at three quarters of a mile's di stance from the fort were massacred to the last man, and when the Dutch made a sally from the fort they lost "two blacks and eleven of their own men".35 The previous year the Dutch Opperhoofd of Solor had been killed when fighting in Timor and a few years later Major J acob Verheij den fell at the hands of Antonio de Hornay, the son of Jan de Hornay and a woman from Solor.

The redoubtable De Vlaming van Oudshoorn dropped anchor oH the coast of Timor in June 1656 in order to establish the Company's power in Timor and to avenge the death of Jacob Verheijden. He came with a fleet, "a considerabIe force",36 and was accompanied by his historiographer, Livinius Bor, whose baok entitled "Ambainese wars heroically fooght by Arnold de Vlaming van Oudshoorn, Military Governor of oor provinces in the East" appeared seven years later.37 It is difficult to discover what really happened, as Pieter van Dam and Valen,tijn both used one of De Vlaming's own reports.38 He twice undertook an expedition to Amarasi, where Antonio de Hornay and Mateas da Costa had rallied a considerabie force. According to Bor 39 they had got within four miles of the enemy when heavy ra ins, against which this "barren, hummocky moontain range" oHered na shelter, forced them to return to their last halting-place. "At which incident the blacks, seeing us retreat, were so overcome by their emotions, imagining that we had been rooted by the enerny, that they threw off all their packs and even their arms, and bolted like a pack of white livered poltroons". This leads us to assume that at least there must have been a powerful enemy nearhy. He returned to Kupang and set out again ten days later. The enemy tried to block their passage, whereupon De Vlaming sent ahead "lieutenant captain Keler toget:her with six detachments of ensigns" to reconnoiter and thwart the enemy's designs. This considerabIe force was ambushed by an enemy who used rifles and was therefore equal to the Dutch as far as arms were concerned. Undoubtedly this was a different situation altogether to that encountered by De Vlaming in the Amboinese uprising. Nor were the Topasses inferior on the point of courage. Ke1er's vanguard suffered a 10ss of eight dead and forty-six wounded. The following night was spent in the field, and that same night lieutenant "David de Koning was accidentally shot and killed by one of our own soldiers at midnight". Oearly there was great ten sion among the soldiers. The next morning they retraced their steps along a narrow path.

De Vlaming embarked all his troops as soon as he reached Kupang. Of his own men 37 had died and 54 were wounded. According to Haga 41 he suffered a loss of 170 white soldiers. De Vlaming put the blame on his Timorese allies.

"they being excessively timid and faint-hearted and not to he trusted when valiance is called for. Apparently courageous and valiant brave 5, they run for their Iives as soon as they are confronted with a real enemy" ... "The Sonnebai king was a mighty ruler (50 they shouted) and capable of rallying a force of 10,000 armed 5Oldiers; yet he did not 50 much as send one man to find out the news about us. This gave rise to strange thoughts, namely that his excuse that he was besieged by the Portuguese was too feebie : either his enemies th ere were much stronger than they had been reported to he, or the Sonnebais were white livered cowards, not daring to mar eh against a small handful of the enemy's 50ldiers to save their own country".

However, this "handful" can have been anything but small, as the heavy defeat suffered by the formidable force - formidable by Timorese standards at that time - of experienced, well armed European soldiers shows. According to a report by the Portuguese merchant Francisco Vieira de Figueiredo to the viceroy of Goa, the Portuguese forces were commanded by Balthasar Gonçalves, whom he describes as an old man of over seventy, a native of Amboina, and married in Solor.42 Hence it was c1early a Topass army. Moreover, it is scarcely likely that De Vlaming's auxiliary troops should have been more cowardly than those of the Topasses. The true reason was probably that Sonba'i, although anenemy of the Topasses and hence a potential ally of the Company, was in fact "hesieged by the Portuguese". For it is fairly certain that the Topasses had marched on Kupang via Amfoan and Fatule'u, i.e. Sonba'i territory. He probably had enough sen se, moreover, to wait and see who would prove to he the stronger. For he knew from bitter experience how strong the Topasses were and had seen their strength prove itself even against the powerful Dutch. The supposition that Sonba'i "probably has a secret agreement with the enemy and tried to lure us deeper and deeper inland to trap us thus" is an unlikely one.

In any case, the consequences of this Topass victory were that for the next hundred years they had more power in Timor than the Company. The king and queen of Mena, who had offered the Portuguese resistance, were executed in the same year by Francisco Carneiro, an act which Vieira condemns, "For af ter all, they were king and queen, and it is a cause of great scandal to all these other kings, including those of Macassar, when they see that a private individual presses sentence of death on a king and queen. He could have had them killed secrdly by poison or in some other way which would not have aroused such resentment nor caused such a scandal".43 It is not surprising, then, to find the following entry in the Journal at Batavia 44 :

"And as from now on there will he little in the way of trade for us in the areas of Solor and Timor, and the sandal-trade has almost been lost, so that there will he more expenses to incur than profits to gain for the Honourable Company, it has been resolved, in accordance with the written instructions of the Distinguished Lords Seventeen, to abandon the fortresses Henricus and Concordia, 45 these being sufficiently unprofitable, and to transfer the Company's factory gradually to the isle of Rotte". 1t was planned to build a fort here "big enough to accommodate 60 to 70 men, in order to gain some footing in that area and to keep an eye on the doings of the Portuguese, and to resume the sandalwood trade if a hetter opportunity presents itself".46

The Opperhoofd Hendrik ter Horst was given the order a year later to remain in Kupang for another year to supervise the demolition and transfer of the fort from Kupang to Roti.47

Though this order was never executed, Timor continued to be the centre of the Topasses' power and the stronghold of the De Hornays and the Da Costas.

In 1659 we even see the "rajas of Sonnebay, Amaby and Coupan" travel to Batavia, together with Ter Horst, where they probably went to ask for aid. They were put oH "with a suitable gift" 48 and the raja of Kupang was given a native teacher with a Portuguese name, Manuel Pais, to instnlCt him in the teachings of Christianity.49 Furthermore it was decided, with an eye to the sandalwood trade, "ta propose peace or truce to the Portuguese for same years" as the Portuguese "of Larentucque" 50 had no fort in Timor and were merchants, on condition that they sell all sandalwood to the Company, either there or in Batavia, "in order to acquire said wood by this means, as the Company is badly in need of the continuation of the sandalwood trade at any event, and in order to give our allies in Timor greater security against their enemies and ours, namely said Portuguese, by that means".51 Mere words do not suffice to help an ally, however. When Ter Horst returned to Batavia in November of the same year he reported:

"how the Portuguese had seized control of the whole of Timor and Solor, in spi te of the Company's firm footing in Kupang, and all of the Company's confederated allies had taken refuge and had fled in order to escape the Portuguese, the number being approximately 20,000, both big and small and strong, who endured severe hardship and many of whom are dying for want of victuals and from other causes, without the Distinguished Company's being able to help them obtain these". 52

The truce proposal was rejected of course, the Portuguese appealing to the priority of their claims to the whole of the island. N egotiations were out of the question unless the Company had the fort in Kupang vacated. This it did not do; nor did it give any kind of help to its allies af ter the bloody and alxwe all costly defeat - considering that it was primarily a trading body - of De Vlaming van Oudshoorn.

If there really were 20,000 refugees, or in any case thousands, in the barren surroundings of Kupang, with in the south a hostile Amarasi, agreat many of them must have perished for want of food and water.

Fort Concordia lay in the Iterritory of the prince of Kupang. Not far from it lies Amabi. The majority of the refugees were therefore probalbly the subjects of the Company's third ally, name1y Sonba'i. This meant that the great realm of Sonba'i, which had been overthrown as a result of the Portuguese expeditions of 1642, was still offering the Topasses resistance, but had now been completely defeated and no langer existed as a political power in the year 1659. Moreover, its population had probably decreased considerably, if we accept the figure of 20,000 refugees as being anywhere near the truth, its cent re most likely having been virtually depopulated. It is undoubtedly to these refugees that the realm of Little SOllJba'i near Kupang owes its existence. The latter has always been one of the Company's traditional allies.

Except for the immediate surroundings of the fort in Kupang the Topasses were in contro! of the whole of Timor inasmuch as this affected trade. In spite of this the wealthy, powerful Portuguese merchant Francisco Vieira de Figueiredo 53 appointed the reckless, bloodthirsty Portuguese Simao Luis as "capit6o-mor de Timor". According to Felgas this was the first instance of Portuguese settlement in Timor. The pI ace was Lifau, close to present-day Oekusi.54 This does not mean to say that the Topasses could not have settled in Timor before th is, like the Dominicans, who were there as early as 1618.55

Af ter Simao Luis' death Vieira appointed Antonio de Hornay as captain major 56 instead of another Portuguese. In spite of Vieira's power through his ships, his men and his weaIth - his fortune was estimated at 120 thousand florins 57 - he was no longer a match for the unruly Topasses af ter Simao Luis' death, notwithstanding the fact that the Topass leaders became involved in a bloody internal feud.

The De Hornays' rivals in Timor were the Da Costas. The first Da Costa on record was Mateas Da Costa,58 who refused to recognize his opponent, Antonio de Homay, and was supported in this by the raja of Amanuban, to whose daughter or sister he was married. G9 Antonio de Hornay was married to a daughter of the raja of Amheno.

Here we have a typically Timorese pattern .to which the Timorese rajas have continued to adhere down to the present century. A raja could acquire political prestige in another princedom by marrying oif a daughter to another raja. We shall see that such aifinal alliances were also the basis for political claims. A raja who bas given his daughter in marriage may always be approached for military assistance. This in turn strengthens his political position, as a person who gives assistance is considered to he superior. The recipient will then have to pay him tribute. This is the traditional Timorese pattern, but Da Costa and De Horney ignored it. They married princesses in order to secure aid in their efforts to defeat the Dutch and Sonba'i, but failed to draw the inference from this that they thus became the subordinates of the rajas in question.

A curious example of adaptation to the Timorese kinship structure is found in Anas, which is matrilocal and matrilineal. Here there were two kings in 1750, one of them named Luis Hornay.60 He was unable to write his own name and had therefore not been educated in Lifao. Hence a De Hornay had married a sister of the king of Anas, and the son born of this marriage became successor to the throne.

This way De Hornay and Da Costa came to occupy an important position in different princedoms, and af ter Simao Luis' death in 1663 they had no other rivals than each other for some time. An envoy from the Viceroy of Goa came to Timor with letters of appointment for both De Hornay and Da Costa, with orders to give the appropriate letter to whichever of the two had the most power. De Hornay thus came to be acknowledged by Goa as Captain-Gener al of this quite independent part of the Portuguese kingdom.61 The Daghregister in Batavia 62 reports "that the Timorese Portuguese governor Matheus da Costa had died and been succeeded in his realm by a certain Antony Ornady". Until his death in 1695 De Hornay was "virtually the uncrowned king of Timor", except in the environment of Fort Concordia in Kupang. At the same time he passed himself oif as the loyal governor representing the Portuguese Crown. For example, he once offered the Viceroy of Goa a gift of gold-dust to the value of 23,000 silver xerafims.63 On his death he left a fortune of 246,082 pardaos and 2559 new Spanish petacas.64

Da Costa's supporters were driven out of Larantuka.65 One report even stated that De Hornay "had exiled all the nobles of the late Matheus Da Costa from the land of Timor, so that these were expected in Japare any day".66 There is no further mention of Da Costa's followers actually arriving in Java - it is only reported that there were further disturbances in Larantuka.67

Af ter De Hornay's death in 1695 the Viceroy of Goa appointed a Portuguese government administrator for the first time in history. He was driven out in next to no time - within one year of his arrival - during an uprising which was presumably led by Domingos da Costa.68 Another attempt was made in 1701, when Antonio Coelho Guerreiro, secretary to the Viceroy of Goa, was appointed. It meant promotion for him, in spite of the possibilities of disturbances in the interior, as there was much wealth in Timor. A Dominican writing at the time stated :

"It is the general opinion in India that the effective conquest of the Zambesi River valley together with the occupation of Timor island would yield sufficient wealth to make His Majesty the most powerful monarch in all Europe, without possession of any other realm or dominion whatsoever".69

Guerreiro settled in Lifao in 1702 and this was the first time a Portuguese government official settled in Timor. He had, however, been given an escort of only 50 Portuguese soldiers as a result of the heavy losses sustained by Portugal in Mombasa, East Africa, in 1699, when Portugal was forced to renounce its claims to the territory, and of the large number of deaths among its sailors. He was sent another 32 men and material from Macao. His appointment should he interpreted partIy as one of a series of manoeuvres in the competition for the sandalwood trade between Macao and the Topasses. This struggle lasted from 1688 to 1703, resulting in the downfall of Macao.70 Before long Guerreiro clashed with Domingos da Costa. Lifao was besieged, but Guerreiro held out in spi te of starvation and au epidemie of the plague.71 But in 1705 the farmer "Governor of Liffao" arrived "clandestinely" in Batavia.72 Hence he was no greater success than his prooecessors. An unsettled period followed.

The third Portuguese force in addition to the Topasses and the Government, i.e. the Dominican Mission, also hegan to exert its influence again. Manoel de S. Antonio, a.p., titular bishop of Malacca from 1701 to 1723, whom Guerreiro called "an angel in human disgui se" , and who had converted 10,000 people to Christianity in five years' time, was "forgetful of his duties as a Prelate" and "only interested in those of a General or a Politician". The Viceroy of Goa added, "a temptation to which many of the clergy succumb". 73 He expelled the Portuguese Governor of Lifao in 1720. This event had been preceded by an "uprising of the heathen kings of Timor against the Christians and the Portuguese" in 1719.74 The kings had found a supporter in Francisco de Hornay, probably because his riYal, Domingos da Costa, gave his support to the Portuguese, as Boxer surmises. This Da Costa fell out with Bishop Manoel de S. Antonio, who excommunicated him. Hence the bishop was actuallyon the si de of the insurgents, who massacred two Dominicans and bumt down churches. This is plain evidence that the Timorese rajas took advantage of the internal conflict between the Topasses, the Dominicans and the Portuguese. The next Governor, Antonio de Albuquerque Coelho, who was in office from 1722 to 1723/5 was able to maintain his position only with the greatest of difficulty. In 1729 rebellion flared up again with renewed vigour. The alliance between the Topasses and the Timorese rulers was renewed in a concerted effort to drive out the

Portuguese. The Governor was besieged in Manatuto on the north C(,dst of the eastern part of Portuguese Timor, but was able af ter incredible suffering to finally shake aff his besiegers. A new governor arrived and "things reverted to the uneasy status quo ante". The Opperhoofd af Kupang wrote at the time that the scales were turning in favour of the white Portuguese again, to the disadvantage af the "Black Topasses". BUIt trade in Lifao was "still a.t a standstill' .. 76 For the period 1731-1748 (or 1749) no governors are mentioned by Leitao. The de facto power was in the hands of the Topasses, so that now they were able to devote all their attention 10 their other enemy in Timor, the Dutch. But at the same time they had to reestablish their overlordship over the Timorese rajas. A petrition for assistance against the Topasses addressed by the heads of Sorbian to the Dutch East India Company shows that they did not succeed immediately in subduing them. This was in 1747, and in January of 1749 eleven "kings" of Amakono did likewise. When Amanuban and Amfoan offered resistance "then they (the Topasses) had our brother, D(on) Sebasuiao, and other kings of Sorabiao (Sorbian) apprehended". Amakono was attacked and defeated next - "2305 armed men besides women and children" fled to Kupang. Don Mieguel Fernando de Consençao, the king of Amanuban, had also come to Kupang for aid, together with six of his heads.77

In 1735 78 and 1745 attacks were launched in the direction of Kupang. The great decisive attack did not take place until 1749, however. 79 On the 18th of October the king of Amabi reported "that his subjects in the highlands and the mountains had spotted armed men". There were at least "2,800 rifles besides those af the Amarassi". Seven years later Paravicini reports in his treaty with the Timorese rajas that the "black Portuguese" had not scrupled to "invade our territories unexpectedly with hostile intentions, with a force of 50,000 men".80 "The enemy had assembied in Amarasi to the south of the Kupang area. Their leaders were the Lieutenant-General Gaspar da Costa and Tenente de Provincia 81 Pasqual da Costa; Tenente-Coronel Siko Bras;

Capitao-mor cia Pouoaçao Domingo de Faria; Capitao-mor do Campo Simao-Luis; the new emperor of Amacono,82 Bastiano, together with his generais, colonels and so on; the king af Ambeno, Paulo, with as his equal Januario Fernandes VareIlo, chief of the men from Larantuka, and in conclusion a number of kings as wel! as the Belunese and other T,imorese princedoms under their sway", including Amanatun and Amanuban. Hence this enormous army was led by the Da Costas. This shows that the de facto power over most parts of Timor was wielded by the Topasses. In some cases, for instanee in Amanuban, they had even supplanted the rajas. However, they could not expect much support from these armies. The Company's auxiliary troops, on the ot her hand, were small in number. The Rotinese and Savunese, in fact, were on the point of fleeing, but were prevented from doing so by the Company's giving them "handsome promises" and sinking their ships with the aid of the guns in the fort. They "forced" the Timorese to "go and spy on the enemy" and "to attack him as the situ at ion dictated". Hence the Dutch were oot in a position to place much confidence in their allies either, and had equally little to expect from such allies. Af ter the Topasses' first sally from the terrain in which they had hastily constructed seven or eight stone walls, the Timorese began to take flight. They were driven back by Vaandrig Lip, however. A few villages had been bumt down and three quarters of the Kupanese had taken refuge on the isle of Semau. N evertheless it was resolved "to launch an attack under the command of Vaandrig Lip, assisted by one sergeant, two corporals and twenty rank and file, 130 Mardekers,83 240 Savonese, 60 Solorese, 30 Rotinese and a number of volunteers, bath servants of the Company and private citizens" two days later, on Sunday, 9th November. There were also a large number of Timorese. The Opperhoofd guarded the fort together with a number af soldiers and private critizens. The battle lasted all day. The Topasses sallied forth once again at 3 p.m., "and our men, making a counterattack at the same time, forced thern af ter an obstinate, bl00dy battle with rnany casualties on their side, to abandon the same and retreat to a second entrenchrnent. Although our men were forced to surrender the same three times afterwards, when they finally got hold af it for good, the second, third and fourth followed in quick succession. The enetny's men were driven out and those who could not reach the fifth and last entrenchment fast enough tried to escape, though too late. Whilst our Timorese, who had until then stood immobile, now gathered courage and assaulted thetn in an almost complete circ1e and committed such a dreadful massacre among thetn that the field was instantaneously covered with dead badies". "The Tenenty and other high-ranking officers defended themselves almost desperate1y" in the last entrenchment. But when it, toa, was stormed "by the Europeans, Mardekers and the brave Savonese" they took to flight. The commander, Gaspar da Costa, was

"struck down by a Timorese with an assegai and immediately beheaded like all those killed before him. Though it is difficult to estimate their number it is at any rate certain that that very evening our Timorese carried oH in triumph approximately a thousand heads and at least as many again in the course of the next two days, while they were still re1entlessly pursuing the enemy".

The emperor of Amakono and three kings were alsa among the dead. 84 The Dutch lost nineteen Timorese - there is no mention of Savunese or Rotinese - one Mardeker and two volunteer civilians from Kupang. They had many wounded. This was what is known as the battle of Penfui.

This lugubrious account gives an excellent illustration of the attitude of ,the Timorese towards and their manner of conducting war. As a century before, the Timorese were onlookers - the battle between the Dutch and the Topasses was not their battle. Even the people of Amarasi, who had been lined up in front of the Topasses befare the battle, came running to the Dutch even before it commenced, shouting "that the Amarasis should be regarded as friends of the Company and the enetny of the Topasses" . They retreated to their own kingdom and Lip persuaded his men not to pursue thetn. He was probably able to do sa because Amarasi was not the traditional ally of the Topasses that it was held to be; it was, however, the arch-enetny of Kupang and Amabi. The other Timorese rajas did likewise, trying with the assistance of the foreigners to improve their own position in their internal confliets at the expense of their rivals. The Da Costas of Noimuti, who were still a:ble to discuss the battle of Penfui in detail in 1947, were able to inform us, for instance, that on their return journey the people of Sonba'i went about collecting a large number of heads in the interior, headhunting nat only among the Topasses but especially among the Timorese allies of the latter, from Ambenu and Amfoan.

Battle on a virtually open battle-field was not characteristic of Timorese war tactics. This battle was of course fought by the Company and the Topasses. The pan ic and chaotic flight when the tide of battle turned are again typically Timorese, however.

What, then, are the reasons for Lip's victory, having at his disposal only a small force, whereas De Vlaming van Oudshoorn's mission ended up so utter a failure in spite of the fact that his army was by far superior in strength ? The fact that Van Oudshoorn was totally unprepared to meet an enemy armed with rifles may account for this in the first place. Another reason was that Van Oudshoorn was not familiar with the terrain, so that he was ambushed on a mountain pass. But thc principle reason was that the Company, which had held the fort in Kupang for only three years, did not at that time have any Mardekers, who could equal the Topasses in any situation, in its service. And, moreover, in 1656 the Topasses were assisted by Portuguese soldiers, the cruel, fearless Simao Luis among them, whereas at the time of the battle of Penfui the Portuguese governor of Lifao was an opponent of the Topasses. When the battle was over he said that "the Tenentes had got their just deserts". Da Costa's rival, Juan de Hornay, did not take part in the fighting either. And, finally, the Dominican missionaries were no longer in as strong a position as they had been, which probably had some influence on the issue as weIl. Heijmering 85 says, however, that this time, too, white priests recruited soldiers for "Costa d'Hornay".

Haga tries to give Vaandrig Lip the full credit for the victory, contrary to the legends still alive in Kupang in 1947, according to which the sole credit was due to the Mardekers. Although Lip may have been a reckless fighter, he could not possibly have been De Vlaming van Oudshoorn's equal. And with his 23 European soldiers it cannot possibly have been his strength but rat her his leadership and courage that were the decisive factor which accounted for his success. There is ment ion neither of Lip nor of the Mardekers in the Company's annaIs. Lip's name was suppressed because he had fallen out with the Opperhoofd writing the report, while the Mardekers were omitted because they constituted a dangerous element for the Company in the society of Kupang.

The consequences of the battle of Penfui were far-reaching. If the

Topasses had won, Timor and the Solor archipelago would probably still be Portuguese today. Boxer says, quite correctly so, that

"Vaandrig Lip's victory on this Bloody Sunday not only saved Kupang from the Black Portuguese, but, in all probability, the Dutch position on Solor and Rotti as weil, since Gaspar da Costa's colleague and successor, Joao de Hornay, lay ready to follow up the expected victory with an attack on those islands".

But the statement that the battle of Penfui was the turning point in the history of Timor, "for from now on the Hollanders rather than the Portuguese exerted the principal influence in the western half of the island",86 is an exaggeration. The Dutch supremacy lasted for only twelve years. But the Topasses never quite recovered from their defeat, although twenty years later they succeeded in driving the Portuguese out of western Timor. This points to a decline in Portuguese power rather than to an increase in that of the Topasses, however. The Dominican Mission had also declined from 1722 onward, during a period of widespread rebellion.87 During the first phase immediately af ter the battle of Penfui a tremendous shift in the balance of power was observable in Timor.

Gaspar de Mascarenha of Amarasi, "who is charged with the executive government of the rea1m", came to Kupang from Amarasi in order to submit himself. He was dispatched to Batavia together with "two persons equal in rank to the kings of Amanissi-Anas and Amenatte-Amanatan, who, like most Arnaconos had taken flight early in the course of the ba:ttle", in order to hand over personally the letters of submission of the kings and heads who remained at home.88 So rnany followed "that the number of Timorese who had come over to our side since that revolution was estimated at more than 60,000".89 Don Bernardo, the son of the emperor of Amakono who had lost his life on the battle-field, was brought up in Kupang.

Amarasi and Arnakono deserted the Dutch again a few years later, however. Following this a punitive expedition was undertaken to Amarasi in 1752, and with the help of thousands of Rotinese and Savunese Amarasi was annihilated. King Esu stabbed himself to death in the face of all his enemies. Thousands of people were captured and conveyed to Roti and Savu as slaves by way of reward for the allies. The majority of the Amarasis, inc1uding ,the pretender to the throne

Don Alfonsus and his heads, were obliged to settle down two hours to the south of Kupang. Four years later Paravicini allowed every free-oorn man, woman and child to return.90

The Dutch also began to take the offensive af ter this.

In December of 1753 a fleet with a hundred soldiers left Batavia to bring Adé, Manatuto, on the north ooast of Portuguese Timor, and Belu under the Company's sway "once more". Similar expeditions were undertaken to "the southern Districts" (the south coast of Portuguese Timor) in case the people there "were inc1ined to desert the Portuguese".91 In 1756 this situation was laid down in a number of treaties by Paravicini, who was sent to Kupang as the Company's Commissioner in order to adjust Timorese affairs to the new order. He conc1uded a treaty with ten rulers in the Timorese language-area, viz. Sonba'i, Amakono, Amfoan and Sorbian, Amanesi and N enometan, Amanatun, Amanuban, Amarasi and Amabi. 02 Neither Molo or Fatule'u nor Insana (or Mena) or Beooki are mentioned separately. The whole of the north coast, except for Amfoan, in fact continued to be under the hegemony of the Topasses. The Portuguese names of most of the rajas of these principalities show that they had all belonged to· the sphere of influence of the Topasses.

The Company further extended its sway during the term of office of Opperhoofd Von Pluskow from 1758 to 1761. He was the first and the last Company employee to travel inland in the same manner as the Topasses and the Dominicans had done more than a century before him. Then the realm of Wehale had been overthrown, this time the Topasses were attacked in the heart oftheir empire, Noemuti. He enslaved more than 400 men and confiscated 14 cannon. As aresuit of this victory the kings of Ambenu, Viegornij,03 Insana, Tonnebawa (Tunbaba),94 Taito 95 and Dirma in Belu, as well as such heads of the emperor of Amakono as were still under Topass domination signed a treaty with the Company.96 A detachment consisting of a Balinese ensign and twe\ve privates was stationed in Lixan in the interior. The Hollanders now ruled the major part of Timor, though less intensively so than the Topasses had done a hundred years before them. Military detachments were also stationed in present-day Portuguese Timor, both in Ade on the south coast and in Manatuto 97 on the north coast, to the ea.st of Dilly, the Company's long-standing ally who had undertaken afruitless journey to Batavia in quest of assistance in 1677.98

In 1761, however, Von Pluskow was assassinated in Lifau, where he had gone to condude a triple alliance treaty between the Portuguese gavernor (who had recently taken refuge in Kupang) , the Topasses and the Company.99 Francisco de Hornay and Antonio da Costa were behind this,100 thinking that they might re-establish their power by this expediency. They were partIy successful in this scheme, the Dutch being supplanted from then on. Their policy for the next 150 years (until 1905) was to become involved in Timorese political affairs as little as possible, especially in the 19th century. The Portuguese governor also had to seek refuge in Dilly later on, arriving there in 1769.101 From then on Dilly became the seat of Portuguese authority, the Portuguese never having gained a footing in West Timor.

So the Topasses reigned supreme again, but their power had been effectively crippled. Hence the Timorese princedoms, including the realm of Sonba'i, were able to recover themselves. Sonba'i had hitherto been an ally of the Company's. Now that the Topasses need be feared no more SOll'ba'i began to offer the Company opposition and as aresuIt the executive ruler of the realm, Emanuel Subak, was exiled to the Cape in 17711~ on a charge of having given orders to massacre a party of Mardekers prospecting for gold in Molo. (The fetor of Mala had killed them all but one, and this marked the end of all gold prospecting enterprises.103) In 1785 the raja of Sonba'i died, leaving as his successor Alfons Adrianus who was still a minor. He was brought up as the foster-child of the Opperhoofd of the Company, W. A. van Este. Sonba'i's executive ruler, himself a Sonba'i, tried to persuade Van Este to murder the boy, but the latter overheard the conversation between them and fled to the interior, to Paineno-Oenam, Sonba'i's ancient residency in Molo.l04 The fact that since then Sonba'i's policy has been violently anti-Dutch is not surprising. One Sonba'i continued to reside not far from Kupang, however, as the head of a community established there in 1659, sa that thenceforth there was a distinction between Greater Sonba'i and Little Sonba'i. Before that, the Sonba'i near Kupang should be regarded as a king in exile because his princedom was ruled by the Topasses. The contact with the raja was never broken - his subjects continuing to bring him tribute 105 and inform him of any wars that broke out. Kono, for example, sent him a message when he was forced by the Topasses to take action against Kupang.l06 The Topasses had acknowledged Kono, who had of old been invested with the executive power in the realm of Sonba'i, as emperor.

When Müller travelled in the interior in 1829 he encountered two of the sons of the abovenamed Alfons Adrianus. The el der, Sobe Sorrba'i, was living in Kauniki in Fatule'u, and the other, Tua Sonba'i, in "the princedom of Amakono".107 Fatule'u must have emerged as a political community under the leadership of a Sonba'i at this time. lOB Sobe Sonba'i refused to have anything to do with the Duteh. Mül1er did not succeed in seeing either him or the Sonba'i in Oenam. The fact that Sonba'i had sixty wives in 1844, according to Heijmering, shows that his power had recovered considerably. He was married "to a daughter of each of his vice-regents".109 But this revived realm of Sonba'i never rose to power beyond what is now known as Fatule'u, Molo and Miomafo, and even here Sonba'i's power was lin1Ï-ted.l1O When the Dutch occupied the cliff with Sonba'i's palace on it in Kauniki in Fatule'u in 1905, Sonba'i's power had disintegrated,lll while there was no Sonba'i left in Molo either when the colonial government was established there. Oematan was referred to as the emperor.112

Ambenu and Noimuti remained under the sway of the Topasses, although they did not have much power in AmbenuY3 When the

Netherlands East Indies Goverrunent was established in Timor between 1905 and 1915 the configuration of the remaining political communities was found to resembie closely that of Paravicini's and Von Pluskow's time. However, a certain degree of influence had been exerted by the Kupang area and this had affected the political structure of the areas in West Timor. This was especially true of Kupang itself, and of Amarasi, Amabi and Amfoan, which, like Amanuban was prone to fierce internal struggles and civil wars. Even in the nuclei of Sonba'i, namely Molo and Miomafo, marked changes had taken place because Sonba'i had tried to re-assert his former authority. The areas which lend themselves best for our present study, therefore, are Amanatun (where the colonial government was established as early as 1906, however) and North Central Timor (where it was not established until 1915).

The fact that this study was focused particularly on North Central Timor therefore turned out to be a fortunate coincidence. Here Miomafo, Beboki and Insana are located. Miomafo used to be part of the realm of Sonba'i and itself consists of a number of different parts. Beboki, 000, is only relatively speaking an integrated unit and its structure is complex. lt, moreover, appears to have so much in common with North Belu that it cannot be regarded as being particularly representative of the Atoni culture.

The princedom of Insana, in conclusion, still comprises the same unit which existed before 1915, and in 1940 there were many elders (mnast) and heads who could still remember the former situation from personal experience. The present investigation into the traditional structUl"'e has been based on the ritual accompanying the presentation of harvest gifts to the raja and to "the Lords of the Realm". In the few weeks Cunningham spent in Insana in 1960 he checked the results of the present investigation, and not only arrived at virtually the same results but also put forward some important views on the structures of this community.

If for these reasons, weIl founded as they are, we are going to take Insana as the point of departure for a discussion of the political organization of the Atoni, we must take care to remember that Insana borders on the realm of Wehale-Waiwiku in South Belu and has much in common with it. It is not absolutely certain, therefore, that Insana can serve as model for the whole of the Atoni area.

CHAPTER VI THE POLITICAL SYSTEM OF INSANA

1. THE VILLAGE

The horizons of the world in which the Atoni live and within which formerly nearly all social relations were confined, excepting some trade relations via the coast or via itinerant Chinese traders, were restricted to the princedom. The only relations with the external world were those which resulted from marriages which princes might sometimes make with princesses of royal lineages of other princedoms. Wars might also induce people to cross the borders of another princedom, name1y as attackers in a headhunting raid or as refugees seeking admission to another political community. The setting for the Atoni's day to day life, however, was the village (kuan), consisting of a number of hamlets, also called kuan.

As we have seen, hamlets (kuan or lopo) of four different clans were formerly probably territorially affiliated. Each hamIet was inhabited by one ume or lineage of a clan. They shared a particular area of land which was under the custodianship of a tobe.

In spi te of the deve1opmet1lt of larger villages, as a result of various lineages settling in the same area either of their own accord or under coercion, and ume of other clans also settling in the ter ri tory under the jurisdiotion of a particular tobe, the latter's position remained unaltered. There have probably always been cases of ume of more than four clans residing in and working the land of the territory of one tobe. Quadrupartition is the normative structural principle which gives shape to the social reality, although this reality never conforms with it completely.

In the present-day vi11age there is hardly any trace of it to be seen at first glance because the number of lineages of different clans inhabiting it is usually more than four. But in this case every villager is invariably able to mention the lineage of the most prominent clan. However, in political centres surrounding the ruler or an usif and in areas where countless migrations have taken place the traditional village structure is extremely difficult to discern.

Cunningham 1 gives a very good description of a present-day village in Saba: A Village in Amarasi (Timor).2 The ancient principle of quadrupartition is not (or no longer) discemible in this village, which lies close to the principal town of Kupang. However, in another community in Insana 3 which lies 230 km. further inland it is still quite obvious. The community I have in mind is spread over two villages, Sipi and Sekon, situated along the border of the district of Ainan, of which they are part, and separated from each other by a di stance of ten kilometres. Sipi is due south-east, has a population of 197, and is the more conservative of the two. Sekon lies north-west of Sipi, has a total of 363 inhabitants, and is more open to change. There are no other villages between these two and their inhabitants say that they have belonged together of old. They are inhabited by four lineages, with a fifth one holding a superordinate position.

The latter is called Nai Bobe. This lineage derives its name from the function of its chief, viz. 'lord of the community' (nai meaning 'lord', 'representative of the usif'). He is the amaf (father) of the other four lineages, which in turn are his ana (children). The relationship between them is also expressed in terms of tk olif-tataf (younger and elder brother) re1ationship. Nai Bobe is responsible, moreover, for bringing the harvest gifts for the U sif and the Kapitan of the subterritory of Ainan to the palace.

Nai Bobe is itself divided into a masculine "house" (ume mone) called N ai Bobe, and a feminine "house" (ume feta) called Lakule; 4 this distinction refers neither to an affinal alliance nor to descent. The relationship between the two villages of Sipi and Sekon is probably also a mone-feto one (although there is no mention of this in Cunningham's hook), as Sipi lies south-east in respect of Sekon, and Sekon lies to the north-west of Sipi, and the east and south are associated with the masculine, and the west and north with the feminine. 4 &

The four subordinate groups are:

1. Am (amaf) Lifi, subdivided into the masculine house of Am Lifi and the feminine house of Am Lok.

2. Am Saidjao, with a masculine house by the same name and a feminine house called Haumeni.

Saidjao belongs to the clan which supplies one of the district chiefs (kapitan) in the other half of the princedom, but occupies only a subordinate position here, being an immigrant group. This is only one example of the frequent phenomenon of part of a clan breaking away and settling somewhere beyond the sphere of power of the clan chief. Such a lineage recognizes its origin and hence the superiority of the parent clan, and observes the taboos of that clan, but has few if any social relations with it. The most probable cause of scission is conflict within the clan.

A lineage by the name of Haumeni is also found elsewhere, and although it also lives in Ainan, neither of these lineages has any ties with the other.

3. Am Isa. This clan has no feminine house; nor has

4. Am Sabnani.

Yet another clan is represented in Sekon, but socially speaking it still belongs to the village of its origin, where the majority of its members still live. Hence it has not been integrated into the system of this old village. This sort of deve10pmentis taking place more and more frequently and as aresuit the ancient structure is fast disappearing.

Hence there are four original lineages altogether, with a fifth, Nai Bobe, as the superordinate one in the centre. N ai Bobe lives in Sekon, so that it is not geographically in the centre. lts chief N ai Bobe is "the centre" only in the sense that he represents the total community. It is said that the land he occupies was given to him by the usij so that he is a representative of the usij, who is the Lord of the land, but could never be tobe. N ai Bobe is not the custodian of the land, therefore - he has no rights of disposal over the land, but is responsible for bearing the tribute gifts, collected by the tobe, to the pal ace of the prince and to the usif.

The other four lineages are designated with Am (amaj = father). Amaf here refers to the genealogical head of a group. One of them supplies the tobe for the entire village.

Here we have a case of double bipartition, as found in most villages. In special cases (such as this) the village structure leaves room for a fifth, superordinate group. The result is, then, twice two plus one single group. In reality Sipi-Sekon cOt1il:a.Îns eight lineages arranged as follows : twice two, plus two superadded (namely thetwo feminine houses Am Lok and Haumeni), plus, moreover, two groups in the centre, namely Nai Bohe and Lakule. Similarly we may find two lineages with a third in the centre, or four times two plus a ninth in the centre, or four times two plus a double centre, hence ten lineages. We shall encounter all these patterns in the political structures.

H, as in this case, there are six lineages apart from the superordinate one, they are grouped as a four-fold anyway, and are spread over two villages which have a common origin.

The main difference between the former situation and the presentday one is that formerly immigrant groups were eventually integrated in accordance with the traditional structural principles. A group which broke away and moved to a different area, either a different village or a different quarter of the princedom, was regarded as a stranger at first, but gradually became integrated in the existing structure without any deviation from the struetural principles af bipartition and quadrupartition.

The phenomenon of a fifth being admitted as a superordinate centre will he seen to he one of the key principles influencing the political strueture.

In the past few decades migrations have probably been more frequent so that this kind of integration is now more difficult. However, the principal reason why the structural principles are functioning less effectively in modern times is the disintegration of the political system. As the whole has lost its traditional structure, it follows that that of the parts will also gradually weaken. On the other hand it can he supposed that the whole is, in a sense, a repetition on a larger scale of the social nucleus as represented by the village.

A numher af villages, usually eight to twelve in Insana, used to make up a quarter of the princedom. Two such quarters used to function as a half of the princedom, and in hetween two such halves, in the "centre", was the palace with all its officials and retainers. And this "cent re" was the actual geographical centre of the princedom.

In this cenrt:re the unity af the political community became visible at the presentation of the harvest gifts. The political organization of Insana emerges plainly from the way in which prople assembied to bring the harvest gifts to their ruler and from the related ritual. What is more, it is our most reliable source of information. The action is visible to the eye, while the accompanying spoken words are inviolable and fixed; they were spoken, moreover, in the presence of the representatives of all parties whose interests were ooneerned.

2. THE HARVEST GIFTS

As soon as the harvest has been gathered in and the gardens have been abandoned the Atoni sets aside a portion of the harvest for the "four fathers and the four princes of the realm", as he expressed it during the final ritual of the agrieultural cyele, namely the ritual of "the elosing of the gate" (taek eno), at which the custodian of the land offieiated.

The "four fathers" are the amaf naek (great fathers) ; they were given the title kapitan 5 hy the Portuguese, this title still heing in regular use. They are, hesides, the major eustodians of the land or tobe naek. It is partly in the latter capacity that they issue the order for the collection of the harvest gifts, which are ealled "the riee-haskets of the land" (poni pah) ; the poni is the large basket used for carrying the harvest from the garden hut 11:0 the village. Another name for these giks is maus, found also in the expression mu'it ma maus, meaning "cattIe (mu'it) and (other) possessions", like the English "goods and ehattels".6 Henee it has aequired the meaning of gifts of homage eonsisting of riee and corn whieh have to he presented to the prinee. The word has yet another eonnotation, however, related to mausak, the leaf of a elimhing-plant. With the aid of such leaves huffaloes are tamed or made maus; bidjae maus is atame huffalo, that is, a huffalo tamed with the aid of mausak.

The prinee, Usfinit (= Supreme Lord) notifies the four usif (one for eaeh of the four suh-territories into which the territory of Insana outside the eentral area of the palace of the prince is divided) via his palace ehief, the Kolnel 7 Bala, that the time has come for the harvest gifts to he collected. Eaeh of the usif notifies his kapitan, who in turn passes the message on to his tabe, who transmits it to the lineage heads (amaf). In eaeh suh-territory there is a man who shares the responsihility for the eollection of the harvest gifts, sueh as N ai Bobe, the head of the lineage of that name in Ainan. This funetionary has no special title, hut is always one of the numerous elders (anma.n). Then these lineage heads - one of whom is tobe - go to the kapitan and usif aeeompanied hy their people in order to proceed to the atani mnasi (= old man)

together. They may OI1ly enter the palace of the prince via the atoni mnasi; so they all proceed together from his village to that of ane of the counsellors, who announces their arrival to the Kolnel Bala who in turn summons the palace guards and comes outside the palace with the latter to welcome all the people.

As the tribute gifts are presented ane of the kapitan (in his capacity as tobe naek 8) says:

A.

1. We now assembIe around the altar pole (the altar itself) and gather around it in a circle

2. not without cause, not without reason,

3. but in order to feed and - provide for 0

4. the son of the moon and - the son of the sun,10

5. the son of the Koka and - the son of N ai BateY

6. Let Thy mothers and - Thy fathers,12

7. that is Hitu, that is Taboi, that is Saidjao and - that is Banusu,13

8. together with the lords of the realm 14 and - the usif,15

9. that is Us Taolin, Us Fal, Us Pupu and - Us Tonbesi,

10. pile up, place layer upon layer 16

11. before those called the old men and - the old women,

12. that is, Kofi, Saunoah, Finsau and - Lamasi.17

13. They approach what is called the shadow of the nunu, the shadow of the lete,18

14. they approach Pala, Matau-Fina, Tkakin and - Banusu,t9

15. in order to welcome them with the dance of the women and - the dance of the warriors.20

16. Thereupon they stand properly lined up near Kolnel Bala,21 they stand in ,the correct attitude.

17. They go to Us Taolin, Us Fal, Us Pupu and - Us Tonbeis,

20. silver spoon and - silver platter.24

21. For they have come as the lords and the usif of the rain-tree andtail-grass,25

22. with the lords of the great (sacrificial) baskets and - the lords of the great (sacrificial) panniers; 26

23. that is Hitu, that is Taboi, that is Saidjao and - Banusu,

24. who are the long-handled weeders, the long-handled matchets.27

25. The yie1d of the weeder has not been retarded nor impeded.

26. The yield of the matchet has not been retarded nor impeded.28

27. Atau-pah, Ana' -pah, Afen-pah and Abain-pah,29

28. line Thyselves up, stand in the correct attitude

29. before the Brilliant One, the Fiery One,30

30. bearing a torch and - a flambeau,31

31. in order that no curse shall strike and - I1D disease shall strike 32

32. Hitu-Taboi, Saidjao-Banusu,33

33. but that their bodies may be ever glossy, their bodies ever vigorous,34

34. in order that their rock of renown, their source of renown,35

35. their deceased, their hidden power 36

36. may lay themselves down with them, may rise with them; 37

37. that they may weed with them, may tap pa.lm-juice with them,38

38. that they may reign without causing anxiety, without harshness.39

Hereupon the K o/nel Bala accepts the harvest gifts on behalf of the prince and says:

B.

1. N ow I shall bring to the lord of heaven, the lord of the moon

2. his holy quid (of sirih-pinang) and - his holy chew.40

3. I let it be known, I announce it unto the four lords, the four spouses,

4. that is, Us Taolin, Us Fal, Us Pupu and - Us Tonbeis,

5. with their mothers and - their f3Jthers,

6. that is, Hitu, Taboi, that is, Saidjao and - Banusu,

7. with the old women, the old men,

8. that is, Kofi-Saunoah, that is, Finsau and - Lamasi.

9. This day what is called rain-4:ree andtail-grass,

10. the great basket, the great pannier 41 has been prepared and - made ready, 42

11. in order that the son of the Koko, the son of N ai Bate,

12. the son of heaven, the son of the moon,

13. may eat without anxiety, drink without amciety.43

14. For if Liurai-Sonba'i 44 should eat with anxiety, drink with anxiety

15. he would surely be angry with us and - furious with US.45

16. Atau-pah, Ana'-pah, Afen-pah, and - Abain-pah,

17. line Thyselves up, stand in the correct attitude

18. before the Brilliant One, the Fiery One,

19. hearing a torch and - a flambeau

20. in order that no douds may descend upon him, no mists descend upon him.46

Af ter the harvest gifts are received by Kalnel Bala hesees to their further distribution. The best porti on is for the Atupas and the rest for him. The four usif, Taolin-Fal, Pupu-Tonbeis, are also presented with harvest gifts, though not via the general collection before the pal ace of the prince but directly from the sub-territory to which they belong, af ter the presentation of the tribute at the palace.

3. THE DEATH OF THE PRINCE

The politica1 structure becomes c1early apparent from the texts recited when the harvest gifts are presented and accepted. This structure emerges with even greater c1arity from the words spoken upon the death of the prince. One of the palace elders announces the prince's death, saying:

C.

1. Let the sweepers and the dusters be summoned,

2. the snuffers of the wax flambeaus and - of the cotton torches,

3. that is Tkakin-Banusu, Pala and - Matau-Fina.47

4. Let them announce it, bear tidings of it

5. unto the old men, the old women,

6. the deaf ears, the blind eyes/8

7. the mouldering fences and - the mouldering enclosure,49

8. that is, Kofi, Saunoah, Finsau and - Lamasi.

9. Let them send the messenger, send news

10. to the great faces and - the great eyes,

11. that is, Atau-pah, Ana'-pah, Abain-pah and - Afen-pah.50

12. Let them announce it, bear tidings of it,

13. let them address the four Lords, the four female spouses,

14. the lords of the sacrificial baskets, the lords of the sacrificial panniers,51

15. the lords of the land and - the lords of the lake,

16. that is, Us Taolin, Us Fal, Us Pupu and - Us Tonbeis.

17. Let these instruct the great warriors and - the great headhunters,!ill

18. that is, Kase, Tahmate, Boas and - Tnufai.53

19. Let them in turn announce it, bear tidings of it

20. unto the mothers and - the fathers,54

21. to the long-handled weeders and - the long-handled matchets,55

22. that is, Hitu, Taboi, Saidjao and - Banusu,56

23. in order that Hitu-Taboi, Saidjao-Banusu,

24. Kase-Tahmate, Boas-Tnufai,

25. Atau-pah, Ana' -pah, Abain-pah and Afen-pah

26. may shelter for a night, shelter for a day

27. with those called Us Taolin, Us Fal, Us Pupu, Us Tonbeis,57

28. near their holy altar pole Lanusu - near their holy sacrificial pillar Lanusu,58

29. with their holy quid (of sirih-pinang) and - their holy chew.59

The four usif reply:

30. It is as they say, his head is sore and aching and - his nose IS sore and congested. 60

31. We linger and - we tarry awhile,

32. we collect water, knives and - spoons 61 awhile.

33. When the day of the tri bes arrives,62

34. as they say, the nights before this will not he many and - the days will not he many,63

35. then Us Taolin, Us Fal, Us Pupu, Us TotIJbeis,

36. with their mothers and - their fathers,

37. that is Hitu, Taboi, that is Saidjao and - Banusu,

38. will bring on their shoulders, bear on their backs their knives and - their spoons,

39. to those called the old men, the old women,

40. that is, the mouldering fences of Maubesi and - the mouldering enclosure of Maubesi,64

41. in order that Kolnel Bala with the sweepers, the dusters,

42. that is, Tkakin, Banusu, Pala and - Matau-Fina,

43. may come out to meet them and - to welcome them,

44. to show them in, to aIIow them to enter

45. into the tomb, and - into the grave.65

47. of Us Taolin, Us Fal, Us Pupu and - Us Tonbeis, 48. their holy quid (of sirih-pinang) and - their holy chew. 49. Kolnel Bala will run his eye over it, survey it with his glance. 50. Af ter he has surveyed it with his glance and has run his eye over it 51. he wiII announce and make known 52. unto the four lords and - the four spouses (fernale),

46. He (Kolnel BaIa) will then put to the test the affection and - the disposition 66

53. that the spoons and - the knives

54. are sufficiently able to cope with the roads and - the doors.6T

55. These four lords, these four fernale spouses

56. of the holy quid (of sirih pinang) and - the holy chew,

57. say to the old man, the old woman: 68

58. prepare a pounding-block for the lord of the people, a pounder for the lord of the people.69

59. When this has been prepared the foIIowing day TO Kolnel Bala wiIl invite

60. Kofi, Saunoah, Finsau and - Lamasi,

61. in order to announce and make known unto the four lords and - the four fernale spouses

63. that they may determine the number of nights for the propie, determine the number of days for the people,

64. in order that of Us Finit may come

65. the holy mother and - the holy father,

66. that is, Liurai and - Sonba'i,

67. with the holy mothers, the holy fathers,

68. Nai Ahoin, Nai Bal, Nai Tef and - Nai Keis,71

69. Beaneno-Taeneno, Kaini'os-Kanmese,72

70. Kono-Oematan, Babu-Bife\,73

71. Tnesi-Aluman, Teba-Tautpah,74

72. Bobo-Ban'afi, Belak and - Taiheno.75

73. When the (number of) nights for the tribes, the (number of) days for the tribes

74. have been fulfilled, and the time has come,

75. Kolnel Bala wil\ cut (the meat) into pieces and - pound i.t till it is tender.

76. He determines and - gives instructions

77. concerning the number of spoons and - the number of knives,76

78. to bring these, to share them out, distribute them

79. far Us Finit's holy mother and - holy father.

80. Then he will cut into pieces again - and will pound ta tenderness

81. for the four lords, the four women,

82. that is, Us Taolin, Us Fal, Us Pupu and Us Tonbeis,

83. with those who support - those who provide,77

84. the long-hand led weeders and - the long-handled matchets,

85. thait is, Hitu, Taboi, Saidjao and - Banusu,

86. and also the great faces and - the great eyes,

87. that is, Atau-pah, Ana'-pah, Abain-pah and - Afen-pah.

88. Thereupon he determines again and - gives instructions again,

89. for the old men, the aId wamen,

90. the deaf ears and - the blind eyes,

91. that is, Kofi, Saunoah, Finsao and - Lamasi.

92. Thereupon the sweepers, the dusters,78

93. in order that they may line themselves up, stand m the correct attitude

94. before the son of the moon, the son of heaven.

95. Thereupon Kolnel Bala will gather, he will collect,

96. the remainder of the spoons and - the remainder of the knives,

97. he examines these whole-heartedly, he inspects them whole-heartedly,

98. the remainder of the sirih, the remainder of the pinang,

99. he examines it himself, he is responsible for it.

100. Thus was the word, thus the case. 79

4. THE STRUCTURE OF THE PRINCEDOM *

a. The eentre

The prince or atupas resides in the centre of the princedom, called by the Atoni "the navel of the realm" (paha usan). The Timorese word atupas is a derivation from the verb tup, meaning "to sleep", thus designating his function, as "he eats and drinks, he sits and sleeps". The prince is not permitted to be active and is not allorwed to leave the precincts of his palace (sonaf); it is his duty to remain "inside". Here he "eats and drinks", in other words, here he offers sacrifices as the principal officiant in charge of the state ritual. His second ti tIe is therefore Vs Finit (the Supreme Lord) ; this is definitely not his lineage name but a title. The word finit also occurs in one of the epithets for Vis Neno (the Lord of Heaven), name1y in afinit anesit, which means "the highest, most elevated being". The atupas mayalso be called "the son of hea.ven" (neno ana) and in the ritual he is called "the son of the sun, the son of the moon" (nenba ana, funa ana). In the nineteenth century the ruling dynasty was mostly called Taeboko, which is not an ordinary family name either. lts literal meaning is "big-bellied", used especially with referenee to a pregnant woman. As the ruler is "feminine" (feto) , the name Taeboko is a symbol of fertility. In the genealogies of Beboki and Amfoan the ruler's linea.ge is also called Taeboko.

As the son of heaven he oonstitutes the link between the visible and the hidden world, between the Lord of Heaven and man. Another of his epithets is "the son of the Koko and of N ai Bate"; these two are the winged and landbound creatures which are the visible and tangible evidenee of the hidden world of the deceased (nitu), i.e. the ancestors. These animals are so sacred (le'u) and inviolable and so highly charged with special powers that any contact with them may result in death. This name implies, then, that he is the link between the ancestars and subjects (in kola in manu = his birds, his fowls, according to the traditional Atoni saying). As such he himself is le'u, saered and part of the sacred and the numinous.

He is associated with the sacred sphere by virtue of his function as guardian of the sacred objects (atiut Ie'u) , moreover. This association becomes apparent in the ritual accompanying the presentation of the harvest gifts, as here the offerings of rice and corn are designated with Liurai-Sonba'i, the latter also being the names of the ritual princes of the sovereign ritual realm of which each princedom constitutes part. The prayer asks that Liurai-Sonba'i may rule without eausing anxiety. And when the gifts are accepted Kolnel Bala says that the holy gifts have been received so that the son of heaven may eat without anxiety (he uses the same word here). If the ruler ean eat without anxiety, the gifts having been presented and the necessary saerifices having been offered, then the forces of the hidden world will not eause trouble. But if Liurai-Sonba'i were to eat with anxiety their anger would be aroused. (The name of Liurai-Sonba'i denotes not only the prince but also, as we saw above, the original princely pair who are the children of heaven in an even fuller sense of the word, as it is they who are the givers of rice and com. Their wrath would therefore surely strike the next harvest.)

I t is interesting to note in this connection that the sacrifice is offered to Vis Neno, whilst the deceased (nitu) and other forces (te'u) are regarded as the agents of evil. Vis N eno is considered to effect all that is good and beneficial to mankind, he bestows "coolness" (mainikin); but he is far away.80

Vis Finit, the supreme Lord, lives in the tamarind palace (sonaf kiu), situated to the west of the kusambi palace (sonaf usapt) in which Vs Bala resides, to the east of the atupas. These two palaces differ only in size from other dwellings, their lopo (the granary and meeting-house) in particular being considerably larger. Their construction is practically the same as that of the Atoni house in Amarasi, of which Cunningham has given an excellent description, apart from the fact that he says that it is reetangular, whereas aotually it is oval or round.81

Vs Bala is also eaUed apopet-ananet (the short one, the tall one). In the ritual he constantly appears as "Kolnel Bala", a title given him by the Portuguese, which has its origin in the Portuguese corond. The atupas was given the title kesel, which is rather a derivation from the Dutch keizer (emperor), while the Portuguese gave him the title of rei (king) as weIl. The title kesel may still be used for the atupas from time to time, but it is used less frequently than kolnel and kapitan, the latter being the title for the four "great fathers" : Hitu-Taboi, SaidjaoBanusu. The Kolnel Bala is the masculine (mone) counterpart of the feminine (feto) atupas. The location of their respective palaces also brings out this re1ationship between them, the east being associated with the masculine, the west with the feminine.

The meaning of the term feto-mone, with feta always coming first, is extreme1y difficult to determine, as it has many different applications. The interpretaJtion is dependent on the particular relationship to which it refers. In the relationship atupas-kolnel the a.tupas must always be immobile and responsible for the ritual, whilst the kolnel, as his "mouth" (mafefa) speaks on his behalf, as we have seen in the description of the acceptance of the harvest gifts. The kolnel is active, executing all of the atupas' orders. The latter merely exists, he "eats and drinks, sits and sleeps", while the kolnel is active. Cunningham eaUs the latter "the palace chief".82 However, the statement by his informants according to which the koine! is comparable with a modern raja's secretary is incorrect. He is rather to he compared with a major domo in Merovingian times 83 with all the possibilities of that figure. Without the atupas his position is inconceivable, but as the atupas' right hand he is the supreme executive authority of the realm. He is the kolnel, while the four "great fathers" bear the title kapita,n, and the four usif have no Portuguese title at all.84

Cunningham 84' writes:

"The Raja of Insana says that the secular lords (that is, the four usif) we re also dubbed coronel in rank. This is supported by Schulte N ordholt, who reports that both Fatin Taolin (1913-1915) and Kahalasi Taolin (1915-1933) were recognized by the Dutch Government as "corond"."

Though the latter of these statements is correct, the former (made by the Raja of Insana, Laurentius Taolin) is not true. The actual state of affairs was that in 1913 the last "Kolnel of Insana" died childless. (He himself was not, as a maJtter of fact, a member of the Kolnel Bala lineage, but was one of the atupas' brothers, the last Kolnel Bala having been removed from office in 1908 "on grounds of incompetence" ; although the tatter had a son from a marriage to a woman of high rank it is said in Insana that the Kolnel Bala lineage has died out: "Kolnel Bala has gone". In 1946 no-one was able or willing to teIl the reasons for this. N onetheless this son was present at the meeting of the Chiefs of the Realm on 30th August, 1915; his name is mentioned last in the minmes. 85) The person who succeeded him as executive authority, Kahalasi Taolin, therefore received the kolnel ti tIe. Although the Netherlands Indies Government adopted the existing title, it used it only with reference to this particular man, not with reference to all four usif, and not even with reference to the Taolin lineage in genera!.

Because the old kolnellineage of Insana has "died out", Cunningham, with Taolin as his informant, failed to see that the actual polarity between what he distinguishes as "the ritual lord" and "the secular lords" exists within the palace itself and is a real and significant one, whereas this is less true of the relationship between the palace (the atupas) and the four usif, as we shall see later on.

When the harvest gifts are presented at the pal ace the atupas receives these from the "great fathers" and the four usif as the representatives of the princedom as a whoIe. These harvest gifts are called "tribute" by Cunningham; this word is correct provided that it is understood in this case as "gift of homage". The recipient is obviously superior, although the gifts of homage have another aspect as weIl. Every Atoni is bound to admit that the atupas is the highest personage of the realm, as his name "Uis Finit" clearly indicates. He shares the tribute he receives with the Kolnel Bala, who thereby shares in the homage, although he receives a smaller portion, "the inferior half". In his position as the atupas' masculine counterpart he, too, is usif, or the lord or ruler of the realm. When af ter the introduction of colonial rule in Timor it appeared to be impossible to appoint the atupas as raja because the nature of his ritual function rendered him unsuitable for this and because the Colonial Government considered this figure unfit in view of the fact tbat he was confined to his palace, the Chiefs of the Realm nominated a head such as, in Insana, the kolnel for the rajaship, who was then accepted by the Government. This is what happened in BeOOki, too.

At the meeting of the Chiefs of the Realm in November of 1913 Taolin was appointed acting raja and given the title kornel or kolnel. He was given a trial period of two years. In spite of his despotic rule and his attempts at abolishing the custom of presenting harvest gifts to the atupas (in which he was supported by the Colonial Government, which wished to avoid double taxation), the people continued to bring their harvest gifts to the atupas. At the time this was Malafu N eno and af ter him his son, Tasaib Malafu, OOth of them descendants of a si de-branch of the atupas lineage. This house survived, then, as it was part of a set pattern.

So we see that in the chaotic, new colonial period (chaotic in that it overthrew all the traditional structures) the centra! executive authority, i.e. the Kolnel Bala, could be replaced by another mone (masculine) figure, whiIe the feta (feminine) atupas, on the other hand, continued to be recognized as long as the values of the oId structure remained in force.

ALthough Ithe structural nucleus, consistill1g of an immobile, feminine rul er and an active, masculine executive authority, has survived in Insana the original "masculine" lineage has been replaced. As aresult the old structure is difficult to discem. Moreover, the ever-present Taolin lineage invariably tries to push the Kolnel Bala house even further into the background. I shalI return to this in the discussion of the usif's traditional function.

In the nucleus of the reaIm, then, both the feminine and the masculine principles are represented, OOth of them having their place "inside" this centre. The polarity is that between immobile and active, the souree of power and the praotical applicart:ion of that power, the commanding and the executive principles, the head and the mouth (nakaf and mafefa), the leader and the speaker. He who commands is superior to the person who puts the orders into effect and is therefore orientated towards "the exterior". The resuIting probIem is tbat in the fundamental social re1ationship between bride-giving and bride-receiving groups, masculine (mone) is superior to feminine (feta), whereas in the relationship at present under discussion tbe reverse is true. The factors responsible must he of a different nature, and a different set of principles must apply in each case. This will have to appear from the study of tbe whoie.

The four palace guards also helong to the centre. They are Tkakin, Banusu, Pala and Matau-Fina. Their priillary function is to serve the atupas and Vis Bala and to guard the afupas - they must see to it that he remains "inside", for if he were to he seen "outside" tbe guards would render themselves liable to a beating and the Kalnel Bala to a fine from the four usif, whose sphere lies "outside". It is tbeir task to look af ter the palace. This entails that they have :to take charge, under Vis Bala's supervision, of maintenance work. They are "the sweepers and the dusters" (a-sani, a-naka) with whom we are familiar from the ritual. Wh en the ruler dies they keep vigil by his body - "let them line themselves up, stand in tbe correct attitude before tbe sou of the moon, the son of heaven". They wait upon the guests, whom they welcome witb round-dances and war-dances. Then they look af ter the guests, together with Kalnel Bala. The tneaning of the word bala is, in fact, "to look after" , "to prepare"; this is not an implication that Vis Bala is in any way inferior, however. Cunningham 86 makes an excellent observart:ion in this respect. For the Atoni his home is always the superior centre. "However, when guests are received in a house, tbey must he honoured and the hosts must: debase tbemselves, placing the visitors in thc best seats, aud saying thart: tbe tbings they have (household facilities, food, etc.) are inferior. This sort of debasement (not restricted to the Atoni bUIt common in Indonesia, and au attitude which always leaves westerners uncomfortable and speechless when they meet it as guests) is a symbolic reversal of the basic superiority of the household to all oUJtsiders, an etiquette which is neverthe1ess overcome when the household fina1ly expresses its superordination by tbe inevitabie meal in tbe Indonesian household, the 'feeding"." Now, the people first bring harvest gifts and "feed" the palace. The "fathers" (amfini) say: "We give the lords (Uisfini, that is, the four usif as weil) food to eat from our soil, just as we have giventbe atupas food to eat". The people are tberefore superior, despite tbe fact thart: they are paying homage. This gives the secondary meaning of the word maus (1. goods and chatte1s, harvest gifts; 2. tame) special significance. The tribute is given to prevent tbe ruler from becoming "angry",

"furious with US", to prevent him from calling down a curse and thereby unchaining a host of evil forces. He has tl:o be "tamed.". But once the gifts have been presented and a sacrifice offered to Uis Neno, the Lord of Heaven, the principle of reciprocitty begins to operate - the "fathers" are treated to a feast in the palace. This way the palace remains superior.

The guards are also the doorkeepers at the two doors. Both palaces are surrounded by a corn.rnon compound wruch is encirc1ed by a wall of piled up stones. One pair of doorkeepers is responsible for the southern, masculine door (neus atoni or neus anu, neus being a metalthetical form of enD = door; neus anu = original, flÏrst door), which gives admission to the divisions living in the east and south, both of which are, as was said above, associated wÏJth the masculine. The other pair has to guard the northern, feminine door (neus mum, neus bifel; muni = younger, following, next; bifel = woman) which gives admission to the other divisions which live in the west and north, both of which are associated with the feminine.

Which pair belongs rto which door is not c1ear. In the ritual associated with the presentation of the harvest gifts Pala-Matau Fina are mentioned first (A. 14), while in other passages Tkakin-Banusu are always the pair mentioned first. According to both my own and Cunningham's daJtathe location of Tkakin is in the east and Pala in the south. Cunningham believes :that they are dyadically opposed Tkakin-Banusu being associated with the east and west respectively. N(H)l1e was clear about this, as the system no longer functions. A dyadic opposition does not appear likely to me, judging from remaining, still observabie structures, however. One pair must he responsible for one door. For this reason my own data, according to which Tkakin and Pala form one pair, cannot he correct - the ritual, which is absolutely reliable, places Tkakin and Banusu together. These two, then, must guard the masculine, southem door. For the struature is determined by the basic prin .. dple of bipartition, each resulting half being in turn referred to by a pair of names.

Hence each palace has Itwo doors: the masculine door (the main entrance ) on the southern side, and the feminine one on the northern, or, as in Beboki, on the western side.

The Us Fin~t and Us Bala lineages and those of the four palace guards each used to live in separate residential tmits in the vast compound surrouding the tamarind and kusambi palaces. Cunningham 81 eaUs this compound ba'af = the root of the realm. Neither Middelkoop nor myself have ever heard this term used. Although rthe ruler himself may somet!:imes be referred to as ba'af (root), only Kune Vf (uf = stem) the "original" inhabitant of the realm or pah tuaf, lord of the land, who gave Sonba'i his land, is recognized as Vsi Ba'af. The palace and its compound are the navel of the realm (paha usan), then, while they are also commonly referred to as se'at (yard).

b. The Periphery of the Centre

This is made up by Kofi-Saunoah, Finsau-Lamasi, "the old men, the old women" (atoni mna.si, bifel mnasi), "the deaf ears, the blind eyes" (leuk tono, mat folo). The order of their names is reversed in the passage recited aJt the acceptance of the harvest gifts (B.7). Cunningham 88, quoting from my report, says that they are called "old women, old men", whereas his informat1lts asserted that the order should be reversed, which corresponds with other passages in the ritual (A. 11, C. 5, C. 39 and C. 57) which also give this order. Cunningham correctly observes in this connection that normally the female partner is mentioned first, and refers to an article by Middelkoop on the adat marriage ceremony for Christians,89 where the bridegroom's parentsin-Iaw are "turned iruto" and recognized as, his mother and father in that order.90 In this example, however, two different individuals, a woman and a man are concerned. Middelkoop observes that the form of address for the Netherlands Indies government, what is more, is aina kompani, ama kompani; 91 here it is a foreign power that is being referred to, and not two individuals of different sexes.

Cunningham relates the expression "old men, old women" to the relationship between a bride-giving and a bride-receiving group (the former of which is mone and hence superior, and the laJtter feto and inferior) and says: "here apparently the authoritarian character of the relaJtionship is being stressed". But it is not quite clear which relationship is being referred to in the expression "old men, old women". Certainly not their relationship to Vis Finit, the Supreme Lord, on whose behalf they receive harvest gifts and who is the highest authority in adjudiCaJtion, in which they act as his advisors. Nor is it that to the four "great fathers" (amaf naek) or to rthe four usif, from whom they receive the harvest gifts. The amaf are masculine, while the usif are monef atonif, masculine men. The order a~oni-bifel (man - woman) with referenee to these four elders (m~) cannot, as I see it, express a greater degree of author~ty than the reverse order, possibly Iess. Cunningham 92 says in his study of the Timorese house that they guard the gates between the ritual lord's centre and the four greart: subterritories. This is probably an error, for in his dissertation he onIy says that they take receipt of the tribute 3Jt the gates Ieading it1lto the palace compound. The actual doorkeepers are, as we have seen, the four palace guards. But his remark that the "old men, oid women" are called this because they are placed "between conceptually male 3i1ld female areas" is very enlightening. To this rt shouid be added that they are first called men and then women because their position is on the periphery, between the "masculine" exterior and the "feminine" interior, and not in the interior. They are the p3Jth oonnecting the exterior with the it1lterior, to be followed by the bearers of tribute.

These "old men, oid women" are the recipients of the harvest gifts which the great fathers and the four usif of the realm pile up before them, because they belong to the palace sphere, to "the shade of the banyan, the shade of the great lete tree", notwithstanding the fact that they live outside it. Because they reside on the outside they constitute the foei at which the people assemble before bearing the harvest gifts to the palace.

"The first pair (Kofi-Saunoah) received tribute from the tribute chiefs Hitu and Taboi (i.e. the districts of Oilolok and Ainan) at the gates (read: southern gate) of the court area of the ritual lord; the second pair from Saidjao and Banusu (i.e. the districts Subun and Faifinesu)",93 hence at the northern gate. Kofi is resident in Oeliurai,04 a village in the district of OiloIok, to the east of the sonaf. This means that he too, like Hitu, in whose area he Iives, must be associated with the east. And in that case Saunoah must be affiliated with Taboi, who Iives in Ainan in the south.

It is not quite clear to me, therefore, why Cunningham associates Kofi-Saunoah in a dyadic opposition with the south and north and

Finsau-Lamasi with the east and west.95 The usual order is east-south (which together constitute the masculine half) and west-north (which make up the feminine half).

As far as the subdivisions Hitu-Taboi, Saidjao-Banusu are ooncerned there is not the slightest doubt in this respect. These relatively large population groups still live in more or less the same geographical position in respect of each other in which the traditional classification places them - my research (conducted in 1946) is corroborated in this by Cunningham's findings. As the traditional system no longer functions it is impossible to determine the locality of most of its functionaries. They are 110 longer "in their places", and as aresuIt the information collected rnay he self-contradictory. The logic of the system, supported by the extract from Cunningham's work quoted above and the actual location of Kofi's residence, excludes the possibility of any other conclusion than this.

The second function of these palace elders is expressed by the epithet "deaf ears, blind eyes" - they act as advisors to the atupas in adjudication. In this capacity they have to give an unbiased opinion without lending ear to flattery or gossip. Thus they form, together with Vis Finit, the highest tribunal.

c. The Guardians of the Realm

These are Atau-pah, Ana'-pah, Abain-pah and Afen-pah. Atau-pah means "the defender or guard of the realm"; Middelkoop 96 mentions the parallel term ataupah ma ote musu (= he who defends the realm and subdues the enemy). Ana'-pah means "the guardian of the realm", Abain-pah "he who renders the land fertile", and Afen-pah "he who expels (the enemy) from the realm". The same names are found in other princedoms of Timor as weil, Atau-pah heing the name of the great warnor (meo naek) of the ruling lineage, that IS, of the ruler, of Amarasi,97 and also that of a meo naek in Amanuban. While in Beboki the Tapen-pah is the masculine c1iff to the east of the ruier's sonaf, which protects the navel of the realm. In Amfoan 98 the Asu'- pah is "he who earries the realm" and, according to Midde1koop's definition,99 "he who earries the country on his head, who has to defend the country and to expand its boundaries". Zondervan 100 reports the occurrence of the title Ana' -pah in West Timor and eaUs i.ts bearer the "exorcist of the realm"; Bastian 101 adds to this that he possesses esoteric knowledge and that the title is hereditary.

My informants in Insana said that each of these guardians of the realm was affiliated with one of I1he four usif, and that hence they were located east-south or west-north in respect of the palace, although like "the old men, the aid wamen" they belang to the palace sphere. According to Cunningham 102 they belonged to the palace itself; he eaUs them sana mnasi (= palace elders), a ti tie of which I have never heard and which does not occur in the ritual texts either. Middelkoop considers this title incorrect because its bearers were very much concerned with the conduct of war so that their position was too independent. This was probably determined by the degree of independence which they managed to secure for themselves, however. It varies from kingdom to kingdom. In Insana they are c1early ritual functionaries who perform their rites near the sonaf. In this case the title sana mnasi would be appropriate. Cunningham is correct in supposing that these "senior palace elders were, and for the most part stiU are, resident near Maubesi, traditional centre of Insana".103 But they are not resident "inside" the sana! - only the pal ace guards are. The word pah in their title would point to a different orientation from that towards the palace.

In the announcement of the death of the raja first the palace guards, "the aid men, the old women", are mentioned and then a messenger (Jwkef) has to be sent to the guardians of the realm (c. 9) and next to the four usif who in a sense also belang to the palace, as we shall see later.

Hence in the diagram of the political structure (diagram No. 7) a circle has been drawn to represent the area surrounding the palace, with the ti tIes of the advisors and of the guardians of the realm marked in it. Although they belong to the palace they live just outside it, thus forming the boundary - they are the bridge spanning the "interior" and the "exterior".

Their function takes on quite clear outlines in the ritual accompanying the presentation of the harvest gifts. Just as the palace guards have to line up and stand in the correct attitude before the guests (A. 16) and before the deceased prince (C. 93), similarly these guardians of the realm have to line up and stand in the correct attitude (mihake, mibeta) before the Lord of Heaven (A. 28, B. 17). They are the experts responsible for sacrificing, the great experts in ritual matters. Thus they avert any potential misfortune which may strike their people. In this respect they are comparabie with the figure of Kune in the realm of Sonba'i.104

At the announcement of the death of the raja they are called the "great faces, the great eyes" (c. 10), that is, the watchful eyes which make them the guardians of the realm. This function they hold as a result of the performance of sacrifices. It is their sacrifices and their knowledge of spelIs and rites which protect the realm and make its warriors victorious. This knowledge makes them powerful.

They have a part in the performance of two types of ritual. Firstly in that performed to effect fertility (le'u nono), such as we encountered in the agricultural cycle. They conclude this rite by dedicating the harvest gifts to the Lord of Heaven, Vis Neno. The name Abain-pah (= he who makes the land fertile) refers directly to this aspect of their task. Secondly they are indispensabie in the le'u musu ritual which is directed against the enemy (musu). They have to proceed for this to the sacred sacrificial pole named Lanusu, which most probably stood in front of the shrine or ume le'u in which the sacred objects of the realm are kept, and in which alone the war ritual may be performed. Without a doubt they belong to the palace, therefore, like the old advisors, in spite of the fact that their residence may be "outside". Most likely they also belong in pairs to each of the two divisions of the realm. I was told in 1946, although I failed at the time to see the connection and had not asked any questions in this direction, that Atau-pah and Ana'-pah belonged to Hitu-Taboi.

d. The Four Usif

The tide of usif or uisfini (also a plural form of usif) for the four lords itself implies a certain development which in this form is typical only of Insana. They belong to the palace, but their domain is "outside". In primeval times (um unu), according to the myth, they were one with Us Finit - this explains why he is called supreme usif. They used to be resident "inside" but now live "outside" and are affiliated with the two divisions of the rea.lm of which Hitu-Taboi (in the east and the south respectively) and Saidjao-Banusu (west and north respectively) are the great fathers.

If Us Bala, the ka/nel, is comparabie with the Merovingian majordomo the usif may similarly be compared to the ea.rls who in Carolingian times functioned as missi dominici or ambassadors of the lord. lOS

Us Finit as atupas is feminine, whilst they are the masculine menmonef atonif. The atupas resides "inside", for his palace (sonaf) is situated in the "navel of the realm". The uisfini live on the "outside". However, their small sacrificial pol es (tola ana) are "inside", surrounding the atupas' large sacrificial pole (tola naek, nik u naek). Only the great fathers (amaf na.ek) have their altars rea.lly on the "outside". As we have seen, the "interior" is associated with the feminine and the exterior with the masculine. So the atupas and the four usif combine to form some sort of unity, a dual unity uniting two principles, namely the feminine and the masculine, the immobile and the active, the one being orientated towards the interior and the other towards the exterior.

It is similar to the re1ationship between de atupas and Us Bala. In the latter the two opposite principles, the feminine and the masculine, also combine to form a unity; while it also contains the polarity of the immobile and the active, or "he who sleeps and commands" as opposed to he who is active and carries out these commands. In carrying out these orders Us Bala represents the sonaf externally, so th at within the sonaf itself we also have the opposition between "inside" and "outside" directedness, although Us Bala himself lives definitely "inside" the palace compound. It is impossible to ascertain what the nature of the relationship between Us Bala and the four usif was. It is my personal impression that Us Bala maintained relations with the four subdivisions via the four usif. The deve10pments in Insana before the N etherlands East Indies Government began to interfere in the administration of Timor, and perhaps even as ea.rly as the 19th century, were such that the Us Bala lineage was ousted and replaced by the usfini, notably by Us Taolin, the most prominent of the four. He was the obvious figure to replace Us Bala, as he was the most important usif af ter him. As we shall see later, developrnents in Beboki took a different course thus offering excellent material for comparison, the basic structure of Beboki being very similar to that of Insana: in Insana only one usif failed to become a district head or feto.,., whilst in Beboki all but one failed to do so, the only exception being assigned only a small district, moreover.106

Us Fal is the only one of the four usif who no langer exists, so that his place in the political organization is not altogether dear. The ritual texts always mention Taolin-Fal, Pupu-Tonbesi in that order. This may be a result of the fact that Taolin daimed priority for himself once the Fallineage had "died out". On the other hand, rivalriesin Insana are so keen rthat is is not be expected that Taolin would be given first pI ace in a ritual text such as that accompanying the abandoning of the garden or the dosing of the door 107 - which was recorded in Maubesi, i.e., outside his own territory - if he did not originally occupy this position. Cunningham 108 writes, however: "People gene rally acknowledge that if Fal representatives were available, they would be on the throne". This piece of information speaks volumes when we consider that the present raja of Insana is, in fact, a Taolin. But Van der Wolk's tes1:imony contradicts this. The latter was a government administrator in 1933, when Kahalasi Taolin had to be deposed and subsequently sentenced to twenty years' exile on fourteen counts of despotic committal to prison, 23 charges of crueIty, five of them resulting in death, and, in addition, a charge of manslaughter. He had run his own prison and used to give his prisoners only tamarind fruit to eat until death came to those who could receive no aid from their relatives. This was particularly offensive and provocative in view af the fact that supporters of the atupas and his tamarind palace (sonaf kiu) were forced to eat tamarind fruits. Af ter his conviction a member of the atupas lineage, though not a direct descendant, was appointed raja. Taolin's downfall was complete. Under such circumstances Van der Wolk was told that formerly, when all four usif were still in function, these could not go to the pal ace of the prince unless accompanied by Taolin. This dearly indicates some degree of superiority.

Moreover, Taolin is caIIed the eldest of the four brothers - the relationship between thern is expressed in terms of olif-tataf. the re1ationship between younger and elder brothers. What is more, Taolin lives in the east, in Oilolok, the territory of Hitu, the most prominent of the four great fathers. Cunningham 10n incorrectly suggests that Fal was affiliated with Saidjao, who lives in Subun, to the sou th-west of Maubesi, which from a cIassificatory point of view belongs to the west-north half. Taolin-Fal are affiliated with Hitu-Taboi. The theory that Fal and Taboi - the amaf naek or kapitan of the district of Ainan which, like Oilolok, at present has a Taolin at its head - belonged together is further supported by the foIIowing: in the Documentos Sarzedas,110 based on the situation which prevailed from 1722-1725, Ainan is mentioned together with Mena, the port of Insana (by which name the whole of Insana was formerly designated), as an independent district. In 1760, however, Von Pluskow signed a treaty with Insana (but not Ainan),111 so that somewhere between 1727 and 1760, but certainly by 1819,m according to a manuscript mentioning all the princedoms of Timor, Insana must have become a unified whole again. It is therefore very likely that the usif lineage of Ainan disappeared during this time. It is remarkable that a ruling lineage which disappeared about 200 years ago should still he mentioned in the state ritual; this bears at the same time strong witness to the reliability of ritual texts.

Pupu-Tonbesi, who are now affiliated with Banusu in the district of Fafinesu, helonged to Saidjao-Banusu, the western and northern quarters of the realm respectively. Bipartition is the most prominent feature, and the first mentioned of each pair of usif is invariably the leading one (that is, in this case Taolin and Pupu). Cunningham 113 rightIy says: "When the Dutch became established in the interior in 1910-1915, they first reeognised only two sub-territories of Insana, Oilolok and Fafinesu, the Taolin line became fetor of the former, Pupu of the latter".

The ruling lineage of TwIin was deposed in 1933 on account of crue1ty and oppression. This is no more than a historical fact, the CoJoniaI Goven1ffient intervening in a situation for which she herself was partially responsible. Surprisingly ihis theme constantly reeurs in the myths. According to one of these, for instance, Sonba'i was once expelled for the same reasons. And there are stories about Taolin which relate how he was expelled by the atupas. This sort of myth is a fabrication by Taolin's own circles. They run as foIIows: The rule of Taolin, the "eldest of the four brothers", was too harsh and his orders too severe, so that the fathers (amfini) approached the atupas in order to complain about him. The atupas ,turned Taolin out of the country. Together with Hitu-Taboi he travelled to Lahurus in the mountains and Fatu Gede on the coost, on the other si de of ,the rea1m of the Belus. In his palace, however, there was a woman, Pakai N oni, who was grief-stricken at Taolin's cruel f3lte. Moved by pity she traveIIed to Fatu Gede, helped by Us Kono and Us Olin, the great warriors of Molo-Miomafo, to fetch him back. Us Taolin refused to return, however, but his son, whose body was covered with wounds and who was in a deplorable condition, was persuaded to accompany them at night. Th3lt very same night he was taken back and restored to hea1th. So Us Taolin returned af ter all. The young Taolin married Pakai Noni's daughter, and Nai Noni and Nai Kreas supplied people to replace Hitu-Taboi.

This legend was recorded in 1946 in Taolin's presence. It sounds like a legendary version of Taolin's downfall in 1933 114 and his triumphant return in 1942. This must have been based on earl ier story material, as it is not likely that an entirely new myth was created as late as 1946. Buil: even such an old Taolin myth is doubtless related to the Sonba'i myth; 115 a fact that emerges from many of these Sonba'i myths is that although a rul er could he cruel and severe, and in that case might he deposed or possibly even killed, he nonetheless remained indispensabie. On the analogy of this, other rulers could adapt such myths to themselves. In his capacity as atupas, the key figure in the performance of the fertility ritual (le'u nono) and the war ritual (te'u musu), the ruler is indispensabie.

The story of Taolin's exile and the rescue of his son testifies to an enormous hubris. Taolin compares himself to the indispensable Sonba'i. His child, similarly, is suddenly restored to heaIth and becomes "brilliant" (pinat), the same epithet as that used with reference to the Son of Heaven (neno ana); "brilliant" and "fiery" (apina-aklahat) are both appellations for the Lord of Heaven himself. Sonba'i's rescued child is looked af ter by two women belonging to his bride-giving groups headed by his "great fathers" ; these groups thus remain superior or "masculine" in terms of the kinship struoture. But in the Taolin myth the bride-giving groups - Hitu-Taboi - are degraded, as it is said that they are replaced by "new" people or "later" arrivals, and are therefore socially inferior, although they remain mone in respect of Taolin as rus bride-givers. This myth, which presents Taolin in an extremely favourable light, is no more than the mythical, that is, preternatural justification of Taolin's new position of power. The myth in this form must be a recent creart:ion. Although it is virtually impossible for ritual texJts to change, myths, as an expression of political affiliations, inevitably do so, albeit within the frameworks of the traditional paJtterns.

The usif's most important title is monef-atonif (= masculine man), "man with an emphasis on strength and masculinity", to quote Cunningham. 116 This strength and masculinity are the aJttriburtes par excellence of the warrior. Middelkoop 117 points out that monef-atonif is a term used throughout the entire Atoni area wiJth reference to the meo naek (= great warrior or headhunter). Now, special meo lineages aJre mentioned in addition to the four usif lineages; I was given the names of four of these, Cunningham those of four times four. This fits in perfectly with the structure, in spite of the fact that these names are not mentioned in any of the rites. If four meo lineages are mentioned, these are representative of the realm as a whoIe, and if four times four meo lineages are enumerated, they must be representative of the four sub-territories of the realm. Even this is not the total number, as it is possible for any Atoni to become a meo. NoneJtheless particular lineages are designated meo lineages in the political structure. It is compulsory for the sous of these lineages to become meo by taking an aotive part in a head-hunting raid. Boys may become meo merely by helping to take a head - if one, for instanee, shoots one of the enemy's warriors and another beheads the corpse they both become meoy8

The four usif, however, are the actual war-leaders. Whether Usi Bala, as the masculine counterpart of the atupas, used to hold this function is no longer clear in the case of Insana. Some people expressed the opinion that th is was so, and judging from the structures of other princedoms this seerns very likely. In the Taolin myth even the ruler of Miomafo, Us Kono, is called meo naek, and this is correct provided he is regarded as Sonba'i's right hand or executive authority. Müller 119 also calls him the warrior prince of Amakono (Amakono being an old name for Miomafo). Within Miomafo itself, however, Kono is the atupas, the immobile, feminine custodian of the le'u, as we shall see in the description of the structure of Miomafo.120 Furthermore, according to the legend of origin of Insana, that princedom was aided by the great headhunters (meo naek) Kono-Oematan, Babu-Bifel, in its struggle for independence against Liurai.

That in Insana the usif was in fact a meo is evident from Steinmetz's 121 communication that the head of Tafinesu, that is, Us Pupu, was called Meo Misa. And an old travel account of Amanuban from 1851 122 mentions that there were four hereditary meo there, who were not members of the royal lineage; one of them, however, had succeeded in making almost all of the heads dependent on him. In other words, he had managed to secure for himself a position similar to that of Taolin in Insana.

In legends concerning headhunting raids 123 these usually appear to he led by important heads. But these stories are set almost exclusively in Molo and Amanuban, the structures of which are not identical with that of Insana notwithstanding a basic similarity. There is usually less consistency in the use of titles here, moreover. The general title used for prominent people is Nai (lord), a title which is also found in Insana with reference to the usif: "the four lords (nm') , the four spouses (kato)". It is probably the oldest and most generally used tirtle. The usif title was formerly used only with referenee to Uis N eno and Uis Pah, the Lord of Heaven and the Lord of the Earth - and, by extension, to the prince as the son of heaven (neno anan) and later on also came to he used for other personages. Even Sonba'i is referred to as Nai Sonba'i in stories of headhunting expeditions. Not the title of usif or nai, but the epithet monef-atonif (masculine man) is decisive here, however. The latter is applied to the headhunter (meo) or to the war-leader. The four usif of Insana were such war-leaders. The close association of the epithet monef-atonif with warfare is apparent from the definition which is of ten added, namely that they are the men who "kick the land, kick the lake" (atika paha, atika nifu) or, in other words, who kick in the "doors" of the realm and thus cross its frontiers into the territory of the enemy. Cunningham 124 says of them that they "were responsible for warfare, tribute to the ritual lord, adjudication and public order generally, and they had warrior chiefs who guarded the gate and the way of the princedom, controlling the movement of persons and tribute". He therefore calls them "secular" lords as opposed to "ritual lord", the name he uses for the atupas. In the traditional structure they were responsible not only for warfare, but also for the "harvest" of the war, that is, the heads taken during a raid which were brought to the ruler via them, just as the harvest gifts are offeroo to the ruler by the great fathers (the kapitan). It was the kapitan and not the usif who were responsible for the latter, however.

The ritual centre of the usif in their capacity as receivers of the harvest gifts is the tola, the sacrificial pole of the altar near the atupas' lopo - the four-pillared, open house, these pillars supporting a ceiling on top of which is a pillar which supports the conically shaped roof. This lopo is the customary meeting-place. Similarly the tola adjacent to the ruIer's palace is the meeting-place for the entire princedom. It is to this tola that the kapitan bring the harvest gifts and here the thanksgiving sacrifices for the harvest are offered. It is called tola naek, or great altar, around which the four usif have their tola ana or smaller altars, thus symbolizing their unity with the prince. That is why they also share in the harvest gifts (poni ane), so that the practice of bringing them harvest gifts separately must he of more recent origin, going back to the time when they became more independent and their sphere came to he "outside".

Their function in respect of the second sacred centre of the realm, that is, the ume le'u or "house of the sacred objects", the ritual centre associated with warfare, is more important, however. This ume le'u is also situated near the ruler's sonaf, in the navel of the realm. It is a smalI, low, square hut with only one sacred pillar, the ni le'u. It lacks a maternal pillar, as it is distinctly masculine. Every kapitan and every amaf has his own lopo (which serves as the meeting-place for his community) and an adjacent altar. But only a community capable of acting as an independent political unit was originally entitled to have its own ume le'u. With the resuIt that as soon as an usif had his own ume le'u he was properly speaking "outside" and able to act independently as the leader of a headhunting raid. This was the case in Insana. This may be a potential cause of scission, moreover, which took place frequently in Timor. In his capacity as war-leader it was the usif's task to protect the door (eno) which served as entrance (lalan = road) to the realm. This they used to do with the aid of their great warriors (meo naek). They are not usually themselves called meo naek, but this depends on the di stance from which they are viewed - in Insana Us Kono and Us Olin of Miomafo may he called meo naek, as they are the war-leaders of that princedom. In Miomafo itself, however, the latter are not caIled this, but are referred to as Us Kono, and Us Olin with his meo naek.

When Cunningham adds that the usi! are responsible for adjudication and public order as weIl as the general conduct of their subjects, and supervised the collection of tribute, he is thinking toa much in terms of the present situation. Adjudication was not in the first instanee the usif's responsibility, but rather that of the great fathers or kapitan. And supervision of the public order is a modern concept. What are we to understand under the concept "administration" with regard to the traditional situation in Timor? Hardly what we understand under it in a modern society or even in respect of present-day Timor.

The political life of the community has a centre with two opposed poles. Us Finit is always the centre - he is the atupas, that is, he sleeps, isimmobile and offers sacrifices. The two opposed poles are peace and war, "coolness and heat", and bath have the prosperity or "cooiness" of the realm in view. They are symbolized on the one hand by the lopo, that is, the meeting-place with the great aLtar (tola naek) together with the matemal pillar (ni ainaf) in the sona!, from which the sacred objects relating to the fertility power (le'u nono) are suspended; and on the other hand by the le'u house in which the sacred objects relating to the enmity power (le'u musu) are kept. This le'u musu comes into operation during times of war when headhunting raids are held. During such times the le'u nono is temporarily suspended. Nothing is as highly charged with sacred power or surrounded by as much ritual as a headhunting raid. No 11leo would set out without a le'u musu or without first ritually preparing himself. Af ter the expedition a new ritual was necessary to "cool him down" again. Seen in this light Cunningham's 125 statement that the "conduct of war" "is a secular pursuit" is not justified. Nor is it correct to eall the usif "secular lord", even though he himself takes no part in the performance of rites. Cunningham's term "ritual lord" for the atupas, on the other hand, is most appropriate. Although the atupas himself may not perform many rites he is clearly the cent re around which the whole of the ritual of his community revolves.

All matters which are of importance for the princedom as a political community are transferred by means of the ritual to the realm of the hidden and the sacred. Warfare and headhunting, moreover, are not only of vital importance for the community, but also constitute a very grave danger, as the enemy also employs hidden powers and thereby threatens the very life and existence of the community itse!f.

The usif is primarily concerned with this highly sacred event. Though he may not he a "ritual" lord, he is placed high above the incidents of day to day life. For in the Atoni culture the two opposed pol es of the sacred and the profane find expression in the polarity of that which is essential for the survival and perpetuation of the community and the lineage (ume in the sense of the locally defined descent group) on the one hand, and all that is repeated a thousand times in the ordinary activities of day to day life, such as the children's play, the informal social gatherings in the village lopo at night, spinning and other women's work (although weaving is not done entirely without the accompaniment of rites), and guarding the gardens during the period between planting and harvesting on the other. In the latter activity an element of the sacred enters in the form of the taboo which will inevitably bring down a curse or disease upon those who fail to obey it. Although all aspects of the Atoni's life are related to the hidden world, he is least aware of this in his ordinary, day to day activities. It is important to observe in this context that the Atoni has no word to denote "profane", so that the dichotomy of the sacred and the profane does not constitute a category of his classificatory system.

e. The Great Fathers

So far we have dealt with the centre of the princedom as a political community and have discussed all those who belong to that centre to a greater or lesser extent. The great fathers (amaf naek) live well and truly on the "outside" of the centre. They are the "fathers" or heads of the two halves and, besides, the major custodians of the land or tobe naek. They are Hitu-Taboi, resident in Oilolok in the east and Ainan in the south respectively; and Saidjao-Banusu, in Subun in the west and Fafinesu in the north respectively (see map no. 4 on p. 154). Hitu-Taboi are always named first - they represent the superior half. This corresponds with their geographical position in the east and south of the realm. Saidjao is supposed to he resident in the west. In actual fact his traditional cent re is situated to the sou th-west of Maubesi, the centre of the realm, whilst Ainan lies to the south-east rather than to the south of Maubesi. In spi te of these slight deviations we have here tangible evidence that east-south constitute one half of the princedom and west-north the other half. As the east and south are associated with the masculine, and the west and north with the feminine, the relationship between the two halves is a ma.sculine-feminine one. This is not inconsistent with the amaf naek's heing masculine (mone) in respect of the feto ruler - they are all mone by virtue of their affinal relationship with the raja and the usif in genera!. They are the bride-giving groups and as such are invariably mone and socially superior.

The feto-mone distinction assumes a different meaning where the term refers to the interior (nanan) and exterior (mone). For in this case the interior is superior. N anan refers to the immobile, ritual centre by which orders are issued, whereas mone stands for the active exterior which is protected by the ritual and puts the orders issued by the centre into execution.

This is the ideal pattern, which reveals a certain l>aJance of power within the political community. The great fathers are socially superior because they are bride-givers; they are economically superior because they "feed" the ruler by bringing him their harvest gifts; and they are, to some extent, religiously superior because they are the atoni amaf of the ruler and the usif, who are therefore dependent on them for their life-cycle rituals. On the other hand, the ruler is superior because he conducts the ritual on which the success of the harvest is dependent and because he is the custodian of the shrine on which the fate of the realm is dependent when it is at war; wars, moreover, were not infrequent - small-scale wars took place every year. He furthermore has political power, as he issues orders. In practice, however, the central power is aften weak. An usif, especially because he was the war-leader and the leader of headhunting raids, of ten acted politically independently.126 The same applied to the amaf naek, though not (or no langer)

in Insana, although it was an all too regular occurrence in other prince126 Cf. Middelkoop, Headhunting, 1963, passim.

doms. In the latter the distinction bet ween usif and amaf naek is less clear-cut than in Insana, in the s1:ructure of which it is most obvious. From the fact that in 1727 Ainan, the sub-territory of the amaf naek Taboi and usif Fal, is mentioned in the Documentos de Sarzedas as one of the reinos or kingdoms of Timor, in addition to Mena, the old port of Insana, it is clear that in Insana, too, the balance of power was most unstable. The changes during the past five decades, too, no matter how much they may have been influenced or even determined by the colonial situation, also show only too plainly how strong internal tensions can beo

The amaf naek was able to occupy such an important position in the political system and to make a positive contribution towards the preservation of a certain balance of power as a result of his position as bride-giver, because he was the immediate head of every clan and every lineage resident in his sub-territory.

Hence the political community is made up of two groups of clans (kanaf) each of which is in turn divided into a number of geographically defined lineages, each of them headed by an amaf. They are under the leadership of, or rather represented by, two great fathers (amaf naek) for each half.

This genealogical structure of the princedom reflects the territorial structure as well, while it also determines land tenure rights. These two kinds of structure are inseparable from one another, as the amaf naek are also tobe naek or major custodians of the land.

There are two perspectives from which 1:0 approach the question of land tenure rights. Looking at it from the highest level: when we speak of the land as belonging to the people as a political community we mean by "land": "territory". This is the political perspective. If land is interpreted in this sense an usif may call himself "pah tua" (= lord of the land). The usif are, in fact, called this on announcement of the prince's death (c. 15). Middelkoop lists many examples of this use of the term. For instanee, the ruler of Molo (Oematan) is addressed as "pah tuan" in one of his stories about headhunting raids,121 while the ruler of Amanuban said of himself: "I am the soil (au nain) of the whole of Amanuban. lam the land Amanuban (au pah Amanuban)".128 Middelkoop compares this with Louis XI V's statement "fétat c'est moi". In Timor these words have an even fuller meaning, as the title

Nai (Lord) suggests, which is probably related to nain (soil; nai kniti, for instanee, is gravelly soil). N ai is furthermore generally used in combination with men's names. In the Tetun language area liurai is a familiar title in which rai means "soil " , "earth", "land", and liu denotes the comparative degree.129 De Castro 130 observes that in Portuguese Timor the ruler is called colane/-rai. And Forbes 131 mentions rai-luli as the title of the most influential man in the princedom, luli meaning "sacred", "dangerous", "prohibited", cognate with the Atoni word nuni. He is the custodian of the sacred objects of the realm. This title again expresses the direct relationship of the head to his territory. In the ritual texts accompanying the presentation of harvest gifts to the atupas of Insana the four usif are repeatedly called nai ha, kata ha (the four lords, the four spouses). The usif, then, is first and foremost the ruler of his dominion, this word here having the same double meaning as in English, viz. (1) lordship, sovereignty, control, and (2) territory of sovereign or government. The prince - usfinit in Insana - is the sovereign of the entire territory and hence its representative, whilst the four usif have control, in pairs, of each of the two sub~territories, especially in respect of warfare.

Besides this political relationship to the land or soil, there is the question of land tenure, or the legal and economie relationship of a group or person to the soil which it (or he) tills and the fruits of which it reaps.

Looking at the question from the lowest level, we may ask who has a right to the land. Now, the house and its surrounding compound are the property of the head of the family occupying it. It is only in more recent times, since the villages were moved and have expanded, that the practice of constructing fences around this compound has come into use, as formerly there was no such fence. If the trees in the compound are planted by the head of the family they are his property, and his sons' property af ter his death. Hence all planted fruit-trees have owners.

A person cultivating a garden plot would always do so in collaboration with the people of his ume who lived in the same hamiet (kuan).

No permission for cultivation had to he sought if the same group had worked the plot before - it had certain rights to the use of the land from then on. Each member of the group would work a particular patch, [he yield of which he could keep for his own family. Even if a young man were rendering bride-services for the amaf of his wife's urne he was allowed to keep for his own use the produce of the part of the garden cultivated and worked by him, in spite of the fact that ~t was expected of him to help his father-in-Iaw. The tobe only becomes involved when the appropriate ritual af ter burning down has to he performed. As we saw in the description of the agricultural cycle, he is the ritual custodian of the land. His permission must he obtained before virgin forest land or pasture land can he cultivated. In such cases he has rigths of disposal over the land.

Formerly he was given a portion of the harvest. The primary meaning of the word tobe is "basket", or rather the lid of the small basket used for sacrificing rice and com, which is at the same time symbolic of the harvest gifts. The tobe placed his tobe heside the sacrificial pole (tola) of the altar and the people placed their harvest gifts beside this tobe or, as is more common in modern times, cast a coin into it.

He acted, hesides, as an intermediary in the presentation of harvest gifts (poni ana = pannier of rice) to the major tobe (tobe naek) and via him to the atupas and Us Bala in the palace. Hence in this function, as in his capacity as amaf, the tobe has a definite plaee in the political system. The major tobe (tobe naek) holds the same double function. He is in the first place the great sacrifieer - at the presentation of the harvest gifts he offers a sacrifice at his own altar (tota) before bringing them to the ruler; in times of drought or in other cases of failure of the erop he is approached in order that he may perform the correct ritual.

As regards land ten ure rights he is the highest authority with respect to the disposal over the land; the tobe naek is the aetual custodian of the land in thesense in whieh Van Vollen hoven 132 uses the term. In Bahasa Indonesia his titIe is tuan tanak (= land-owner), of ten translated with pak tuan by the Atoni; but this he definitely is not. He is "the Lord of the great sacrificial basket and the Lord of the great sacrificial pannier" (this refers to his ritual function). He is, moreover, "the long-handled weeder, the long-handled matchet" (tofa kau mnanu,

bena hau mnanu). This is the definition of his function as major cus132 Van Vollenhoven, I, 2, 1931, p. 438.

todian (tobe n(JJek) who, though indirectly (via his tobe), has the disposal over the land of his sub-territory. Eaeh tobe has a partieular, weil defined area inside the territory of the tobe naek. The boundaries are not weil defined, however - though people are aware of them they hardly ever mention them. Agricultural plots clearly constitute part of the ter ri tory of a partieular eustodian - there are never misunderstandings about this. Nor do people ever quarrel about pasture land - a herd of buffalo may safely stray across the border, as long as they rernain inside the territory of the quarter eoncerned. Friction is more likely to arise in issues eonceming rights of disposal over sandalwood and the yields of "bee trees" - besides cattle thieving, sandalwood and bees' wax are the most frequent causes of disputes and wars. They are na more than disputes as long as they are restrieted to custodians within the sub-territory of one tobe naek. Everyone knows exactly which sandal-trees and whieh trees eontaining hees' nests belong to his particular territory. In spite of this, they never hesitate to appropriate trees beyond their borders, especially if there al ready exists some tension as a result of various other matters. People residing in the territory of one tobe naek will not hastily resort to violence against eaeh ather. Even within the political community as a whole there are eertain restrMnts in this regard, although internal headhunting raids as a result of border disputes did sometimes take place. Sueh raids hetween two different political eommunities were a regular occurrence, however. The greater the political di stance between eertain groups, the more important was an exact kowledge of the border and the better people were able to name it: they would know all the names, from rock to spring, from grove to hill-top, alongside ereek-beds and across mountain ridges, so thaJt the border of a territory could he summed up "from name to name". A knowledge of the names is regarded as constituting an important part of the conclusive evidenee in support of a claim to the rights to a eertain territory. The opposing party, on the other hand, will try to define its border with even more eonvincing accuracy. Strings of names will coineide up to the critical point around whieh ,the dispute is eentred.

In a border dispute between Bikomi and Tunbaba 133 in 1947 - two politically almost independent distriets of Miomafo - the strength of the evidence furnished by a knowledge of the names was c1early demonstrated. Tunbaba insisted, with good reason, on a rectification of the border. The usif, all the tobe involved, village heads, and hundreds of people from the two quarrelling districts assembIed a.t a point on the old border consisting of a mountain ridge which offered a view across a large part of the disputed area. Both parties stood glowering at each other for a long time, only the moral authority of the government representative preventing a hand-to-hand fight. Each of the parties indicated the garden plots and c1umps of trees to which it laid claim. Thereupon the government official asked Tunbaba, as the prosecuting party, to sum up the entire border between the two districts. And although the usif of Bikomi was a very st rong personality, he and his prople were dumbfounded when the prosecuting party summed up long strings of names of places through which the old border ran, and subsequently the names of places in the disputed area, which was rightfully hers. Thereupon Tunbaba added another string of names, all in one breath, thus c1aiming a considerable portion of Bikomi territory. Bikomi was rendered speechless. The raja of Miomafo, an extremely weak figure who had been appointed raja much against the wishes of Bikomi, said nothing in favour of Bikomi. The Netherlands Government official therefore concluded, af ter asking Bikomi emphatically whether it had anything to say in its defence, that Tunbaba's claim had to be satisfied; the raja agreed. Bikomi signed the agreement, which listed all the names enumerated by Tunbaba. Only months later did Bikomi have the courage to go back on this decision. lts hea.d said that he had been absolutely dumbfounded and had been at a loss to think on the spot of any names with which to counter Tunbaba's claim. And the government official, who thought that he had experience in Timorese border disputes, realized that once more he had acted too hastily.

In a second case a border dispute arose between N oiltoko and Ablal. These were two very c10sely related districts of Miomafo which had for centuries been a unity when Us Kono was resident in Noiltoko as Prince of Miomafo, so that their borders were rather vaguely defined in the "greater" tradition. The reason for the dispute was that someone outside the house of Us Kono was to become district head of Noiltoko, so that a border now had to be definitely demarcated. The government official allowed the two parties to discuss the matter for seven hours on end, once again on a mountain ridge offering a view across the disputed area. The custodians of the land themselves were drawn into the case via their district heads and on the basis of their "lesser" tradition a border line was determined. This was possible without too much difficulty, be it af ter endless negotiations, because Noiltoko, Us Kono's former centre, and Ablal, the district of Uis Mone (the masculine Lord in respect of Kono) , continued to recognize the fact that they formed a dual unity, even though someone other than a Kono was to become district head of Noiltoko.

Thc major custodians of the land therefore dispose over the land of particular areas with well defined borders. They are at the same time the "great fathers" (amaf naek) of these districts. They are the genealogical and territorial lords, in pairs, of the two sub-divisions which inhabit particular, bounded areas. Genealogical and territorial units are inseparable here, so that their land tenure rights assume political significanee. Originally they were the territorial heads. So the terms "territorial heads" and "genealogieal heads" are OOth equally appropriate. They are the representatives of their fa ana, to kliko/34 the ordinary people living in their sub-territory. Therefore OOth the titles nai and amaf ean he used, nai plaeing greater emphasis on the territorial, and amaf on the genealogical aspect of their function.

In recapitulation the following ean he said: the nucleus of Atoni society is the ume, the limited, locally defined lineage. Genealogieally this ume is part of a lineage whieh mayor may not be locally defined and whieh in turn is part, along with other lineages, of a clan (kanaf) resident in a particular area headed by an a.maf nae/~. Lineages of this kanaf may live outside this area as weil. Diffel'ent kanaf reside within the area of one amaf naek, who is the genealogical head of the most prominent kanaf and therefore the amaf naek of all of these kanoJ.

Besides this, the territorial series runs as follows : an ume is a locally defined group of kin. Sueh an ume originally eonstituted a separate hamiet (kuan or lopo) but had no land of its own - this it shared with other ume. This land was in the custodianship of the tobe, who is the amaf of one of these ume, the area in tbe custodianship of one particular tobe usually eoineiding with the territory of a village and its constituent hamlets. Hence the territory of a tobe is the srnallest territorial unit of whieh the boundaries are accurately defined. The amaf of the various ume of a village make up a council of elders or amnasi, one of whom is the village head or temukung, a title whieh was adopted during the colonial period; formerly one of the amnasi used to he primus inter pares. The eombined areas of these tobe constitute the territory of a tobe naek (i.e. a sub-territory of the princedom), who is also amaf naek. Hence the territorial and the genealogieal aspects of the system eoineide at the apex. and at the base.

By virtue of their important position it was they, and not the four usif, who were given the ti tie of kapitan by the Portuguese. And by virtue of their double function - that of tobe noek and a.maf naek, or territorial head and genealogieal head - it is they who have the task of bringing the harvest gifts to the palace of the prinee and Us Bala, or, to use the Portuguese titles, whieh undoubtedly give a correct representation of the hierarehy, the rei (later kesel) and the kolnel. The four usif or "rnasculine men", whose sphere was "outside", also received harvest gifts and in this respect helonged to the palaee, where, in fact, they have their own small altars or tota ana. However, in their capacity as defenders of the realm they are "outside" (mone) and are masculine (mone) in respect of the prince (atupas), who is feminine (jeta). Therefore they are affiliated in pairs with the two pairs of "great fathers", and hence their borders coincide with theirs. In reply to the question as to what is the territory of the two kapitan Hitu-Taboi the Atoni will summarize the names defining the boundary. And to the same question in respect of Us Taolin and Us Fal the reply is invariably that they "have found their places" with Hitu-Taboi as usif, hence as rulers or masculine counterparts of the central authority, who were entitled to receive harvest gifts directly.

1t is only as a result of the developments during the colonial period, however, that the usif have become district heads at the expense of the position and function of the kapitan. If formerly an usif, who was "outside", came to be gradually more independent - a normal course of events - this usif would himself become the centre or "interior" of a new politica! community. We shall come across examples of this happening in the discussion of the relationship between Sonba'i and Kono. Kono and Oematan were both usif of Sonba'i and were in this capacity the meo naek or great warriors, the "masculine men" and the exterior of Sonba'i, who is the ritual, immobile centre and hence feta. But in Miomafo, which has been independent for centuries, Kono is in turn the immobile, feto centre, the masculine "exterior" of which is represented by Us Thaal and Us Olin.

Insana is unique in that this 50rt of division did not take place here. Tt is for this reason, and because it was not subjected to colonial rule until 1915 (50 that in 1940 and 1946, just before and just af ter the war, there were still people who could remember the pre-colonial system from their own experience), that of all the Timorese princedoms Insana offers the best opportunity for analysing and describing the old system, notwithstanding the fact that drastic changes had taken pi ace because Taolin, one of the four usif, had seized the power, thereby supplanting the entire centre. The only riyal he had left was Meo Misa, Us Pupu, the first of the second pair of usif in the other half of the realm, with whom the fact that Taolin was recognized as raja in 1915 still rankles - rivalry between them is still keen. Cunningham's information that Us Pupu was temporarily deposed in 1960 and was replaced during this time by Taolin is further evidenee of this. But he adds that a member of the house of Us Pupu was certain to become district head of Fafinesu (Nor.th Insana) again. Present developments are such that Insana will

INSANA NORTH _na lalan III IJ c • E .. i M E _no .. _na A ~ M S lalan ... lalan S T Ij' T x Us Fal x Tah •• te Taboi x DIAGRAM No. 7 _na lalan SOUTH

This diagram is based on a diagram drawn by an Atoni in Maubesi. This consisted of three cirdes and contained a south-east-north-west diagonal to indicate the dichotomy.

I. Paha usan - the navel of the realm, the feminine interior, surrounded by an extensive endosing fence inside which are:

1. the tola naek or large sacrificial pole (altar) adjacent to the lopo and the ume le'u;

2. the four tola ana or srnall sacrificial poles of the four usif, surrounding the tola naek;

3. neus atoni, neus unu - masculine door, onginal door;

4. neus muni, neus bifel - younger door, feminine door.

n. The periphery of the cent re.

lIl. The masculine exterior.

Atupas - he who sleeps, or Usfinit - supreme Lord, or Kesel - emperor; in sonaf kiu - tamarind palace.

Us Bala, kolnel ; in sonaf Itsapi.

Tkakin-Banusu, Pala-Matau Fina: asani, anako - sweepers, dusters, and ama kliko - little fathers.

Kofi-Saunoah, Finsau-Lamasi: atoni mnasi, bifel mnasi - old men, old women.

Atau-pah, Ana' -pah, Abain-pah, Afen-pah: huma naeka ma mata naek - the great faces, the great eyes.

Taolin-Fal, Pupu-Tonbesi: Usif - Lord; Monef-atonif - masculine men.

Kase-Tahrnate, Boas-Tnufai: meo naek - great warriors.

Hitu-Taboi, Saidjao-Banusu: amaf naek - great fathers ; tobe naek - major custodians of the land; kapitan.

probably split into two in the fUJture. 135 But when I was in Timor for a short stay in 1%9 Taolin very proudly informed me that Insana was the only princedom in N orth Centra! Timor which had not lost its unity.

This chapter has given the main outlines of the structure of the princedom of Insana. We shall now proceed with a comparison of this structure with that of other politica! communities in Timor and then go on to discuss the structure of the political community in Timor in genera!.

DIAGRAM No. 8

.abalu lalan nosa lalan maiss lalan aub. lalan rarinhu-Boekboak Kasé-Tahmate Sumu-Taslulu Nei 'saban Ataupah ... A':na'pah c .. c ~ Abainpah Afinpah ,. .. ... ,. 0 lf ;. ... e, .. • c • p. ';, " '.'. c 8 c c • c ...... .. .. 0 • p.p. I I I J> ~ . .. " on • Usfinit E " o c 0'" ~ ... ~ " " 0 8 .., " .. -' ~ .., • ... .. .. .. "'0 .. .. .. " on .., I I I ...... .. c ,.. .. :;: .... " ~ ..... ...... .." " ........ ..... .. .. .. o 0 .. on .. " 0 J> 0'" ' ... ~ 11)'" 11) .. Kolnèl Bal. 0 • .. Sans'o-Tnutai Tnek-Tamnasi Ainan-Tuatnopa' eno Illnasi lal IIIn.si

s

135 Cunningham, 1962, p. 87, note 1.

N éno-lalan. f'atu lIéo naek m~o naek allnasi am at' kliko (rèto ha'u) ... • .... ... e .. e ti 50na 'mn •• i ... . .. sonar sonar E .. • ... I .. 0 c: . " • 0 Ol .. kiu usapi 0 e e .. Cl .. .. B B e " " ... 0 .. 0 • I In ... ... ... " 0 .. .. ... • " .. J<''' .. " '" .. . " " .. • .. .. • atupas .. apopèt .. anaet atoin mnasi, bité mnasi .mnasi méo naek fatu méo naek CunninSh •• , 1962 'no-lalan ·s

DIAGRAM No. 9

NOTE to Cunningham's diagrams of the Sltructure of Insam:

Cunningham's diagrams and mine are basically alike. He gives two, one setting out the names and the other setting out the functions - I have only shown the names in mine, indicating the functions in the accompanying notes, and have indicated the sacred, ritual places in the centre. From the text it will be c\ear why I have placed various figures differently: I do not agree with the idea of dyadic east-west and south-north oppositions but favour the opposition of eastsouth versus west-north on the analogy of the chief division which we have both indicated by means of an unbroken line.

Another point of divergence between the two diagrams is that my informants have placed a circ\e around the centre, thus showing the peripheral area between the centre (the "inside") and all that belongs to it, and the two times two subterritories of the princedom which are on the "outside".

Moreover, Cunningham has placed the four usif, the four great fathers and their followers in pairs next to the north-west and south-east diagonals. In my view this is unnecessary, as the Atoni does not associate a separate structural or c\assificatory distinction with this.

Cunningham has Iisted a larger number of names. Many more could be added, as there is continuous repetition right down to the village level.

CHAPTER VII BELU, BEBOKI AND FIALARAN

1. SOUTH BELU

AJthough Insana is a Timorese-speaking area, in the past it had close links with the realm of South Belu. According to the tradition of this reaIm the ruler of Insana was a lara, that is in this case, a ruler of a vassal state, whose laro's title was conferred on him by the ruler of South Belu. And according to the tradition of Usif Taolin of Insal1a his lineage used to receive brides from the Liurai (a coIIective name for the rulers of South Belu). This is correct only in part, as Taolins, the four last descendants befare 1915 at any rate, married princesses from Manlea, a snmII principality situated on the border between northeastern Beboki and North Belu, and from Manlea in South BeIu, which was admittedly part of the realm of the Liurai but did not itself supply a liurai or even a lara. The memory of the kesel (emperor) of Insana as a former loro of the Liurai is still alive in Insana, sa that ilt is probable that there was an affinal relationship between them in which one of the liurai was bride-giver.

Because of this historica1 tie bel1:ween Insana and South Belu it is interesting to compare the politica1 structure of Insana first with that of South Belu. The only source we have is Grijzen's study from 1904. The latter is sufficiently reliable as far as the data are concerned, as Wortel boer, who spent same time living in the house of the Liurai in Wehale in 1946, attests. Grijzen (as weIl as maps printed in his time) 1 of ten designates the princooom of South Belu as "Malacca", but this name does nolt occur in earlier sources. Paravicini concluded a contract with the "supreme roler of the Belonese realm and the sovereign of Wywiko Bahale in that realm" in 1756.2 And Pigafetta, who according to Le Roux 3 made a landfall near Batu Gede in the western part of the nonth coast of Portuguese Timor, writes in 1522: "On the other si de of the island there are four brothers, who are the kings of that island. Where we were there were towns and a number of their chiefs. The names of the communities of these four kings are: Oibich, Lichsana, Suai and Cabanaza. Oibich is the largest." Withourt: any doubt Oibich is Waiwiku and represents the actual realm. If Lichsana is 1nsana, which is possible though linguistically improbable, this does not mean that 1nsana was one of the four original states which made up the realm of South Belu, but rather that the realm was described as viewed from 1nsana, which extended to the north coast and had an important port there called Mena.

Wehale was the seat of the Meromak O'an, the son of God - he was the ritual head and the custodian of the sacred objects which were kept in the uma lt/lik, or lulik house, adjacent to his palace ; lulik is cognate with the Timorese word nuni (taboo). There was a double division of the realm, and the four tribes (hutun rai hat = tribe - lord - four) were said to originate from Sina-Mutin-Malakan (China - white - Malacca). Grijzen 4 draws the conclusion from this that the South Belunese, at any rate the uppermost population stratum, may have originally come from Malacca. On the strength of the myth of origin it may equally well be assumed that China was the country of origin. During their voyage these four tribes caUed at the islands of Kusu, Kaë. Api, Loë and at the town of Larantuka-Bauboin. The islands cannot be identified, and China, Malacca and Larantuka are clearly names with which the Be1unese are familiar as a result of centuries of trade oontacts. 1t is therefore incorrect to accept SinaMutin-Malakan as an alternative name for Malacca without further enquiry.5 Vroklage, although an adherent of the cultural-historical school of Vienna, suggests very cautiously that a knowledge of the route was spread by the Chinese. As they had light skins rthey were, according to him, called Sina-Mutin (mutin = white, fair-skinned). He adds, however: "The most likely supposition is thaJt this myth refers back to an invasion which took place in rthe 16th century. At that time many people were expelled from Malacca - there was even a bishop among them - some of whom thereupon landed in Timor".6 There are no historical data whatsoever which point to large-scale emigration in the area, though it is not unlikely tha:t af ter the fall of Malacca in 1511 a number of Malays sought refuge in Timor, which was of such great importanee for their trade. But this could scarcely have made an impact on the prople and the culture of Timor.

Because of physical and cwtural differences between the South Belunese and proples such as the Bunak, Kemak and Atoni it is fairly certain, on the other hand, that there were migrations to Timor 7 perhaps some thousands of years ago. Moreover, the supposition is not to be rejeated that the tradition has preserved traces of such migrations and that it has integrated these into the world view. According to the myth, for instanee, the four tribes on the coast of SOUIth Belu had three brothers as leaders. The eldest settled in Wehale, the second in Waiwiku, the third in Haitimu. The fourth tribe did not have a head, buit later obtained a son of the ru1er of Wehale, who settled in Fatu Aruin. They encountered the Ema Melu (ema = man), who are regarded as the original inhabitanJts. Their sacred place is still held in high esteem. These people were armed with bows and arrows, whereas they themselves had lances. (In Grijzen's time the Belu rarely used bows and arrows, although these weapons are still well known in the area.8 The Atoni, on the other hand, have never used bows and arrows, and their language does not even include a word for these.)

According to other myths the Meromak O'an originaIly came from heaven.9 This, too, fits in with the Belunese world view. Meromak O'an means "son of God". The rul er is associated wi.th heaven. He comes from "outside" or according to the Atoni from the east, neon sait (= where the sun rises) , from overseas or from heaven. The people who "al ready lived there" emerged from the earth.

The four nuclear princedoms were mostly designated by the double name Wehale-Waiwiku. Besides these four Grijzen mentions as pam of the realm Suai and Kamanasa (Pigafetta's Suai and Cabanaza) to the east, the present-day Portuguese Timor, as weIl as <three distric:ts, Dirma among them, in which Wehale-Waiwiku influence was dominant. Two of these were located in Portuguese Timor. He mentions, in addition, 23 petty princedoms to which the sphere of influence of Wehale-Waiwiku extended. Of these Beboki, Hameno, Insana and N enometan or Anas belong to the Atoni area, while nine others are

located in Portuguese Timor. These numbers vary cominually, be7 See p. 23 above.

cause fusion and fission were the order of the day. In a summary in the Instruçao do Conde de Sarzedas 10 only a few of the names of the 46 petty principalities listed there as helonging to the Be1u area of Timor - under which it c1assifies the whole of Portuguese Timor - in the years 1727-1777 correspond cIearly with those mentioned by Grijzen. It does not mention Wehale-Waiwiku,and classifies Drima (Dirma) with the princedoms under the sphere of influence of the realm of Serviao, which stands for Sonba'i, while of the thirteen pertty principalities of Portuguese Timor mentioned by Grijzen in 1904 only four are inc1uded in the list of 47 reinos which existed in Portuguese Timor in 1864,u not including the enclave of Oikusi.

This may he partly rthe result of ignOfall1.ce or of the practice of designating princedoms by the name of the ruler's residence. But

Grijzen's description 12 of the petty principalities which were in exisThe Realm of South Belu in accordance with the present-day

district boundaries.

MAP No. 7 1. Wehale 2. Waiwiku 3 lora 8. Dirma ~ 7. Lakekun 3. Haitimu 9. Fialaran ~ 10. Maubara 3 liurai ~ 4. Fatu Aruin 5. Sonba'i 3 loro 11. Beboki 6. Suai-Kamanas 12. Insana tence during the period immediately preceding Durt:ch occupation points to continual, rapid change (Cf. maps nos. 5 and 6).

According to Grijzen the structure is as follows: The realm of Wehale-Waiwiku was ruled by the Meromak O'an, the son of God, who was the ritual head and whose residence was in Wehale. Like the atupas of Insana he was allowed "only to eaJt, drink and sleep". It was his duty to safeguard the sacred objects in the ume lulik (= the taboo house) and to lead the staJte ritual.

The Liurai of this realm was resident in Fatu Aruin, to the north of Wehale. He was the active rul er. (Liu denotes rthe comparative degree, and rai means "land".) Viewed from Wehale-Waiwiku th ere were three liurai, however: the liurai of Fatu Aruin as weil as those of Sonba'i and of Suai-Kamanasa, the Belu area on the Portuguese side of the border. Hence we arrive once again at a division of the total iruto four: the Meromak O'an and his three liurai. In the Atoni area, on the other hand, Liurai denotes the whole of Wehale-Waiwiku, and even its entire sphere of influence in Belu. Here Liurai-Sonba'i therefore stands for the combined territories of these two. In Belu itself, too, the total area of the four nuc1ear terrirtories is referred to as the realm of Liurai.13

These were surrounded by the realms of rthe three loro (loro = sun): that of Lakekun, Dirma and Fialaran. The firsrt two are c1assified as sons of the Meromak O'an, while the third married one of his daughrters. Beyond these areas in North Belu there are another three princedoms with rulers who were appointed loro later on: Maubara in the Tetun language-area of Portuguese Timor and Beboki and Insana in the A ton i area. In each case there are th ree, therefore, who make up a foursome with the Meromak O'an. There are supposed to have been another four loro, but people were able to name only three of these.14

In his own territory, that is in Wehale, the Meromak O'an had th ree minor chiefs who were in charge of the acrtual, practical government of the three areas outside the village of Wehale.15

Waiwiku, like Insana, had in addition to its ritual prince, who was the younger brother of the Meromak O'an, an active, execurtive authority who was that prince's right hand, the difference with Insana being that this executive authority did not reside in the same village as the ritual prince. There we re, moreover, "four children", two of whom lived in a "double village", Besiek - AmaJll, the present-day Besikama, while the other two lived in two different villages. Hence in Waiwiku, as in Insana, there are two times two districts beyond the immediate palace area of the ritual prince.

The dualism of the ritual prince and the executive authority for the whole of the territory of the four tribes is represented by the Meromak a'wn or "the elder brother", and the Liurai his "son" in Fatu Aruin. There is no further mention of the fourth tri bal area, Haitimu, where the "younger brother" of the Meromak a'an lived. In the myth the tribe of Haitimu was headed by one of the three brothers while the head of Fatu Aruin had no name. Hence there has been a shift in power. Van Wouden 16 states that it is impossible to determine whether this is the result of a historical process or of a culture-psychological process, meaning that although the elementary four-fold division asserts itself both in reality and in the myth, it is overshadowed by a division inrt:o three which is also present in the myth - the four tri bes were headed by three brothers - and is manifest in the present situation as a result of Haitimu losing its importance.17 As we saw in the description of the kinship system, however, there is not question solely or even primarily of a triad, viz. bride-giver - ego - bride-receiver, but of a double duality, viz. ego - bride-giver (feto-mone) and ego - bridereceiver (mone-feto). In the political system we shall also find a double division art: the basis of the structure, with the ruler in the centre making up a fifth; here he bas at his side four usif, one for each of the four subterritories, or - if the emphasis lies rather on bipartition - two usif, as in the princedom of Sonba'i. There is, besides, the possibility of tripartition. Perhaps the fact thaIt the myth mentions only three brothers should be compared with the Sonba'i myth, which also mentions ·three brothers who came from the east. In that case we must suppose that there was formerly a centre with two halves of the realm. Wehale, the seat of the Meromak a'an, was in that case probably the cerutre and Waiwiku and Haitimu the respeotive seats of the heads of the two halves. When as a result of a historical process Haitimu lost its importance ~t was probably classified with and under Waiwiku, so that a partner had to be placed next to Wehale; this was a new personage, hence a son of Wehale, namely Fatu Aruin. The latter then became the executive authority or liurai of Wehale at the same time, because in accordance with the general pattern of development in Timor the other sub-territory, Waiwiku, had goown into an independent cemre, with a central, passive ruler and an executive authority at his side, surrounded by two times two quarters.

The faat that only ,three boothers are named in the myth may also he a result of the fact that the Meoomak Q'an, i.e. Wehale, is regarded as the point of departure for quadrupartition each time the sphere of its power increased. There are always three liurai, three loro and three "minor chiefs". The three boothers in the Sonba'i myth should perhaps also he viewed in this light. The two thoories are not incompatibie with one another.

This principle of quadrupartition in Wehale's external relations is one of the structural possibilities. The other possibility is, as in the case of SOtlJba'i, that the ruler always sees himself as the centre hetween two or four realms surrounding him.18

In the first case a division such as thaJt suggested by Grijzen results :

This is not solely a mythica1 classification, as Van Wouden says, but also a geographica1 one which is mentioned in the myth as well but from which no c1assificatory conclusions are drawn. It is nonethe1ess possible to say that the east is superior to the west - Wehale is the supreme ruler and his son becomes liurai in Fatu Aruin, wherea.s Waiwiku is his younger boother. The dual unity is probably one of ea.st as opposed to west - hence the name Wehale-Waiwiku for the total territory. Van Wouden writes thaJt the antagonism between Wehale and Waiwiku in Grijzen's time is an essential element in the sphere of bipartition. But this is only true in part. For although dual unity in Timor implies a certain degree of rivalry it is nonetheless a unity. If there is no longer unity this may he the result of the historical process of disimegration which set in in 1642.19

Nor are Van Wouden's 20 reflections on moral power and aotual power, defence and governme11lt respectively, as set out in the table below, entirely correct, as the Timorese himself does not distinguish between these cart:egories in this way:

Elder Y ounger

Mora! authority - Rea! power: Weha!e (and Fatu Aruin) - Waiwiku Defence Government: Waiwiku - Fatu Aruin (and Weha!e).

These are the terms used by Salomon Müller in 1829, during a short stay in the interior, to describe asystem with which he was totally unfamiliar. To the Timorese the power of the rÏJtual prince is the most rea!. He had "rain and drought, good and ill fortune, and the course of battle at his command" according rto Grijzen. What Van Wouden regards as the rea! power is the executive authority - bUIt this authority is ineffeotual without the power of the custodiaill of the sacred objects to back it, although this of course does not prevent the executive authority from becoming so powerfuI as to destroy the unity of the realm. Furthermore his classificart:ion of government with the younger (Fatu Aruin) as against defence with the cider (Waiwiku), though in itself it fits in quite well with the Timorese system, cannot possibly relate to sepamte areas. There cannot possibly he a geographical separation between govemrnent and defence.21

2. BEBOKI

Like Insana, Beboki is an Altoni princedom on the border of Belu. The ruIer of Beboki also used to he a loro of the liurai or, in other words, of the realm of Wehale-Waiwiku as this was represented externally. The difference between them is, however, that Insana borders immediately on Wehale-Waiwiku ailld that Beboki borders on the princedoms of North Belu.

During my investigations in Beboki in 1941 ailld 1946 the rtitle of loro (sun) was still commonly used for the ritual rul er besides that of keser, co!lltrary to the practice in Insana. But in ritual texts he is always called atupas, as in Insana.22 My investigations in Beboki were at first seriously hampered as a result of the fact that the loro lineage had been eliminated for the same reason as in Insana, namely that the ruler cannot actively govern. With rthe consent of the heads of the district of Oetasi, the adat centre of the realm, in which the loro lineage was resident, the head of Manlea was elected raja. Manlea was a tiny, more or less independent poHtica1 community to the north-east of Beboki, half the population of which was Tetun-speaking. Because of its size the Netherlands Indies Government had joined it to Rarneno, another small principality to the north of Beboki. These two were traditional rivals, so that there was opposition on the part of Rameno to the appointment of the head of Manlea as raja of Beboki. Af ter the Japanese invasion, though before Japanese occupation of the interior, the long-standing tensions rose to a head and this resulted in the outbreak of a minor civil war in March 1942 against the son and successor of the aged ruler who had govemed Beboki from 1915 until 1942 with a great deal of tact though with litJtle authority.

Af ter the war the young district head of Rameno died and the intemal Itensions eased considerably, partly because of the common suffering endured during the ]apanese occupation. Besides, much of the old structures had disappeared during the thirty years following the introduction of an efficient administration.

Like Insana, Beboki had two pal aces in Tamkesi, the sacred heart of the realm, situated on top of a mountain ridge at the foot of two peaks in the district of Oetasi. This twin mountain symbolizes the cosmic dualism which is manifest in every kind of relationship. The western mountain is the Oe Puah (= the source near the pinang palm).23 The eastem mOlmtain is called Tapen-pah 24 (= guard of the realm) ; doubtless it offers a view not onIy across the whole of the country - like the western mountain - but also as far as the Savu Sea (ca1led tasi feto - feminine sea) in the north, or rather north-west, and the Timor Sea (tasi mone or masculine sea) Ln the south or south-east.

The Tapen-pah was the most sacred sacrificial centre. OnIy in cases of extreme distress, such as famines or epidemics, sacrifices - consisting of a white pig, or possibly a white goat - were offered on it to atone for the sin, that is, the error committed in the ritual. At the risk of their lives a few amaf would climb its steep slopes, one of them carrying the sacrificial beast tied to his back. In places where the cliffs were too steep and barely a toehold could he found in the virtually sheer cliff-side, the animal would he carefully hoisted up with the aid of a rope. For it had to reach the top a1ive at all costs, as a dead animal is of no use for sacrificing. At the top of the mountain there was said to he a small lake in which a white buffalo had its habitation. This lake never dries up, and an amaf who had been up there once for sacrificing vowed that he had seen it with his own eyes.

Tamkesi lies on the saddle connecting the two peaks, and there, on the Oe Puah side, the loro's palace was ouce located. To the east of his palace was that of the executive power or kolnel. N ear the sanaf of the loro or atupas was the state shrine, caIled Neno Beboki (= the heaven of Beboki), in frOIll1: of which stood the altar, the large flat stones of which still lay in perfect order and ready for sacrificing. So the ruler, who is regarded as feminine, and his masculine counterpart lived in between the two mountains, the loro - the mother of the realm - at the foot of the easily accessible, rounded Oe Puah in the west, while the foot of the inaccessible, sharply pointed Tapen-pah to the east was a pre-eminently suitable location for the residence of the loro's masculine counterpart.

One of nature's freaks coincides here with one of the Atoni's classifical1:ory principles - the masculine, inaccessible guard stands in the east, i.e. the direction associated with the masculine. At the same time, this Mount Tapen-pah is apparently higher than the western mountain, the Oe Puah, and this coineides with the requirement that the masculine saerifieial pole found outside the house of every lineage head he higher, as Vis Nooo Mnane (= the tall Lord of Heaven) than the Vis Neno Pala (the short Lord of Heaven).

The sou ree near the Oe Puah and the mountain itself are the "souree of renown, the rock of renown" as we eneountered these in the Insana ritual in referenees to the plaee of origin of a clan. In this partieular case it is the place of origin of the prineedom of Beboki as a whoie. The foot of the cliff is overgrown with kese, a stinging~nett1e shrub whieh serves as an even more venon1OUS guard against like1y i11J1:ruders in the most holy sanctuary of the realm than the thorns of the cactus hedges more eommonly used for this purpose. The southern slope of the Oe Puah drops perpendieularly; in its northern flank there is a smal! hollow in which the houses of palace servants, mainly descendants of slaves, stood. Like the loro, the majority of the court functionaries had moved. One of the clans which guards the sona! was referred to as Sonla'i.25 One of its ancestors had once accompanied a princess of the house of Kono of Miomafo who was rnarried off to the Zoro of Beboki. Now, according to a genealogy from 1915 a great-great-grandfather of the then loro, whose age was roughly ninety years, had married one of Dis Kono's daughters. So this must have been between about 1725 3ind 1775 or earlier, as sometimes genealogies skip a generation. He was even ca!led the first Zoro, which might point to the restoration of Dis Kono to his former position af ter the annihilart:ion of the realm of Sonba'i by the Topasses and the Portuguese in 1642.26 The pomt worth noting is that from that time onward Kano of Miomafo was recognized as Beboki's bride-giver and hence as the Zoro's superior.

My inforrnants in 1947 denied having any knowledge whatsoever of this first Zoro, and mentioned his son Nesi as the first ZorG' whose name was still known. As genealogies ean usually be traced back eight to ten generations this ean only point to one thing, name1y that at that time people refused to recognize Kono as the loro's superior, which is quite understandable in view of the conflicts which raged around Kono of Miornafo. For af ter all, the Atoni expresses politica! relations in terms derived from the kinship system.

To the north of the depression between the two mountains of Beboki there is a srnall hill with a few large trees on it. This was of old the location of the homes of court functionaries, and in 1947 a more recent palace complex was found here as well; the latter was surrounded on all sides by a high stone wall, in the midst of a forest which is several hundred metres deep on the eastern and western si des. The remainder of the ridge and the mountain near the Oe Puah are covered with mounrtain pastures which are usually green all the year round. Most of the buildings of this complex were extreme1y dilapidaJted, only the loro's sona! being still inhabited and its sancrtuary, the Nooo Beboki, in good condition.

In front of the Zoro's sona! stood, apart from the usual masculine sacrificial pole, rtwo other poles surrounded by rthe altar stones; these were the Liurai and the Sonba'i. This is proof that Beboki also lived in the sphere between the two ritual and politica! poles of the dual monarchy of Timor, Liurai being the representative in the east and Sonba'i the representative in rthe west of the supreme ritual roler. The same was seen to be the case in Insana.

Adjacent to the sonaf was the lapa, the loro's meeting-place, with behind it, that is on the northern side, the Neno Beboki (= Heaven of Beboki). Here the tokens of the unity and solidarity of the realm were kept. Each clan which married one of the laro's or koinel's daughters had brought its strings of coral beads (inu leko) here, each clan knowing precisely whart: it had brought here in the course of the years. Here also reposed (in 1947, at least) the gold-set Taninu-Fienbas, a necklace consisting of ten strings of coraJ beads, which was said to have been brought from Wehale in the very distant past. I t was said to have been brought here by Taninu Fienbas, the ritual names for Bukifan and Taitoh, the two tribes which "came before" the laro - they "were al ready there". Wh en the lara came "afterwards" this le'u necklace was given him for safe-keeping in the Neno Beboki as a symbol of the covenant between them. Here the le'u hulan-1nanas - a string of le'u beads, the name of which means "rain-sun" - was also kept. It is used during sacrificing on the le'u cliff, the Tapen-Pah, and is supposed to restore the balance of nature if carried as an offering to the top of the sacred mountain. The Tapen-Pah was ascended for sacrificing in cases of severe drought and the consequent threat of failure of the crop - when in fact it had a1ready begun to wilt, as only then were sacrifices offered on the Tapen-Pah; this was supposed to bring on rain, as its name was "rain le'u" (le'u hulan). If, on the other hand, the harvest was being washed away by heavy rains it was supposed to bring on sunshine and warmth, as it was also a sun le'u (le'u manas).

The N eno Beboki furthermore contained a few gold discs and two knives, which were regarded as proof of the laro's power over the land, as it was with these knives that he divided the territory of Beboki among all the rightful c1aimants. Or rather, the kolnel had done so on behalf of the lora as his aotive, execUitive authority. This is why there were two knives. Similarly, as the story had it in Tamkesi, there were two knives in the Liurai's umaklar 27 in Wehale, which had been used to divide up the whole of Timor. Most of the other le'u objects had perished. They included a rusted kris, which could have been Javanese in origin, some spears, only rthe poitlJts of which remained, and some small rtrinkets. The laro had been the chief custodian responsible for this treasure.

The Neno Beboki had a door opening onto the south, which was the men's door (neus afuni), and a women's door (nesu bifel) in the western wal!. It has two main pillars, called Liurai-Sonba'i, which are fetomone in relation to each other. Their position is said to be north-south (i.e. feminine-masculine) respectively. But in reality the Liurai pillar is on the southern side near the men's door; no-one was able to offer an explanation for this. The explanation could be that the southern or men's door is the more important, just as Liurai is the more important of the pair; but Liurai is aIso the feminine centre around which the whole revolves and therefore classifimtorily speaking belongs with the feminine north. N ear this door there used to be a wooden bench for important guests who might come in by the men's door. The women's door is used by guests of lower rank. It is taboo (nuni) for women to enter the N eno Beboki.

Behind the loro's sonaf there was a small house, called "the first house" (soan unu, soan being a methathetical form of sonar!)). According to some this was the house of Abu Kune, whom the first loro who canle from Wehale married. Hence her father, a Kune who bore the ti tIe of Seon-pah (= receiver of rthe land), must have been living here before the loro came. Similarly a Kune who "already" lived there and gave his daughter in marriage to Sonba'i occurs in the Sonba'i myth of origin. In 1947 the Kune lineage was still prominent in Miomafo as its senior major custodian of the land. In Beboki, however, Kune seemed to have sunk into oblivion. And it was said by some that this "first house" was nothing but a temporary house for the eIdest son of the loro to live in when he was about to get married.

J ust as the sonaf of the loro or atupas had been transferred to the wooded hill to the north of the saddIe connecting the two mountains, the kolnel's sonaf had aIso been moved to the north. The larter's title was Us Aätan (= Divider of the land), while he also bore the name Us Kenat (= Lord of the Rifle), as one of his ancestors, who was an excellent marksman, had once hit the Pleiades when aiming at a buffalo. The Aätal11 was the koinel, or in any case the potential kolnel. The kolnel title presents a great many difficulties in Beboki. Steinmetz's genealogical tree of 1915 of the loro line features a certain Tabesi Usi Ana' -pah who is kolnel ; he is the husband of a sister of the loro, and died at a very high age in 1915. Besides him there was a kolnel by the name of Nesi Taut-pah, the grandson of a younger brother of a loro; he also died in 1915. Steinmetz also mentions the Mone Mnasi line as kolnel line, of which the last descendant in function died in approximately 1885 and ldt no sons, although the house of Mone Mnasi has continued to exist to this day.

Uis Kenat said that he was a descendant of the lora, who, like Liurai, was a SOI1 of the Meromak 0'a11.28 This means that they constÏ<tll'ted a dual unity - he and the loro were one, and he belonged to the sonaf, as was the case in Insana. The same relationship still exists today in Miomafo between Uis Kono and his active, masculine, executive counterpart, the only difference being that here, as in Wehale- \Vaiwiku, this executive authority no longer lives in the sonaf but is the head of a separate sub-territory. Us Kenat was the person who took receipt of and distributed the harvest gifts on behalf of the laro. He played an active part, whilst the loro was forbidden to do anything but "sleep, eat and drink". He welcomed the guests to the sonaf and was in charge of adjudication. He had next to him Us Kaluan, whose name is a derivative of kalua = to pour out or to squander. The latter is rus assistant, the fuoctionary who pours out the gifts of homage before his lord. As in Insana, these gifts of homage, which are poured out so lavishly before the ruler, are also called maus, however, with the connotation of "to tame". This assistant occupied the same function here as the four "old men, old wamen" of Insana.

There was further located in Tamkesi the sanaf Nisnoni. Nisnoni (= silver-ltoothed one) originally came from the district of Taitoh and was one of those who "were already there" before the loro, i.e. the origina! inhabitants of the rea1m.

In diagrammatic representation this palace complex appears as follows (page 246):

The antipole of this court or "inrterior" - which, though it itself encompassed the polarity of the masculine and the feminine, the irnmobile and the active principles, was, as the interior of the rea1m, feminine and immobile - was the Mone Mnasi (= masculine - in rthe sense of most prominent - old man). He lived "outside" or mone, and was the kolnel.

Here an insight is afforded us into the complexness of the kolnel function. The kolnel is clearly always the masculine, active antipole. But the question that is not always so easy to answer is: who is kolnel? And this is where we are con5tantly brought face to face with a point

of political conflict. As we saw above, our informants in Insana cate28 P. 236 above. In South Belu the loro of Beboki is not regarded as a son

Unu Neno Beboki sona! with altar sona! sonaf kolnel loro lopo • Us Kaluan dwellings of palace sona! • • . •. I. koinel Tamkesi

gorically denied that there existed a kolnel there, in spite of the fact that his signature occurs in the minutes of the meeting of the Council of Chiefs held in 1915.29 In Beboki we came across a kolnel, who was married tÜ' the loro's sister, inside the centre of the realm, this being the normal situation. In this case the loro is also superior on account of the fact that he is bride-giver, and is by virtue of this relationship masculine in respect of the bride-receiving kolnel. Furthermore, we saw the grandson of a younger brother of the atupas, and in Insana one of the atupas' brothers, acting as kolnel. This is obviously a case of usurpation of the power. Now, as we have already said, th ere is in Beboki a masculine antipole outside the centre of the realm as weIl - more or less on the analogy of South Belu. His le'u centre is the Hau Tes (= hard heartwood) on a hill twelve km. to the north-east

DIAGRAM No. 11 1~ 1.1 Mon. lq.nas i • • 11 11

Diagram of the Structure of Beboki

Oe Puah; at its foot stood the /oro's sonaf 2 Tapen-pah; ko/ners sonaf located at its foot 3 Loro's sana! 4 Loro's /opo 5 SOlla! ItnU 6 Nma Beboki 7 Sonaf of the kolnel, Us Aätan 8 Us Kuluan 9 Pal ace servants 10 Mone Mnasi 11 Banu-Anonet, Nuku Taunbain 12 Eban-Tautpah, Tnesi-Aluman east-south, west-north they live around the loro 10 11 and 12 1 + 4 + 4

13 Taitoh tuaf; Naidjuf 14 Li'it-Saineno, Tobati-Asulan 15 Muni-Saman, Kani-Nafe 13 14 and 15 1 + 4 + 4 16 Us Abatan; Kato 17 Bnani-Tole'o, Tatoab-Li' anmanas 16 and 17 1 + 4 Total: Loro-Mone Mnasi and ten klulli: Eban-Tautpah, Tnesi-Aluman Takaf-Natfana Taitoh-Bukifan Harneno-Manlea 2 + 10 of Tamkesi. He is the father, just as the loro is the mother, of "the ten lying-places, the ten roots" (kluni boas, ba'at boas),30 root here denoting "origin". People had difficulty in correctly naming these, and when they began to enumemte them they got as many as eleven, upon which they joined two kil/ni together. Hence the old structure had already faded iruto obscurity. In 1915 ol1ly seven of these nam es could be remembered, and these included Harneno and Manlea, moreover. A comparison with Fialaran in N orth Belu, which has a similar structure, will help to give us a better insight.

To recapitulate the above, then, we find in Beboki a loro or atupas - who is also ca!led pah tuaf, meaning "lord of the land", though not in the same sense as the custodian of the land is called this, but rather as the represe11ltative of the rea1m as a whoIe. He has at his side the Mone Mnasi, who is the representative or head of the four clans Banu - Anonat, Nuku - Taunhain, which in turn make up his community, of which he is himself the centre. There are further the four clans Eban - Tautpah, Tnesi - Alutna!l1. The remarkable thing about them is that the people of Beboki classified them with the Mone Mnasi although they live around the lora's sonaf, once again in the order of their precedence as indicated by that of the points of the compass, Eban living in the east and Tautpah in the south, together making up the masculine, superior half; and Tnesi in the west and Aluman in the north making up the feminine, inferior half. This is anolther clear indication of shifts in the balance of politica! power taking place. It is with the names of these four clans that the entire princedom of Beboki is designated, and ,their heads are the great fathers. They are also referred to as the great warriors (meo naek), which is an indication that the actual tribal units are those of the great fathers, being the territorial and genealogical units which farm the basis of the political system.

We furthermore find in Beboki the clans Takaf-Natfana, Bukifan - Taitoh, which lived there before the loro came and are hence the autochthonous inhabitants. They still occupy such an important position here that not only do they still constitute independent politica1 districts, but the head of one of them, namely Nisnoni, also has his place in the {aro's sonaf, as we saw above. They live due north and east respectively of

the centre of the realm. Their order does nolt seem to have any significance, Taitoh being the most important because i.t has the most in30 According to Mathijsen, 1907, kluni in Tettm means pillow.

habitants and aIso being the representative in the centre of the realm.

SomewhaJ1: to the exterior of this princedom - which is extremely complex and divided as it is - are the districts of Hameno and Manlea on the north coost, which before 1915 acted as virtuaIly independent units, although at present Ithey identify themselves completely with Beboki, as was clearly apparent in the 1947 uprising.

For this reason the question wh ether perhaps we have here a double centre - with the lara and the kolnel on the one hand and the Mone Mnasi on the other - is completely justified. Hence the pattem is different from that in Insana, but rather resembles tha,t of WehaIeWaiwiku.

Apart from the four principal clans Eban-Tautpah and Tnesi-Aluman which assist the Mone Mnasi as war chiefs - although their location is around the lara, so that they actually represent the popula,tion of Beboki - there are also four usif or lords who live around the laro's sanaf, one in the north (Us Tu Sala) and one in the west (Us Tetu), one in the south (Us Satkele) and one in the east (Us Poba'ala). The usif in the west actually also comes from the north, where he lived on the opposite river bank from the usif in the north. The southern and eastern usif stand in the relationship of elder and younger brother in respect of each other ; they are also bath called Us Tnesi and as such were the mea naek or great warrior of Mone Mnasi. Here we come face to face with one of the most extraordinary enigmas in the struoture of Beboki. A1though there are in reality two usif Tnesi living in the east and south respectively, Tnesi is one of the four quarters of the tribe which are grouped around the lara and lives in the west. So here we see how Mone Mnasi somehow contrived to bind two usif, i.e. representatives of the ruler or lara, to himself for purposes of warfare, he being the great defender of the realm, sa much sa that the great faJ1:hers are called his mea naek or war chiefs. But why these two usif should be identified with Tnesi, who lives in the west, I have as yet been unable to discover.

So a comparison with Insana gives many points of similarity, although Beboki has a double centre, and the four usif here are seen to be complete1y in the background. Only Us Tetu, the western usif and hence by no means the most important one, happened by coincidence ,to become district head. In Insana, on the other hand, one of the lfsif, Taolin, attained more or less the same position as Mone Mnasi - :.e. that of masculine counterpart of the af'upas in the cent re - while the Mone Mnasi of Beboki na longer fuIfiIIed an administrntive function. I

An important difference with Insana is provided by the fact that in Beboki there are two importaJnt districts, Tai,toh and Bukifan, which are considered to he older ,than the political configuration of the lara and the Mone Mnasi. These ancient communities of Taitoh and Bukifan are feta-mane in respect of each other, Taitoh in the west being feta. Bukifan is very small, but Taitoh is a large community with a weIl defined structure of its own: in the first place it is divided into west élIl1d east, which here again are feta-mane in respect of each other. Four clans live in the west, with usif Abatan in their midst. There are also four clans living in the east, and another four were added to these later on. The usif for the entire community also lives here; he is Taitoh-tuaf (= the lord of Taitoh). Another name for him is Makun or Mako-en Tuan.31 The Lord of Taitoh in the eastis called Naidjuf,32 whilst the usif in the west bears the title kata. Now this word means "wife", "spouse". In the ritual of the presentation of the harvest gifts in Insana there are references to the four lords (nai), the four spouses (kata), bath nai and kata referring to the usif. People in Beboki even said that kata is used exclusively for men, fenai being the only titIe for wives of heads. Yet it is clear that the titles of these two heads express the division into an eastern, masculine, and a western, feminine half. Hence we have in Taitoh a western half with four groups and an usif in the centre and in the eastern half twice four groups with the usif constituting the ninth.

History alw shows that Taitoh occupies a special position. It concluded a treaty with the East India Company as an independent princedom in 1760.33 The same is true of Harneno and Manlea, which were in reality virtually independent u I1'ti 1 1915. Yet they were classified, even at that time, with the kluni or "lying-places" of Bebaki. This relative independence may have been a result of a fairly long-standing contact with the Netherlands East Indies Gavemment, which had established a centre in nearby Atapupu in 1816,34 Ithough it is quite certain that both Hameno and Manlea were of aId relatively autonomous in spite of the fact that they had an affinal relationship with the lara of Beboki and were regarded as part of Beboki. The lara was the first bride-giver, and was therefore [X)litically superior. He remained superior even when three generations later a younger brother of a lara married a daughter of the ruler of Harneno. Hameno is divided into wo parts - a southem, superior part in which the ruler is resident, and a northem part which is partIy Tetun-speaking.

Manlea is for the greater part Tetun-speaking. It seems st range that in spite of this difference in language within the territory Manlea is represented as a unitary whole - so much so that iJt: comprises only one single clan (l?anaf) , consisting of a feminine half - the lineage of the sacrificial [X)le (uma tala) , and hence the half in which the ritual aspect bas its place - and a masculine half, the warrior lineage (uma mesa). lntermarriage between the two is permissible but was re[X)rted1y not the norm. So in practice there is only one other alternative - there must be other clans present. This is in fact the case. BUit to all appearances we have here the only example in Timor of a locally defined clan which consisted of a feminine, ritual moiety and a masculine, active moiety.35 lt is no longer clear how this functioned and wbat affinal re1ations existed there if, as is sometimes asserted, the two moiet:ies were not allowed to have any affinal relations with one another.

So we see that the structure of Beboki as a whole is extremely complex. There was a centre with a lara who was the "mother". He was the feminine, immobile ritual leader. His right hand was a masculine, aotive ruler. Their paJaces were due east and west of each other. lt was said that the lora had two clans, namely Suni-Banoen. Around the sanaf, due north, west, south and east of it, lived the four usif, as we saw above. They are listed in that order, which runs complete1y counter to the usual Timorese pattem. Similarly, in the mortuary rites of the rul er of lnsana these four principal clans are mentioned in the west-north, east-south order.36 But it is evident from the way in which the usij are grouped together that the main division is a northsouth one,the usif of the west belonging with the north (which is where he actuall} comes from) and the usif of the east belonging with the sOUith. Although fundamentally the dichotomy is similar to that in Insana - as north and west are OOth feminine, and east and south both masculine - the primacy no longer lies with the east.

Beboki is an ideal illustration of what is meant by structure and structural principles in the present hook Piaget 37 suggests as one of the characteristics of a structure ilts totality - the whole is more than the sum of its component parts. So we have a princedom, consisting of a ritual centre, the masculine antipole of the centre, and different tribal units. They are all of them structures which constitute a part of the total structure of the princedom of Beboki.

Piaget's second idea, which is of great significanee in view of the fact that a certain synchronic rigidity is of ten imputed tOo structuralism, is that concerning les transfarmatians. We have been able to observe in Beboki more than anywhere else how these structures are in constant motion. Although the structure has a certain lai de campasitian this is repeélitedly being violated - the ruler is seen to try to oust the kalnel, and the Mone Mnasi to draw the ruler's usif into his own sphere, sa much so that even the great fwthers of the quarters of the realm are called the Mone Mnasi's great warriors. Everything is in motion or in a state of transformation.

There is nonetheless clearly a certain autaréglage - the third tendency mentioned by Piaget - perceptible. Everything arranges itself anew in accordance with "les lais de campasitian". Structures tend to re-adjust themselves, though this does not necessarily imply a repetition of the old. There is definitely a tendency towards self-regulation present. The masculine counterpart is indispensabIe to the rul er, the great fathers cannot exist without a ritual centre to which to bring their harvest gifts, and sa on. We might sum up the entire system in this way, where in spite of all change there are certain powers of selfregulation or autaréglage inherent.

I should like to add as fourth point thalt this is connected with certain structural principles which are present in a society and which are firmly rooted in, among other things, man's structures of thinking. We shall elaborate on ihis in the chapter on classificatory thinking.

Looking at Beboki we clearly distinguish as one of the classificatory principles the principle of bipartition - there is a ritual centre with a number of tribal units grooped around it. This dualism is also observabIe in the dichotomy between the ritual centre and the Mone Mnasi, while the latter's community is in turn constructed Oon the classical Timorese pattern of four clans with a centre at their head in their midst. We repeatedly come across the number four, or two times two. So there are four tri bal units grouped around the lara (which are at the same time the four war chiefs of the Mone Mnasi). They are grouped in pairs, and so form a masculine and a feminine half - east and south as opposed to west and nomh. The same is the case with the four usif, who are also always mentioned in pairs - north (under which west is c1assified) and south (in which east is inc1uded).

This does not become immediately c1ear even upon thorough investigation - let alone at first glance.

Around the Mone Mnasi were classified the four sub-divisions. These were: Eban - Tautpah, Tnesi - Aluman. At their head were the great fathers or amaf naek, with whom the four mea naek are identified. They are the aotual kluni, or lying-places, which are the lara's and mone mnasi's children. Their names are also mentioned in Ithe ritual of Insana with reference to the whole of Beboki.38 Another four kluni live around this double centre, namely two which were there already, viz. Taitoh and Bukifan in the south-west and east respectively - these were in a sense original, constituent units; and Harneno and Manlea in the llorth which were rather semi-autonomous units. There are furthermore two kluni in the north, namely Takaf and N aJtfana. The latter are part of the structural nucleus of Beboki, and the lara's northern and western l/sif are affiliated with them. It is not surprising, therefore, that people in Beboki have difficulty in enumerating all of the ten kluni or ten "children" on the model of Fialaran. The result depends on the approach to the whoIe.

Taking as our starting-point the familiar basic structures the structural development outlined helow might weU he possible. I t should he borne in mind, however, that this is not a historical reconstruction, as it is impossible to trace back the history of the area concerned, but that it is a likely development which could have taken place as a logical consequence of the latent possibilities of the structure of Beboki itself and which fits in complert:ely with the genera! framework of the politica1 structures in Timor.

The basic structure for the whole is provided by the trihe "which was there in the beginning", namely Taitoh-Bukifan, the two-fold half of the tribe in the south, besides the dual half Takaf-Natfana in the north. The centre came from abroad later, itself consisting of a ritual, immobile centre which is feminine with at its si de a masculine, executive partner, and in the exterior (mane) four usif who are also nwne (= masculine). Outside the ritual centre - within which the polarity of the masculine and feminine principles had found expression - a new masculine centre developed, cutting across this paitJtern, in contrast with the pattern in Insana though in agreement with that in South Belu. This new masculine cent re was thart: of the Mone Mnasi, and around it there were another four clans, while, moreover, the great fathers also grouped themselves around him, the two southern usif also heing classified with one of the great fathers grouped around the Mone Mnasi. Is this a consequenee of the principle - found to operate especially in East Timor and even more strongly so in South Belu - according to which the tora or atupas (= he who sleeps ) is so immobile that political power has no significance at all for him? Under politica! power should he understood here the executive, military power, while it should not be forgortten that the ritual power has the most important politica! implications, as its bearer bas the power of imprecation as weIl as the responsibility for the harvest and war rituals and is the mediator hetween heaven and earth and hetween the living and the dead. All these are matters which have daily political consequences. It nonertheless remains an e~traordinary phenomenon, which Francillon points out emphatically in his dissertation.

The structure of Beboki is further complicated by the usif's position which, as we saw, is so enrtirely different from that in I:nsana. The two northern usif have even gone as far as affiliating themselves with the autochthonous groups Takaf-Natfana. We can speak here of a weakening of the loro's position, who has lost two of his usif or representatives with the "exrterior" to these autochthonous groups. This was, in fact, the story that was told. But viewed objectively - possibly even from a historical viewpoint - we may equally weIl suppose that the ruler's representatives became the heads of the autochthonous groups, a similar process to thart: described by Southall 39 for the Alur in Uganda, where the ambivalent phenomenon of the ruler's sons - who had been invited by the autochthonous population to become their heads - somertimes also displaying a tendency to become independent, though never atvtonomous (this was equally inconceivable in Beboki), was also to he observed, for the rest.

So we see in Beboki a marked similarity with Insana, South Be1u and even Fialaran in :norrth-eastern Belu. In Fialaran there is question of a twelve-fold division, and this, too, is clear from the structure. The central position is still occupied by the tora as mother of the realm and the Mone Mnasi as the father. Then follow the four tribal quarters grouped around the loro and with whose name the princedom as a whole is designated, viz. Eban-Tautpah, Tnesi-Aluman. Then there were the four autochthonous groups Takaf-Natfana, Taitoh-Bukifan. And in conclusion there were Harneno and Manlea in rthe north, which were added later. So we have the mother and father plus "the ten lyingplaces, the ten roots" all complete.

3. FIALARAN

The struoture of this politica! community in North Belu, which was still of importance at the beginning of the present century, reveals many similarities with that of Beboki. Grijzen 40 first relates the myth of origin of this realm and of the ancient, ideal structure, and then gives an account of the structure as found by him. Van Wouden 41 follows in Grijzen's footsteps, but begins by saying that "its social status es and their arrangement are embodied" in this myth, as are its relations wi,th other princedoms. This is an overstatement, however, for the actual social and politica! organization is not embodied in the myth, a1though it may to some extent be reflected by it. The myth only indicates the struotural principles and the ideal structure as conceived by the narraltor and his circ1es at the time of narration.

The myth relates how in primeval times, when the enrt:ire counrt:ry except for the summit of the Lekaän (the highest mountain in Belu) was covered by the sea, a man and a woman lived here. I t was forbidden to tell their origin. They had a son and a daughter who married each other and had two sons and two daughters. Meanwhile the walter receded and the elder SOH and younger daughter sailed away and became the founders of the royal house of N aitimu in the west. The brother and sister who remained behind had ten sons and three daughters. The youngest of the ten brothers was extremely cunning. He was the culture-hero who eventually insisted, on an occasion when he had once more been able to demonstrate his superiority, rthat the others recognize him as ruler. Following this his brothers moved away, five of them to the west and four to the east. The former are mentioned no more, but the latter became the founders of the related princedom of Maukatar. Only the youngest, Mauk Bauk, remained. The rest of the myth is best set out in a genealogica! tree, in which the names following the numbers designate the parts of the realm :

DIAGRAM No. 12

Dasi Mauk Batik daughter !\leromak O'an I I : I I 1. B~a'_'ho--'r--_da....JIt:;;~:'ln 2. Klu,in dattg~f'_t't' __ Na..Jiïmu daUgL.t_er __ 4_. _Ast...J,manu ~~,~~to~n Mainita ___ -L... ____ ~-----__,,...------__. I Bauho da.. Balibo da.. 3. Lasiolat da. Naitimu da. Lidak first ruler ~I~~..JI ~I ~ __ ..JI L.1 ____ -...J1 L.I ____ -..JI of Bauho I I I I I I Bauho 5. Lasaka 6. Dalala 7. Manuk Leten 8. Umak Laran 9. Soroau

It should be noted that the Meromak O'an is recognized as superior ruler because he is bride-giver. But Fialaran was bride-giver in respect of Naitimu and Lidak, and hen ce their superior. Internally Bauho and Klusin are the senior two and hence are more prominent than the other districts, which are their "children".

The myth further relates how the ruler of Bauho one day encountered the ruler of Asumanu (4) and the roler of Lasiolat (3). Both had emerged from the earth. When the ruler of Asumanu saw the ruler of Bauho he began to urinate with fright, and when the rul er of Bauho showed him his regalia he was frightened "almost to death". When the ruler of Bauho encountered the prince of Lasiolat, the Jatter cowered in fear and began to weep upon beholding the regalia. Thereupon they recognized Bauho as supreme lord. Three other, non-related areas (Tohe (10), Maumutin (11) and Airt:oon (12)) also became part of the realm, Tohe through a marriage to the daughrter of Lasiolat.

Hence there were rtwelve distriets, among which Bauho was the mother and Klusin the father. The ruler of Bauho bare the title astanara (as = high; tanara = to look up at). He was the immobile, feminine, ritual ruler and the ruler of Klusin the active, goveming, masculine rul er. The latter used to collect the tribute gifts from the other rulers, two thirds of which he passed on to the prince of Bauho. He was called, among other things, the chief ruler's right hand. The other ten were "their children" or the ten Lords (dasi sanulu). The rulers of Bauho and Klusin also bare the titIe dasi. Of these ten, Lasiolat was the most prominent of those who "were originally there". That is why he was the ruler's left hand, according to the myth.

The actual organizaJtion at the beginning of the present century was altogether different from the order reflected in the myth. Lasaka no longer existed. One of its mIers was so cruel, as one of the myths relates, that the supreme ruler of Bauho had him pUIt to death and his territory annexed to his own rea1m. In Grijzen's time the structure was as follows:

Those in the west descended from the original inhabitants of the Lekaän and those in the ea.st emerged from the earth, or in other words, they "were there originally".

East Fialaran's ties with the ruler of Bauho and with West Fialaran in general had been virtually severed. It no longer brought harvest gifts. Bauho was only informed of important everuts such as the outbreak of war, and auxiliary troops were sent to Bauho whenever he became involved in a war. The highest position in the east was now occupied by Lasiolat, being the centre of East Fialaran. He had at his side a speaker, mak' oan, who was his right hand and responsible for the execution of his orders.42 And only the rulers of Bauho and Lasiolat were still dasi, the others having been reduced to the status of datu. 43 Besides the personage in whom the execUJtive power was vested there were commanders-in-chief (surik ulun = sword-head, hilt) in each district.

The structure of East Fialaran now seems to be as follows:

Lasiolat, with an immobile, ritual ruler and an active, executive authori,ty or mak' oan with his warriors, surrounded by four subterriJtories.

So we see Fialaran's unity symbolized in an ancient myth. It probably arose in the circ1es of Bauho; but this does not mean to say that it is not known in this form in East Fialaran as well. A myth may change for the very reason that, besides representing an ideal pattern, ~t is the reflection of actual social and political relations which are subiect to change. In our examination of the structure of Miomafo we shall see how a changed myth is manipulated as a political weapon in the struggle for political power.

There are nonetheless elements in the myth which are recognized as true and correct by all. It is not c1ear, however, what kind of structure it depicts. Van Wouden's diagram 44 is not correct, omitting as it does details which do not fit in with it and inc1uding incorrect data, as the foUowing diagram shows:

The first error is that, without any feeling for history, he tries to fit both the mythical situélltion and the situation prevailing in Grijzen's time into one diagram. He is determined to find quadrupartition and hence opposes Bauho and Klusin, who occupy a central position in the myth, to Lasiolat who in Grijzen's time occupied an independent position opposiJte1:o Bauho. And he dismisses Asumanu by adding the name with a question mark af ter it. It is furthermore incorrect to c1assify the mak'oan with Asumanu 3II1d the warriors with Lasiolat. For every ruler and every head has a ritual speaker as well as warriors. The other seven names in the myth have been omitted. It is no longer possible to say exactly what the old struoture was in reality. But it is c1ear that we have here the same phenomenon as in Beboki. The old names of the father and mother and the children Sil:ill linger in people's memories. In Beboki there are a loro and a mone mnasi, the mutually complementary mother and father, who constitute a dual unity, plus two times two groups which were the origina! inhabitants, and four groups around the mone mnasi which came from abroad, whilst on the periphery there were another two virtually independent communities which had received brides from the loro.

In Fialaran similarly the myth confronts us with a father and mother. In this case there are five groups on the one hand, and two plus three groups of original inhabitants on the other: hence we have twice five, with the number five remaining unexplained. Usually thc number five is composed of four plus one, the fifth heing the centre and symbolie of the unity of the whoie, as Van Ossenbruggen observes in his penetrating article on the Javanese term montjo-pat/5 and as Van Wouden also suggests in this connection. The implication of this would he that we have here, as we shall encounter similarly in western Timor, a centre (a dual ceI1ll:re in this case) and two halves of the realm, O11e of which is affiliated with the ruler - who should most probably he associated with heaven, as in South Be1u and in the Atoni area, and whom Van Wouden does, in fact, associate with the sky on the basis of his title of astanara (= to look up high) - while the other half was there hefore it, and therefore associated with the earth. Each group forms a unity, however, expressed by the division into five within each of the two. Thus we arrive at the following diagram :

It is worth noting that the half associated with the earth lives in the east. This is presumably a geographical coincidence. It is therefore not mentioned in the myth, nor is it included in the classificatory system. If the geographical position happens to fit in with the system, such a coincidence is gratefully taken advantage of, as in Beboki.

As a consequence of an evolutionary process or historical change in Fialaran, East Fialaran became virtually independent, so that the ancient centre of the realm as a whoie, the mother and fa:ther of the historical situation which prevailed at the beginning of the present century, became the centre of West Fialaran only, to which they are more closely related anyhow, as the myth also states. As aresuit the west then consisil:ed of a centre - Bauho and Klusin as a dual unity - as weIl as five groups. This is structurally impossible; therefore one of the groups, Lasaka, has disappeared, so that now the centre and the "four houses, the four iron piIlars" remain. The principle of five-fold division has asserted itself again. And in East Fialaran we see one of the five developing ioto a superior cent re. Here Lasiolat has the only remaining dasi and a mak' oan, or active, executive ruler, at his side. And, of course, he is surrounded by warriors.

The remaining political communities of BeIu present roughly the same picture. Dirma, situated between Fialaran and South Beboki, has a loro who descends from the M eromako' an lineage, so that here there was a stronger political ,tie with the princedom of South BeIu than in Fialaran. The immobile loro had an active ruler, resident in a different district, at his side - he was his right hand. And th ere are, in addition, eight "children " , the first of whom is the prince's left hand. These were probably divided into two groups of four.

The princedom of Maukatar, half of which is Tetun-speaking and half Bunak-speaking, similarly had a sovereign prince and an executive authority residing in separate places, with, besides, six "children". As aresult this princedom is called kaluni nen (= six lying-places; the same word as that used in Beboki). It would be interesting to find out how the two different language-groups arrived at the formation of a political community, what the myth says on this subject, what the structure was and how it functioned. For in one half of this community the population spea.ks a non-Austronesian language, so that quite possibly there are marked cultural differences between the two groups, also in the social and politica 1 structures.

However, the whole of the Bunak-speaking princedom of Lamak-nen (six ditmer-plates) had exactly the same structure as Maukatar: a sove~ign prince and his right hand, as weIl as six "children". So we have an eight-fold division in both Maukatar and Lamak-nen.

Djenilu on the north coast is divided into two, the two parts coir.- ciding with the coastal area and the mountain area, as in Amfoan in West Timor. On the coast livoo the seven Lords (datu hitu) Uluier a dasi or prince, this area therefore being divided into eight parts. In the motmtains Iived the four Lords (datu hat), whose unity was symbolized by the second dasi. This prince appea.red from a cave in the mountains and ruled the oid realm of Kabuna. When, in the course of time, there was only a female dasi left she married the dasi of the coastal area, thus uniting Djenilu.

It is quite likely that this myth reflects ,the way in which older elements of the mountain population intermixed with later arrivals who lived on the coast. The language (Kemak) also bears traces of such mixing, for it is a mixture of Tetun and elements which appear to he Bunak.

THE IMMEDIATE SPHERE OF INFLUENCE OF SONBA'I

1. SONBA'!

Besides the realm of South Belu there existed the realm of Sonba'i. which formerly probably covered the entire Atoni area.

Viewed from South Belu Sonba'i was one of the th ree liurai, one of whom lived in South Belu (Fatu Aruin) itself, one in the east (in the Tetun-speaking part of Portuguese Timor) and one in the west (Sonba'i).

Sonba'i's own myths also state that Sonba'i derived his power from his "elder brother", the liurai of Wehale-Waiwiku.

The structure of the realm of Sonba'i is even more difficult to trace than thaJt of the realm of South Belu, notwithstanding the fact that important indications are given by the myths.

Middelkoop 1 has published an imporant collection of these myths and stories concerning Sonba'i a10ng with their translation. It is of the utmost importanee to note in this context in what circles the myth is related. Kruyt 2 relates a myth concerning the origin of Sonba'i which probably arose in Sonba'i's own circles. The same myth was recorded by Middelkoop 3 in 1934 as relalted by Balo Kune, a member of the lineage that "was there a1ready", and the same story here takes on a completely different colour. Kune's version runs as follows: When the entire land was still under water Fai Surai Kune lived on the Mutis as its guard (the Mutis is the highest mountain in the Atoni area, just as the Lekaän is the highest moun1:ain in Belu). When the earth had become dry he settled somewhere Iower down on its slopes. Two other Atoni, Nai Djabi and Nai Besi Tle1a,4 also came to this place - they

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 263

had also come down from the Mutis, as the story states further on. "That is where his father and his mother are".5 They built a house with eight pillars, the ordinary Atoni house having only four.

Kune had a son, Nai Ke Kune; and later, when he went to live by himself near the source of Afoon, he had four daughters by another wife.

Later on Sonba'i roamed around the country until he reached Kupang, but he could not find the Lord of the Land (pah in tuan). Liulai,6 who was reduced to drinking salty and brackish water on the coost, sent him back to look for the latter again. This time he found two of Kune's daughters at their spring. As he looked like a filthy Atoni fellow, the elder refused to fetch him water. But the younger agreed to gat it for him. Sonba'i poured the water all over himself and suddenly became radiant in appearance, so that both sisters now wanted him for their husband. He thrm,t his spear into the ground with his sirih pinang purse attached to it. The elder of the sisters, Bi Djasa, was unable to extract it from the ground and, as it grew longer, could not reach the purse either. Angrily she returned homeward, whereupon the younger puIIed the spear out of the grouoo without any difficulty.

Wh en Sonba'i reached Kune he was given a golden chair to sit on, whilst Kune seaJ1:ed himself on a silver one. Sonba'i then said that his name was Falukis Belu and that Liulai was his elder brother. In order to inform his brother of the success of his mission they chopped down ten Kune bamboos, fiIled thern with water and wild cassava leaves and a whetstone, and hurled thern away as one would a spear. The rocks split asunder and the largest river of Timor, the NoiI Benain, which flows from the Mutis to South Belu, first began to flow. Wh en Liulai heard the water come rushing down he knew that his younger brother had met the Lord of the Land. To this very day bamboo and wild cassava, both with red sterns, still grow on the coost of Wehale. Two sterns are alive and two are dead. The whetstone is also still there, and the Belunese sacrifice art: it. As a return gift Liulai sent "the precursor of the rifle, the precursor of the horse, the precursor of the coral stone and the precursor of the reins".

Not long afterwards Kono and Oernatan came from Belu. Their names were Nai Ebo Be1us and Nai luf Be1us.7 The fonner married Bi Djasa and the latter Bi Funu, the second daughter of Kune. Then the usif of Timau came from Be1u together with Banam and Nai Lamu am Tein Lasi.8

Kune thereupon gave them new names in his village of origin. Ebo Belus was named Kono because he could hurl Sonba'i's spear right through Kune's house, Kono meaning "(to hurl) right through". Sonba'i's name derives from that of a white bird, sone, which he was given to eat. This and another white bird (nes muti) became taboo for him, "lest he should eat his own name".9 luf Belus was given his name when a spring gushed forth where the spear which he had thrown struck the earth: Oe Matan = water - sou ree. And Timau received his when he turned over a stone; he beoa.rne Amfoan: foan = to lift, ama = father. Banam too was given his present name, as weIl as all the other mIers (uisfini) . Kune gave each of them one of his daughters in marriage. Later on in the story we hear, however, that Kono gave his daughter to Amfoan and became Amfoan's bride-giver, as weIl as Nai Benu's (Ambenu in Oikusi).

Nai Djabi and Nai Besi were angered by the fact that all the new arrivals were given a pI ace, but the princes chased them away and many heads were taken. Kono now was given the mountain Miomafo in the east, and Oematan Mount Molo in the west. Sonba'i settled in between these in Paeneno - Oe Nam. Or, as Sonba'i says to Amfoan and Ambenu in the myth: "Go Thee to the flanks of the land (pak in ninen), for I came first and found the Lord of the ~Land". Thereupon he says ,to Kono and then to Oematan: "We must remain here with our grandfather in the navel of the land (paha usan), so that there he three of us to guard the Mutis". Then Kune says that he will assign them a place. "But I shall not honour Thee as usif, I shall nol!: weed Thy garden (au ka u' kuis ki, ka tof ki lele). Thou shalt summon other

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 265

Atoni for this. 1 shaII not bring Thee suga:r cane or bananas, as then it would seem as though 1 were not the Lord of the Land (on au ka pak tua! kau). Fonnerly Nai Djabi and Nai Besi provided for me. They have fled because they did nat wish to welcome the new-corners. But how would we look for water and what would become of our name? For if we did not welcome men who are in difficulty it would he as though we loved not Vis N eno, as though we were causing grief anew."

Sonba'i then married the daughters of Nai Sanrun and Nai Mela. When his wife, Bi Djili, the daughter of Kune, reproached him for always going away he said: "1 have aseended to my father Vis Neno, for my father is Vis Neno, my mother is Vis Neno". When she discovered that Sonba'i had deceived her by marrying other women without infonning her, she felt disgraced and wished she were dood. For wh en Sonba'i had been in diffieulty Kune had helped him and given him a ruler's golden name and a gold ehair. Therefore she killed a man - one of Kune's ehildren - when the harvest gifts were presented to Sonba'i. No-one said anything of it for that reason, but Sonba'i decided that when the harvest gifts were brought to him the following year he would have her killed by Nai Ten Neno. The latter danced ahood of the others when the time had come to present harvest gifts once again. Again Bi Djili danced towards them, and threw the spear at him. He ducked, seized the spear and killed her. Following this his name was changed to Nai Ten Ola (= devourer), because, as the people said, "You have kiIled the ehild of the Lord of the Land, you have devoured the ground ; this will he the end of us". Her gold chair tumed into stone. Thereupon Kune ehased Sonba'i away, saying: "The thread has snapped, 1 have broken the thread with Thee; the throod of the 'tono has snapped, the eye of the needle has broken. 1 shaII not attend the marriage ceremonies of Thy children, for that would mean your dooth and mine."

Sonba'i then saw a Chinese who wanted to buy sandalwood, and thought that this man might marry the ehildren of Kune. Enraged, he had all the sandal-4:rees chopped down and the honeycombs cut away. But as a result of sacrifices offered by Kune there was no hoortwood in the sandal-trees. He had said: "If 1 am not to he the Lord of the Land, the sandal-4:rees are nat to have any hoortwood in them". Then Kune wem to eollect the sandalwood himself and suddenly its hoortwood was restored.

Sonba'i rallied all his people and together they smashed everything of Kune's to pieces and decapitated Luis Kono. Kune resigned himself, as he did not have many men. Even though he had driven Sonba'i out, the latter had gained the support of Mela and Sanam and went 'io live with them in Bidjeli.

There he continued to harass Oematan and Kono, who finally went to the Kompani (the Dutch in Kupang). "Then the white man apprehended him in Kauniki; shots were fired, same were shot dead, others hewn down. If they had not been shot dead there and then he would probably have continued in the same manner. Only the women were left." One was pregnant and bore a son. "If he had not been bom, that would have been the end of Sonba'i".

1t is obvious at first glance that this myth is the creation of an anti-Sonba'i circle. When Sonba'i misconducts himself Kune has the power to punish him. Locher 10 was told this same myth by the same Kune six yoors later, when it agreed almost word for word with the first version. The only difference was that its tenor was even more unfavourable for Sonba'i - Kune did not offer Sonba'i the golden seat, but the latter had already seated himself on it before Kune realized.

A different vers ion of this myth (one of the many in existence) is related by MüllerY Nai Akunel (probably Nai Kune) had four sons: Nai Mnuni, Pit'ai, Fonai and Nesi Mnaha. The eldest succeeded his father as rul er of the realm of Laba. Then three brathers came from Belu and conquered the realm. The eldest was given the name and realm of Sonba'i af ter acquiring the rayal treasures (presumably the state le'u). The second was given the realm of Ambenu and the youngest that of Amfoon. The relationship between the four princedoms of Belu, Sonba'i, Ambenu and Amfoan is like that between younger and elder brothers.

An obvious characteristic which is typical of all myths is that they are altogether lacking in historical perspootive or depth in time - all relevant historical events are set in primeval times (un unit), although the events take place in a prescribed order. The myth says of Sonba'i (the first Sonba'i, as all are one) , for instaJnce, thaJI: he came from Belu, married one of Kune's daughters, and went to live in Oenam. Then it proceeds to teIl of the Sonba'i in Bidjeli, in respect of whom Mela and Sanam were the bridegiving great fathers. The breach between Sonba'i and Kune and Kono in Miomafo, where Kune is still resident at

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'r 267

present, is connected with the latter Sonba'i. This may be a reflection of the breach between Miomafo and Molo which came about before 1700. Finally, there are allusions to the opposition which the Sonba'i of Fatule'u in Kauniki offered the N etherlands Government, which conquered Kauniki af ter this, namely in 1905.

This myth is also important in that it gives us some insight into the old structure and the principles which shaped it. The very fact that this myth originated in anti-Sonba'i circles makes it all the more interesting to find out what was the nature of the position that was nevertheless accorded Sonba'i.

Kune is the originaI Lord of the Land, and Sonba.'i's social superior because he is his bride-giver. Sonba'i comes from abroad, from the east, and he is the younger brother of the powerfu1 Liurai, but a1so the son of the Lord of Heaven, Vis N eno; he is the son of God, like the Meromak O'an of Wehale. Liurai maintains relations with his younger brother, who presents him with the gift of water from the mountains alld receives the imported culture objects in return: the rifle, the horse (which is not autochthonous), cora! stone, and reins.

When Sonba'i first arrives he appears as a filthy Atoni, but so0'n reveals himself in heavenly radianee. The ruler is c1early a symbol of the dualism between heavell and earth as a dual cosmic unity, in which heaven is superior to earth so that Sonba'i, first and foremost the representative of heavell, is given the golden chair and Kune the silver one to sit on.

The spot in which Sonba'i settles is called Paeneno-Oenam, Paeneno meaning "heavenly hero", while Oenam is the name of a souree that is representative of the water in the earth. Kono and Oematan appear later on; the story does not say whether they are brothers of Sonba'i. This constitutes an important point of divergence with Kruyt's version of the myth, which is the same myth though this time as related in pro-Sonba'i circles. In the latter version the story tells of three brothers, of whom Sonba'i is the youngest; he is fetched by the other two and therefore arrives later. As he revea1s himself in heavenly splendour, Kune states that he is the rightful ruler. The name "Sonba'i" is then eXplained as follows: sone = to subordinate oneself to someone; bait = to surrender something to someone - in other words, the others have to subordinate themselves to him. Kruytadds that he was told by different informants that the three were not brothers, as only Sonba'i was of divine origin.

Another point on which Kruyt's version differs from that told in

Kune circles is that Sonba'i is killed on Kune's orders because he is cruel and has a man killed each year. Sabat N eno 12 kills Sonba'i with a spear. As a result of his death the crops fail. Mela of Bidjeli, one of Sonba'i's two bridge-givers in Molo, and the heads of Pita'i and Manubait - i.e. Sonba'i's executive heads in Fatule'u - went to Liulai and on their way found a three months' old child with a navel-string of gold slung around its shoulders. It was therefore a child from Uis Neno, and Liulai immediately recognized it as his brother. Mela reared the child in a cave; from then on there was rain in abundance near this spot, whereas the rest of the country was drought-stricken. Thereupon this Neno Sonba'i was recognized by everyone. Van Wouden 13 concludes from the above that his superiority and especially his indispensability predominate in Sonba'i's two-fold character - for his reason for killing a man was to make the earth cool, that is, fertile - and that Kune is the personification of the power of evil. Hence heaven and earth are opposed to each other as light to dark and as good to evil. The fact that Van Wouden interpolates an observation in the story of the myth related by Kruyt, an observation made by Kruyt in another article of his,14 without any mention of the fact that he is combining mate rial from different sources and without mentioning the :;üurces, is inadmissible. For in Kruyt's version of the myth there is nothing to imply th3;t Sonba'i kills a man to make the earth cool - nor is there in any existing myth that I know of. Kruyt himself states this in a different connection in his article writrt:en in 1923. But his data are not completely reliable either.

If we credit Kune's myth with an equal degree of validity this theory is certainly not tenable. Here Kune's daughter is killed, and he tries to avenge her death, but Sonba'i turns out to he stronger than he.

Sonba'i's indispensability is obvious in both myths; as is the comparison of the relationship hetween Sonba'i and Kune to that hetween day and night respectively. Not only is Sonba'i the son of the Lord of Heaven, but the first Sonba'i, moreover, usually bears the name Manas (= sun), while the first Kune is called Fai (= night). The marriage between Sonba'i and Kune's daughter, therefore, is one hetween day and night, light and dark, hetween the son of heaven and the lord of the land, and hence we ean conclude that the marriage in

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 269

question is one between hea.ven and earth. This mythical conception has continued rto have sa much rea1ity for the people of this area. that even as recently as 1946 the wives of Tua Sonba'i, the ruler of Molo, were strictly forbidden to venture outside in the daylight, and bear the name "darkness" and must not be seen by other men - even a physician was forbidden to trea.t one of this Sonba'i's wives during an illness. At that particular time, however, Tua Sonba'i was making a conscious effort to assert himself once more as a rea1 Sonba'i, and rthe myth had been made subservient to practical political ends. There is no evidence here of an opposition between good and evil, however.

Middelkoop 15 also relates the myth of the murder of Sonba'i by Kono. Ris saurce was an informant from Molo who had connections with Kune and whose fwther's father was said to have known (this) Sonba'i.

The myth begins with the story of the radiant youth whom Kune raised to the status of ruler (kesel). But Sonba'i was a cruel, despotic ruler and a brute (atoni amaunut) who was continually at war. His residence, Oenam, "was a rotten case". Nevertheless Pit'ai, Kune ManbaH,16 Kono and Oematan brought him harvest gifts, recognizing Sonba'i as their usif. The women would carry the gifts into his palace, but only :those with grey hair would return, as Sonba'i used to keep all the young ones with him in his palace. At Kono's instigation Sab Neno killed Sonba'i and all of Vis Kono's people murdered every member of the house of Sonba'i. Only a baby boy escaped the massacre. The infant was rea.red by a woman from Mela and a woman from Aboin. They went to live with Oematan. Now Oematan in Molo received rain, whilst Kono in Miomafo did not; thereupon Kono said: "I have hewn Sonba'i down completely, sa that one part of the rea.lm has only sunshine, whilst the other receives rain as weIl". Kono then decided to go to Sonba'i, but on his way he met with an accident and died. The other Kouos theu recognized Sonba'i again.

Here we have the same myth presented in yet another light. This time it is not Kune but Kono who is guilty. H, as Van Wouden 17 suggests, Kono was believed to be associated with heaven because his spea.r kept going right on, while Oematan was associated with the ea.rth (he caused a spring to well up out of rthe earth with his spear) , he could not have perpetrated this evil deed. At least not if, as Van Wouden poses, good and heaven are associated with one another.

It is quite clear tha,t these myths do not give us much in the way of concrete facts. We should be mindful not to jump to conclusions on the basis of myths and should pay special attention to the place of the myth in a particular politica! and historica! situation. The crucial point - Sonba'i's indispensability as the sou of heaven - is confirmed by all of them, however. This myth reflects, among other things, Miomafo's independenee of Molo. Sonba'i lives here, near Oematan, whilst Kono forms a centre of his own. This is bound to give rise to tension hetween Kono and Sonba'i, as Sonba'i is indispensa:ble to Kono as his ritual prince.

Sonba'i's indispensability is even more pronounced in another myth, which originated in Molo.1s "Sonba'i was up to all sorts of tricks; he killed us like buffalo, slaughtered us like pigs". "It would he a good thing if he were to turn into a woman, with no knowledge of affairs (lasi). He had Mela, Sanam, Lake, Senak 10 in his sirih pinang purse, in the sheath of his knife." 20 He was also in the habit of taking young women every year. The heads, including Oematan - Kune is not mentioned - made common cause (lasi) and decided to kill Sonba'i, whereupon Kono had this resolution carried into effect. "When the usif was dead, Bau Sonba'i went to pick manggo fruits at the foot of Bataib, and had them sent to Kono Oematan, saying to the messengers : "Go forth, and when you reach Kono Oematan his manggo will he in the other hand" (hence Sonba'i's manggo was in one hand). "If his heart (nekaf) be rotten and putrid, his manggo will he worm-eaten. If my heart he rotten and putrid in respect of Vis Kono, then my manggo will be worm-eaten. If my heart he good, then my manggo will he sound. I am in one hand, he is in the other." When the messengers reached Vis Kono his manggo was worm-eaten and Sonba'i's was without a blemish. Although in this myth Sonba'i's reign is censured particularly strongly, in the end his fruit and his heart appear to be sound. Van Wouden is correct, therefore, in saying that his evil deeds notwithstanding, Sonba'i represents the good, probably because he is the son of the Lord of Heaven. But his suggestion that Sonba'i has an evil side because he is also of the eanth, and therefore earthly, is

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 271

n0't f0'unded on inf0'rmati0'n from Tim0'rese sources, a,ttractive though this theory may beo

It is interesting 110' n0'te that the names 0'f K0'nO' and Oematan are menti0'ned j0'illJtly, as thO'ugh they stand f0'r 0'ne person. This is still regularly done in MoIO', th0'ugh n0't as frequently in Miomaf0', Kono's rea.lm, which has become independent.

S0'nba'i's benev0'lent side is apparent from his conduct as a culture hero, m0'reover. He has given the people their agricultural crops.21 Two br0'thers, Lilai S0'nba'i, the e1der, and Saun N en0' S0'nba'i, the younger, descended from the L0'rd of Heaven. They surveyed this dry land (pah meto) and saw that the people were ea:ting wild f0'rest bulbs and black beans.22 Then the e1der brother (tataJ) said to the yO'unger (oliJ): "Visit Thy land, Thy lake, Thy people, Thy subjects (ho to, ho tafa)", and 0'rdered him t0' fetch his sister. Then they killed their sister, cut her int0' pieces, and wrapped her in a black cl0'th (tais metan). When f0'ur nights had passed they went to take a look and discovered that the flesh, the bones and the skin had disappeared and been replaced by cam and green peas, rice and begans, g0'urds and maize, cassava and millet. "We hail the earth with eight names, eight kinds". Then foll0'ws a prayer: "My child of the Lord 0'f Heaven (bi Lauf Neno), it is as th0'ugh Th0'u hast changed Thy flesh, Thy muscles, Thy bones, Thy skin, and tumed them int0' c0'm and rice in exchange. We look up t0' Thee as we plant and saw t0' 0'btain food and drink, as though Th0'u wert giving a sign t0' our father, our mother, the blazing one, the brilliant one, that he may give us a good w0'rd, a good case (toni leko, lasi leka)".

The e1der brother, Lilai S0'nbai, is of course the Liurai from Belu who appears in the same connection 23 in other myths. In another versi0'n 24 ilt is Lilai's daughter from whose body the different plants sprout forth at the end of seven days. In yet a different version 25 the body 0'f Sonba'i's sister tums int0' rom , bananas and sugar-cane, her bones int0' sandalwood and her brains into honey.

This myth is generally weU known in the areas once affiliated with Sonba'i. It is impoM:ant in that here a distinction is made between male and female which is not made in the case of Uis Neno and Uis Pah. Sonba'i, the man, is the son of the Lord of Heaven (Uis Neno Ana), while his sister, also addressed as Uis Neno Alla, is c1early associated with the earth. In the prayer rendered by Van Alphen she is even called "ruier of the earth", probably a translation of ana' Plenat (= he or she who has aUJthority).

Hence Sonba'i and his sister symbolize the cosmic unity of heaven and earth; they are also indicative of a distinction made between the two sexes, which one might possibly attribute to influences from Be1u.

Sonba'i's religious significance is, of course, of great importanee for his political influence. Sonba'i's re1igious power and indispensability are a recurrent theme in Timorese history. Even af ter the Sonba'i lineage had been eliminated politically in both Molo and Fatule'u it continued to exent astrong influence. This was especially evident during the mouse plague and ensuing famine of 1929 and 1930, of which Van Alphen gives such a vivid account. When we consider the above we wil! not find it surprising that during times of serious distress people invariably turn to Sonba'i again. Van Alphen 26 writes - and his account is probably not in ,the least exaggernted, at least not with regard to this particular period of famine - "belief in Sonba'i is the centre around which life revolves, the souree from which the people draw, the ground on which the community is built". He was the first of the Atoni mIers and is acknowledged as such even in areas which pride thenlselves on never having lived under his rule. A myth 27 relates in this connection that the Lord of Heaven sent eight princes (usif) down to earth: Lilai and Sonba'i, Uis N uban (Amanuban), N ai Lasi (Amarasi), Nai Benu (Ambenu), Nai Foan (Amfoan), Nai Bolu Tubah and Nai Saun Tanas. "These seven are the minor ones. These eight princes came down to eanth in primeval times and laid out garden plots." They had no fire, however, and Lilai ordered Bolu Tubah and Saun Twnas ,to fetch it from the Lord of Heaven. But these were bumt by the fire, until the Lord of Heaven gave them hees' wax for candles.

This myth indicates the re1ationship to the rulers surroonding Sonba'i. Although the rea1m of Sooth Be1u is superior, Sonba'i is the supreme ruler in the Atoni area. The princes who were bumt by the fire are the only two who did not become founders of a rea1m. The structure of the realm of Sonba'i as a whole is as follows, therefore:

NORTH

The remaining princedoms, Amanatun and Kupang, do not fit into this scheme, which represents Sonba'i as the fiiith in the centre as the symbol of unity. His place is in the "navel of the rea1m". It is clear from the historical outline that before 1642 Sonba'i must, in fact, have been the ritual cenJtre of these princedoms. And he probably supplied the rulers of these princedoms with brides.

The fine story related by Tua Sonba'i, who became raja of Molo in 1932 and thereupon proceeded to set forth at length to Reijntjes 28 his views on his illustrious forebears, is au excellent example of the manner in which modem events may be incorporated in an old legend. In this case these events have become inJterwoven with elements of the old myth of the arrival of Sonba'i. Kono, Oematan, Amfoan, Ambenu, Banunaek (Amanatun), China, Africa and Belauda (Holland) are the companions who followed Sonba'i, China referring to the Chinese, Africa to the negroes in Portuguese Timor, and Belanda to the Dutch. All foreign groups which have enteredthe Atoni's horizons have been assigned a place in the myth of origin. Kune was the only original inhabitant, the others being later arrivals. Kune was Sonba'i's first bride-giver, and in spite of his glorification of his own line Sonba'i recognizes this ancient affinal relationship.

When later on he became emperor in Bidjeli, Kono-Oematan, Beboki, Insana, Fatule'u and Bikomi (a part of Miomafo) fell under his sway. He caBs Amfoan, Ambenu, Amanatun and Amanuban his younger brothers. Again there are four: two in the north and two in the south; but this time Amarasi is replaced by Amanatun - apparently the number should be four. Moreover, he calls his relationship in respect of the powerful Amanuban, at that time ruled by astrong ruler, a neno mone - neno feto one, Sonba'i being the bride-giver (mone). N eno is an appellation indicative of heavenly origin. In Molo, Fatule'u and Miomafo Sonba'i is still acknowledged as the ritual figure to whom tribute gifts were formerly offered. But in the myths of other princedoms Sonba'i is alw recognized 29 as the superordinate ruler.

Hence these myths confirm the historica! data which indicate that before 1642 there must have existed an extensive realm of Sonba'i.

2. MOLO

Wh en investigating the structures of the disintegrated realm of Sonba'i it is imJX)rtant to give special attell'tion to the constituent parts of which this realm was fo~merly composed. Seission may be useful in revealing the parts which at one time apparently arrived at a certain degree of cohesion. A reversal of this process is equally conceivable, however. What was originally a cohesive unit may have gradually expanded to such au extent that scission became inevitable ollce the central power weakened for some reason or other. It is therefore difficult to make any definite statements conceming the intemal structu re of the realm of Sonba'i. Af ter Sonba'i's flight in 1659, or slightly before, Kono, as the eldest, took over the leadership. He was appointed imperator by the Topasses. Nonetheless, Sonba'i remained in a sense the ritual centre. Harvest gifts are brought to him in Bakunasi, near Kupang. They come to him from as far away as the interior - only because of this was it po,ssible for him to send 200 men laden with harvest gifts as tribute to the Opperhoofd of the East India Company in KUpang.30

Kono and Oemamn were usif who, like Sonba'i, came from abrood or "outside"; in other words, they had no land tenure rights. Their function was that of active administrators, Kono in the east and Oematan in the west. Now, as we have seen, [he oost is superior to the west, sa that Kono was the senior of the two. This implies at the same time a division into two. By a gradual process of expansion it was JX)ssible for two separate realms to come into being. Naturally this cannot have taken place without politica! or military conflict. Sonba'i left Kupang in 1785 in order totake up residence in his former centre of Paeneno-Oenam, close to the village in which OemaJtan was resident. Hence Oematan became the active administrator at the side of the ritual ruler Sonba'i, and Kono more or less rert:ained his independent position in Miomafo. Oematan also married one of Kune's daughters. Kune was, as the myth relates, the first Lord of the Land (pak tuan). There are, besides, traditions of other groups such as Djabi, Besi, Lasa and Tanesi, which lived there as the original inhabitants and therefore had certain rights of land tenure.

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'r 275

As the executive authority Oematan was also one of Sonba'i's rivals. When Müller travelled across Molo in 1829 the realm had become practically divided. Molo was governed by Oematan, by two brothers' sons: Djefo-Bilik allld Djefo-Oematan. The e1der was in charge of "defence" and ,the other was responsible exclusive1y for "government". These terms are not used correctly here, for "defence" should be understood as "the guarding of the sacred objects of the realm". This would point to the beginning of a process of fission between Molo and Miomafo, the more so as within Miomafo the same process had been going on.

There was, besides, the centre Oenam, in which Sonba'i or, as Müller31 puts it, the liurai "himself exercised the highest administrative and military authority". But his power had dedined as a result of his long absence which was followed, moreover, by scission caused by a fraternal quarrel, subsequent 10 which the senor branch settled in Fatule'u. He nonetheless remained the ritual centre and in many cases had a mediating function. A few former headhunters were able to inform Middelkoop 32 that in a war between an Oematan (aided by Kono) and Amanuban one of the great fathers of Sonba'i acted as impartial mediator, for instance.

The political unity was weak. There were even reports of a war between Oematan and Sonba'i.33 In spite of rthis, the tie between Molo and Oenam has remained closer th3ill that between these areas and Miomafo. This is partially a result of later historica! developments. The house of Sonba'i was ousted because of its anti-Dutch attitude. Consequently Molo was integrated into the N etherlands East Indies administrative organization as a self-governing princedom.34

In 1916 the independent district of Mutis was joined to it. This district still consisted of only three villages in 1932, or in other words, only th ree village heads were recognized,35 and in 1947 it consisted of four, with 325 taxabie male inhabitams.36 The fourth village had always existed.37 This is an indication that whenever a large-sized poJi,tical community - such as in this case the realm of Sonba'i - disintegrated, the basic community consisted of four residemial units.

In the irrunediate Sonba'i area there are in addiltion to Sonba'i the two prominent groups Mela and Sanam (or Saenam). A myth of origin of Mela narnes three clans in addition to Sonba'i: Paut, Mela and Sanam.38 This coincides with 'the pattern found in South Belu: the ruler w~th three liurai and three loro at his side.39 In the Sonba'i myth, too, the number of men who come to Kune is three.40

Mela is called "the guardian of the house" and Sanam "the guardian of the land"Y They are bride-giving groups in respect of Sonba'i, and hence his great fathers. In the affinal relationship they are therefore Sonba'i's atoni amaf, and their relationship to Sonba'i is mone-feto respectively. A Sanam once said: "I make Sonba'i feto". This is the bride-giving group's social superiority. But, on the other hand, as a Sanam once formulated it,42 Mela and Sanam are "as dish-stands (muni), as feta in respeot of Sonba'i, as his silver-handled sleepingmat, the pillow which he causes to bulge", that is, which he makes pregnant.

It seems strange that in a different story/3 in which Oematan is at war with Amanuban, the names Mela-Sanam occur in tthe summary of the ten warrior groups (meo), whilst they appear in the same story as two of the eighteen "fathers". Here it is the task of Mela-Sanam to guard "Amanuban's door, Amanuban's entrance". This corroboIëlltes our observations 44 according to which the meo-ship is not necessarily restrict.ed to particular clans.

Fom of these eighteen amaf belong with Mela-Sanam: Tafui - Sunbanu, Seko - Ba'un "who prop up the enclosure, who support the throne". Together they form a unity in which Mela-Sanam are feminine and Tafui-Sunbanu, Seko-Ba'un are rna:sculine. Hence we have here a double centre surrounded by twice two clans. It is these clans which were most closely affiliated with Sonba'i. They lived around PaenenoOenam. But in the larger whole of Molo, Oematan eaUs Mela-Sanam "my great fathers". Here they are masculine, as they are in respect of Sonba'i.

Masculme or feminine, superior or inferior - these qualificatiOl1:S depend entirely on the angle from which the relationships they describe

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'r 277

are viewed, therefore. Socially as wdl as in respect of his life-cycle ritual Sonba'i is dependent on Mela and Sanam as his atani amaf; but politically and religiously speaking Sonba'i, as the great prince and the son of the Lord of Heaven, is so powerful that Mela and Sanam regard themselves as femilline in respect of him. The structures of Molo are no longer as clear as those of Insana. But the confused statements concerning the relations within this area clearly indicate that the structure of Insana should never he considered as a modd. The ritual centre of Sonba'i has Kune at its side. Instead of a ruler-kalnel relationship we have here a ruler with two executive counterparts. These differences are not fllndamental, however.

3. FATULE'U

Fatule'u is a high, precipitous, rocky mountain which rises to a height of 1115 m. above the hilI country of West Timor. Hence its name "le'u rock", Ie 'u clearly having the meaning "numinous" or "ominous". This mountain has lent its name to a politica! community which consists of five parts: Takaib, Manubait, Benu, Tefnai and Kauniki. According to the myth 45 Takaib owes its existence to Kono mnais (the elder Kono) heing forced to leave his country to make room for the younger Kono, who had won greater popularity than his elder brother. He fled together with "four men" who are mentioned by name. Here once again we have the familiar patJtern of four clans whose lmity is symbolized by the central usif. Thenceforth they const: :!lted a sub-territory of the larger whole into which Fatule'u dev,~' oped.

There was aIso a break-away group from Oematan which af ter much wandering about aIso landed in Pasi, the territory of Takaib, and formed the second sub-territory, ca!led Manubait. Later on, according to the legend, Tefnai and Benu came. Once again the result is four sub-territories which belonged together in pairs. There are, however, groups of other clans as weIl, including the Pit'ai, who are renowed headhunters. Kauniki in the centre became the seat of Sonba'i, whom the four sub-territories came to regard as the new ritual cenJtre of their own newly founded political community. This must have happened in approximately 1820. When MüIler 46 arrived in Fatule'u in 1829 a certain Nai Sonba'i was living in Kauniki. He was approximate1y 36 years old and the son of the Alfonsus Adrianus 47 who had fled from Kupang in 1785. His younger brother lived in Paeneno-Oenam.

The above shows that Fatule'u came illlto being as a result of internal conflicts elsewhere, and that the princedom is made up of break-away groups from the old realm of Sonba'i which united with the groups al ready settled in the area. Kono and OemataJll were the most prominent groups, but as soon as a Sonba'i arrived he became the centre of the new political community. In the re-grouping of the different groups the traditional structural principle of quadrupartition with a fifth group symbolizing the uni,ty between them in their centre was once more active as a normative and struotural principle - although reality does not necessarily conform to this. J ust as a sub-ter ri tory may comprise more than foor clans, a political community which comes iato being as aresuIt of fusion may compI'ise more than four sub-territories, but the whole is always designated with four names that are representative.

A map from 1879 does not mention Kauniki, but only Takaib and Manubait, two groups from Ambenu and Pit'ai.48

DIAGRAM No. 13

4. MIOMAFO

a. The nucleus

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'r 279 The division between Miomafo and Molo had doubtless been a long49 Middelkoop, 1929b, p. 52.

Miomafo comprises the eastern part of the realm of Sonba'i and part of its sphere of influence. It derives its name from the 1400 m. high mountain. According to Middelkoop 49 Miomafo means "morning shadow".

It is difficult to establish when it separated completely from Molo é1Jnd the rest of the old realm of Sonba'i. Af ter Sonba'i's flight Kono became ruler under the supervision of the Topasses. But in January 1749 "Amakono" also sought refuge in Kupang 50 af ter a conflict with the Black Portuguese. At the battle of Penfui, however, in November of 1749 "the new emperor of Amacone and all the other kings under his sway" together with the people from Amarasi marched on the Dutch in Kupang 51 under the command of the Black Portuguese. And in 1756 Paravicini concluded a treaty with the "emperor of Amacona, Don Barnardo".52 The East India Company did not é1Jt any time conclude a treaty with Oematan of Molo.53

These various communica.tions show that Kono, as the senior and more prominent of the two active administrators, was viewed from abroad as ithe external representative of the realm of Sonba'i as a whoie. The unity between Kono and Sonba'i is also borne out by the faat that the emperor of Sonba'i, Jacobus Albertus Tassy, and the emperor of Amacono, Albertus Jacobus Tassy, both embraced the Christian, Protestant religion in 1759.54 To all appearanees these two belong to the same family. But this mayalso point to a classificatory alif-tataf re1ationship between them.

It is interesting to note that af ter the defeat suffered by the Topasses Sonba'i continued to live near Kupang. Perhaps the Dutch refused to all ow him to return to Oenam. Their interests, as weIl as those of the Topasses, were best served by the existence of weak petty princedoms in the interior. Sonba'i, hitherto the loyal ally of the East India Company, was from then on its enemy.

standing fact when Sonba'i came and settled in Oenam once more in 1785,55 for there were reports as early as 1765 of a war between the "Amaconians and the Molonese", and later on again in 1782.56 But from 1785 onwards the tie between them must have grown stronger again, as in the nineteenrth century Dis Kono is always called the fettor of the emperor Sonba'i, this being the title which in WeSit Timor was always conferred on the second most important functionary in the kingdom, the executive counterpart of the ruler (who was himself given the Indonesian title 'raja'). In Portuguese Timor this title is never ased; in BeIu it was introduced by the N etherlands East Indies Government. 57 It is probably a rtitle which was introduced by the Dutch and derived from the Portuguese word feitor, the word for a functionary in a business firm, or an agent, but also used with reference to a European district officer. It was introduced as a title for chiefs especially (or perhaps exclusiveIy) in Timor because of the widespread use of the Portuguese language and perhaps also because the Dutch wished to introduce different titles from those used by rthe Portuguese - as recently as 1764 the kings of Amanuban and Amanesse asked to he given the title of Don.5s The title of fettor cotlJtinued to he used for Dis Kono as ruler of Miomafo until 1920. When af ter the ruler's death a temporary raja was appoi:nted he was given the title kolnel, a title also used for the executive authorities of Insana and Beboki.

Both Kono and Oematan were Sonba'i's fettor. Their relationship in respect of each other was an olif-tataf one, Kono heing regarded as Oematan's elder brother even in Molo. There is also a feto-mone reIationship between them, in which Kono is feminine. This does not refer to an affinal relationship between them, but to Kono's higher ritual - hence more feminine - posirtion. When the ties wÏJth Sonba'i were broken Kono became more or less the ritual prince of Miomafo, though not to the extent of heing given the ti tie of atupas, as in Insana.

There are many myrt:hs and legends concerning the origin of Miomafo's independence. In these myths Sonba'i's behaviour becomes more and more that of the tyrant who iIl-treats and oppresses his subjects in all kinds of ways, and even kiIls some of them, until Kono-Oematan

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 281

finally succeed in jointly driving out the cruel oppressor. Below is the story as related in 1947 in Kono's sonaf in Noiltoko.

Kono's house of origin was in Silo, high on the precipitous slopes of the 1400 m. high Mt. Miomafo. Later on his sonaf was transferred to Blipun, further down the mountain slopes. It was at this time that the rebellion against Sonba'i took place. The objective was to send him back to Belu, whence he originally came, but his atoni amaf, Me1a, kept him in hiding in Bidje1i so that he was able to flee to Kauniki. When he had been expelled, Kono as the elder went to Kupang to complain aOOut him to the Kompeni. 59 Sonba'i had of old been the Kompeni's enemy, so that Kano was lent a favourable ear. He was given two gold-knobbed mace for a sceptre and aflag, OOth symbols of his independence in respect of Sonba'i, as well as of his alliance with the "Kompeni". This happened five generations ago, long af ter the battle of Penfui. When Kano came back from Kupang with his sceptre and his flag he assembIed all his people and said: "From now on we shall have no more dealings with Sonba'i, but only with the Kompeni". All the amaf agreed and from then on gold from the Noilnoni - the gold-river at the foot of the Miomafo - sandalwood and wax were brought as tribute '10 the Kompeni. When all the amaf had assembIed they unanimously agreed to divide the power between Kono and OemaJtan. Some of the amaf followed Kono and the others Oematan. No OOundary was demarcated, because all of the land belonged to the original Lord of the Land (pah tuaf), Kune Uf, and, moreover, there was an olif-tataf relationship between them. Each permitted people from the other to lay out garden plots in his terdtory. However, the areas in which they lived were separated by a river flowing from the Mutis to the district of Noilmuti which was Portuguese territory until 1916.

In this story we have a reflection of the myths of Sonba'i, who was hidden by Mela in Bidjeli af ter he had found the child with the golden navel-string. The faat that Kano or Kune first killed Sonba'i is suppressed. At the same time Sonba'i's expulsion is regarded as being the result of a joint effort by Kono and Oematan, and is hence associated with the flight of a Sonba'i to Kauniki in Fatule'u and with a subsequent treaty with the Dutch. This may therefore coincide with the time when Amakono went to prospect for gold for the East India Company in 1781.

The anti-Sonba'i tenor of the story is attributable to the fact that it relates how Miomafo gained independenee ; it is perhaps also aresuit of the faat that at that time (1947) a Sonba'i was in power in Molo. This Sonba'i might have been tempted ,to assert certain claims, and hence Sonba'i is portrayed as the long-standing enemy of the Dutch. Be that as it may, this representation of the facts is entirely false as regards the 17th and 18th centuries, as Sonba'i only became anti-Dutch af ter 1785. The fact that the DUltch are portrayed exclusively as allies of Kono may he partly determined by the si,tuation in 1947, when a decision had to he made in respect of the succession to the throne of Miomafo, wh en the chances of the candidate from the house of Kono were very slim.

Here again the structure of tbe realm emerges quite plainly from the ceremonial of the presentation of the harvest gifts (poni; also called tuthais in this area). Fom clans lived around Kono's sonaf in Noiltoko, from which anolther four developed, so that now th ere are eight: Banu - Ola, Suan - Talaub, Babu - Bifel and Kope - Tafin. Of these Babu - Bifel are firSlt and foremost Kono's great fathers and his bride-giving clans. Kono has at his side Usi Thaal, who lives in the north and used to defend the "door" hetween the realm and Amfoan and Ambenu. Thaal and Kono are olif-tataf in respect of each other, and conversely mone-feto, Kano being the ritual authority (and hence feminine) and Thaal the military authority (masculine). The latter's name was explained as "smooth" - he smoothes oult conflicts and restores the balance. Onee, when Kono had given Ambenu permission to attack a vilIage in Tunbaba - a border distriat in its own territory - as punishment for insubordination, Us Thaal was sent there two days later to arrange a reconciliation, according to some informants.

Viewed from the centre he is ,the younger brother, but as the defender of the realm (mone), he Sltyled himself elder brother. This is a typical example of the difference in approach. In the larger whole he is definitely the younger brother, but because of his power and strong personality no-one dared contradict his spokeman when he asserted the above at the meeting of Chiefs of the Realm in Noiltoko - hence in Kono's presence. Us Thaal in Ablal is surrounded by yet another four clans, two of which later broke away and were given new names. Here we have a cent re with four plus two groups, with an usif, which gave preference to forming a district of their own. Furthermore, there was Us Bais, surrounded by four clans, the boundaries of whose district had been demarcated by the Netherlands East Indies Government. There was no boundary hetween Kono and Thaal. Their territory was

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 283

one and the same and even though Thaal lived in the north, Kono's regalia in Noiltoko were his as well.

Here in Noiltoko there was a myth in which Kune also appeared as the original Lord of the Land of Timor. He supplied Sonba'i, Oematan and Kono with brides, and is the bride-giver of all of these rulers (ahonit = he who generates life). This is why ÏIt: is taboo for him to work for Kono, whether it be in his gardens or in his sonaf. As the oldest, original bride-giver, i.e. as atoni amaf, Kune supervises Kono's enltire life-cycle ritual. Whenever a Kono dies KU111e has to hasten to his deathbed. If there is any conflict he has ,to be offered a conci1iatory gift first. He has the pi ace of honour at all official ceremonies, and has only "to eat and drink". He is not to take any hand in whaJtever arrangemenlts have to be made. Of course he does not concern himself with govemment affairs, nor with the ordinary agricultural ritual. Even though he is the pah tuan, the tobe (custodian of the lmd) have the power of disposal over the land. He was, however, still regularly given a share in rt:he returns from the sandalwood trade. In the case of serious drought or any other calamity which the sacrifices offered by the tobe have not succeeded in warding off, Kono is consulted and he then conducts a sacrificial ritual near his great le'u, the cliff near Lemun. Then, if this has no effect either, Kune Uf, who has lived above N oiltoko on the slopes of the Miomafo for as long as people can remember, is approached. If the ritual he conducts brings no relief either, the last resort is the shrine Finisba, situarted in a le'u forest a few hundred metres above Kune's house, on a very steep slope of the Miomafo at the foot of a perpendicular c1iff. The leJu kept in its shrine here is called N ai Masu (= Lord Smoke, i.e. darkness) ; this was the name of the founder of the clan of Kune Ufo Amother name is Fenai Kune, fenai meaning "night". The second le'u is kept in Kono's leJtt shrine, and its name is Nai Bonat (Lord Cover). Kono therefore appears as Kune's external counterpart (mone). The third le'u, which is equal in importance to the second, is called Bi Nap (woman who picks up (spilt rice off the floor». This has been placed in Fai Mnasi's custodianship (the latter is Us Kono's mafefa or speaker); 60 it is Nai Bonat's feminine pendant.

It is apparent, then, that Kune's function is to some extent similar to thaJt of an atupas. In Tunbaba, the easternmost part of Miomafo, he was recognized as the root of the land - Usi Ba'af; Us Kono, as the cenJtre of Miomafo, fulfils an analogous funotion, because he developed from Sonba'i's executive right hand into a ritual prince in his own right, namdy the ritual ruler of Miomafo. But even in this position he is not independent of Kune, who therefore remains the "root".

Kono's now dilapidart:ed sonaf has a masculine door, a men's entrance (eno a/oni, nesu atoni) which is in the front or southem wall, and a feminine door, a women's enJtrance (eno bifel, nesu bifel) in its rear or north wall. This sonaf is guarded and maintained by the clan of Sonla'i, which is divided into two parts. The first is Sonla'i mone. This group guards the men's door; it wdcomes and addresses the male guests th ere and receives the tribute gifts on the ruler's behalf. lts amaf is allowed to take receipt of the com and rice and other gifts only if he is able to give a correot, dignified reply to the words spoken in accompaniment of the handing over of the gifts. The gift-bearers wait with their loads suspended from the carrying-poles across their shoulders until he has replied in the proper manner. Then the gifts are carried inside, where Sonla'i feto accepts them. Sonla'i mone is also in charge of sonaf maintetIaJl1ce work. He summons the subjects who are qualified to carry out this work. If necessary all the usif and amaf will be asked to hdp.

Sonla'i feta guards the women's door, through which only women may enter.6l He brings the harvest gi~ts up :to the sonaf attic. For in Kono's realm, as in Molo, there was formerly no separate lopo which could serve as a meeting-place and as granary. He further supervises the preparation of meals and "guards the fire". He offers the guests sirih pinang. Here we have a different aspect of the feto-mone rel<lJtionship. Feto denotes the hearth and all that is "inside"; mone refers 1:0 all that is "outside".

Besides Sonla'i feto and Sonla'i mone there are Us Kono's two spokesmen (fefaf, maf = mourt:h and tongue; usually called mafefa in Timor). Their clans are called Haekase 62 alld Fai Mnasi. They stand next to each other and are each other's equals in rank. Their mutual rdationship was not further specified. In 1916, however, Fai Mnasi was still Us Kono's executive authorhy in Ablal, in Leonai, a part of the present-day district of N oiltoko, and in a part of Bonleo which now

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 285

belongs to Molo.63 But Us Thaal had grown gradually more independent as a result of Fai Mna.si's incompetence and his own powerful personality. To all appearances, then, Fai Mnasi was the masculine ex;ecutive authority in the sonaf, and Us Thaal's function was rather that of defender of the border, as might be expected of an usif, being a "masculine man" (monef atonif). As usif he was surrounded by his own clans in the north, approximart:ely 20 km. from the centre.

The mafefa may also take charge of the internal affairs of the realm on Us Kono's behalf. If the harvest gifts are not brought on time, one of them goes to investigate; one of them always had to remain in the sonaf to welcome guests. They are the ruler's counsellors in any matter brought before him. They are his spokesmen - the ruler ean communieate to them in but a few words what he wal1l1:s to say, and they will th en iIlJterpret rus message in the high-flown language of the court. A ruler "sleeps and sits", he does not see to anything himself, he travels onIy if absolutely necessary, and is accompanied everywhere by his spokesmen; even his speech is limited and his orders brief.

J ust as Us Thaal is the "northern door" of the realm, Us Olin is the "southern door" in Naktimun. He is surrounded by four clans. He is the soUJthern defender of the reaIm, and the "door" via which the two usif of Tunbaba in the east used to come with their people to bring harvest gifts. They would spend the night in his sonaf and be escorted by him to Us Kono the next day. Bikomi used to bring its harvest gifts in the same manner.

Us Olin onee related a story which is important in giving us an insight into mutual clan relationships. The plaee of origin of Olin's clan is Bitoini in Molo, whenee Tau-olin (Taolin of Insana) also originates.

The relationship bet ween Olin and Tau-olin is still recognized, according to the former. They have the same malak 64 as their clan mark and as cattle-brand. They observe the same taboos (nuni) and therefore originally belonged to the same totem community. Originally they shared one le'u in their place of origin. That is why Olin of Naktimun came to sacrifice at Tau-olin's le'u in Oilolok and Tau-olin used to eome to Naktimun's le'u.

Tubani Besi usually was their envoy, as he was Mnasi Uf (= old tribe) and was weil versed in the traditions of the Olin clan.

Tau-olin, however, did not accept this story. "Perhaps that is how it used to be, but we have had our own le'u for a long, long time". The ruler of Insana could hardly be expected to say anything else; but implidtly hls answer is a recognition of the old tie. His relationship to the Olin lineages in five villages of Molo cannot be denied. But only in Miomafo does Olin have a function in the political organization.

There are many other clans similarly scattered over large parts of the Atoni area of Timor. And the resulting ties are of as much sodal and political importance as affinal alliances. Another interesting detail divulged by Us Olin is that Tau-olin used to bring tribute to Us Kono, not because he belonged to Miomafo, but because Us Kono was his atoni am af. This is supposed to have taken place until Us Kono's death in 1920. It is an example of a different aspect of the practice of giving tribute (tuthais) and was probably the original form: the presentation of gifts as a mark of respect to the giver of life (ahonit) at the head of the bride-giving

DIAGRAM No. 14

NORTHERN DOOR .. . • Us Thaal .. . Naki-Nali Ablal: 1 plus 4 plus 2 Tefa-Naben ) more recently added clans Tati-Taek ) Us Olin Luin-Tuindja'as SOUTHERN DOOR The Nucleus of Miomafo

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 287

group, the much dreaded and highly respected atani amaf.65 An expansion of the sphere of political influence on this basis is the most Iikely development. For whenever proof is required of certain political rights, this is always based on some long-standing affinal alliance. Within Miomafo itself this is the case with Us Olin of Naktimun, Us Ukat of Tunbaba and the usif of Bikomi. All of these have feto-mone relationships with Kono, therefore, in which they are feta in respect of him. Kono is mone, and hence superior. This he remained even when, in a later generation, the other group gave one of its daughters in return, as Us Lake of Bikomi did.

Similarly the loro of Beboki had such a relationship, and Tau-olin probably also did, although the latter declares that he does not remember - Kono had become unimportant, and quite understandably Tau-olin did not Iike the idea of the existence of a relationship with Miomafo in which he was Olin's equal and Kono's inferior.

This centre, together with four plus four clans and Ablal and N aktimun formerly constituted the eastern or "senior" half of the realm of Sonba'i. Molo, under Oernatan, used to make up the western or "younger" half of Sonba'i.

b. The areas annexed to Miomafo

Tunbaba

We first come across the name Tunbaba in 1760, when the "king of Tonnebawa" concluded a treaty with the East India Company.66 Hence at that time it was acting as an independent princedom. It is nonetheiess conscious of its ties with Sonba'i and Kano, as is evident from the following myth: Tunbaba had irts origins in Malacca (i.e. South Belu), where its two founders came ashore in Oinun on their way from Kamuno Klakam,67 whence they canle together with Liurai. The latter rernained behind whilst Sonba'i and Kono proceeded to Bakinain in Tunbaba, at the foot of the Bifelmnasi.68 Here they encountered Antoin Lulai and Tub Lulai, two brothers who were living there. These two are the actual founders of Tunbaba.

There is a certain ambivalence inherent in this story, as the two founders came with Sonba'i from the land of the rising sun, while on the other hand they "were already there". At a meeting of all the heads and authorities on matters re1ating to the tradition the opinions expressed were divided on this point, until same ~id that they had not come earlier but had always been there, as their fail:hers, Saku Mataus and N eti Mataus had lived there before them. This was accepted as conclusive proof.

As regards these myths of origin, the question is what carries more weight - autochthony, i.e. original independence, or a link with the great royal ,traditions of Timor. Both e1ements are invariably present, partly because they symbolize to some extent a synthesis of heaven and earth : ,the Lord who comes from the land of the rising sun representing the former, and the autochthonous inhabÏlta.nt who has the oldest claims to the land and who emerged from the earth in the beginning the latrter. In this particular case it was SltaJted most emphatically that Tunbaba's founders were independenrt: of Sonba'i, and were the owners of the land.

The nrunes Antoin Lulai (= man liurai) 69 and Tub Lulai (= the sleeping liurai) reflect the familiar dualism of the active, masculine, and the immobile, feminine aspeçts of rulership. They also point to a connection with the liurai of South Be1u. These two, Antoin Lulai and Tub Lulai, are tbe founders of the clans of Us Ukat and Us Sakunab, who are each other's olif-tataf, Ukat being the younger. Hence there are two clans; between these there is only question of an olif-tata! re1a;tionship and not a feto-mone one, so that marriage between the two is impossible. It would, in fact, amount to incest, as they are regarded as the two halves of one clan. Their two usif are tbe respeçtive heads of the two halves of the tribe as a whoie. The tribe is again made up of twice two clans: Tandja - Neo, Nobe - Natan, whose founders were four brothers. Us Sakunab and Us Ukat oonstitute tbe centre of the tribe; the clans of which they are the heads are Moni - Noil. Marriage between these clans is not prohibited, the prohibitiOll applying only to the usif lineages. Between Us Sakunab and Us Ukat there is also a mala - metan (thalt is, yellow - black) re1ationship. Ye1low is the colour of death and it is associa:ted with the west, and metan with the north, though less c1early 50.70 In this case Us Sakunab lives in the west and Us Ukat in the east. The centre is therefore made up of two usif, Ithe leaders of two clans surrounded by four dominant clans.

Another myth re1ates how upon their arrival Sonba'i and Kono encountered the original inhabitants of Tunbaba. These were Amaina Uf and Atoni Manuni (ama - aina - uf = father - mother - tribe, while the meaning of the second is "taboo man"). There were also four indigenous clans: Funas - Lilis, Loles - Tanus. Sonba.'i settled in

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 289

Bakinainu and Kono continued on his way. SOI1ba'i had a sonaf built and had prople haul stones for a large surrounding fen ce. The yoke of his oppression weighed heavily upon the propIe. Later on Kono returned because Sonba'j had whistled ; and Sonba'i said, "Oh, this is the Lord of the Land". Thereupon he gave an account of what had happeneKi. Kono summoned his poople, and was recognized by them as their usif. Following rthis Us Kono gave his siSlter, Bitau Kono, in marriage to N eno Sakunab and his other sister, Bene Kono, to N aUJtu Ukat. Thus Kono became Tunbaba's "life-giver" or ahonit and a mone-feto relationship resulted, in which Kono was atoni amaf and mone. As a result of this position he bas rights to the "com of the field, com from the garden", and he is brought tribute consisting of com and rice, betel and coconuts each year.71

Like the first myth, this one tells of an ancienJt: relationship with SOI1ba'i and Kono. It was, in fact, related to supplement the first. Here too there are two obviously mythical figures - the originaI fathermother figure Amaina Uf, ("father" comes first, contrary to the normal practice), and Atoni Manuni. Hence there were indigenous inhabitants and their clan names still exist. At present they are small, insignificant clans and are in no way different from the many other small clans. The story implicirt:ly suggests that the usif were not the original inhabitants.

Neither of the myths includes Oematan within its horizons. Irt: is the relationship to Sonoo.'i and Kono which counts. The former is once more represented as the tyrant who is ousted in a vague kind of way, an appeal being made to Kono's rights to the land - i.e. rights in the sense of Ithe usif's territorial sovereignty. This means that Kono replaced Sonoo.'i. The purpose of the myth is to consolidate Kono's position. Conversely it may be said that Tunbaba, the tiny unit (in 1946 its adult male population numbered 1157) on the border of a hoSitile Ambenu and Insana, with next to it its riyal Bikomi whose ties with Kono had slackened a long time ago, was dependent on Kono's support and expressed its desire for an alliance with him in the forms available to it, namely the myths and kinship terms. Kono's social position as bride-giver is here again made the basis for his political rights. As atoni amaf he bas a right to having a garden plot (leien) laid out for him; as, moreover, he is usif the garden is called etu and tribute gifts from the whole of the realm are brought to him.

These gifts are collected by a kapitan, each half having in addition to its usif one kapitan who organizes the collection of !\:he harvest gifts together with the amaf or mnasi. Us Kono's share is approximately 1 kg. of unhusked rice and an aisaf (i.e. a sheaf of six cobs) of com per head of population working a garden plot. Each half furthermore contributes two horse-loads of coconuts and areca nuts. In any case this is the norm, from which in reality people may deviate, depending on the harvest and the strength of the ties with the ruler. In 1946 Us Kono received only approximaJtely 250 kg. of riee and 90 aisaf of com, in add~tion to the coconuts and the areca nuts. His authority had by that time decreased considerably while the harvest of 1946 was extreme1y poor, and a series of even worse years had been experienced under the J apanese immediately prior to this. The significant point is, however, that judging by the fact that tribute gifts were paid at all, Tunbaba had remained loyal to Us Kono in spite of the fact that it lived furthest away from the centre. There is another point worth noting in the relationship between Tunbaba and Kono, which pertains to warfare. Each head taken in a headhullJting expedition had to he brought to Us Kono's sanaf, and he was given one half of the prisoners of war as slaves. Whether this was in fact done in reality is impossible to determine at this juncture. It was probably a practice connected with the aid which Kono used 1:0 give tiny Tunbaba in its frequent border confliets with Ambenu and Insana, though these were normally restricted to mtlJtual headhunting raids between border vil1ages.

The relative independence of the different districts and the weakness of the political unity of Miomafo is apparent also from the latent hostility between Tuubaba and Bikomi, which sometimes resulted in mutual headhunting raids.72 All the same, Kono's sovereignty was acknowledged by them; this is also brought out by a story in which he punishes Tunbaba for insubordination. He had the right to do so, as the people of Tunbaba were his subjects.

Noimuti

This is a district of Miomafo in which the Topasses or Black Portuguese became settled before the end of the seventeellith century. The extraordinary forms of accu1turation to he observed here (with the church replacing the atupas, for instanee) wil1 therefore be dealt with

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'r 291

in the part of the book which deals with change. In 1916 Noimuti was ceded by Portugal to Holland and in 1917 it was annexed to Miomafo. with which, not surprising1y, it had Httle in COOUIlOI1.

As a result of an extraordinary series of events the body of Luis Sonba'i has 1ain here awaiting burial for centuries. The body was kept all this time in a coffin beneath a roof shelter uneIer a huge banyan tree. Luis is a Portuguese name and this leads us to believe that th is Sonba'i may have lived during the time when the Topasses first penetrated the area. The fact that he cou1d not be buried points to the beginning of the process of disintegration of the realm of Sonba'i. All the Chiefs of the Realm had to be present at a funeral of this kind, but as the house of Sonba'i lhad p1aced itself under the protection of the Dutch it was impossible for either its members or its supporters to come to Noen1Uti in view of their attitude towards the Topasses, whi1st others refused to come because they no longer recognized the authority of Sonba'i.

He was eventual1y buried in 1960 - a sign that the Sonba'i myth bas once for all become a thing of the past. It bas lost its tangib1e reality and its va1ue as a norm regu1ating the behaviour of the community.

Manamas

This is the smallest district, situated north of Tunbaba near the eastern border of Oikusi. It was created a separate district af ter 1912, when a large number of peop1e (more than 400) sought refuge in Dutch territory following an uprising against the Portuguese Co1onial Govem·· ment. They were al10cated the uninhabited northem part of Tunbaba under a district head of their own. It had been uninhabited because it had always formed a bone of contention between Ambenu and Tunbaba. Manamas therefore has no ties with either Kono or Miomafo. Re1ations between it aoo Tunbaba are strained.

The annexation of Noimuti and Manamas to Miomafo was entire1y the doing of the N etherlands East Indies Govemment. But the admission of large groups seeking refuge from a stronger enemy conforms with a traditional pattem in the politica! structure of Timor. (See, for instance, Map no. 5).

Bikomi

Bikomi offers the c1earest examp1e of a mytth being manipu1ated as a political weapon. The ties of Ithis part of Miomafo (it occupies a third of its territory and comprises one fourth of its total population) wi,th Kono have been weakened by centuries of Topass influence. Oikusi and Noimuti in the interior were Topass strongholds, and Bikomi was wedged in between these two. In the mountain country Kono was on the whole able more or less to maintain his independent position, but where Bikomi with its much more easily accessible hill-country was concerned this was rather more difficult.

In 1756, for instance, the emperor of Ama Kono conc1uded a treaty wiJth the East India Company. But only three years later, during an expedition against Noimuti, "the Tommogongs of the emperor of Amacono who are still under the sway of the Topasses swore an oath of allegiance and commended their lands to the care of the Company".73 These words cannot but refer to the tommogong (tribal heads) of Bikomi.

Bikomi, like Tunbaba, is a re1ative1y independent tribal unit. There are four clans which supply heads: Atok - Bana, Lake - Senak. The two partners of each of the two pairs are olif-tataf in respect of each other, as weU as feto-mone, the latter term referring to Ithe nature of the affinal relationship between them. The second in each case (i.e. Bana and Senak) is the senior and the bride-giver (mone). Moreover Atok - Bana together cOtliStitute the active exterior (mone), whilst Lake-Senak constitute the immobile interior and are both therefore feto. In terms of the affinal relationship Bana and Senak are therefore mone and superior, while in the poliJtica1 and ritual relationship Lake - Senak are feto and superior as the interior. It foIIowsthen, that Senak, although mentioned last, is the most important of the four - there is unanimous agreement as to this in Bikomi. SeI13Jk is the atupas, he who sleeps, and Lake is his active, masculine coul1Jterpart.

As can he seen from the above, the feto-mone re1ationship has three different aspects: in the first place it refers to the affinal relationship, in terms of which Lake is feto. Secondly to the political and ritual division of the trihe il1Jto an il1Jterior and an exterior part, in which respect too, Lake is feto. And thirdly to the ritual and politica1 division wi,thin this interior - in accordance with this Lake is mone, and the second in importance in the structure as a whoIe. The actual distribution of power, however, is strongly dependent on situations and personalities.

Af ter 1934 a Senak became acting raja of Miomafo because there was no Kono available and Lake's mother was a Kono. He was married to

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'r 293

a Sonha'i, moreover, which won him much respect. He furthermore had a talent for keeping together, through diplomacy, the intemally crumbling princedom.

Bana was his opponent - a powerful personality who was desirous of severing Bikomi's ties with Kono and of becoming raja himself. For he was, af ter all, the more importaJnt partner of the masculine exterior and had of old been the defender of the realm. He was therefore, in his own opinion, the obvious candidate for the rajaship. He was not successful, and at present (ever since 1960) 74 Lake is the most rebellious aspirant to the rajaship.

Administratively Atok-Bana and Lake-Senak each formed a district, the heads of which were Bana amd Lake respectively. Senak was not made a hea.d, originally because he was atupas and later because he was acting raja.

In connection with the solution of the problem of the succes sion in Miomafo, lengthy meetings of all heads and elders were held in every district, and sometimes went on for days on end. The myth of origin was always the basis for political claims, whether they were for or against the acceptamce of a Kono as successor to the throne of the princedom. At each meeting all the important heads, usif and amaf and their spokesmen (mafefa) were present, accompanied by countless elders a.l1d followers. I wish to go into the myths of Bikomi at considerable length because they fumish an excellent example of the myth as basis for current loyalties and of the changing myth in a changing world.75

The myth of origin of Bikomi tdls of four brothers from Malacca (i.e. South Bdu). Here they lived w~th Liurai. They moved further inland in search of a suitable place and arrived art: Nunu Koba, a few hours' walk from the southern border of Bikomi. Here their path was blocked by a huge banyan. Sonba'i, who was with them all of a sudden,76 decided to fetch a rna.tchet to lop off a large branch. He came across Senak, who was sitting under the Taupi Senak tree. Senak asked Sonba'i wh ether he knew him. Sonba'i recognized him and named him

Senak, af ter the tree under which he had encountered him. Together they removed the huge banyan branch, so that they could continue on their way. Then they climbed the hill called Kaumone Tapen-pah 77 and looked out over the land. They decided that Sonba'i would go to Oenam, the place in Molo wh ere his sonaf was located, whilst the four brothers set out for Sasi, a prominent c1iff on the northern edge of the plain of Bikomi. This is Senak's le'u rock.

Near Nunu Koba, still in Liurai territory, Soi Liurai, a woman acting as their guide, decided to return to Liurai, but died. She was buried near Nunu Koba. Here they encountered eight brothers who had come from Wehale, Liurai's residence, before them. They married the daughters of these eight brothers. Senak married Sani Bantene at Sasi, Bana married Oba Uki at Naineno, Lake married Bitnani Tpoi at Bitaik and Atok married Nebe Lite in Anab. The le'u of the clans are still kept in these places and they regularly go there to sacrifice.

Thus runs Bana's story. As he is the narrator, his name is always mentioned immediately after that of Senak. The latter gave a different version. Senak saw some smoke and went to investigate. Then he met Kisnai,78 whose daughter, Soni Kisnai, he married. They had a daughter, Komi Senak. This Bi Komi Senak 79 had to draw water for a great many people, and out of sheer laziness she went and stood in the lake. There she feIl and turned into a crocodile. Wh en people came to look for her she called out: "Say thaIt this ground is Bi-komi and Naidjan Rikomi, Usif Bikomi".80 Hence Senak was the lord of the tribal area and gave it its name, and the crocodile is Senak's totem animal. If a crocodile is killed in self-defence Senak has to bury it as though it were a human being. Bana, Atok and Lake came, and Kisnai went to the west only after this. First they lived w~th Lake in Sasi and then went to their own residences. There were people living there before they came; these - Lete-Banef, Uki-Bantene - were the original owners of the land; Bantene married his daughters to Atok, Bana and Lake.

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Now we turn back to Bana's story which col1l1:inues as follows. All of them gathered in N aineo, his le'u place. 81 The eight brothers - Uki-Bantene, Lite-Bana and Kame-Tpoi - were present here tOO.82 They gave the newcomers gardens and the latter began to plant them.

Then Atok-Bana, Lake-Senak went to Netnoni Oilafoan, close to the border of Molo. Here they came across Sonba'i. They chopped down a bamboo Sltem and in its tip put a red-plumed cockerel, a whetstone and a rifle.83 Nai Ban i Tobe, one of the men of Bikomi, was then ordered to hurl this bamboo in the direction of Liurai. The bamboo bored its way right through the cIiffs near Temef,84 thus giving the Benain River an outlet. Af ter travelling for a day and a night, the bamboo arrived at Liurai's Uma lor, or shrine containing the sacred objects. The cock crowed and cried: "1 have been given land and subjects". Liurai appeared and said, "These have been given to my younger brother".

Thereupon Bana divided the land with Sonba'i. A white bull buffalo and a white boor were sacrificed on Mt. Mutis. The buffalo's horns indicated the direction in which Sonba'i and the four brathers would he aIlocated their land. The latter then retumed to Naineo, Bana's le'u place.

As was said above, Bana was married to Oha Uki. When Oba Uki was eight mol1l1:hs pregnant, her husband, Sani Bana, was carried oH aIive to heaven hy two hawks (kola teme) one moming. The eight brothers took every care in looking af ter Oba Uki, their sister, lest

Bana disappear for gooel. Oha Uki bore a son, so that Sani Bana lived once more.85

N ow that they were together again they decided to divide the land - Bana and Senak remained in Naineo, Atok and Lake went to the north coast. There they were joined by Us Benu,86 who was given the land which is still his at present. Lake and Atok retumed to the area in which they have been resident to this day, together with Bana and Senak. Then Tunhaba Molo R7 came and asked the four usif for land. They gave him Mt. Tunbaba, which mea,ns: "they increased the populaJtion of Bikomi" ; therefore the former has to help é1Jnd follow Bikomi, for bab means "to help". Then Tunbaba Metan came, who lived in Beboki and came to Ambenu from the north along the coast. On his way he encountered Da Costa, who escorted Tunbaba MetélJn to the four usif and handed him over to them. They allowed him to live to the south of Wini, a place on the north coast. People now went in search of a Lord, as Tunbaba Metan wished to have an usif of his own. They found Lalu Matfuaf, the big-eyed one, in Kupang and he was recognized as usif. He got into debt with Da Costa and a Chinese in Oikusi, however, and in order to pay his debts people went to steal sandalwood and hees' wax. But this was not sufficient to redeem the entire debt, so that he had to resort to a trick. He took a large stone and covered it with a layer of wax. A woman had devised this scherne, and had undertaken to carry out the plan. But unfortunately the weight of the stone caused the balance to break down and the fraud wras exposed. The people wished to kill Tunbaba Metan and everyone fled. The usif returned to Kupang and Tunbaba Metan sought refuge with Bikomi, who gave him land.

Much later Naktimun also came. Olin brought drink, sugar and tobacco for sale. He came regularly from Bitoini in Molo and eventually asked for land on which to settle. Ol in married Ena Lake Naek wd Ena Lake Ana, two sisters by the same name. Since then Ol in has been resident in N aktimun on land given him by Bikomi.

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 297

Us Kono also once came from South Belu. "But if we have to relate this story, wicked things, which are better kept silent, will come to light. If these affairs have to be settled (i.e. the issue of the succession in Miomafo) we shall not be able tü live together on good terms again afterwards." This introduction to the episode heightened the suspense - the chiefs of Miomafo listened breathlessly.

Us Kono lived in Haitimo in South Belu, where he commi1Jted an offence against the law - he committed sodomy with a horse and had to flee because the people wanted to take his life. Thereupon Kono supporters jumped to their feet, roaring furiously at Bana. At length he was able to proceed with his story, saying: Us Kono hid in Asu Nake and then went to Molo, where he asked Sonba'i for land. Not long afterwards he commi·tted adultery with Sonba'i's wives, Taha Lake and Bai Lake 88 and with Kolo Pifai and Kolo Sife, the daughter of the fettor of Mutis. Now he fled to Bikomi, to the highest point of the Miomafo. He went ItO Sani Bana in Sasi,89 taking a smooth bangle with him, and th ere asked for help. The four rulers of Bikomi declared war on Sonba'i. They took sixteen heads and captured eight prisoners. Thus Us Kono broke with Sonba'i for good. Oematan also feU out with Sonba'i, for whenever Kono-Oematan brought their annual harvest gifrts, Sonba'i would kill one of them. And so together they drove Sonba'i out. Us Kono dared not return, and hence asked Bikomi for land and married Uki Lake and N eno Lake. The latter died the same year as Us Kono.90

Us Thaal is also dependent on Bikomi, as formerly he lived together with Us Kono. When they quarreUed about their joint treasure kept in Kono's le'u shrine, he went to Ablal in the north, which belonged to Amfoan and Ambenu. In order to make this area his he asked Bikomi's aid. The four usif of Bikomi went to discuss the matter with Amfoan and Ambenu and were given the land against payment. Each of the two was given a large string of coral beads and a disc worth ten

Mexican dollars 91 - Tasi Sena on hehalf of Amfoan and Manu Babe on behalf of Ambenu. Then Thaal was permitted to live there.

It goes without saying that this Bikomi myth of origin is no more "historicaI", than any other myth. Notwithstanding, there are definitely historical moments discernible in it, especially as a resulrt of the practice of putting all that is of vital interest to the community at the moment of narration on the one horizontal, synchronie plane. This particular myth contains too much history for it to be acceptable entire1y as a myth. The quarrel between Kano and Thaal in respect of rthe joint heirlooms did not occur until 1920, af ter Kono'Si death, and was not setrt:led until 1947. The acting raja, Kefi Lelan, who succeeded him was a foreigner, a mere figure-head manipulated by the Netherlands East Indies Government. He defalcated these treasures, which were in his custodianship. The young princes did not inform Us Thaal of this. Nor was the latter informed when the case was adjudicated and Kefi Lelan was instructed to restore the entire sum; this he did in part, in fact. Nonetheless, Thaal was Kano's "elder brother", and the treasure was owned jointly by them. The young princes had therefore proved themselves to be lacking in respect for him. The dispute was settled in 1947 by rthe paymen<t of four strings of coral heads by way of fine and conciliatory gift. Before this the aged Us Thaal repeatedly replied, when questioned about Us Kono's rights of succes sion, that there was no longer a Kono left. The last one had died in 1920 and left no sons. "The sarong was tied fast" (= the womb of the wife of Kono was closed, so that she could not bear children). "Whart: about Oinunu and Afoon?" (the two sons of the Kono who had died in 1920) "I don't know them, Us Kono was childless, the sarong was tied fast." Bana now alluded to this in order to avoid a rapprochement between Kono and Thaal.

Are we to say that this myth is not authentic? If we use the word "myth" in the sense as defined by Locher,02 namely as "referring in general to the representation by means of language of events which hu man beings ronsider as absolutely essential for their existenee and as giving meaning simultaneously to the present, the past and the future", our answer cannot he a simple "yes" or "no".

This myth clearly contains references to the great Sonba'i tradition

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 299

with which we have become acquainted in Molo and Miomafo. It is set in the same frameworks, and relates and explains, furthermore, the position of the group by which it is related. When this position changes, the myth, as a form of expression and the justifieation of the position of the group, has to change too. The mythieal basis, which is rooted in a primeval past of culture heraes, both original inhabitants of the area and later arrivals, children of heaven and of the earth, remains unchanged. Inasmuch as this is so, all changes which result from the group's impressing i1:s own specific stamp upon i1: and which indicate the re1ative strength of its re1ations with a larger entity are authentic, therefore. Even slight deviatians resulting from differences in emphasis given by the different narrators of the four different quarters of Bikomi may he considered authentic in this sense.

Senak, as atupas who is in charge of the ritual of heaven and earth, eannot omit to indieate his re1ationship to Kisnai, the original lord of the land, for instance ; and Bana wiU always have the four brothers depart from and return to his own le' u place.

But the question as to the authenticity of this particular myth still rernains unanswered. The statement that Kono and Ambenu and all those surrounding them are BikOIni's inferiors, and were given land Clind brides by Bikomi, is a hubris equal to thaJt displayed by Taolin in 1:he myth in which he eaUs himself Liurai's bride-giver and puts himself on a par with Sonba'i as the radiant son of heaven. This would nevertheless he authentic if the group itself were positively convinced that this was the truth. But this is where some doubts arise. In both cases the myth is manipulated as a political weapon in a new and modern way with less respect for the values of the old system - Taolin uses it to consoHdate his position and Bana uses it to acquire the title of raja of an independent Bikomi, "oost what it may". To this end even falsificart:ion of the myth is considered justifiable. This marks the end of a by-gone era, the total oollapse of an ancient world view. Locher's definition of the myth is not complete, or rather, not sufficiently c1ear. Life is regulated by myths; they are "absolutely essential". It should be added to this, however, that they are inviolable; in the ease of the Atoni it ean even be said that they are sacrosanct (le'u). For the Atoni is extremely reluctant to relate his myth of origin, because, as he says, it might he stolen by others. The awe with which his ancestors and the myth itself inspire him play an equally importanrt part in this. But for Bana and Taolin the myth is no longer inviolable. They no langer have such a deep-rooted fear of the curse of the ancestars and the forces of the hidden world as to leave unaltered the words spoken by their fathers before them. Even the aged Kune, who lived high up on the slopes of Mt. Miomafo, nOl!: far from his le'u house, re1ated his myth with a slight alteration seven years larter - this alterartion concerood Sonba'i's position, and it was consciously introduced. Myths constantly change because the communities for which they are meaningful change - but they are never changed sa brazenly or individually.

In spite of this, Bana created an impression of sincerity - he appeared to believe himself in the myths which were his own fabrication. He had been engaged in the modernization of myths for at least eight years. Why should he, as an Atoni who is convinced that political proof has to be derived from the myth, not have believed in them, convinced as he was of Bikomi's lawful pre-eminence as the largest, most densely populated sub-territory of Miomafo?

But the nature of his belief is different from thart: of Kune and of the old narrators of myths. Bana's myth shows a greater degree of similarity to the myths on which the political goals of modern European powers were based; it distinguishes itself from them in form rather than in purpose.

At the plenary meeting of all the heads of Bikomi, at which Bana presided because the aged Us Senak was a supporter of Kono and oould not, on the other hand, oppose too much the interests of his own group, the Government administrator asked with reference to this myth how Us Kono could formerly have been fettor 93 of the whole of Miomafo. After a confused silence Bana 94 finally replied : "He came as Sonba'i's fettor but was not allowed to do anything without the consent of the four usif of Bikomi. And when Kono came to live in Bikomi he was a nobody."

"Then how do you explain the fact that Us Kono brought gold to the Company in Kupang?"

HIt is true that Laknem Kono brought gold to Kupang, but Kano was still in Molo at that time. It was na concern of Miomafo's."

"Didn't he bring gold from the Noilnoni near Noiltoko?" (This is the

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 301

river that flows along the eastern flank of the Miomafo, not far from Bikomi, therefore, and it was Kono's only source of gold.)

"He prohably did so without our knowledge."

"Then how is it that when the Company arrived a Kono was still fettor of Miomafo and that Kono had been fettor for the past five generations ?" (The five names were summed up.)

There was no reply for a long while, and then Bana said: "He had no right to this position, for we, the four usif of Bikomi, have never raised him to that rank. And we have never brought him the flow er of the harvest as tribute."

"H all the land belonged to Bikomi, and Bikomi gave it to Kano, Thaal, Tunbaba and Ambenu, then why is it that the usif of these areas have never brought harvest gifts to Bikomi?"

There was no reply. Finally Bana suggested that the sou of Senak be appointed ruler of Miomafo. But Senak said: "I am the greatest of the four usif of Bikomi. That is why we (that is, his father) have married Vis Kono. And that is why I have been elected raja of Miomafo. What I say is the truth: I have summoned the eight district heads in order to recognize Vis Kono. That is all." Bana continued to offer opposition, however.

The question Locher 95 once put to Bana sheds even more light on the matter. Bana came in one evening to see Locher, who was doing research in Bikomi in 1941, and confided his myth of origin to him, much to Locher's surprise, familiar as he was with the reluctance of the Timorese to relate their myths. Locher therefore suspected that he had ulterior, political motives, and he asked Bana, when the latter had finished his narration, whether he knew the story of the origin of fire. Bana's spokesman replied spontaneously in the affirmative. But all of a sudden there was a painful silence, upon which Bana asked to be excused and left. The others also left without a word. When he got outside, Bana burst into tears. For the myth of the origin of fire relates how in primeval times a number of ancestors had become acquainted with fire. One took it in his hand, another put it in his kain, a third in his mouth, and so on, until finally one discovered the correct use and broughrt: it in contact with wood, thus lighting a hearth-fire. This story was always told amid much hilarity. Bana, now, was one of the figures who had acted foolishly. And so the authentic myth had destroyed the modern one.

Af ter the issue of the succession of Kono had been thus discussed at great length in all the sub-terrirtories of Miomafo, the decisive general meeting was held. All the chiefs and dignirtaries of the eight sub-territories were present, accompanied by their spokesmen, those well versed in the tradition, the fa;thers, and the elders with their followers - more than 300 persons in all. The meeting was held in front of the lopo of Us Senak, the acting raja of Miomafo. All around, on ,the surrounding hills, another several rthousand people had assembied in groups.

The situation was extremely complex. Noimuti had not become Dutch territory until 1916, and had only been annexed to Miomafo in 1917. The prople of Manamas were refugees from Ambenu who had come there in 1912; and in the centre there was an unruly Bikomi, where only Us Senak was loya!. Furthermore, Us Kono's eldest son was unacceptable as he had committed adultery with a few wives of rus amaf, that is to say, women be10nging to the groups of his atoni amaf. And the second son was a simpleton; but he was married to the daughter of the extremely progressive and highly popular ruler of Amarasi.

Perhaps this was the last occasion on which a decision concerning the future of the community was to be made in a setting in wruch the old ways of thinking and the ancient customs still prevailed. Everyone, without exception, was adorned in rus finest hand-woven c1oths, each district being represented by its own patrtern - Tunbaba by the splendid large ikat of dark indigo and white; Manamas by two brickred bands and a white central band wirth various patterns woven inrto it and - in rthe case of the usif - colourful edges; Bikomi, Naktimun and Noiltoko by brown, red and yellow ikat patterns without a central band; Ablal and Molo by red c10ths with a plain white band in the cenrtre; N oimuti by floral patterns, copied from rthe Portuguese; 96 and so on.

The heads were recognizable by the shapes and colours of their kerchiefs, by their heavy silver bangles, the large silver discs on their chests, the countless strings of coral beads with gold or silver c1asps around their necks, and their silver anklets (wom only by some). Only the Netherlands lndies Government administrator and two Timorese officials (an interpreter and a secretary) were wearing European dress. They represented the foreign power which made it possible for the

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 303

heads ,to assembIe here without fea.r of serious disturbances, even In the absence of the police. But, on the other hand, the final decision, by wmch they would have to abide, lay with this power.

Like the dukes of Shakespeare's royal tragedies, the usif identified themse1ves with the territory and the people they represented; in this case this identification with their tribe went right back into the mythical past.

The Government administrator who chaired the meeting eXplained its purpose. Us Kono had died in 1920, when Kefi Lelan had temporarily taken over the rajaship on behalf of Kono's sons, who were then still under age. He had been appointed to this function only because of his glib tongue and his ability to speak Malay, which had secured him a favourable position with the Company. It was not until 1934 that all sorts of outrages he had committed came to light. Us Senak had become his successor with the approval of all. N ow that he was old and Us Kono's sons had reached their majority long ago he wished to return the government to Us Kono.

Us Senak repeated and eonfirmed the above; the problem of the administrart:ion of Miomafo had to be definitely settled onee for all. It had been discussed at great length for more than a year. The aged Us Olin of Naktimun supported him: "Us Senak has temporarily replaced Us Kono, so Us Kono now has to return". Us Bana, representing the two sub-territories of Bikomi and Nilulat, and speaking on behalf of the four usif, requested that Liurai, Sonba'i, Ambenu, Amanatun, Amfoan, Amarasi, Insana and Beboki be invited to attend and set forth their views on the rights of succession in this country. Mateos Da Costa, Lord of N oimtllti, stated that he had formerly always been independent. Us Meko of Manamas said that he came from abroad and belonged to Ambenu and therefore did not know Us Kono. Us Thaal from Ablal then called out: "Amkono is one of the amaf of Timor". Tunbaba and Naktimun declared that they had been followers of Us Kono for many years. Thereupon Noiltoko was asked its opinion, upon which a confused murmur arose. "Noi1toko cannot be asked, for that is Us Kono himself." Then Fai M nasi , the executive authority within the sanaf itself, Us Kono's spokesman and executive counterpart, rose to his feet and said: "Everything up to Insana and Beboki is Us Kono's, for he gave brides, he gave land, even to Nilulat (the district of Us Lake, one of the usif of Bikomi)."

The chainnan, seeing thaJt there was disagreement, asked for a decisionon Bikomi's proposal to invite ather rulers to be present.

Ablal said: "There is no need for witnesses. I always was Us Kono and still am Us Kono. The name has not been stolen." Bikomi reiterated its demand, and was supported by Noimuti, who said: "Then we shall hear where the navel of the Dry Land is; it is NoimUJti, where Kisnai was lord of the land in primeval times."

The aged Senak said: "The presence of other amaf (fathers of the people) would embarrass us, as though we did oot know our own tradition." Everyone agreed that no other princes were to be invited. The meeting was able to coI1ltÎnue. Us Bana of Bikom'Î now related his myth of origin, with omission of the episodes concerning Us Kono's committing sodomy with a mare and other outrages. The narration took up half an hour and was recited by the mafefa in the usual rhythmic, archaic language. The audience listened with rapt attention.

Fai Mnasi, acting as Kono's mafefa, then asked: "To which of the surrounding realms did Bikomi give brides, if all of the land of Miomafo belongs to Bikomi? To Ambenu, Amanatun, Banam or Insana?" Bikomi replied : "I have said enough and have stated my origin. Now ask what Kono's origin is."

Fai Mnasi mentioned the names of two daughters given by Us Kono to Liurai and the names of two received by him in return,97 and proceeded to sum up his affinal relationships with Ambenu, Amfoan and Banam. He was Lake's and Senak's bride-giver too. All names concerned wereenumerated.

Bikomi asked: "Where was Us Kono living at the time?"

Fai Mnasi. replied : "In the place of origin of Miornafo, In the land of Amkono."

Bikomi: "Kono came later. Bikomi was here first."

Fai Mnasi: "Then how come there are two Lake graves on Mt. Miomafo?"

Bikomi: "It is true, Snoe Lake lies buried above Sito (the silte ot Kono's former sanaf), but his body was brought there by KonD."

Fai Mnasi: "He died in Us Kono's service, for Lake is as a mat, as an underlay (i.e. wife) to Us Kono." 98

There was uproar on the side of Bikomi. Both si des continued to argue about the affinal relationships hinted at in this statement.

Then the old and powerful Us Thaal of Ablal stood up and bellowed : "Us Kono is atupas. He sits in the centre, in the navel of his realm,

THE SPHERE OF SONBA'I 305

his men have been dispatched to the gateways of the realm. That is why Bikomi lives near the gateway, on the edge."

An indescribabie tumult and c1amour followed this remark. Bikomi: "Let Ablal speak of the division of the lands."

Ablal: "There is an Oinunu (taboo banyan near the souree) in the east and similarly in the west, that is Oinunu Kono's place (name of Kono's e1dest son). From there eaeh was given his place in Amkono." He then summed up usifs' names. "And Lake's head is as the Sll:ump and hi~ legs are as fire-wood."

Further uproar ensued. Above the din Ablal thundered contemptuously: "I know of Ambenu, Amfoan, Amanatun, Amarasi. But where is Amlake, where is Amkomi?" He c1apped his hands and jumping up in the air he drew up his knees.99

Bikomi yelled: "Au Bikomi - I am Bikomi." This was greeted with shouts on both si des. People from the surrounding hills came running into the meeting.

The chairman rose from his seat and ordered silence. Fai Mnasi: "Where was Bikomi when the Kompeni came? Why didn't you join the Kompeni as raja?" (This was an appeal to the Netherlands East Indies Government nat to recognize Bikomi this time either.)

Ablal: "All of a sudden you wish 10 Sll:eal Us Kono's place. Nilulat has robbed us of our land through a petition 100 and now you want to take away our soul; you have even robbed Noimuti of land." 101

Bikomi asked permission to speak and said: "Sonba'i and KonoOematan came to Neto Mnanu. There Kono committed adultery with one af Sonba'i's wives. Then Lake was summoned to give assistance and was given a rifle by Sonba'i in order to guard Kono. 102 Lake fetched Timau, Amfoan and AmOOlU, who came to Hanuf on Mt. Mutis and gave Kono land." And then he repeated in short his myth of origin. The audience listened to it with menacing faces, their heads turned the other way. The ehairman concluded the meeting with the words that to comply with Us Bana's and Us Lake's demand would involve opposing the will of Us Senak, the greatest of the four usif of Bikomi. That it would mean cutting Tunbaba aff from Us Kono, the ties with whom it wished to maintain; toot Manamas would then no longer have any place in this realm either; and that Noimuti with its 1879 inOObitants could oot possibly form a separate princedom. That for these reasons he would propose 10 the resident in Kupang that he appoint as raja of Miomafo Gaspar Kono, the second sou, who was married to the daughter of the raja of Amarasi, president of the newly founded Council of Chiefs for ,the whole of Indonesian Timor.

No-one opposed this decision. In fact, the majority agreed because it wished to maintain the unity of the realm and there was no other candidate available. Noimuti resigned itself because it realised that it was too small to become independent. And Bikomi bowed its head to the decrees of a foreign power and the demands of a new age. But the new raja will never posses real authority. The process of scission which split the ancient unitary whole into different political communities had completed itself here. I t was essentially an authentically Timorese process which would have come about in approximate1y the same manner even if the N ötherlands Indies Government had not interfered - and perhaps would have completed itself even more rapidly, though not without bloodshed and with one main difference: I1:he characteristic nature of the autochthonous political community, which the foreign government did not understand and could not accept, would have remained intact. N ew communities would have deve10ped and the possibility of former centres trying 10 exel1t their influenee anew would always have remained.

The process of disintegration of the traditional political communities did not cease when Timor became part of an independent Indonesia. Moreover a new process, whereby the members of the tribe are beginning to regard themselves as members of the new Indonesian nation, is slowly completing Ï'tself.

CHAPTER IX

THE PRINCEDOMS BEYOND THE IMMEDIATE SPHERE OF INFLUENCE OF SONBA'I

These included Amanuban and Amanatun in the south, Amfoan and Ambenu in the north and Amarasi, Amabi and Kupang in the west.

1. AMANUBAN

According to the myth there lived four clans around Mt. Tunbesi: Tenis, Asbanu, Nubatonis and Nomnafa. Of these four Nubatonis 1 or Nuban was the most prominent and the land derived its name from it. Nai Djabi lived in the west of the land. He was the original inhabitant or the lord of the land, but was driven out and sought refuge with the Dutch in Kupang, and so the realm of Amabi 2 came into being not far from Kupang.

The prince of Amanuban, Uis Nope, and his two usif came "from outside". Amanuban later extended its territory and power so that many other clans - such as Niti-Bani, a branch of the clan of the ruler of Amanatun - came to settle there. But the first four clans continued to be acknowledged as those that have the oldest righb.

The pattern here is the same as elsewhere, therefore, with some smalI, though important deviations - we have here an original group and four great fathers af ter one of whom the realm was named. The latrt:er is a phenomenon which we have not encountered elsewhere so far and is probably connected with the myrth of origin of the ruling lineage. This was recorded by MüIIer 3 outside Amanuban as early as 1829.

A Rotinese slave of Abineno,4 an usif of Amarasi, though originally affi1Ïaited with Abi, once saw a flickering flame in a dream - a propitious omen. He robbed his lord of all his gold and silver and fled to Amanuban. At night he lit a huge fire on a high cliff. When people went to look at the fire they saw a youth as radiant as gold. He had been sent by Vis Nooo to he their mier. Thus mns Müller's version. Here we have once more the familiar pattern of the ruler who at first appears to he "dirty" - "dirty" in the sense of "lowly" or "abject" here - as he is a slave who resorts to cunning and takes possesion of his master's gold and silver, the symbols of the sun and the moon, and later appears as the radiant one (apinat). His master, Abineno, is reminiscent of Nai Djabi, who was driven out.

A hundred years later Venema 5 was given a different version in Amanuban itself.

Bil Banu and Sopo Bilas came to Amanuban from Kupang or Roti; there they married the raja's daughters. Thereupon they reaehed Mt. Tunbesi, where they helped the peopJe in the trade with the Portuguese. Bil Banu was then recognized as ruler - he ehanged his own name to Bil Nope and that of his companion to Sopo Isu.

Thil" is most likely a rationalization of the ol der myth in whieh the representation of the ruler as a slave before be became a prince probably marks its sou ree as a hostile one. M üller was never in Amanuban, the attitude of whieh prineedom towards the Dutch and the surrounding prineedoms was anrtagonistic ,in his time. The changing of nam es is an authentic motif, which also oceurs in the Sonba'i myth.

Aeeording to the Amanuban version, too, the ruler came via Amanatun, where he married the daughters of Niti Bani, one of the oldest clans of Amanatun. W orthy of note is the information that the ruler of Amanuban is supposed always to marry Niti Bani women and never - contrary to the practiee elsewhere - the daughters of the anwf naek. He has a stronger position, therefore, because there are no superior, bride-giving groups in his realm. On the other hand, he has to recognize Niti Bani of Amanatun as his afoni amaf. On the basis of this permanent affinal alliance he is called feto in respect of Niti Bani. But, people added, the fourth ruler did not marry a woman from Niti Bani in Amanatun, but one from the clan which had braken away from it and lived in Amanuban itself. From then on marriage with this clan was considered more desirnble. Marriages were made, besides, with daughters of the atupas of Insana and Tfunai of N oimuti. Although the ruler sometimes contracted a marriage with a woman from his own princedom, he never did so with a daughter of one of the four great fathers.

Another unusual detail worth noting is the position of the two usif, Uis Isu and Uis Fina. These belong to the sphere of the sonaf, even though originally they were affiliélJted with two of the sub-territories. They remained under the ruier's immediate control and had no governing powers of their own - they were no more than irnermediaries between the ruler and his subjects. Theirstatus was no higher than that of the most prominent amaf.6 They were only appointed district heads by the Netherlands East Indies Government in 1908. Hence th is confirms what was already observable in Insana, namely that the usif are the ruier's executive, masculine counterparts and belong to the centre. In Amanuban, however, the immobile, feminine ruler in the centre has no kolnel as in Insana. This is an indication that in this area, which is rather more distant from the direct sphere of influence of South Belu, the ruler is less feminine. We find this pattern of a ritual, though oot specifically feminine ruler - who in this case does not bear the title atupas either - in all the western principalities.

Nor are there four usïf, but two, as in the case of Sonba'i. In accordance with the ever-present dualism in Timor this number cannot but be two: when Us Fina's lineage disappeared - Us Fina having been murdered and most of his clan having fled - another line, N akamnanu, which descended from the first ruler, was elevated to its position. This may be interpreted as a further centralization of the ruler's power, for the myth of origin relates that Us Isu came with the ruler, while Us Fina had come separately, and was therefore more independent. He had to he raised to the status of usif. There is still to this day a district head Nakamnanu in the palace of Nope, the ruler of Amanuban. 7

Amanuban's tradition and history also furnish a fine example of the weakening and subsequent re-strengthening of the ruier's position. "Originally" he was very powerful. As a result of the wars with the Topasses in the first half of the eighteenth century he had to flee to Kupang and, as the saying goes: "The land remained behind empty". Af ter the defeat of the Portuguese (i.e. the Topasses) by the Kompeni and the Mardekers 8 near Penfui he and his people came back. 9 They settled down in a new place called Niki-Niki. "Here they all lived together out of fear for the enemy." The first kesel or emperor here was a very powerful ruler who received the epithet Tames Pah (= we make the land one; the ruler always uses the royal plural). This name denotes that the ruler is the peace-maker of the land. In the nineteenth century the ruier's authority weakened. Amanuban was decidedly antiDutch during this time, so that a meo naek, Atau-pah, who sided with the Dutch, managed to gain most of thc power for himse1f.1° Towards thc end of thc century thc mIer recovered his power to some extent, although intcrnal wars continued to rage especially with the Nabuasa of south-west Amanuban, who nonetheless did nat cease to he aware that they "had been allocated their place by the ruler". It was the Netherlands East Indies Government which first caused the great crisis in Amanuban through lack of understanding and mismanagement, which resulted in a suicidal rehellion, and then proceeded to restore the authority of the emperor, Pae NOpe.ll The latter sct himself up as a powerful, much dreaded mIer in the course of time, though no longer on the basis of support from thc Colonial Government, bult along the lines of the tradition of Amanuban, according to which the ruler need pay very little heed to his amaf naek and his usif (at present his district heads).

2. AMANATIJN

Amanatun is an inaccessible territory because of its rugged. steep mountain ridges and deep valleys. This is why it rernained isolated for a long time. It fell under Colonial rule in 1908 and was subsequently joined to Anas or Nenometan with which it had no ties whatsoever. It remained what it had always been: an ancient Timorese political community in which there are probably as many vcstiges of the old structures as in Insana. But no research has ever been conducted here, although there are a few administrative reports, written just af ter the subjection of Amanatun, which bring out c1early the basic structure.12

Originally there were four clans, each pair of which had one founder. Here there are not, therefore, four brothers, but two patriarchs who founded four groups, so that there is greater emphasis O'n bipartition. They were Niti Bani - Bana, Nenabu - Misa, the four great fathers.

N~ti Bani is the first and most prominent of the four. WhaJt the relationship between the two groups was is no Jonger clear. Bana and Niti-Bana are feto-mone 13 in respect of each other on the basis of an affinal relationship. The royal Iineage Banu Naek, which according to the tradition is very oId and is regarded in the whole of Atoni Timor as equal in every respect to Liurai and Sonba'i, once again came from abroad or overseas, and landed at Menu near the eliff of Tun Am on the south coast.

Banu N aek acted as leader in the battle waged by the four great fathers against the oldest, original inhabitants of the realm, the Kesnai or Kisnai, also mentioned as the oldest inhabitants in Amanuban and Noimuti on the analogy of Kune in the realm of Sonba'i and the Ema Melu in Belu. In Amanatun, too, a story still exists in which Kune figures as one of the oldest inhabitants. Banu N aek had him buried alive and changed the name Kune to Afi, meaning "past" - Kune's rights had become a thing of the past and Banu N aek had tak'en his place.14 This is the reverse of Kune's fate in the realm of Sonba'i, where he became the bride-giver and usif of Sonba'i.

Like Sonba'i, Banu Naek is the culture hero. He introduced fire to his people. Ris name means "great prohibition", because once during a period of mourning he forbade the counting of the heads taken during a raid after the victory. The clothes he wore at the celebration given in honour of the victory were embroidered with gold-thread and he had golden ornaments around his neck, beard, wrists and ankles. Hence the name of the land became Ama-natun (= father - gold). Contrary to the practice in Amanuban, but entirely in conformity with the pattern found in the rest of Timor, the ruler is O'bliged to take a daughter of one of the four great fathers for his first wife. They are his atoni amaf, (!Ind are therefore in charge of his life-cyele rites and his superiors in this respect.

The ritual prince has at his side his mafefa (mouth) who resides in a different viIIage. He executes the ruier's commands. In 1920 this was someone from a side-Iineage of the Banu N aek clan. Ris function was hereditary and it was said that it had always been held by a Banu

Naek. In the case of Insana and Beboki too, we have seen that the koinel function could he passed on to a member of the loro lineage. But this was not a traditional practice. The question is whether it was so in Amanatun. There is a. myth concerning the disappearance of the roler, which runs as follows. Once upon a time a Chinese merchant carried off the young heir to the throne 10 compensaJt:e the loss of a servant of his who had died in au accident. When the ruler died Nai Mone, the masculine lord and the ruier's executive counterpart, wanted to succeed him. He subj ected N ai Nokas, the defender of the northern border near Santean, to a grave insult by giving him buffalo meat and corn to eat instead of pork and riee on the occasion of the deceased ruler's mortuary feast. Hence Nai Nokas went in search of the abducted prinee and found him in Oikusi, in the territory of the Portuguese on the north coast. Nai Mone was chased away.15

Two things are worth noting here. As in the Sonba'i myth, which we also found in Insana, there is question here of the ruier's disappearanee and his subsequent restoration to glory. Secondly, we have here an explanation of the disappearance of the ruler's masculine, executive counterpart. As far as this is concerned the myth may he a reflection of a stroggle for the political power between the ritual ruler and his executive authority. This may explain why from then on this office was conferred on someone from the ruier's own lineage, whose title thenceforth became nwfefa, implying a greaJt:er degree of dependence on the roler than the title N ai Mone.

Nai Nokas also came from abroad. He lived in the north to defend the border against Anas and is the head of Beti and Liu Noka, the original inhabitants. He should perhaps he regarded as the masculine exterior.

It is interesting to note that there is no separate mention of two usif who are connected with the centre. The four great fathers, as weil as Nokas, are also addressed as usi. Nokas can he regarded as usif, while the first of the great fathers, Niti Bani, had attained a similar position. When the Dutch arrived in 1906 the raja Banu Naek only roled over the four central villages (through his 11U1fefa), whilst Niti Bani ruled the district of Noe Bone to the south-west and west, and N okas the district of N oe Bana to the north and east of the centre.16 The great fathers lived in the centre and in Noe Bone. Hence Nokas had no connections with the great fathers and could therefore never supplant the ruler, whereas Niti Bani, as amaf naek, had too strong a tie with the ruler. A oonsequence of this situation was that only a Banu Naek could he appointed raja by the Netherlands East Indies Government, in contrast with what happened in Insana and Beboki. Banu N aek was of course more suitable for modern government than the rulers of these two princedoms because he was less feminine and immobile - this was true in any case af ter Nai Mone's disappearance. From a structural point of view Amanatun is a border-line case. It borders on Anas, among others, which is matrilineal and which in turn borders on South Belu, where the ruler is strictly feminine and immobile.

In spite of the fact that the ruier's position is so central and traditionally important, the balance of power is quite stabie because the great fathers occupy such an important position. Middelkoop 17 furnishes a very fine example of this; it is one from his own experience. A school once had to he built, and the ruler summoned his people to help. As was frequently the case wh en this kind of "strange" work had to be done, not enough people responded to his summons. So he ordered the amaf naek, Nai Misa, to come with all his people. The laHer sent his mafefa, who expressed his indignation in the usual rhythmic prose, as follows :

"Who received you when you first landed at Menu?

Who took you on his lap and fostered you ?

Who brought cooking-pots and plates?

Who brought rice and maize?

Who brought pig's meat and buffalo meat to feed and foster you?

When your ship was wrecked and your ca:noe was shattered

at the foot of the rock Tun Am and Faut me ...

Why does Nai Misa alone have to work and toil,

carrying poles and the staiks of palm-Ieaves

to erect the school building, to build the teacher's house

in Nunkolo and Oe Nopu?

Why does not Santean come, why is N ai Nokas not here?" 18

The ruler sat a:bsolutely silent, as N ai Misa was his immediate atoni amaf·19

Nai Nokas had not been summoned because, according to the myth. he had brought back the prince.

This is an excellenJt exampie of both the intimate nature of the amaf naek's ties wÎlth the ruier and the ineffectualness of the latter's political power, especially in matters of modern governmenJt.

DIAGRAM No. 15

Amanat,,,, NORTH Santean Nokas; Noe Hana Banu Naek, mIer in Nunkolo four centra I villages of EAST WEST four great fathers : Niti Bani - Bana, Nenabu - Misa Noe BOlle; Sahan Niti Bani sea s.w. SOUTH

3. AMFOAN

It is difficult to obtain a clear picture of the structure of Amfoan uniess, like Van Wouden,lIo we are sratisfied with a single souree.

Aceording to the myth there onee eame two clans - Taebenu to the south, near Lelogama, and Tabelak to the north of this, near Leloboko and Bioba. They were the Hau Muti (= white wood) as opposed to the indigenous inhabitants, who were called Hau Metan (= black wood). The latter emerged from the Timau, the 1700 m. high mountain in the eentre of the prineedom. The name of this mountain is of ten used with reference to the princedom as a whole.lI1 The Hau Metan eomprised five groups, later joined by another 'two.lIl!

In a story of a war between Molo and Timau the four groups of Timau are listed as: Timau, Faumes, Puinle and Maunaban. In another story their "female sides" are added to these: Bobo - Ban Afi,

Tabelak - Taebenu.23 Bobo - Ban'afi are two groups from Ambenu.24 We have here astrange phenomenon in that the groups which came from abroad aresaid to be feminine, while the masculine names are not those of the Hau Metan either.

Again the royal dynasty is nat autochthonous. But the stories are oontradictory on this point. Müller in 1829 found a division of the realm into Sorbian in the interior 25 and Amfoan on the coast. This division is explained by a conflict between two brothers, the younger of whom took his brother's bride-to-be when the latter had gone to Kupang. This resulted in a battle, in which the younger brother was victorious. There has been a division ever since. The elder brother was given a small pioce of territory and the vil1age of N aikliu on the coast. Van Wouden's interpretation is that the moral authority rests with the elder brother, who is responsible for external affairs on the coast, and that the younger has the actual power, being in charge of the internal government in the mountains. He then proceeds to take this as confirmation of his theory concerning the division of power in Wehale.26

The actual situation is altogether different. Sorbian was situated on the north coast, to the west of the border of Ambenu. The Portuguese regularly dropped anchor in this part of the island as early as the sixteenth century in order to carry on trade. They called it Serviao, referring with this name to the en ti re realm of Sonba'i.27 Doubtless Sorbian was the name of a more or less independent part of Amfoan. For according to the Atoni themselves it is a derivation of: sale (= to separate), bian (= part). The legend of its division, which fits in so well with the political structures of Timor, may refer back to the time when Malacca or even to the time when Majapahit and Kediri carried on trade here, i.e. to the 15th or even the 14th and 12th centuries. At that time the coastal area was the more important. All subsequent quarre1s were fitted into this old dichotorny in accordance with the mythical pattern. As, for example, the story of the quarrel between two brothers over a wornan., whereupon the elder sought refuge with the Dutch in Kupang but was later given back Naikliu, a village on the ooast some distance to the west which owes its origin mainly to the fact that a number of Rotinese settled there, and therefore has nothing to do with Amfoan itself. Hence the more important district was called Sorbian again. According to Koopmans 28 the name of the younger brother was Sorbian, and the two parts of the princedom were called Amfoan Timau (i.e. the interior) and Amfoan N aikliu. The fmmer of these occurs in the government dec ree of 13th Novenlber, 1849, as fettor of Lelogama. When Müller was in the interior of Amfoan in 1829 Masu Taif-woko (i.e. Tai-boko = big-bellied, li,t.: pumpkinshaped abdomen - and therefore female), also called Usi Molo (= the yellow lord) was ruler here. He had two fettor: Tabelak mnasi (= Tabelak the el der) and Tabelak mnuki (= Tabelak the younger). The raja of coastal Amfoan also had two fettoy, although he was ruler of less than 5,000 people. The Taibenu living in the south near Lelogama were independent at the time. Subsequent to a war between Taibenu and Oematan of Molo its head and a number of his subjects fled to Kupang. The eastern part of Amfoan was later oceupied by Ambenu, moreover. The heads of Ambenu who lived in this area later broke off their ties with Ambenu and submitted themselves to the Netherlands East Indies Government. Af ter this Government had become definitely established in 1905 Amfoan became once more united under Elizabeth Aunono (= golden body) from Amfoan Naikliu with the assistance of Netherlands East Indies troops.29 In 1914 the former royallineage of Amani was reinstated.30

1t is dear from this historical oudine that it is impossible '10 draw far-reaching conclusions about the structure on the basis of a single historical piece of data. One thing is cer1ain, however, name1y that all historical deve10pments are shaped by the traditional structural principles.

4. AMBENU

The borders of Ambenu coineide with those of the Portuguese enclave of Oikusi. Here onee again bipartition is the basic pattern - it

is divided into Bobo - Ban'afi. They were given their names simul28 Report by Koopmans, 1917, p. 179.

taneously with Sonba'i. Bobo is the more impcmtant of the two; the name means CIto sleep on one's stomach". Like the title atupas this stresses the immobile nature of the ruler's function. He lives in the east and is the head of the Naidjuf nim, the five triballords. Ban'afi lives in ,the west and is the head of the Naidjuf sio, the nine tri bal lords. The meaning of Ban'afi is said to be: he who conceals the truth (ban = someone who interprets dreams; afi = to hide, conceal). The diagram below is base<! on the abovenamed division. 31

DIAGRAM No. 16 Ambenu olif tataf 1110lle feto Bobo Tasae - llan'ali Bobo Kase Tot - Man Nabe Kuatet WEST Leln Uf - Us Talm Us Ahani EAST Teboko, Snni Uf . :Meko Benn feta UI who is one Bobo Meto with Han Heon leto UI

Bobo Meto (meto = dry) lives in the eastern half, in the interior, and Bobo Kase lives on the coast (kase = foreign, overseas - although Bobo himself is not a foreigner he has contacts with foreigners). Bobo Mmo and Bobo Kase together are one, as are Benu feto Uf and Hau Heon feto Uf (heno = to form a complete whole with; uf = tribe). The numbers five and nine dearly indicate the structural principles, for in the Bobo half there are really four groups, so that one is divided into two. In the Ban'afi half there are ten groups, so it is said ,that two of these groups are one.

It is interesting to note that the figure of the usif is less accentuated. Bobo is the most important figure. As regards the Ban'afi half, it is stated most emphatically that Tasae is first and Ban'afi is second in importance. Us Taku's position is therefore not a dominant one, although it is centra!. Other heads such as, for instance, the head of the group of Meko are sometimes also addressed as usif.

The raja from the Bobo clan used to reside in the centre. In 1911 he rose against the Portuguese, but the rebellion was suppressed in 1915 with Da Costa's help. The raja, Don No (derived from ]iw), sought refuge in Indonesian Timor, where he was still resident in 1947. His position in the whole is oot dear to me, because I only had his confused, rat her biased, statements at my disposal. Da Costa had become rm (king) in his place.

It will be extremely difficult to gain any insight at all into the original structure as the Topa.sses were in power in Ambenu for oenturies. The ruler of Ambenu succeeded in mainJtaining his own position in spite of their presence there, but much of the old structure probably disappeared nonetheless.

Ambenu's independenee in respect of the Topasses is expressed in the myth by the statement that Kosat - Ornai (Da Costa and D'Hornay) came "later", from Malacca and Larantuka respectively. When they arrived in Oikusi they received a lump of earth from Liurai - Sonba.'i, Amfoan - Ambenu, Ama.nuban - Amanatun, Pit'ai, Beboki - Insana to keep in the church of Noimuti as a token of the fact that they had permission to live in Timor.

In the minds of most Ambenu as a whole ha.s close links with Amfoan. They are masculine-feminine in respect of each other, for Ambenu is Amfoan's bride-giver. They are jointly referred to as Belak - Taebenu, Bobo - Ban'afi, the first two names representing Amfoan. They are also brothers, for the myth of origin relates of four brothers - Liurai-Sonba'i, Ambenu-Amfoan - who came from the east.32 Here we see, therefore, how Ambenu plaoes itself in the greater whole in accordance with the following outline:

NORTH

Ambenu (gives brides to Amfoan and Insana)

Amfoan (gives brides to Liurai (gives brides to Pit'ai in Fatule'u Insana) WEST EAST

Sonbai (gives brides to Amanatun and Amanuban and on his arrival receives brides from Kono-Oematan)

SOUTH

It is said of Bikomi that the four brothers Atok - Bana, Lake - Senak fled from Belu and were pursued by Liurai. They sought aid from Ambenu, who gave them a sword and a spear named m<I,.tm<I,.nas (= eye blinded by the sun) and tel (= to ask repeatedly - for help in this case).33 Thus Bikomi feil under Ambenu's sway and became its "doorkeeper" in the south.

The story explains its relationshipto Tunbaba as follows. There were 44 men hidden on the Bifelmnasi (Tunbaba's central mountain). 'fhey were spotted by the smoke escaping from a fire. Sonba'i sent four men to seek them out. These could only find their 'tracks, as they had hidden in the trees. Thereupon Sonba'i ordered Ambenu to seak them out. An ote naus 34 (diviner) from Ambenu found them. They turned out to he a number of Sonba'i's herdsmen who had run away because same buffalo had disappeared. They did tWt have a name and were therefore called Tunbaba, because they had to help (bab = help). Sonba'i and Ambenu each received 22 men.

These stories, related in Manamas, are obviously prompted by a hostile attitude towards its immediate neighbou·rs.

5. AMARASI

This princedom in south-western Timor has undergone more changes than any other because of the proximity of the settlement of the Netherlands East Indies Government in Kupang and as a result of a progressive government of its own during the past fomy years.

In 1829 it consisted of three parts: Buwarein under the naidjufa naek (lord - trihe - great), with under him Talba and Houmen, each with a naidjufa at its head. 35

The sub-territory of Buwarein was in turn divided il1Jto two parts, each of which was governed by a younger brother of the naidjufa naek. Here again the two possible patterns of division are observable, namely bipartion and quadrupartition, with the ruler as fifth within the centre.

In 1892 36 these five pams still existed and the titles used for the heads were: raja (for the ruler) , fettor, and seninti or amtiran for the other four. 37 There was little central authority, so that these four heads were the ruler's equals rather than his subordinaJtes. Each head was in turn dependent on his nakaf or amaf (nak af = head).

Each district head had a tobe naek at his side, whose function was only a ritual one.3S

Here, too, we have a myth of origin according to which the people of Amarasi came from the east, namely from South Belu, and sub~ jugated <the indigenous population, the Buarari.39 It is al sn said that the ruler came from Harneno in northern Beboki.40

6. AMABI

According to its own my<ths the ancient princedom of Amabi onee covered the whole of southern Timor, an area extending from Amarasi to the border of South Be1u. Amanuban at any rate is regarded by i<t as a constituent territory of Amabi. Fina, Isu, Nuban and Nope were Abi's monef atonif. Obe Abi bestowed "a name on their heads" in order to establish an antipole (bian) for NélJi Lasi (i.e. Amarasi). Lasi and Nuban are both Abi's war ehiefs, who "kick the land (open), who kick the lake (open)" (atika paka, atika nifu),41 the term used with reference to a headhunter.42

Nai Abi or Nai Djabi is a name which also occurs in the Sonba'i myth, where it refers to one of the original inhabitants of Timor. It is found in an Amanuban myth as we11.43

The oldest verifiable reference to Amabi dates back to 1659, six years aft er the Dutch settled in KUpang.44 Sonba'i, Amabi and Kupang were at that time allies of the East India Company. The ruler of Sonba'i had fled from the Topasses who had conquered his realm in 1642. From then on he ruled as Sonba'~ ana, (littIe Sonba'i) over a tiny principality which was under the protection of the Company. This territory had been ceded to him by the ruler of Kupang. Something

similar may have been the case with Amabi. It is more probable, how37 Senenti - Port. tenenti - lieutenant, deputy. Amtiran is not a title, but the

29. The raja of Amanuban in ca. 1950.

30. .-\ ,,"oman offerinR hete I to a Illeo.

ever, thart: the principality of Amahi OOs always been located to the east of Kupang. Amarasi and Amanuban which by virtue of their position on the south coast had marintained relations with the Portuguese for a long time, and had taken sides with the larter - here represented by the Topasses - in their struggle for supremacy with the Dutch, expanded at the expense of Amabi. Doubtless Amabi then sided with the East India Company.

In spite of its territory thus shrinking, and even its removal to the west, Amabi retained the characteristic structure of a Timorese princedom until weIl into the nineteenth century.

There was a ruler in whom most of the authority was vested and who lived at a small distance from Kupang, as wel! as a war leader. The latier's title was Naidjufa-pa'e (pae or pde = hero). He lived an hour's walk to the north of the ruler and had to defend the border with a hostile Amarasi. The ruler had at his side two fettor or siko and ,two lopo nakaf naek (= great meet:ing-places), i.e. amaf naek, while the war leader had two !opa nakaf baun at his si de. The fettors' titles were: Nai Talang Mnasi and Nai Talang Mnuke (= the old and the young Lord Talang); Siko and Talan are ancient, untranslatable titles. The names of their districts were Nai Matan and Nuken - Meo.45 Here we have once again the familia:r pattern of an immobile ruler and an executive authority, with besides these two administrators, one for each of the two sub-territories of the realm. But there is also quadrupartition here, there being four "lopo heads".

7. KUPANG

This is the ancient princed0111 of the Helon, who speak a different language altogether. This language is most c10sely related to Rotinese and Timorese on the one hand and Tetun on the other, though it displays marked differences with all of these.46 The old He10nese name for Kupang was Kaisalun, which means "sandalwood".47

Nothing remains of the old princedom. The Helonese were gradual!y pushed back by the Atoni, one of the reasons for this being that Sonba'i and Amabi placed themselves under the protection of the Dutch East India Company and were given territory at the expense of Kupang. The Dutch had scarcely occupied Fort Concordia near Kupang in 1653, when the Topasses attacked them with the aid of Amarasi, and a village at "a di stance of three quarters of a mile from our fort Concordia was aJttacked by surprise and more rthan 206 of its inhabitants, mostly women and children, were massacred and their heads taken"; "generaI" Amapono only just managed to escape to the fort. The people of Kupang then moved to the island of Semau 48 led by their two heads, Amabesi and Amapono. Later on, in 1664, they returned, when there was "wide-spread pestilence and death", especially in Semau. This disease manifested itself in a kind of plague-sore at the throat: "though still healthy in the evening, they may be dead the next morning".49

It is interesting to note that the ruler of Kupang has special connections with the crocodile. Veth 50 mentions in his article on Timor, a compilation without any acknowledgement of the sourees, that at the coronation of the ruler of Kupang a virgin had to be sacrificed to a crocodile. He is probably basing this statement on Van Hogendorp's article of 1784,51 in which he writes that during the Klaiba feast on the occasion of the installation of the king of Kupang a virgin was sacrificed to the crocodiles. She was then considered to be married to the crocodile.

Van Hogendorp's story is corroborated by the account of a French engineer who worked in Timor for seven years. 52 This runs as follows:

"l'en ai été témoin l'année 1773 comrne ils ont une grave superstition envers Ie erocodile. S'imaginant en être issus, ils lui font souvent offrande en Ie faisant venir sur Ie bord de la mer en lui donnant quelques moreeaux de chair. Ces animaux habitués à un certain cri et surs de trouver de la proix se rendent (ou) on les appelIe. Le Roi et ses sujets les distinguent particulièrement de trois en trois règnes à l'avènement des petits fils sur Ie thróne. lis s'assemblent en grand nombre dans un endroit eonsaeré pour eette cérémonie et qu'ils nomment Koyba, sur Ie bord de la mer. La vietime qui doit servir d'offrande est une jeune fille encore vierge qu'ils habillent Ie plus proprement qu'ils peuvent en l'ornant de fleurs. lis lient eette malheureuse sur Ie bord de la mer et appellent Ie crocodile qui l'emporte eomme ils Ie croient pour en faire sa femme. lis m'ont assuré que eet animal sait bien distinguer si e1le est pueelle ou non, et qu'il est arrivé qu'en ayant offert une qui ne l'était pas, Ie erocodile la rapporta sur Ie bord de la mer saine et sauve. Le croira qui voudra. lis joignent eneore à eette victime un eochon qui doit avoir Ie poil rouge sans oublier de présenter au erocodile du ris, des cocos et du betel auxquels ils ne touchent pas. Je me suis informé de la raison de eette barbare coutume du Roi même de Coupang. II n'a su m'en donner d'autre que eelle de l'ancienne coutume, peutêtre que la honte Ie retient de m'en di re la véritable car ils firent en 1773 cette cérémonie à I'insu de M. l'opperhoofd qui en ayant été informé quelques jours après, en punit Ie Roy et son premier ministre en Ie condamnant à une amende au profit de la Compagnie".53 ("In the year 1773 1 was a witness to a bizarre superstition which they entertain in respect of the crocodile, believing that they deseend from it. They of ten bring it offerings, luring it ashore, and feed it a few pieces of flesh. These animais, which are accustomed to a particular cal1, certain as they are of finding some prey appear wherever they are cal1ed. The king and his subjects show them special honour each third reign, at the accession to the throne of a grandson. They gather in large numbers at a spot on the beach especial1y consecrated for this ceremony, which they cal1 Koyba. The victim of the sacrifice is a young gir!, a virgin, whom they attire in as much finery as possible, adorning her with flowers. They tie the poor girl up on the beach and summon the crocodile, which then carries her off to make her its wife, so they believe. They have assured me that the animal is quite capable of discerning whether or not she is a virgin and that on one occasion when a girl who was no longer a virgin was offered, the crocodile brought her back to the beach safe and sound. Believe it who willl As wel1 as this victim they offer a pig with red bristles, and they are certain to give the crocodile rice, coconut and betel, which they will not touch themselves. I have been informed of the reason behind this barbarous custom by the King of Kupang himself - he could give no other explanation than that it was an ancient custom. Perhaps shame prevented him from tel1ing me the real reason. For in 1773 they performed this ceremony without the Opperhoofd's knowiedge; when he was told of it a few days later, he punished the King and his prime minister, imposing a fine to he paid to the Company".)

The mIer is believed to descend from the crocodile. It is his totem animal, like that of Us Senak (the atupas of Bikomi). In Bikomi, however, the crocodile was feminine, this being in keeping with the name with which it is designated: be'i (= grandmother, ancestress). In the account quoted above, on the other hand, it is a bridegroom to whom a young girl is given in marriage. This in turn corresponds with the name Nai Besi (Nai = lord, besi = iron).

The anima! associated with Sonba'i and with the Meromak O'all of Wehale 54 is the python. Both it and the crocodile are symbolic of the earth, night and death. The crocodile is thought to be capable of shedding irt:s skin at night and to join the dancing in human form. There is a story, for instance, which according to Sonba'i is part of the secret of his nono, and in which some crocodiles disguised as humall beings one night took part in the round-dance (bonet) in a village in Fatule'u. During this dance food was served to the raja. Then, before daybreak, they sEpped their crocodile skins back on and devoured all the people of the village. Only the people of one house escaped because a crocodile's jaw got jammed in the large wooden rice-pounding block in front of the house, so that it died and the people inside were left unharmed. 55

And in South Belu there is a myth which re1ates of a man who turned into a crocodile. He promised to return twice a year during planting time, provided the members of his ume offered sacrifices to him. 56 Here, in the fertile plain where corn is planted biannually he is the bringer of fertility, therefore.

1t is the crocodile which gave the Timorese the buffalo, the most important sacrificial anima!. Out of gratitude to an Atoni who had dislodged a fishing-hook from his throat the king of the crocodiles presented him with a gift consisting of a herd of white buffaloes. This is why every year, during the mating season of the buffalo, sacrifices are offered to him.ST And th ere is a story in Kupang according to which a small crocodile was carried off by a whirlwind and dropped somewhere in the interior. Here it almost died for lack of water, but it was found by a man who, prompted by compassion, took it to the source of Tarus to the south of the Bay of Kupang.58 The crocodile instructed the man to erect an enc10sing fence. Seven days later the man found a herd of buffaloes inside it.

According to a different version of this story the crown-prince of the crocodiles joined the dancing every night at a large-scale ce1ebration near the village of Fatu Feta (feminine c1iff). A crocodile was seen swimming landwards every evening aft er sunset and each morning, before daybreak the prince, a youth of great beaUJty, would hastily disappear. One night the village head went to the beach and hid the skin he found there. As usual, the prince disappeared just befare dawn but returned wailing and lamenting loudly, saying that he would die if he did not return to the palace of his father, the king of the crocodiles, by sunrise. He was given back his skin on condition that he present a return gift. He instructed the people to build an enc1osure, inside which they found a herd of buffaloes at the end of seven days.59

This prince of the sea and the night, who appears in radiant beauty, is the proto-type of the ruler, who is first unc1ean and then reveals himself as the brilliatlJt OIle (apinat), as was seen in the SOIlba'i myth. It is not improbable, therefore, that there is a link between the Koyba ritual an<l this myth. At the inauguration of the prince of Kupang his realm enters into an affinal relatiooship with his mythical ancestor, just as the amaf naek are always expected to give a number of their daughters to the ruler.

A very striking detail in the account of the eye-witness Pilon is the communication, couched in somewhat tortuous French, that "the king and his subjects show them (the crocodiles) special honour each third reign, upon the acces sion to the throne of a grandsOll". The meaning of this is not altogether cIear. It is too extraordinary a detail for Pilon to have invented, and besides, other descriptions by this first ethnographer reveal him to be a most reliable observer. It may possibly refer to a system of alternating successioos. This may imply all kinds of things, even a kwradjeri kinship system, in which the grandson belongs to the same section as his grandfather. However, we know nothing of the Helon, except that they were the least self-assertive of the races found in Indonesian Timor. They were driven constantly further westward, so that at present the Helon language is found only in the extreme west of Timor and on the island of Semau. Hence we might suppose that the Helon (Iike the peoples driven into the interior of central and especially eastern Timor, whose languages are non-Austronesian) were among the oldest races in Timor. But this theory ,is contradicted by the fact that Helonese is an Indonesian language. A thorough study of all these ol der races, inasmuch as this is still possible, could furnish some valuable answers.

The political structure of the ancient principality of Kupang has since long been difficult to discern because of the settIement there of the Dutch and of refugee Timorese rulers. But formerly it presented a similar picture to that of other Timorese communities. The ruler had two heads at his side, namely Amabesi and Amapono.60 Amapono is called "generaI". Furthermore, according to a statement in 1730 the ruler had two executive rulers at his side 61 - hence these must have been the two usif who functioned as the ruler's executive, masculine counterparts.

CHAPTER X THE FUNCTIONING OF THE POLITICAL COMMUNITY IN TIMOR

Now that we have discussed almost every one of the political communities of Indonesian Timor separately we shall proceed to go into the general aspects of the manner in which they functioned, in order to arrive, partlyon the basis of this, at a general evaluation of the structure and to determine the structural principles for the political community as an integral part of the culture as a whoie.

The indispensable condition for the existence of a political community is the maintenance of its independence in its own territory. The IX>ints in question here are its relations with other political communities, defence and warfare, therefore.

Another essential condition is the preservation of its internal unity, or in other words, the maintenance of law and order, adjudication and administration.

1. WARFARE

I t is difficult to determine the significanee of warfare and the place it occupied in the traditional political structure. This structure has revealeditself 11:0 us chiefly in the myths and rites inasmuch as these were still functioning at the time when the research for this hook was conducted. The danger involved is that the pautern which emerges is highly idealized, the ritual invariably representing the conditions as they ought to beo By studying the way in which the contents of myths are constantly subject to change we were able to correct to a large extent this image of the ideal situation. Although war was never ideal, is was a necessity. It was only too of ten the resuIt of mUJtual dissension.

An insight into the significance of warfare and its place in the traditional Timorese communities will be invaluablein giving us a clearer picture of the political structure. The only possible way of approaching the reality of warfare and hence its place in the structure is by studying stories concerning headhunting raids in which many Timorese still alive in 1946 had participated.

Middelkoop,1 for instance, was able to record a unique collection of stories concerning headhunting raids re1ated by men who had taken an active part in them. They are quite obscure in places, having been noted down word for word straight from the mouths of these Atoni, though this makes them all the more valua:ble. There is, besides, Heijmering's 2 important story of "A Native War in the Island of Timor". 1t is a highly romanticized description which nevertheless reveals a very intimate knowledge of the war ri.tual. This is rather more than could normally be expected from a missionary moving in the circles of the typically Eurasian society of Kupang, but notwithstanding is nat surprising in a man who was mar ried >10 the granddaughter of the ruler of Amfoan.3

The earliest administrative reports (i.e. those dating from the period when headhunting had not completely disappeared or had only been suppressed very recently) also constitute a valuable source from which a wealth of data ean be drawn. Though not always coherent, they nonetheless verify and supplement my own research. I t is not clear from Cunningham's 4 excellent, though in places refutable analysis of the political organization in times of war to what ex tent it is based on earlier data. This, the most abstract section of his interesting hook on "the People of the Dry Land", testifies to a profound insight into the structure of the political organization, even though it may lack the description of reality which alone may form the real basis for abstraotion.

T he Causes of War

The immediate causes of war were generally border-land disputes which in turn were the consequence of claims being asserted by certain groups to sandal-trees, trees with hees' nests or areca palms. For sandalwood used to be, and areca has been for centuries Timor's most important export commodity. The principal issue in the six years' war (from 1864-1870) between Sonba'i and Amfoan-Sorbean was, for instanee, the rights to an area which produced large quantities of areca nuts. 5 The deeper cause was, as in innumerable cases, a historically grown hoSil:iHty which was likely to spark off a war at the slightest provocation. Heijmering 6 tells us, for instanee, that in hls time the waT between Amfoan and Sonba'i had been dragging on for thirteen years. The situation was exa.ctly the same a hundred years before that.7 From 1760-1782 there was continual conflict about gold-mining between Molo and Miomafo.s

Cattle raids were a constantly recurring cause of war, especially between communities whose re1ations witheach other were normally strained. They were the cause of a vil1tually continuous state of wacr in the extensive Euroki Plain in the territory of Beboki and Belu. The political di stance between the Timorese-speaking people of Beboki and the Tetun-speaking Be1unese (especially those of Lidak and Naitimu on the eastern edge of the Euroki Plain) was of course greater than that between the Atoni communities mutually. The Be1unese usually took the offensive, as they were more aggressive than the prople of Beboki, the Jatter being more inc1ined to withdraw to their mountainous homeland, in which travelling was extremely difficult. Irt is tempting to associate defensive and offensive behaviour respectively with the fact that the people of Beboki are probably more typical of the older Timorese races than the prople of Naitimu, where South Belunese influence begins to make itself feit, though this does not apply - or hardly applies - to Lidak. Although cattle-thieving here was facilitated by the possibility of bringing stolen cattle to safety on the other side of the Portuguese border without difficulty, this is a special factor which was only present in the past century. During the brief political vacuum af ter the J apanese defeat and before the return of the Colonial Government, the Belunese perpetrated scores of cattle raids. Thls did nat lead to fighting, however, because the people of Beboki dared not take revenge and because headhunting was ahogether a thing of the past.

Formerly none of the plains in Timor were inhabi1ed, but were only used as paSil:oral land. Hence they were ideal operating grounds for cattle thieves.

In the case of internal cattle raids it was endeavoured to settle the matter by arbitration. But if the unity of a district was not strong enough, or if i1s government was too weak an outbreak of hostilities might ensue inside the community in question. If the thieves were strangers this would :be much more likely to ha.ppen, although the first steps to he undertaken would take the farm of negotiations for compensation of the damages.

AnQther well founded cause for a hea.dhullJting raid was failure to bring harvest gifts '10 '1he roler, which was regarded as an open sign of rehellion or an atJtempt to break away. There is a story in Tunbaba (a border district of Miomafo), for instance, which tells of a village there - the residence of a si de-branch of the Us Kono lineage - disobeying an order from higher on. The meo naek was the instigator of this particular rehellion. Us Kono, in his anger, thereupon supplied Amhenu, Tunbaba's arch-enemy, W\Ïlth guns and powder in order to punish the village. BUIt af ter Ambenu had undertaken a headhunting raid and had fought for two days, Us Kono immediately sent Us Thaal (whose name means "he who restores the equilibrium") to restare the peace.

Another of the faCItors leading to a war might he unwillingness u. give up a tributJe-paying territory. AtnaJnaJt:un once waged war on the realm of South Belu because the more or less independent Aoos had brought "harvest gifts", which in this case especially assumed the importance of t'I'ibute or a taken of allegiance, ta Be1u instead .of the rol er AmanaJt:un.9

There are innumerable other motives - as many as the human mind is capable af inventing. According to one story,l° for example, Amanuban once declared war on Sonba'i because ill: had not been invited to the mortuary foost of a Sonba'i. According to anather story 11 a war onee brake out between Malo and Amanuban after a medici ne-man from Mola had suddenly shot a man from Amanuhan whom he had just cured of leprosy, whereupon he taak the man's hood.

On another occasion a long-standing e<mflict between Amfoan and Molo flared up equally unexpectedly. A man from Amfoan and his sister had been bartering in the border area of Molo. When they returned, a meo from Fatule'u, one from the notarious Pit'ai lineage, took both thdr heads. To avenge them Amfoan bumt down a village at random in Molo; all of the inhabitants were killed, either burning to death in their blazing houses or dying at II:he hands of the headhunters.12

Pilon has recorded a similar story.13 In 1776 the ruler of Amfoan·

Sorbian murdered 50-60 women and children, all of them subjects of the ruler of Molo, who had sought refuge in a cave. He had bundies of branches bumt in the cave entrance. Much later (in 1926), though probably still in connection with this incident, a house was unexpectedly set on fire and nine men inside it were burnt to death.

Internal quarrels somevimes had their origin in the rivalry between two brothers. Middelkoop 14 relates a story of a war which broke out as a result of Sonba'i's commÎltting adultery with his elder brother's wife in the district of Fatule'u. Following this he fled to Molo, where two heads of the lineage of Oematan gave him their support, and as aresuIt the Sonba'i in Fatule'u ended up by arousing the enmity of a part of Molo.

In Timor thereis a relatively small number of stories conceming succession disputes between brothers, which in AfrÏcan princedoms are an inevitable part of a set patrt:ern. A hundred and fifty years ago such a dispute was said to he the cause of the division of Amfoan.15 There must have been many such cases of scission and rupture coupled with wars. Accounts of this happening are found not only in the Atoni's own tradition but also in summaries of the various princedoms in Portuguese and Dutch sou rees. Certain names, snch as Amarasi, Amfoan, Amanuban, Amanatnn, Sonba'i and Amakono recur regularly in these, while other names vary. This implies that break-away areas later on became reconciled again. It is therefore betrt:er to speak of fusions rather than conquests. The tradition in any case contains no stories of wars of conquest; in spite of the fact that the princedOl11s of Knpang and Amabi have disappeared almost entirely in the course of the centuries.

The ruler was responsirble for the conduct of war in an indirect way. He is the keeper of the sacred objects (atiut le'u) and is the centre, or rather the shrine (ume le'u) near his pal ace is the centre (that is, if the war is condueted under his auspices). A clan head, an amaf naek or an usif mayalso conduct a headhunting raid on his own initiative, in which case his shrine is the sacred centre. In general, however, a war involved apolitical community as a whoie, even though only certain meo (warriors) took part in the connected headhunting raids. Whether it is an entire community or only a section that becomes involved is usually dependent on the solidarity of the communirt:y concerned; this in turn varies from place to place and from time to time.

The usual procedure was for a communi,ty to deeide thaJt its rights had been violated, af ter which the active ruler Gthe kolnel, or, to use Heijmering's 16 term, the regent) would rally all the heads (primarily the usif and the meo) of his territory, and in consultation with thern instruot a fewof the heads to institute an investigation into all the facts relevant to the incident.

When this had been done they would go and inform the ruler of the district responsible accordingly and demand satisfaction. Whether or not this demand was compJied with depended on the relative power of each of the communities involved. According to Müller 17 deliberations on whether or not war would be declared might go on for months on end. Moreover, one of the elders supposedly had to place himself in the position of the enemy and explain and defend the IaJtter's behaviour, and he had I!:o point out the dangers of a war. The farmer seems improbable, though the latter is known to have ,taken place. In Insana this was the task of one of the four "old men, old women'", the ruler's counsellors. If the plaintiffs were the weaker of the two parties, they would try to rally the support of an ally. In this case an envoy would he sent, along with same gold - as a sign that he wished to enter into an alliance - to the ruler of one or more befriended princedoms and ask for auxiliary troops. The rulers thus approached were in the first place the bride-givers of the ruler making the request, and hence thc latter's social superiors. An affinal alliance between two principalities usually bare implications of a political alliance, giving the bride-receiver the right to ask his bride-giver for assistance. But if he did, this might involve that he would lose his political independence so that as a result he might thenceforth have to pay gifts of homage (poni pah). This may he one way in which the Meromak O'an of South Belu (always referred to as Liurai by the Atoni) and Sonba'i in the west extended their power in certain periods of history. When the battle was over envoys would be sent out again with gold, gold discs or other farms of currency, such as silver discs or coins, the amount of these being dependent on the number of warriors who had lost their Jives. Payment had to he made for every pant of their body, as in the payment of bridewealth at marriage.

Although in Belu blood brotherhood 18 was quite common, this was not known to exist in thc Atoni area.

If the demand for satisfaction was not complied with, a time and place for battle were fixed, or a term would be decided on by the end of which compensation had to be paid. Middelkoop 19 quotes an incident of a horse that was stolen in Amanuban on the instructions of Sanam, one of the amaf naek of Molo. The owner of the horse came and demanded lit back. There was a long altercation, but 1:0 no effect. Then the two par ties tied five knots in a rope, symbolizing five n~ghts at the end of which they would negotiart:e once more about the return of the horse.

Such were the different forms of negotiation known to the Atoni, though they were often ignored. Middelkoop's story, for instanee, ends with the man from Amanuban ambushing one of Sonba'i's subjects, "Sonba'i's bird, Sonba'i's hen", and making off with his head before the five nights had passed. This led inunediately to a state of war between the two countries, as in the example of the medici ne-man from Molo who took ,the head of his patient from Amanuban which was quoted above.

It was recognized, however, that the two parties first had to line up facing each other art: an appointed time and place by way of formal declaration of war and conunencement of hostilities. Fighting would not begin on these occasions. But in practice surprise attacks were probably the rule, although Gramberg 20 also reports that the nzeo would line up facing each other and each side challenge the other in a war dance, while a war of ambushes would only commence following this.

A correct definition of {he motives for a particular war was always very important, this being the justification of that war. Here the choice of the correct word was essential for the success of rthe war. By this war formula (fan u ) the people of the communirty were ralIied to battle. Even if there was 110 previous meeting between rthe two opponents, a war slogan had to be formulated.21 Sonba'i's formula at the time when one of his subjects was killed before expiry of the term of the ultimatum was, for instance : "The five days were not yet complete, the five nights not yet complete; he whetrted his sword secretly, he loaded his l'ifie secretly; he stified his rage, he bit his lip. The bird's feathers have been di spersed , the hen's feathers have been dispersed; the bird's feathers have been spilt, the hen's feàthers have been spilt."

Onee Amfoan bumt down a village in Molo 1:0 avenge the murder of two of its people. BUJt as this murder had been eommitted by men from Pit'ai, Molo was now able to formulate a war slogan, in whieh the burning of the village became the legitimate motive for war. It ran as follows : "Behold, N ai Kono Tbelak 22 was bumt and eharred; the birds struck him, [he fowls 23 struck him in the garden hut of Lupu, within the enc10sing fence of Lupu, with his banana leaf, his sugarcane leaf,24 without a war formula, without a rottle-cry, without a ritual word, without a case ...... Thou, Pit:'ai and Timaubas (Amfoan) didst not have a batrt:le, Thou Pit'ai and Timaubas, didst not face eaeh other ; Thou dost turn towards me, Thou didst take me by surprise. I was asleep and stretched out, I died and peri shed , I was bumt without reason, consumed without cause, wirt:hout a word, withou,t a case, without a war formula, without a baJttle-cry." 25

The ritual preceding battle

Even af ter a meeting had taken place by wayof declaration of war the fighting could not commence, as first the preparatory ritual had to he performed.

Sacrifices were offered near rthe Ie' u shrine, consisting of black and red buffaloes, pigs, goats or fowls - black for the spirirts of the ancestors and the spirits of the earth (bath called nitu) and red for the Lord of Heaven. An egg and the intestines of a fowl served as augurer's media. Then the enmity le'u was compounded from various roots, herbs and leaves. Each particular case (la.st) had its appropriate Ie' u, which had rto be compounded with the utmost care by a medici neman or by a "guardian of the realm", such as Atau-pah, in the le'u house. Medicine-men who were charged wi,th the compounding of the enmity le'u were distinguished from those responsible for curing diseases - bath functions could not be united in the one person.

These enmity le'u had a symbalic significance. Each le'u had its own name. Middelkoop 26 gives a descripvion of such an enmity le'u. It contained:

1. The "ehewing-wood", a root from which a piece had to be chewed oH in O'rder tO' ascertain whether its bearer ought tO' turn left O'r right. The warriO'r was nO't allO'wed tO' choose his directiO'n withO'ut this, while by this method he was certain to choose the cO'rrect one.

2. The "luring-wO'od", which was capable O'f irresistably attraoting hurnan beings and anirnals. Corraled buffaloos and tethered horses would break loose tO' give in tO' its spell. It cO'uld make sleeping peO'ple inside a kota (a fO'rtified tO'wn) rise from their beds and cO'me. It is used in another, different connection tO' lure away yO'ung girls not yet accustO'med tO' "the affairs of men" (lasi atoni). It is a liana (nono).

3. The "drawing-wood". The function of this is the same as that of the "luring-wood" thO'ugh according tO' the AtO'ni ~ts power is different. It causes the enemy to run intO' an ambush O'r tO' be trapped. It, too, is a liana.

4. The "encO'unter-wood". lts function is the same as tha.t O'f the above two. It is a gebang-palm leaf (non,o beba).

5. The "contact-wood" or "scent-wood" enabled the warrior tO' sense where the enemy was. It was carried in the warriO'r's hair, and knocked against the side O'f his head on which the enemy was.

All of these combined tO' make up the le'u humusu (= the le'u O'f the swO'rd-grass).27

Another potent le'u was the le'u Nai Nesi.28 Whoever had been admirted tO' its oirc1e (nono) ha.d tO' comply with the striotest of taboos. It alsO' contained the "chewing-wood" which in this case, however, consisted of a twig O'f the usapi tree 20 with twO' leaves left O'n it. The twig was held c1enched between the teeth and O'ne lea.f held in the ldt hand, the O'ther in the right hand. Then the leaves were pulled O'H the twig and thrown behind O'ne. A leaf which landed with its outside turned up foreboded le'u, which here means "threat", "danger". If it landed with i,ts inside facing upwards this was considered tO' he a propitiO'us sign. Furthermore, ilt contained a "luring-wood" and a "drawing-wO'od", ,this time derived from different plants, as well as a hau apa, translated by MiddelkO'op with "adapting wood", which cO'nsisted of a herb called. "dog's tail" and black grass. This was chewed with unripe areca nuts and betel leaves.

The red spittie from this was spat 0'010 three stones which were then cast away. Then everyone had to walk in the same direction, saying, "That he may rally people, that they may come in groups". Before placing it in the warrior's Ie' u purse ,jt was first rubbed along his rifle-barrel. The final ingredient required was the hau tobes. While normally a tobe is a sacrificial basket, and more especially its lid, in this case it means "protection". The hau tobes derives from the atobtabe shrub, a shrub which offers excellent protection. lt was chewed and then spat three times over the warriors, who first had to seat themselves and close their eyes. This le'u was supposed to make the soldier invisible to the enemy. "H he sees us, he will think we are a rock or a tree stump." Any group of any importance at all had its own enmity le'u, each with its own history. lts ol'igin was usually traced back to a dream, in which Ut was revealed to the dreamer that a particular rock or root was, or rather contained his Ie' u. Only a group wi,th its own enmity le'u was able to engage in war as an independent unit. Sanam, for instance (one of Sonba'i's two bride-giving groups in Molo) had its own enmity le'u, called Nai Ol Bota, a white rock which had been found in prirneval times as a result of a vision which Pa'i 30 had once had. The medicine-man inval'iably was a member of this lineage and as such he was the lord or owner of the le'u. Similarly the other bride-giving group Mela had its own enmi,ty le'u, the owner of which was also Mela's mafefa or ritual spokesman.

Part of the le'u was kept in the le'u shrine. This was the constant, permanent part or "ancient le'u". The other part was sought anew each time. The le'u was carried in small purses attached to the warriors' weapons. But this varied in practice. Heijmering 31 writes that the ri,tual leader first suspended on the only pillar of the le'u shrine, which he alone was allowed to enter, the purses containing tree roots and pebbles and hearing the names of the ancestors. Then three purses were placed on the hilts of the meos' swords. These they would wear around their necks and on their backs next to the powder hom during the battle. One of the purses contained a root urging on its wearer on the left side, so that he might strike the enemy with his lance or rifle. The second protected him against the enemy's lead bullets, though not against those made of gold, silver or brass; a lead bullet, however, would land flat against the body of the warrior wearing this purse without inflicting any wouoos or pain. The third purse enabled the meo to know when the moment had come when the enemy was asleep or off his guard.

In large-sca.le battles the enmity /e'u of the various allied groups was combined during one of the phases of the war ritual before the attack.

During the offering of a sa.crifice in the shrine (ume le'u) an invocation was addressed to the Ie' u and the invisible forces it contained. Below follows an example of such a prayer (from Amanuban) as rendered hy Middelkoop 32 :

"I go, 0 hidden Lord,33 0 Lord revived,

Watch over me, carry me,

Keep me and - guard me,

Thou who dost protect and - shelter.

Oh, let me not fall, let not my blood flow

when the enemy aims his rine at me.

Thou who dost protect and shelter,

Mayest Thou make his bullet to miss its mark, avert his sword, So that he shall not overpower me and - kill me,

that he shall not strike me and - hew me down;

but let me foUow the blunt edge of his sword and - the butt of his rifle.

Mayest Thou alone guide me and - lead me by the hand, tame him and - chase him away,34

so that he may come before the barrel of my rifle, before the sharp edge of my sword,

and that I may overpower him, kill him,

seize him and - catch him.

If I return I shall impale him on Thee.35

Let him be suspended from Thee,

So that Thou mayest tread on him and - conduct him.

When I go Thou shalt lead and - guide me.

Mayest Thou be thus victorious and thus triumphant,

·in order that Thy corral and Thy shelter be crammed fuU."

Then the sacrificial animals were killed - either red ones (symbolizing blood, Vis Neno and victory) or black ones (symbolizing the earth, Vis Pah or the earth spirits (nitu pak)). The liver was examined for good or evil omens. Then the rirtual leader chewed the Ie' u and spat it onto the meo, thus making them invulnerable.

31. ~lany houses are mueh more primitive than the groUlHI-plan on p. 430 would suggest, espeeially in the mountainous parts. Here the cntrallcc is kept down to a minimum slze in order to prevcnt thc smokc - whieh helps to prescve thc corn - from eseaping.

32. A lopo. which serves as community house and storagehut, in Manufui.

33. Section of a lopo. There are four pillars with round discs at the top to keep the mice out of the loft. The maternal pillar (ni ainaf) is placed in the centre of the loft. Sketch by W. O. J. Nieuwenkamp; 1025,.101

Or all the warriors entered the le'u shrine with heads uncovered, each holding a burning candle in his hand. Candles were symbolic of the light which would accompany them and show them the way in the enemy' sterritory. I t was believed to show thern where the enemy was lying in ambush. If the candle burnt with a small flame this was an unpropitious omen for the warrior carrying it. He was then asked by the leader of the ritual to confess his guilt in order that he might purify himself and join the fighters af ter all. Now cowards had their opportunity to remain behind. Purif~cation was effected by sacrificing a red or a white cockerel, red symbolizing guilt and white purification. The other warriors stood around and repeated the prayer af ter the leader, in which the Lord of Heaven and the ancestors were implored to grant remission of the sins committed. Then the cockerel's entrails were invest,igart:ed.. These usually gave a favourable omen; if not, the warriors concerned had to remain at home. 36

Or sometimes the ritual leader would pick up a stone, onto which he spat le'u spittie, and rub it against the meo's head, chest, back and loins, uttering the words: "I press you with the defence of invulnerability, that his copper bullets, his silver bullets, may be dissolved and may become wholly liquid, may become wholly cool (mainikin) and wholly cold (oetene)." 37 If the leader of the ritual now received a bitter taste in his mouth and had almost no saliva, he would begin to trem bie and perspire - the le'u made him dizzy. This meant that the man he was rubbing wi:th the stOlle at that moment would be wounded or killed if he were to go into battle.

In Naitimu and in North Belu in general it was customary for all the warriors to be purified by the custodian of the kakaluk (i.e. purse containing the le'u objects). He would take a sword, a thorny branch and a silver coin, rubbing the warriors' bodies with these, af ter which the prickly branch would be cast away. This action purified the warriors if they had had sexual intercourse, as this was taboo for the entire duration of a headhunting expedition. 38 In Beboki there was a similar ritual. Sexual abstinence during a headhunting expedition was usual for :the whole of the Atoru area.

In Turskain, the Tetun-speaking area of Portuguese Timor, the lord of the shrine (datu luli) killed. a fowl for each warrior. If the fowl lay with its right leg raised and the betel juice spat by the datu luZi onto the head and chest of the warrior rturned the proper colour, the warriot would say: "I am a man, a brave one". He was rthen invulnerable and would go and stand on the right. If the fowl's lefrt leg was raised the man had to stand on the left and remain behind to guard the village and the luli shrine. The datu luli was not 1:0 leave the luli shrine until the warriors were back. If the man were to take part in the battle notwithstanding, he would be killed. 39 Red is the proper colour of betel juice. Red and the right-hand side here are associated with war and all that is masculine.

Sometimes a black dog would be ki lied by way of ritual preparation for war. lts head would be hewn off and le'u roots Sltuffed into its nostriIs, ears and mouth. It would be flung into the enemy's village at night accompanied by soouts of "hute mala", that is, "displaying the yellow".40 Yellow is the colour of death. Hence this was intended as an announcement of death and the final official declaration of war. Throughout ,the princedom gongs would be beaten and buffalo hams blown. From then on the whole community had to be on its guard againSit surprise attacks.

Prior to the great rebellion in Portuguese Timor in 1719 a piebald dog was killed. As a token of their loyalty to the alliance that had just been formed each man dipped his left hand in the dog's chest, which had been slit open. Then a sword was dipped in its blood and each one drank of this.41 Another custom was to bring eight of the dog's teeth and its tongue to the territory of the enemy. Heijmering 42 says that the aim of this was that the dog's spirit restrain the enemy, sa that it would be easy for the meo to take his head. And the enemy's tongue, like the dog's, would then not be able to bark at him as he did this. No doubt this is a symbolic act intended to prevent the dying enemy from cursing his murderer. This may be compared with thc custom of piercing the cheeks of those condemned to death with a knife to prevent them from cursing the king, which is found among the Ashanti.43

The Meo

When the war ritual was completed an atmosphere of "heat" (maputu)

prevailed, when the le'u musu began to operate. Though the community was under the protection of its enmity le'u, it was on the other hand exposed to the danger of heing harmed by that of the enemy. This was the period in which the ritual sphere (le'u) pervaded all aspects of life. That is why the warriors were subject to a large numher of taboos (nuni).

The close relationship between the meo and the medici ne-man should perhaps he mentioned in this connection. It is so close that in Amarasi there iis only one word (mnane) for both. Kruyt 44 tries to explain this by saying that, seeing that the meo no longer had a function af ter the introduotion of colonial rule, the meo turned his hand to practising the art of the mnane. It is not like1y, however, for such a change in word usage to have taken place within the space of fifteen years. Middelkoop 45 suspects an attempt at hoodwinking the new GovernmellJt, because Amarasi was of old anti-Dutch, until weU into the nineteenth century, and was therefore suspect. But if this were so, it is strange to think that this ruse should have heen devised exclusive1y in Amarasi. He himself hints at a more like1y explanation. 46 According to a story from which we quoted above, Eli Pa'i, guided by avision, found the white stone called le'u 01 Bota, the enmity le'u, and consequently became a mnane. This function became hereditary in his lineage. But his grandson, Kol Pa'i, did n0't wish to cure the sick, and said "How is it that I should touch women's breasts?" He therefore offered a striped pig for sacrificing, so that the crocodile, the Lord of Kupang - who had appeared to his grandfather in a dream in the shape of a woman and then cohabited with rum, as a result of which the latter had found the le'u 01 Bom - might leave him in peace, for, as he said, "I want to he a headhunter". He himself did not participate in headhunting exped~tions, but was thenceforth the mnane responsible for the enmity le'u. Pa'i becarne the leader of the war ritual. From then on the Nai 01 Bota le'u possessed powers which made warriors successful in headhunting, and the Fenai le'u of Sanam became the le'u which cured diseases (fen ai = female spouse). Hence there is a masculine le'u for war with a mnane of its own, and a feminine le'u for curing disea.ses also with its own mnane. It is clear, then. tha1 a war mnane has extreme1y close connections with the meo - so close, in fact, that Heijmering 47 calls the leader of the war ritual also meo.

The primary meaning of the word meo is "cat"; in its secondary meaning it denotes the warrior who has taken at least one head. In Tetun ,the word meo has the same double meaning. In keeping with the Atoni's predilection for paralleLism, the meo is also sometimes called "dog" (asu). When a head speaks of his warriors he refers to them as in asu, in meo (his dog, his cat). Mat-meo is an honorific term for a meo. Middelkoop 48 suggests that this means that he has eyes (l1U11ta) that are dangerous because the meo is associated with the le'u sphere. By means of the war ritual the meo also becomes an atoni au-besi ma nakfatu (= lito a man with a body of iron and a head of stone - in other words, he has become invulnerable).

The meo naek's attire was the expression of the leader's courage and glory. There is an excellent description by Heijmering 49 of the costume of a meo naek of Amfoan. He wore a red and white checked kerchief cmbroidered by his wife with gold-thread and adorned with small gold and silver discs which flashed in <the sun with every movement of his head. They were probably suspended from the silver comb on the right side in his head. (See photograph 2.) The top of this comb consists of a silver crescent (noin funan) or a silver horn (noin sunan). These names denote growth, as symbolized by the waxing moon, and power and courage, as symbolized by the horns of the buffalo. Kruyfs 50 observation that the latter is probably the original symbolism of the ornament is irrelevant. In East Sumba 51 we also find a gold ornament in the shape of a buffalo hom which is worn on the forehead; but in Timor this ornament is associated with the moon as weil. This crescent or horn frequently has three prongs, the meaning of which is not (or no longer) known. The three-pronged moon or hom also features on the hiLt of the sword. 52 According to Heijmering the lattcr had seven prongs, the longest one in the centre. See photograph 10, where the rniddle prong is replaced by a bird which is obviously stylized, like the Indonesian garuda.

The meo further ware a scarlet jacket with gilt buttons and with flowers embroidered in gold at the hem. His whilte belt was covered with si Iv er and gold discs and fastened with a c1asp élJt the back. In photograph 25 the silver discs on the cartridge pouches attached to the belt are c1early visible. He had seven of his upper and seven of his lower teeth covered with gold. Around his neck he ware twenty to thirty strings of coral beads interspersed with silver and gold beads. As we have seen, these caral beads constitute the most important part of the bridewealth by means of which a woman, who is a smanaf (= soul, life), may be obtained for the nono of the group. Perhaps the meo's wearing strings of coral beads is symbolic of the fact that he also inrt:roduces a human being inrto the nono of his community. This supposition seems tenable in the light of the story accarding to which refugees from Amfoan saved their lives by handing over their strings of coral beadS. 53 His muzzle-Ioader had sllver strips mounted on it and similarly his sword was covered with many such strips. His horse was covered with a red c10th which came halfway down rto ilts tail and almost touched the ground. On the top of its head, between its ears, it wore a sllver, three-pronged crescent mounted with small red and white tufts. The rest of the horse's adornments consisted of brass bells, Chinese red horse-hair on its bridle and reins, and four silver shin-guards which were open at the back and tied with cords to its body and legs. Oearly such adornment made escape impossible for "the prince1y horseman". But according to Heijmering "an Amfoan prince never retreats". Oearly the chlef usif, the second most important man of the realm of Amfoan, here is the war leader.

In one of Middelkoop's 54 stories we find a rather extraordinary and difficult ,to explain reference to the special, mystical tie linking the meo to his victim. Af ter the head of one of Sonba'i's men had been taken the warriors assembied in the huts constructed for the meo outside the enclosing fence encirc1ing the vil1age, saying, "Wesat with heat - haim tok nok maputu (i.e. in the le'u sphere) - and inquired into the cause (last) of his death." And then the meo or some other person says on behalf of the dead man: "My companion (au bia) raged against me, thundered against me with a furions sword and with a furious rine." Now the word bia is of ten used in parallelism with benu (= friend); and the term au bian, au benu, for instance, is used to denote a person's relationship to his totem. Therefore the rendering of bia with "companion" is too weak. Middelkoop freely translates it with "counterpart".

This is a very good characterization, as it expresses the extreme1y strong bond between the Atoni and his totem. This totem is associated with the origin of his clan, and the connocted taboos (nuni) daily remind him of this bond. Tt is with the same word that the tie between the meo and the enemy he has killed is expressed. Af ter the headhunting raid the head which he has taken is addressed by him with words of roconciliation in this atmosphere.

The above shows how closely the meo is connected with the sacred sphere of the le'u musu. All the more reason why Cunningham's characterization of warfare as a "secular pursuit" is incorrect.55

In conclusion we would make an observation on the extraordinary phenomenon of referring to masculine and feminine great warriors (meo feto and meo mone). I have heard this distinction being made several times but have never been given an explanation for it. According to an early report 56 meo who are the sons of a sister and brother are mone and feto in respect of each other. This is the usual social relationship between bride-giving and bride-receiving groups. Middelkoop also thinks in terms of an affinal relationship in this connection. Of course this may weIl apply in certain cases, but it does not explain why there should always be meo feto and meo mone unless there is a fixed unilateral connubium between these groups. But in view of the total social structure this is nat likely. An additional difficulty is that the meo are invariably referred to as monef-a.tonif (= rnasculine men). Their place in the classificatory system is on the active, masculine side. The matter is far from clear. But for the very reason that this particular relationship does not on the face of it fit in with our classification, special attention should be given to it.

Middelkoop 57 gives an extraordinary example (the only one he gives, for the rest) of this meo feto - meo mone relationship. The name of the le'u musu of meo mone Nai Banoet is le'u Nai Humusu, Lord SwordGrass. It was originally called Nai Oe Nono, Lord Source-bed,58 i.e. lord of the spring which brings fertility and which supplies so much water as to feed a permanent brook. As spring water flows from the earth it is associated with the earth. The meo naek Nai Toto is also conneoted with this le'u, as Toto decreed that if the bearer of ,this le'u musu shot someone dead not he himself, but another man had to take the victim's head. Toto also had a le'u musu of his own, called Nai Hin, Nai Bona, the names of his ancestor spirits who infuse its particular power into this le'u (hin = to know). The Toto clan is divided into two halves: Toto Molo and Toto Metan (= the yellow and the black Toto, the colours associated with death and the night respectively).

The name of the le'u musu of meo feto Nai Tualaka is le'u Nai Boes N ome (= lord of the morning star plant, a plant with leaves that shine like the morning star 59 which fades at the break of day). Sometimes the le'u is even referred to as bi (= woman), just as Nai Tnesib's le'u is called Bi Nau and another le'u is called Nai Fenai (= lord female spouse 60) - this is a fertility le'u or a le'u nmw, however.

When the meo feto had taken a head he would hand it over to the meo mone. Middelkoop quotes the following dialogue between the two. Tualaka, the meo feto, addressing the le'u of Banoot, the meo mone, says: "N ai Humusu, you hero (pae) indeed we like a fine-faeed man" (i.e. the head of the decapitated enemy). Then the meo mone replies : "I like you, good hero. I am the fire-place, tunaf, for meat, I am the fire-plaee for riee". Then the meo feto continues, now addressing his own le'u: "Nai Boes Name, you hero, we like you, man of troops (antoin nakPasan)." The meo feto then says: "Nai Hin, Nai Bona (the le'u musu of Nai Toto), you hero, we like a fine-faeed man." Meo mone then says: "I like you, good hero. I am kerchief, I am shouldercloth, I am rope and I am (smalI) basket." The meo feto is said to do his headhunting by day, moreover.

So we have here a total reversal of the usual classificatory relationships. M one here is associated with the fire-place, the belt, the rope and the (smalI) basket; with the riee harvest and the meat and rice offerings, with the spring and hence the earth, with the kerchief (pilu) and the shoulder-cloth (bett), which, together with the belt (tani) are the bride's presents to the groom at marriage. And the meo mone is associated with the earth and with the eolours of death and night (yellow and black respectively). He himself does not perform the actual act of taking a head, which is nevertheless pre-eminently the task of the monef atonif, the masculine man. The meo feto, on the other hand, is associated with all that is masculine. He is the "man of troops", i.e.

the hero (pae) who whenever he catches sight of a band of enemies rushes in to take their heads. He does this by day "in the sun" (nok manas) - in other words, he is associated with the day.

The meo is maputu, melala: the burning one, the fiery one. Heat and flames are symbolic of danger, disease and death. But the objective of headhunting is the welfare of the conununity, its "coolness" (mainikin - oetene), for the head taken is incorporated in the meo's community, as we shall see below - it is a nitu (death spirit) which is added to the victor's clan.

This is analogous to the procedure which we observed in agriculture: first the field has to be bumt down so that later it may produce food; first it is rendered hot (maputu), i.e. dangerous, so that later it may bring forth coolness (mainikin), i.e. well-heing, welfare. The fertility of the soil and the domestic fire belong to the feminine category. Therefore the work of the monef-atonif (masculine man) is in a sense feminine - it is a special kind of harvesting. That is why there is an apparently total reversal of the usual order in warfare.

A man may become a meo by taking the head of one of the enernies. Though meo-ship is not hereditary, certain lineages, especially most of the lineages of heads, are expected to produce pae who will become meo. Even Vis Senak, the acting raja of Miomafo until 1947, the atupas of the four usif of Bikomi, was himself a meo, although it was not clear from what he said whether he himself had ever taken a head - probably because if he had he feit somewhat embarrassed about this in respect of the government official. Or possibly because by virtue of his function as usif he had had to act as leader of headhunting raids, though in actual fact he was no more than a meo baun (baun = helper), i.e. someone allowed in return for payment to hold a head that had been taken by another man, or a meo ana (ana = child, small) , i.e. someone who only accompanies an expedition.

In some cases cutting the enemy's hair was sufficient; this was done if the enemy was taken prisoner and kept as a slave. Kruyt 61 gives an example of two villages waging war on each ather over some issue of land tenure af ter the Netherlands East Indies Government had prohibited headhunting, so that out of fear of the Government the warriors restricted thenlselves to cutting their enemies' hair. This way they could become meo and put the enemy to shame just the same.

Not only are most heads expected to be pae and thus become meo, but there are particular clans which are meo in accordance with the structure of the political community. Even men from these meo naek lineages become acknowledged meo only af ter they have taken a head, however. Such lineages of ten live up to their reputation by producing outstanding meo - the fame of the Pit'ai of Fatule'u was widespread, for instanoe. But this does not mean that other clans could not become equally famous. The enumeration of four meo naek in Insana (or four times four, as Cunningham was told) rather implies that particular clans are meo naek clans, while others, also arranged in groups of four under the influence of the Atoni's thinking in terms of quadrupartition, mayalso be famous meo naek. There also exists the term meo lopo, which has approximately the same meaning as meo ana but places rather more emphasis on the ordinary lopo (hamIet) which has produced a meo.62

We should posit that the basic principle of meo-ship was that a young man's circumcision constituted a kind of initiation to marriage as weIl as to meo-ship, as will become clear from the headhunting ritual. This norm was probably never completely realized, but the fact that it was possible to become a meo merely by holding the head which had been taken by another man, or even by holding the sword used for this purpose, seems to indicate that it was a generally widespread one. In this context it should be noted that there were certain groups which were denied the right to become meo. I have so far not been able to discover the backgrounds of this.

The Headhunting Raid

When all the necessary preparations had been made one last matter to which attention had to be given was the flight of the owl and that of the parrot.63 People generally apprehend the cry of the owl and will not leave their houses when it is heard. 64 In the case of a headhunting raid it similarly announces danger and death, but in this case for the enemy. This is another example of the way in which the nOf'mal order is reversed in the "heat" of the enmity le'u sphere - that which forebodes evil during peace time is regarded as a propitious omen during war time. It is an inauspicious omen if the owl does not fly towards the warriors from the direction of the enemy, but it is a very encouraging sign 65 if it does. Everyone chants in unison : "The nono comes. Come, receive Thy meat and Thy ri ce" ; these foodstuffs are meanwhile hurriedly scaJt:tered. The le'u nono is the community's fertility le'u, which will be strengthened by the head to he taken, as the owl has announced. If the raid is to take place in the daytime the parrot has the same function. If a community was preparing to attack a village by surprise it would usua1ly set out at night and launch a surprise attack on the village art daybreak, at the fading of the morning star. All the inhabitants of the Rotinese settlement of Nunkurus, for instance, were massacred by Amanuban 66 in this way in 1847.

Fighting methoos varied widely. The weapons used were rifles (usually muzzle-loaders), swords and sometimes lances, although the latter were more commonly used for stag-hunting. The Atonl did not use shields or bows and arrows - there are no words for these in their vocabulary. Usually they would lie in wait for the enemy. Sometimes an ambush was laid. In a story recorded by Middelkoop 67 we read how on one occasion first a bamboo cylinder was placed just outside the enemy's village by way of le'u. A little further from the village an ordinary warrior (meo ana) stoOO with a bamboo cylinder fi1led with blood. When the enemy shot at him he flung himself down on the ground and let the blood trickle out of the cylinder to make a trail, and then took flight, running until he had passed the spot where the meo naek were Iying in wait. In his pursuit the enemy first stepped across the le'u, ,thereby rushing headlong to his own destruction - for he then ran straight into the ambush and was atrtacked from all sides.

If a soldier was wounded and could not escape he would tie face down on the ground, thus awaiting the final blow. 6S This was the worst disgrace thal1 could befall an Atonl. On a punitive expedition against Amanuban led by Resident Hazaart in 1818, the farmer took the auxiliary troops of the Dutch from Amfoan by surprise. In the fighting which ensued a man was hit in the leg by a bullet and was unable to run away. When his sou saw this he rode up to the spot where he was standing and with one blow of his sword struck oH his head. The son was hailed with cheers and SIlOuts of approval by rus companions because he had spared his father the disgrace of having his head impaled and having his nitu incorporated in the enemy's community.69

When one or two of the warriors had fallen, his companions would take to f1ight. 70 When the heads had been taken and the corps es looted the ery of vietory was raised twice. The looting of the corpse was almost as important as the taking of the head, as the meo was richly adomed with strings of coral beads and silver discs - the articles paid as bridewealth to the bride-giving group in return for a woman, asmanaf, by means of which a source of new life could be incorporated in the bride-receiving group.

There is a story in which Molo set out to attack Amfoan with the aid of Amanuban. A few men slipped down from their horses and poured goats' blood all over the ground. In a blinding rage the men from Amfoan followed the trail of blood and feil into an ambush. All those who ran in the direction of Toto Ca mea na·ek of Molo) were ki lied and their heads taken. But those who took flight in the direction of the men from Amanuban managed to escape with their lives by offering their strings of coral beads as ransom.71

Sometimes larger-scale, better organized campaigns were conducted in wars between princedoms. In a b3lttle against hordes of robbers from Amanuban Molo once marched against the enemy in four groups by night.72 Similarly Amanuban once set out on a campaign with 500-600 horsemen in 1822.73 And according to the myth of origin of the house of Abineno of Amarasi from Rameno, in the north-east of Beboki, the Usif Kono and Oematan went to the aid of their sisters (feta), the lords of Beboki and Insana, in their battle against Rameno. 74 Similarly Oematan and Kono onee marched together against Taebenu in Amfoan when the latter was aceused of cattIe raiding and the murder of an Oematan.75

It is impossible to say anything definite in respect of wars in which various princedoms formed alliances against others, because the largescale wars waged during the past few centuries had much to do with the foreigners who had settled on the coasts of Timor, and therefore are partly beyond the scope of the autochthonous structures. 76 The large number of traditions concerning ancient alliances may justify the assumption that long ago princedoms could unite to wage war against each other, albeit that most conflicts probably amounted to no more than small-scale confliets between neighbouring areas. We must refrain from making definite statements in this regard, as we knaw nothing of the functioning of the large princedom of Liurai-Sonba'i befare it was conquered by the Topasses in 1642. But it is clear from the whole of the background of warfare that there must always have been headhunting raids. The fact that the Atoni makes a distinction between a "wild" and a "tame" enemy (musu fui and musu aem) can be regarded as evidence for this. Mola's war with Amfoan, for instance, was a war against a musu fui, while the battle waged by Nai Toto, a meo naek of Molo, against Nai Mela, one of Sonba'i's amaf naek in Molo, is regarded asa battle against a musu aem.77

This distinetion is made in the ritual performed preparatory to the raid. For example, aft er the theft of a horse in Molo by Amanuban it was determined by divination whether the enemy was going to be a "wild" or a "tarne" one.78 If he turned out to be a "wild" enemy then they had to tie silver bells and strips with black hair to their legs, and if he turned out <1:0 be "tame" they had to tie red bands around their legs and fan the fire. This impliies that an investigation was being made to ascertain whether the headhunting raid that was to avenge the theft of the horse was going to be confined to the two parties concerned or would lead to total war between the two princedoms.

The Ritual Following the Headhunting Raid

As soon as the head had been taken with the aid of the le'u sword, which had been brought from the le'u shrine, the meo would address it with the following words of conciliation : "Brother-in-Iaw, how is it possible? l:t was of your own will that you came to fetch me, that I should come and we two should meet; weil then, sleep by yourself. With whom shall I have fellowship ? I am very cold (au mainiki mate)." Or: "0 brother-in-Iaw, actually we did not mean to meet and find each other, but it is on account of your chief (nakaf), who turned you into a cat (meo) and a civet-cat (metan); weIl then, I grasp you, I hold you in my hand. I have no war cry, no dispute (las1); I have a war cry with heaven and earth, I have a war formula with heaven and earth. I shoot foolishly. I behead foolishly. When you go by day we shall meet and find each other; when you go by night we shaIl meet and find each other; you cat (meo) , you have become known, you civet-cat (metan), you have become c1early known." Hence the cat is associated with heaven and the civet-cat with the earth: "the cat (meo) came down from heaven, the civet-cat, meo metan, came out of the earth." 79 Another part af this conoiliatory ritual was the lament raised when the head was being brought to the le'u shrine.80 Reconciliation was necessary because the head was going to be inoorporated in the community's own nono.

When the head had been taken the war formuia was repeated loudly once more in order to explain the reasons for engaging in battle. Then the heads were lashed with beits to poles carried across the shoulders. They were never carried by the meo himself but by his "younger brother", who was then also allowed to style himself meo. Af ter this the triumphant homeward journey would begin, under continual singing of the war chant. A messenger was sent ahead to the meo's village. The meo himself was brought to a leaf hut outside the village if the head he had taken was his first. Each meo had his own hut. If the expedition had been a large-scale one, organized by the ruler or conducted on his orders, the men would firsrt: to go him and circ1e around his le'u shrine three times and offer sacrifices. As this was being done an old woman sat on the ground with the heads in her lap. The meo then shouted: "I, brave son of (here follows the name of the princedom), it was with pleasure that I proceeded into battle." The prince would reply to this: "Weloome, younger brother (olif)." The heads were then placed on a stone before the ruler, who kicked them four times, kicking them off the stone the fourth time. Only then was the meo allowed to put his Ie' u sword back in its sheath. Then he was conducted to the hut.8l In the village all the necessary preparations were now made. The meo's wife, or if he were still single, his parents, would get his meo attire ready for him during this time. This consisted of, among other things, a waist-band, a woven cloth, a kerchief and a sirih pinang purse. These are the feminine artic1es with which his bride will also present him before marriage.

During the time spent by the meo in the hut it was taboo for him to eat cooked food. He could only eat raw food: roasted corn and raw vegetables.82 It was not permitted for a woman to bring him this unless she passed herself off as a slave. She would hang the food in a tree and the meo would hang the empty cooking-pot back in the tree, where the boy could fetch it back. Here again there is some evidence of a connection between initiation to meoship and ci rcumci sion. During and af ter circumcision too, as long as the boys remained out si de the village (i.e. until the wound had healed) no wonJan was allowed to approach them. The man who joined a headhunting raid similarly had to abstain from all contact with women, even if he were married, from the moment he first participated in the preparatory ri·tual.

During this period of waiting the heads were prepared. The brains were removed, of which sometimes the meo would eat part, or rub his chest with the substance. Or sometimes part of a neek muscle was eaten. This was done in order to absorb the enemy's smanaf or vital force. 83 The purpose of removing the brains was to nJark the speedy, violent transition from Life to death which the victim had undergone, and to separate the sphere of life from that of death. As the victim's life had ebbed away from him his brains, the quintessence of life, had to be extracted before the dead man (nitu), represented by his skull, could be incorporated in the nono of the community. A hole was drilled in the skull and then the head was smoked above a fire until the flesh had dried out completeiy.

When these preparations, as well as those in the village, had been completed, the gongs were brought to the huts of the young n~eo. Ta the accompaniment of the beating of these gongs by the women the men came from the village to fetch the young meo and all would go to the le'u shrine together. Rifles were fired while the war formula was constantly reiterated and a lament sung for the dead man. As they arrived at the Ze'u shrine they were welcomed with loud cheering. A virgin dressed up as meo, holding a tall sugar cane in her hands, approached the young meo.84 Holding the cane by its leafy end she would dance, together with the senior meO, until she reached the young meo, who would take hold of the cane by its roots. Then she pulled him into the compound surrounding the Ze' u shrine and daneed four times with him around the pole on which the head was to be impaled (see photograph 1). The lord of the le'u carried a wooden hook in his hand "which he hitched into the skull" which was held by another person. Together they would thus walk four times around the altar, whereupon the skull was placed on a stone in front of the altar. Then the skull was placed back in the lap of one of the women and its hair combed. A new wooden comb was thrust into its hair. Forming a closed circle and holding each other by their shoulder-cloths everyone would walk four times around the woman and the shrine.85 Middelkoop 86 describes how an old woman would carry four baskets filled with cooked meat and rice and say: "These three are ordinary baskets (atupa mliafin) but this one is a nono basket. All the meo have to come and gather around it and eat from it." Then she would place this basket in her lap and the meo would sit around her and eat out of her lap. The other three baskets contained food for the other participants of the ritual. The head was also offered a betel quid and then meat and rice. Af ter the meal the leader of the ritual and the senior meo placed some silver coins in the basket. The former would thereupon strike the basket four times with a sword. Then he would place the basket on the woman's head and back in her lap, saying: "People and subjects, buffaloes and horses, silver and coral beads, yellow and white cloths, slaves and skulls are complete." Then the new meo was presented with a new belt and a sirih purse. The le'u sword was now suspended from the only pillar of the Ze'u shrine, which was in its centre, and the skull impaled on a stake outside it, as it was taboo to bring a skull inside the shrine. Following this a round dance (bone nak af) 87 was performed in front of the head, to the accompaniment of songs which were sung four times. This dance was performed three nights in succession, eac:h time to the acoompaniment of different songs. The meo were then "made pure" again. 88

The meaning of all of these symbolie acts is no longer clear and the Atoni is able to offer only a partial explanaJtion for them, although he is fully aware of their general purport. The ritual performed af ter a headhunting raid has two objectives according to the Atoni: the incorporation of the head taken into the nono circle of the community andthe changing of the sphere of "burning and flames" (maputa, malala) into one of "coolness and cold" (mainikin, oetene). As the Atoni expresses it, the head is incorporated into the nono of the community (nanono nakaf),89 whic:h literally means "to make the head nono." The closed circle (nono) formed around it and the le'u shrine is symbolic of this. N eedless to say, this does not signify an increase in the smanaf of the con1munity, as the victim is dead. 1t is rather a nitu, or death spirit that is added to the community, of which both the dead and the living form an integral part. The heads are integrated into the community as nitu just as slaves are added to it as live persons. That is why slaves and skulls are mentioned together in the senior meo's speech.

The hooked implement (kait) which was hitched into the skull by the lord of the le'u symbolizes most graphically the incorporation of the head into the community. The first plants of the harvest were similarly gathered into the le'u house as offerings with the aid of the same hook, which is then referred to by the parallel word lolu. This offering is called "head of the corn, head of the rice" (pena na:kan, ane nakan). And in the mortuary ritual there is a referenoe to the lolu Uis Neno, tanu Uis Neno. 1t is the harvesting-hook with which Tae Neno ma Banfena sets out to gather in the harvest for Uis Neno. 90 The meaning of the name Tae Neno ma Banfena is not clear.

We see from the above how intimately life and death, smanaf and nitu, are bound up with each other. Just as the increase of life (smanaf), or of corn and riee, is represented during the harvest sacrifice as an inerease in the number of skulls (nak af) gathered in with the aid of the harvesting-hook, similarly the slain enemies are regarded as an increase in the number of skulls (nak af) , though this time in the group of the deceased (nitu) to whieh the ancestors (nitu) also belong. The latter were transferred to the "other side" in the same manner by Tae N eno with the aid of the same harvesting-hook.

As we have al ready indicated, the secondary purpose of the ritual following the headhunting raid is to restore the meo to the sphere of coolness. Bath spheres are ciearly separated, but in such a way that they nevertheless belong to each ather and each is the other's complement.

The ritual of consecration held in preparation of war releases the le'u musu and introduces a period of "heat", in whieh the le'u nono, which should here be interpreted as the sacred cirde of progenitive power, is put out of action. Sexual intercourse was taboo for the meo. Nor could agricultural rites take place during this time - the customary season for headhunting raids was always the dry season. During the "cooling down" ritual held af ter the raid the meo are transferred back into the le'u nono, which then begins to operate onee more. The position is such that the entire raid has contributed to a better functioning of the le'u nono. On the meo's return the basket of eooked meat and cooked rice is held by a woman, woman being the symbol of fertility, of the soil and of cooked food. This marks the end of the period of seclusion in the hut and of a forced diet of uncooked leaves.

We also have here some evidenee for the close connection between circumcision and initiation, and between war and marriage, a cannectian of which the Atoru is no longer aware. Af ter circumcision there is a similar period of isolation outside the village ; ,then follows the headhunting raid. Then aI10lther period of isolation in a hut outside the village which is emphatically sîated to have been constructed especially for the new meo. Because the raid and the attainment of meoship is at the same time a preparation for marriage, the meo is pulled 10 the le'u house by a virgin holding the green, leafy end of a sugar-cane in her hands. Then the harvest of the nakaf is gaJthered in. Now the young meo is ready to re-enter the sphere of the le'u nono. This still takes place in the sphere of "heat" with its reversal of the usual order - hence the virgin is dressed up as a man, as a meo. It is still the le'u nono of war that is concerned here. Only when the peace-making ritual has been performed has the normal order been definitely restored.

The Conclusion of Peace

Usually impartial mediators were sought who might conduct the peace negotiations. They are the men "of level head and af level shoulders." 91 Af ter a war between the heads of Molo and the heads of Amanuban, Nai Me/a, Sonba'i's amaf naek and traditional bridegiver, was one such mediator. The latJter sent a man to the independent, formerly Portuguese territory of Noimuti, on which both Molo and Amanuban border. There the envoy met Nai Leon Tasoni. The meaning of Tasoni is: "we separate the combatants", and hence this may lead us to assume the possible existenee of appointed conciliators, although 1 have not come across anything like this in Insana. More likely the name was a nickname for the man because he had acted as conciliator before. Together they went to Amanuball and Molo to request that "the dog's teeth and the spikes of the gebang palm leaf stalk be cast away." 92 Then they met on the border, where a barrier had been constructed. Heijmering 93 reports a structure of two pol es inserted in the ground with transverse wooden bars or pieces of string strung horizontally between them in this connection. Then the meo naek of both parties cut through the barrier. Buffalo milk was poured out as an oblation and they kissed and embraced each other as a sign "that their blood had now cooled off."

At the conclusion of peace between Sonba'i and Amfoan which came about through the mediation of a Dutch envoy from Kupang in 1870, both parties also stood facillg each other - the meo with loaded rif/es and beside them a man with a silver disc and another with a bamboo cyl>inder filled with water. The meo each took a mouthful of water and spat it out as they fired their rifles and the silver disc was flung away. This peace-making ritual was called "the extinguishing of the fire." 94

Middelkoop 95 has recorded a long story as related to him bya meo naek who had been present onee at the conclusion of peace between Molo and Amanuban. This was attended by a number of heads, though no princes were present; but they nevertheless referred to themselves as "moon of Banam (Amanuban) and sun of Banam, maon of Oenam (Molo) and sun of Oenam", in spite of the fact that these epithets are narmally reserved for the ruler - the heads were his representatives.

Thetwo parties stood facing each other with in between them two medicine-men, one from Arnanuban and one from Molo, each holding a large branch and an altar stone. They also carried bamboa cylinders filled with water containing two usapi leaves. 96 Here the war formuia was to he erased. Behind thern stood the heads with their followers. N ow a sacrifice was offered.

The le'u was addressed with the words:

"Come, fetch rioe, moon rioe, moon hulled riee; 97

eat and drink; eat Thy fill and he sated

in order that Thou mayest withdraw the hot, burning speech of Banam, the hot, burning speech 08 of Oenam.

Thou art the white le'u, black le'u, le'u with face and eyes.09

Thou, hair and down of Mutis and Babnain (i.e. Molo) ,

sacrifieial rock, altar rock of Mutis and Babnain,

Thou bone and heartwood 100 of Mutis and Babnain.

Verily 1 will not let Thee wither or wilt.

1 hold Thee in order to retract the hot speech (jefa) of Banam and Oenam.

1 hold Thee in order to retract the hot message (hana) of Banam and o enam ,

in order that the wildcat (meo) may take it with him in passing,

in order that the civet-cat may take it in passing;

in order that the door he purified, the way he purified,

that the people of Banam may go and return.

Let Banam be a resting-place for birds, confluent waters.

Let Oenam he a resting-place for birds, confluent waters.

Let there he no lake, no fence, no hedge."

Then the branches were cast away, one to the left and one to the right. Thereupon the medicine-men took the usapi leaves in tOOr hands and wiped the men's mouths with them. The men then spat on the ground, saying: "1 spit out my le'u speech, my le'u message, my hot speech, my hot voice, ..... the speech cannot but he cold, the message cannot but be cold." Then the leaves were cast away. But the stone was still being held, and was addressed as follows: "Thou sacrificial stone, Thou altar stone ..... take and carry off the speech and the message of Amanuban, the speech and the message of Molo to the deep, black sea, the deep, black lake." Then the stones were flung away. Water was sprinkled on the spot where the sacrifice was to he offered. A mouthful of water was taken and spat out, with the words: "1 spit out for good and spit out oomplete1y the le'u speech, the le'u message, the speech of dispute, the message of dispute; the speech has assuredly been made cold, the message has assuredly been made cold."

Finally each of the mnane took the branch with the usapi leaves and beat the mouths of the men of both parties with it; then they beat the earth with it and beat it in the direction of the sky, saying: "I beat Vis Pa:h on the mouth in order that it be shut and closed. I beat Vis Neno on the mouth in order that it he shut and closed." This means that the gods of heaven and earth will thenceforth be silent about the dispute - it no longer exists. The heads rubbed noses in accordance with the Timorese custom, and offered each other betel, and their subjects did likewise. Thus "the fire was extinguished", the land "made cool again". 1'1 was even said that "the land was turned into a woman (pah anbifeën)"; the le'u musu associated with the masculine principle was put away in the le'u house again and the le'u nono associated with the feminine, which had been out of action during the period of warfare, came back into operation once more. The usual order had been restored.

As an Atoni once said: "When we had hunted a head, we became the counterpart (bian) of the head; that is why they made us the counterpart of our wives again, that we should marry our wives again." 101 That is why they were offered betel in the same manner as during the marriage ceremony. As the attainment of manhood is the background of the attainment of meoship, it is not surprising that other young men, who have not themselves taken a head, desired to hecome meo by touching the head or the le'u sword with which it had been struck off. For actually it was a condition for the at1:ainment of manhood and for marriage. Only he who is married is a man, afoni - before marriage he is a boy. Similarly only he who has become a meo is a man, a brave (pae). Hence the headhunting raid and marriage, death and life, are inseparably linked together. War and death are a condition for life and marriage.

The connection between war and marriage is also expressed in another, altogether different way. For the climax of the peace-making ritual was marked by a promise by the two princedoms or the two princes involved to exchange brides.

For instance, once when Amanuban and Molo concluded peace Bi Kono Oematan, the sister of Oematan, married Nitibani, the amaf naek of Amanuban, and Bi Nopo Nitibani, the sister of Nai Kolo

Nitibani, married "Oenam".102 To all appearances this is an exchange of sisters, which it may weil have been, although it is oot recorded whether the sister of the Nitibani in question married an Oematan, as only the name Oenam LS mentioned. 1t is interesting to note that these women have names designating the unitary whole of their respective princedoms. Bi Kono Oema:tan designates the whole of the realm of Oenam, i.e. originally the realm of Sonba'i, which had its centre there,l°3 while Bi Nope Nitibani refers to the whole of Amanuban, Nope being the name of the royal lineage and Nitibani that of its principal bride-giver. Hence it seems that the two women were called by these names in this instance because they represented their realms at the conclusion of peace.

2. ADMINISTRATION

Tt is difficult to define the concept "administration" in a Timorese political community. The point in question is the taking of joint decisions within the borders of a particular territory and the preservation of the unity which is thereby given expression. The territorial unity of the princedoms is clearly perceptible, and their borders are fixed; but it is less apparent whether the people inhabiting th at territory form a homogeneous administrative unit. The unity of a territory becomes manifest at the presentation of harvest gifts. All groups are then expected to bring these compulsory harvest gifts to the palaoe of the ruier in the centre of the realm together. This did not always happen in practice, but it is a clear-cut norm. If it was not adhered to, and different groups - e.g. the two sub--territories of the realm of 1nsana - came separateIy, this was an unmistakable sign of a major internal conflict and a weakening of the ruier's autllority.

The ruler has a powerful weapon in his envoys (kabu 104), recognizable by the rattan staffs (uel) which they are allowed to carry and with which they may beat disloyal subjects. This they do of ten and with obvious relish, that is, if their master's authority permits them to do so. Hence their name ana' uel (= he who holds a staff), the staff being the symbol of authority; the ruler is also referred to as ana' uel, the staff in this case heing the sceptre. Not onIy the ruler, but also the usif and the amaf naek have their envoys. The Iatter are usually Iower in rank than the kabu and are called hake (= messenger). Kabu were employed to carry messages and orders between the ruier and the heads. The ruler's envoy was allowed to address lesser heads only via the usif and amaf naek, and was accompanied by their hake; or ,the order was transmitted by the usif by means of their own messengers. Messages with regard to administration usually pertained to such matters as repairs to or the renovation of the palace and its precincts. Normally this did not amount to much, except in the case of agreat ruler who had a large number of wives - Sonba'i had sixty in Heijmering's time, each of whom had her own house. Furthermore, certain groups helonging to the centre had to lay out gardens for the ruler and the other heads in ,the centre; such gardens also had to he laid out for the usif. And all these heads had the right to exact corvee labour of their subjects. Most of the clans had to supply a few of their people in turns in order to render personal services in the sonaf of the ruler and the usif. This number was only small during the wet season, but was much larger during the dry season, when large numbers of guests were entertained. Their number depended mainly on the position, power and personality of the head concerned. These abeat had to guard the sanaf, keep its compound clean, fetch water and fi re-wood , tend the horses (especially if the usif were about to set out on a journey) and ren der many other small services.

Or labour might he requisitioned for the maintenance of bridle paths. This was only a minor task, however, as there was no travelling during the wet season, and during the dry season the paths were kept firm by constant use. Only if trees had fallen across the paths and obstructed the traffic, or in cases of landslides some work had to be carried out on them; if the worst came to the worst a new track had to he hacked through the timber and undergrowth.

Trade was of prime importance for the administration. In a study of the changes in the political system of Timor the significance of foreign trade will have to he examined at greater depth. The ruler's authority, as that of the heads in general, probably increased greatly as a result of it, as trade was monopolized almost entirely by the ruler, as we may infer from a report (dating back to 1618) by Wang Tsi tsung:

The most important administrative act, however, was the collection of harvest gifts. This set the entire administrative machinery in motion, as we have seen in the description of the presentation of harvest gifts in Insana. The messengers are the only functionaries not mentioned there. In the eyes of the lesser heads and the common people who had to pay the taxes these were the actual bearers of authority. Yet these messengers, who were equipped with no other attributes of authority than a wooden stick, were hardly worthy of the name "poli ce force" by means of which the ruler might impose his will through the use of physical coercion.

If an usif refused to pay harvest gifts the ruler had to marshal the support of others who had remained loyal to him and try to impose his will by means of a punitive expedition or an internal war. This, however, is no Jonger a matter pertaining to administration, but belongs under the heading warfare.

It is difficult to assess the quantity and extent of the harvest gifts, because as a result of the new system under the colonial govemment usually not only the ruler and the kolnel, but also the kapitan were eliminated.

MüIIer 106 reports that the gifts of rice and com comprised approximately one fifth to a quarter of the harvest; this was destined for the roler as weil as the other usif. If the taxes were in fact as high as this - and there is no doubt that they were, especially as this is corroborated by statements by elderly Atoni (although these are rather vague) - the figure quoted probably represents the total portion of the harvest which the Atoni had to surrender to his tobe, the tobe naek, who was entitled to a proportion in his capacity as kapitan, to the usif and to the roler, i.e. the palace.

The proportionate share given to ea.ch of these was probably the same as their respective shares in the profit yielded by the sale of sandalwood, the ruler receiving 50 % of this, the district head 20 %, the village hood 10 % and the men who had feHed the trees 20 %. Fiedler 107 quotes the same figures. In respect of Belu and Amanuban he says that the ruler received 20 % if he were powerful enough. A concrete example listed in a Report on the island of Timor 108 is even more eloquent. In an Amanuban village numbering 77 adult male tax-payers (tax = pom) approximate1y 6,000 cobs of com were surrendered to the village head Kosot Nubatonis, who was tobe naek and a»ULf naek, in the year 1907, i.e. at the time of the first direct contact with the N etherlands East Indies Government. The total harvest amounted to approximate1y 16,000 cobs of oom, so that approximately three eighths of the harvest was paid in taxation. The village head himself kept 2,000 cobs, and the remainder had to go to the ruler Sufa Leu and to the district head Usif Sanu Nakamnanu. These 4,000 cobs were exchanged far two pigs and two strings of caral beads, however. Hence the poni consisted of three eighths of the harvest: one eighth for the tobe (who was also village head), one eighth for the ruler and one eighth for the district head, with the provision that both the ruler and the usif received other objects instead of oorn, so that the 77 poni contributors retained 14,000 cobs for their own consumption af ter all. Usually the ideal of three equal portions was a fictional one. Although the immediate territorial and genealogical heads, i.e. the tobe and the a»ULf, usually did receive harvest gifts, hardly any of these reached the major heads, at any rate not in the farm of a portion of the yield or only partially so. This was not necessary as there was another form of taxa ti on: the rul er and the usif had the right to requisition corvee labour for the cultivation of their fields and were not obliged to pay for these services other than with sacrificial animals and feasts which had to he given in thc course of the agricultural cyele. For this purpose they needed pigs, so that it was more practical for the people to give them these instead of riee. In Insana and Beboki the taxes (poni) amounted to oae large basket (pom) containing half a pikul of rice (approx. 30 kg.) per garden or per family. The latter was a debatable point. In addition this ineluded 90 cobs of corn as weIl as small quantities of other produce, such as areca nuts and sugar-cane. The kapitan retained 10 % and the remainder was sent to the sonaf, where the kolnel received less than half of it. Steiametz 109 does not report a separate porti on for the usif.

These taxes were therefore quite substantial, and in poor years were doubtless downrig'ht heavy. Taxes were one of the binding factors that held together the community and as such had an important function. The presentation of poni to a ruler by the heads bore testimony to their subordination to him and to the unity of the princedom. And conversely, failure to bring poni was an unmistakable, open sign of disloyalty and hence a cause for civil warYo

So we see that the size of the harvest gifts and the amount of tax paid varied in actual fact with the constantly changing balanoe of power.

3. ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE

A legal case in its simplest form consisted of an action brought by a prosecuting party against an opposing party. In the case of a difference of opinion in respect of personal property an envoy was sent in order to demand restitution of the disputed articles as weIl as to impose a fine. Legal action was and is impossible within the ume, because the ume is a unity and can only act as one body. Of course there may be quarreis within an ume which rnay lead to rifts and scission. A legal case generally ensues when a group breaks away, with either the senior or the break-away group acting as prosecuting party. This usually results in protracted negotiations, led by the amaf of the two groups, who appeal to the amaf who is the head of the lineage to which the two belong, assisted by other amaf of his clan. A modus vivendi is sought in order to enable the two parties to reach a settlernent. This then marks the end of the case.

In the case of a dispute between different ume or between two larger communities, lineages or villages the same procedure rnay be followed. But on the other hand the offended party mayalso decide to take legal action. If it does 50, each of the litigants, accompanied by a large number of other propie, approaches the heads concerned. Formerly they did so armed with swords and lances.1l1 Which heads are approached depends on the importance of the case, the status of the prosecuting party and the political distanoe between the two parties. Legal competenoe was and still is extremely vaguely defined. The fact that lances were brought along was a sign of either a large political di stance or a weak central authority - this was never done inside the territory of one usif for instance, nor within that of a ruler who had sorne authority over his usif and kapitan. Usually the prosecuting party first approaches the arbiter in person and presents him with a silver coin and a bottle of distilled palm-wine by way of a gift. This wine is drunk during the trial. Wang Tsi tsung writes in 1618 that the Timorese have heads

"to whom, when they have a dispute, each party brings a goat; he who is wrong loses his goat and the other takes his away again." 112 There is a great deal of corruption and judges are easy to bribe. A judge with integrity, ho wever, like, for instance, the Vis Kono of Miomafo who died in 1908, enjoys so much respect that his memory wilt live on for forty or more years af ter his death.

A trial may go on for many days; all food eaten during this time has to he 'Supplied by the litigants. The losing party has to pay a fine to the winning party, as weU as a fee to the heads. There are always a number of the latter present, as both parties have brought their lineage heads and clan heads or village heads, while the usif usually draws a number of heads into the case as weIl. There are no strict rules as regards this and it is very much dependent on the popularity and legal authority of the heads involved. If the case is an important one - if it concerns some serious injury, cattie theft or a claim for compensation of serious danmges to crops caused by straying cattie, or a serious mora:l offence such as adultery - the kapitan, in his capacity as amaf naek, as weIl as a number of juridical experts are invariably present. The mafefa is of ten such an expert. He is the spokesman of his lord and therefore welt versed in the ritual language and the traditions of his clan, in its myths of origin and its laws. As he is present on all important occasions, including trials, he is in a good position to acquire the knowledge required for adjudication. For adjudication amounts to formulating judgments on the basis of precedents. We should also rnention in this connection "the aId men, the aId women, whose ears are deaf and whose eyes are blind", i.e. the ruler's advisors, who never pay heed to flattery, and give the ruler their impartial advice, free from any ulterior motives whatever. Like the mafefa they are familiar with the community's traditions. The same applies to the guardians of the realm - Atau-pah, Ana'-pah, Abain-pah and Afen-pah 113 - who are not independent judges themselves either, but render their assistance especially in tracking down the offender. For they are, af ter all, "the great faces, the great eyes" who possess expert knowledge of the ritual and of the le'u used in auguring and trials by ordeal. During the colonial period such legal issues had to be brought before the Council of Chiefs of the Realm. This regulation has been kept in torce by the lndonesian Government, but is not necessarily always observed.

It goes without saying that there was no distinction between criminal and civil jurisdiction, and even less so between public and private law. Hence settlement by agreement was possible in all cases. On the other hand, any case of the slightest importance might spark off a headhunting raid if the two par ties lived in the territories of different kapitan or in different districts in general which had no close re1ations with one aoother.

Or people might take the law into their own hands. There is one example of a man in Tunbaba who caught his wife b the act when committing adultery. He tied her and her lover to the bed and, doubtless af ter consuiting the lineage head, set fire to the house half an hour afterwards, while his grown-up son looked on.

Vsually the identity of the offender was unknown, so that auguring and trials by or deal were frequently practised. Someone who was expert in these matters, a "guardian of the realm" like Ana' -pah, or a medici neman, first used a lance (nahe a.uni = fathom - lance) for divining. The lance was th rust into a tree or a pole and held with arms stretched in such a manner that the little finger of one hand just touched the tree. This hand was then swiftly turned. If the thumb touched the tree whilst the other hand remainded in its original position, the success of the investigation was assured. This general form of auguring, like the examination of a hen ,egg, usually preceded the actual trial by ordeal.

In Beboki there existed the same form of trial by ordeal as that reported by Grijzen 114 to exist in North Belu. Beboki consisted of ten kluni or districts. If there had been a theft, eleven pebbles (one for each of the kluni and one for the area outside the prinoedom) were placed in a circle described by a piece of rope tied to a stick inserted in the ground, the radius of the circle being formed by the length of the rope. A fowl was tied to the end of the rope, so that it could just reach each pebble. Then the mnane or the nutfefa of the head would hold an oration, invoking Vis Neno and Vis Pah to point out the offenders. Thereupon the fowl's head was lopped off and its body freed aoove the pole to which the rape was tied. It would flutter around for a while and the pebble near which it landed indicated the kluni in which the culprits might be found. If another pebble happened to get smeared with blood the kluni which it represented was considered to be an accomplice.

More dangerous for the accused was the sword trial (honu suni;

honu = to run one's hand along, suni = sword). A sharp sword was freely suspended and the accused had to run the length of his hand, protected by only a few leaves, along its edge, whilst the man in charge of the investigation held the hand of the accused tightly gripped and pressed it against the sharp edge. If the accused were guilty his hand would he cut bythe sword, whereas if he were innocent he would withstand the trial unscathed.

Sometimes an accused person was suspended by his hands until he admitted his guilt. If he were innocent, the cord would slip loose of its own accord.

Or he had to retrieve a small whetstone out of a pot of hot water. A guilty person could not do so without scalding himself. Another method was to pour molten lead over some leaves he held in both hands. If he remained uninjured his innocenee was proved.

There was also the trial, which appears psychologically more valid, by which uncooked rice had to be chewed. If the chewed rice remained dry this was a sign of the guilt of the accused. A similar procedure was to keep the accused in a squatting position while incantations were being recited. The person who was unable to stand up straight immediately af ter this, or who was frightened, was considered to he guilty.

Duelling was another form of trial by ordeal, reported by Grijzen 115 and by a reliable Military Memorandum 116 on Timor based on a number of earlier reports. The accused and the prosecutor were stood up facing each other a small di stance apart, and fired their rifles simultaneously. He who was killed was considered to he guilty.

At all such trials by ordeal incantations which were recited by the medicine-man (mnane), and which were indirect imprecations, were of great importance. This reveals the ritual nature of adjudication. If the accused persisted in pleading innocent in spite of these incantations and the verdict of a trial by ordeal, he was certain to die within a very short space of time.

If the accused were proved guilty he had to pay a fine and compensation of the damages. If later on he was able to prove someone else guilty the latter would have to pay not only the fine, but also a compensation for damages to those who had been subjected to a trial by ordeal.

As opposed to this procedure, which was usually most unpleasant for the accused, there was a form of justice by oath of purification, through which one called down a curse upon one's own head if one were guilty.

The head, his mafefa or a mnane wouid carve a cross into the ground with a knife and place $Ome of the soil from where the two lines intersected on the tip of the knife. As he did 50, he would inform Vis Pa:h and Vis Neno accordingly, scattering rioe all the while. He then placed this soil in a mug with some distilled palm-wine mixed with some gunpowder and a bull et in it. Acoording to Steinmetz 117 it was formerly the practice in very serious cases to cut the throat of a hen above the mug, af ter which it was thrown away. Then the person administering the oath addressed Vis Neno and Vis Pah, putting the case before them and asking them to bring the truth to light. Subsequently the formula of the oath was recited, and was repeated by the person who had to take the oath, who raised the mug to Vis N eno and then bowed to the earth, to Vis Pah. Then he put some soil in his mouth, washing it away with the mixture from the mug. The bullet was left in the mug. The formula of the oath contained a curse upon the person taking the oath: "may the liquor oonsume my intestines, may the earth make me ill and the bullet kill me if I am not speaking the truth." 118 In the case of two par ties accusing each other, bath would drink from the mug. This may even have been the original form of the oath, thus lending the practice of taking an oath rather the character of a trial by ordeal. Even in 1947 this oath was sometimes administered to non-Christian Atoni. In accordance with European criminal law it was not, however, an oath of purification, but a testimonial oath required only from very important witnesses in serious trials. Wiggers 119 reports a slightly different formula, which renders the kil1ing of a fowl more significant: "Vsi Neno, Vsi Paha, behold me. If I bear false witness in order to plunge my fellow-men into distress, I shall be punished. This day I take the ooth and if I do not speak the truth, my head wil! fall like that of this chicken." Af ter these words the chicken's head was lopped oH. Venema 120 reports the following formula: "Vis Pah is here, Vis N eno is here. If it is true that I have committed a theft, may Dis Pah kill me, may Dis Neno kill me, may the le'u kill me, may the nitu ancestors kill me, so that I may die." Other evidence considered in legal cases was the testimony of witnesses (asumanu = dog and fowl; aIthough thieves work in the dark, they may be seen hy dogs and fowls who may bring the truth to light - hence this name). If they were ahle thus to give eviden.ce in respect of one theft it was assumed that the offender had more on his conscienee. In order to force an admission of guiIt from him, a kind of thumhscrew was sometimes applied - the fingers were squeezed between two pieces of wood tied to each other by means of a string, which was twisted like a cord so that the fingers were graduaIly jammed more and more tightly.

The most common sentence imposed was originaIly compensation of the damages, which always more than covered the actual damages - sometimes double the amount was claimed. Even during the rule of the Colonial Government this compensation was always stipulated in addition to a fine or a jail sentence in order to satisfy the Atoni's sense of justice. The descent group of the guilty party was responsihle for the payment of the fine and compensation. And the descent group could, and if necessary, had to, turn to other related lineages of the same clan for aid. If the accused had been forced to admit other, unsolved crimes recently committed in the neighbourhood, the amount of compensation might reach considerable proportions. His own lineage heads usually made him swear never to steal again. If he did, his own clan would sometimes have him put to death. Van Rietschoten gives an example of this. 11l1 In Tunbaba, at that time still practicaIly independent, two boys of approximately 16 and 18 respectively, had been convicted for cattle-thieving several times, with the result that their lineage, and more especiaIly their own descent group, had to compensate the victim for the damages land pay a fine to the head as weil. Thereupon the heads of the boys' own lineage resolved to put them to death. Two "uncIes" executed the sentence. These "uncles" must have been the atoni amaf of their fathers, hence their mothers' brothers, who supervise a man's life-cycle. So the bride-giving ume must have heen consulted first. The boys had to dig their own graves and were buried alive.

There was, in addition, the fine which served as remuneration for the judges. This they divided proportionateIy according to their rank and office.

The alter native to compensation for darnages was the death penalty, which could he imposed by the ruler as well as the district head, the usif or the kapitan. Mathijsen 122 writes of a disttict head in Fialaran, in North Be1u, sentencing a man to death on a charge of murder and having him heheaded. Insome cases the convicted man was stood with his face turned to a tree and shot in the neck.

Formerly collective punlshments were not uncorrunon. These were imposed for the most serious offences, such as witchcraft or the murder of a ruler or usif. In such cases an entire lineage would he sentenced to death. When a mnane, who was also a diviner, had established the identity of the witch, the usif would have her, and at least the members of her immediate family, put to death. Even as recently as 1934 the ruler of Insana, Dominicus Taolin, had a certain "witch" put to death together with her daughter and granddaughter af ter a mnane had established that she was responsible for the death of Taolin's child.123 Such collective punishments were based on the belief that witches passed on their craft by heredity through the female line on the one hand, and the belief that such a murder must have been committed with the consent of the murderer's amaf on the other. Those least involved in the crime would be sold as slaves. Van Hogendorp 124 reports, for instance, that in a very serious case the accused was made a slave and that the death sentence was seldom pronounced. Van Hogendorp was writing about Kupang and its environs, however, an area in which there was a brisk slave tra de at certain periods.

CHAPTER XI

THE SYSTEM OF THE POLITICAL COMMUNITY IN TIMOR. SUMMARY

1. HISTORICAL BACKGROUND

We preceded our analysis of the structure of the political communities in Timor with a historical outline in order to gain $Ome insight into the unity and diversity of these communities. We discovered that at the time of the arrival of the first Europeans there existed arealm in Timor which was in a sense a unitary state. This was the realm of Wehale in South Be1u, which encompassed the Be1u and the Atoni areas. The historical outline failed to shed sufficient light on the nature and degree of the unity of that state. It was clear, however, that there was a division which more or less coincided with the language boundary. The Atoni area was itself a unitary whole with Sonba'i at its head. Sonba'i was a liurari, i.e. a representative, of the Meromak O'an, the ruler of Wehale. In the Atoni area the latter is referred to as the liurai of Wehale-Waiwiku, as it was the Meromak O'an's executive authority, the liurai, and not the Meromak O'an himself, who represented his realm in ilts external rel3Jtions. Insana and Beboki probably formed an exceptJion - these Atoni areas had closer links with Wehale than with Sonba'i, 50 that their ritual texts constantly refer to Liurai-Sonba'i. this term designating the tatal realm as a double monarchy.

In the remainder of the Atoni area the realm of Sonba'i is regarded much more as an independent unit whose head, Sonba'i, is the younger brother or subordinate of the ruler of South Belu. It is impossible to discover whether this has always been 50, because the Portuguese, or more strictly speaking, the Topasses, accompanied by Dominican missionaries and aided by Portuguese soldiers, destroyed the realm of Wehale as early as 1642.

Sonba'i fled to Kupang. This happened several years af ter the Dutch had settled there. When a hundred years later, in 1749, the power of the Topasses was dealt its death blow by the Dutch - whose power subsequently also gradually weakened in the final days of the East

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India Company so that af ter 1770 they hardly interfered at all in the affairs of the interior - the realm of Sonba'i recovered to some ex tent. This is true only of the former centre, consisting of Molo and Miomafo; and even here this recovery was only partial, as Kono of Miomafo made himself virtually independent. In actual fact this was na more than a continuation of the situation that had arisen under the dominion of tht, Topasses, as they had conferred the title of emperor (imperator) on Kano. The peripheral areas at present generally deny ever having been the subordinates of Sonba'i, but the myths show that in most cases there existed a relationship like that between younger and elder brothers between them, or a feto-mone relationship (bride-receiving - bridegiving) - in any case, a relationship in which they were inferior in respect of Sonba'i.

The way in which the relationship between the princedoms was interpreted elsewhere varies with the di stance from which it is viewed. The structure as seen by South Belu was as follows: the Meromak a'an and his three liurai, one at his side, one in the east and one in the west (Sonba'i). The latter two were each in turn the centre of their own respective princedoms. Surrounding the nucleus of the realm of South Belu there were, in its immediate sphere of influence, three loro (suns), who were the rulers of their own realms and were the sous and a sonin-law respectively of the Meromak a'an, according to the classificatory system. Beyond these there were the realms of three rulers appointed as toro. Each time we have, therefore, a constellation of three rulers and the Meromak a'an combining to make up a four; even inside what was his own territory in the most limited sense in Wehale itself, the Meromak a'an had three "minor rajas" below him.

In Insana, which was orientated towards bath Liurai and Sonba'i, Cunningham 1 was given the following classification: Liurai nanan, the centre, consisting of four sub-territories in Sou th Belu - Waiwiku, Haitimu, Dirma and Lakekun. This summary therefore mentions only two of the four sub-territories of the realm of Wehale and two of the three original loro realms. In addition is mentioned Liurai mone (,Greater Liurai), which consists of Amanatun, Amanuban, Insana and Beboki. Anas is not included in this summary, while Amanatun and Amanuban, which were never under the immediate rule of the Meromak a'an, are classified with South Belu. Then follows the realm of Sonba'i, which is similarly divided into two groups of four. Kono, Oematan, Babu and Bifel are listed as the princedoms which forn1ed the nucleus of the realm of Sonba'i, the two Jatter being na more than two important great fathers of Miomafo.2 Ambenu, Kune Uf (the original lord of the land who was there before Sonba'i arrived 3), Amfoan and Amarasi are mentioned as constituting "greater" Sonba'i.

Although Cunningham's informant may not have been an authority on Timorese tradition, his summary represents a typical example of Timorese classification: the totality of a large number of nam es is arranged .into a double dichotomy, each of the parts of which in .turn consists of four sub-parts. A different informant would al most certainly have enumerated different, perhaps more correct, names, but the scheme is fixed.

Sonba'i, too, views his world in acoordance with a fixed mode1. 4 Here we also have the dichotomy of Liurai-Sonba'i, Liurai (i.e. the Meromak O'an) being recognized as the senior half. In the Sonba'i half there is na scheme of dyadic pairs in which Sonba'i is the most important of the four (as in South Belu). The scheme here places Sonba'i in the centre of two pairs - they therefore make up a five. Which four depends on the time and place. The centre, i.e. Sonba'i himself, in turn consists of two parts: Kono-Oematan.

In the old realm of Amabi the whole of the political, ritual world is viewed in terms of the following genealogy: "In primeval times there was a ruler of this island. He was the Liurai of Wehale (the Meromak O'an) and had two sons, the Liurai of Kamanase (in Portuguese Timor) and the Liurai of Belu (i.e. of Fatu Aruin). The latter also had two sons, Liurai and Banu Naek (of AmanaJtun). The Liurai of Kamanase moved to Lifao - the port of the Topasses - and had twin sons, Abi and Sonba'i. They are said to be "the sound egg Abi Sonba'i", but Abi was the more important, being called "mone naek" - "the great male".5

Other peripheral areas will probably also generally represent their most important relations in two dyadic pairs, Liurai-Sonba'i being the first pair, and the princedom ooncerned together with one of its neighbours, the one with which it has its closest affinal relationships, the second. In Ambenu, for instance, the following set is given: LiuraiSonba'i, Ambenu-Amfoan.

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This is how these relationships are viewed at present, three centuries af ter the disintegration of the realm of Wehale. The fact that the superiority of Liurai-Sonba'i is stiU recognized far and wide is an indication of the great importance they once had.

Only an analysis of the manner in which existing political communities functioned before the establishment of Netherlands East Indies rule wiU throw same light on the nature of these relationships, or, in other words, on the nature of the large poEtical unit which the realm of Liurai Sonba'i probably once was.

2. THE STRUCTURES OF THE POLITICAL COMMUNITIES

a. The Ru/er

The structure of Insana emerged most plainly from the ritual of the presentation of the harvest gifts to the ruler and from that accompanying the ruler's death. Viewed this way the structure invariably represents the ideal pattern, and the Atoni himself regards it as such. I t is an ideal pattern also in that it presents the structure as a static phenomenon. For instance, when one of the four usif has disappearedsuch as Fal, who has been absent for 200 years - the ritual texts persist in mentioning his name, even though these texts are repeated every year and are generally weU known.6 But as this is the model this is how things should beo The norms are fixed, bUJt reality never conforms with them completely - a fact of which the Atoni is weil aware.

The pattern mayalso vary from one princedom to the next. In the case of the kinship system, for instance, we found a gradual transition from a purely patrilineal farm of descent and patrilocal marriage in Amfoan in the north-west, through a form of mixed descent resulting from uxorilocality of marriage and the practice of allocating children to the lineage of the mother in Anas in the south-east. right through to the firmly established matrilineal system of South Belu.

Parallel with this we also found a gradual transition from a low to a high degree of feminity in the nature of the rulership. The ruler is feta, he is the atupas, he "sleeps" and is immobile, but he is responsible for the ritual and the safekeeping of the sacred objects. Adjacent to his palace is the main altar pole (the tola naek) and the le'u shrine in and around which the war ritual is performed. At his side he had his masculine, executive authority, who was the actual ruler of the realm and was given the ritle of kolnel by the Portuguese. The kolnel was c1early the second highest authority. His palace was situated next to that of the atupas, on the eastern or masculine side of it. They shared the harvest gifts between them. It is not c1ear why he disappeared and why he was replaced in his function by one of the usif, as this took pI ace before the introduction of colonial rule. On the other haJIld it is not surprising - in fact, it is a latent possibility inherent in the structure Î'tself - that there should have been tension between the atupas and his executive authority. In Amanatun this resulted in the expulsion of N ai Mone, the masculine lord. In Beboki we come across the same pattern, except that here there is a masculine counterpart of the centre as a whoIe, represented by Mone Mnasi (the masculine old man), in addition to the ruler's masculine counterpart within the centre, Vis Aätan. They have both held the function of kolnel at times. Here tension vrobably existed between the loro and mone mnasi and between the latter and Vis Aätan. As aresuIt the head of the peripheral district of Manlea was elected raja of Beboki when the Colonial Government stipulated in 1915 th at Beboki should appoint araja, an executive authority. Hence in the east of the Atoni area the feminine, immobile nature of the ruIer's function is especially emphasized, and the ruler is therefore regarded first and foremost as the custodian of the sacred objocts who is responsible for the rituaI. Doubtless this is a result of the strong influence of a close tie with South Belu. There the Liurai, the masculine, executive authority of the nucleus of the realm, had his residence in a different place from that of the Meromak O'an; in Wehale itself the executive authority was vested in three "minor chiefs" who Iived in different places from that in which Meromak O'an resided. The latter's palaoe was exclusively a ritual centre. Here the feminine, ritual nature of the ruler's function is most pronounced. The structure as a whoIe, however, most probably reveals marked differences even with Insana. Another reason why Francillon's research is of so much importance.

Further to the west there is less emphasis on the ruIer's feminine nature. Witness the fact that the ritle of atupas is still found in Miomafo but no longer occurs further to the west.7 Sonba'i himself had wt his side a pre-eminently ritual figure associated. with the earth and night - Kune, the original inhabitant. In Amanatun, almost bordering on South Belu,

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the feminine nature of the ruier's function is still present, but here the Nai Mone or masculine lord was expelled and the ruler was able partIy to repla.ce him. Hence he was acceptabie as raja both to the Colonial Govemment and to the local population. But in accordance with the autochthonous structure his executive and administrative powers are very slight.8

The fact that the rulers in the west are less "feminine", although here also they are definitely the atiut le'u who bear the responsibility for the ritual, is probably primarily a result of a general shift in emphasis on the structural principles, a similar shift to that observable in the kinship system. A further explanation may he that most of the princedoms in the west regarded Sonba'j as their immobile ritual centre, so that the other rulers must originally have been Sonba'i's masculine men (monef atonif) - this was very c1early the case with Kono and Oematan ; they were called this in Insana, and a text from Amabi 9 also refers to them as the monef atonif of Molo and Miomafo. Ambenu and Amfoan, too, are Sonba'i's juniors and receive brides from him (= in muni in feto); they accompanied him on his wanderings. They originally lived in Sonba'i's realm and lacked a special ritual centre of their own. The same applies to Amanatun and Amabi, though to alesser degree; these themselves were ancient centres and more or less Sonba'i's equals, though connected with him in a way. Abi, for in stance, is said to he Sonba'i's twin brother. The usif of Amanuban - Fina-Isu, NubanNopo - are his monef atonif or commanders-in-chief,l° as is Nai Lasi (i.e. Amarasi). According to the same tradition Sonba'i and Abi were supposedly the ritual rulers, together with Banu N aek of Amanatun. There is little to he said concerning the structure of Amabi - it was pushed back long ago to the area that was under Dutch protection. The realm of Sonba'i was also destroyed 300 years ago and the newly restored princedom which has existed since the end of the 18th century was always extremely antagonistic towards the Dutch, so that we have but few data concerning it. The first military action in Timor was directed at Sonba'i in Kauniki, in Fatule'u, and destroyed even this last of Sonba'i's independent realms. On the basis of the countIess myths and judging by the position occupied by Sonba'i in the traditions of the Atoni princedoms we may safely assume that his function was primarily a ritual one. But the fact that he is never called atupas indicates, nonetheless, that he was regarded as being less immobile and less feminine than his "elder brather", the Meromak O'an of South Belu, and alsa less sa than the mIers of Insana and Beboki. The mler's masculine counterpart in the centre i tself is absent here, moreover - this is the case with Sonba'i, and more especially with the other mIers in the western princedoms - even though he had a number of "men" (i.e. the usif) at his side, such as Kono and Oematan in the case of Sonba'i.

b. The Usil

Just as the ruIer's feminine nature is made most clearly apparent by a comparison between east and west, starting in the east, the masculine nature of the function of his counterpart (his usif) ean best be examined by taking the west as our point of departure.

The ruler has at his side two usif, who are monef atonif. In Amarasi these are the two "tribal lords", Naidjufa, while in Amabi they are two Siko, "siko" being an ancient title the meaning of which is no longer clear. In Kupang, too, there used to be two executive princes. They belong to the sphere of the ruIer's palace, but their attention as executive authorities is directed rather more to mone or external affairs. They are in charge of warfare, as the term monef atonif implies. This is brought out even more clearly by the qualification, as found in an Amabi text, that they "kick the land, kick the I ake " , in other words they "kick open" the door of the realm and expand the territory of their princedom. It is not the ruler but his masculine counterpart who is the "Mehrer des Reiches".l1

The fact that the function of the masculine, executive autho1'Ïty was rendered by the foreigners with "war lord" is an indication that the Atoni - and in the case of Kupang, the Helonese - placed most emphasis on his dUIties relating to warfare. As the usif belang to the centre they do nat generally have a sub-territory of their own. That is why the Colonial Government had sa much difficulty in subdividing Timor into districts.12 In the realm of Sonba'i the usif lived close to the palace in Oenam - Kono at a distance of same ten kilometres to

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM 375

the east, and Oematan at an even smaller di stance to the west. Only when the centre disappeared did Kono and Oematan themselves become the centres of new communities; people continued to say long af ter this, however, that these two have no mutual borders.

The structure of Insana and Beboki is different because there the very nature of the rulership is different. That is why originally the usif of Insana remained in the background, as they still do in Beboki. For the ruler of Insana had Us Bala at his side and the ruler of Bebo~i had Us Aätan; it was these two who were given the title kolnel by the Portuguese, whilst the great fathers became kapitan, and the usif were not given any title at all - a sign that they were not yet import3Jnt at the time. In Insana their location was close to the pal ace, where their small altars were situated around the main altar (tola naek) of the atupas. But their sphere lay outside the pala.ce. What their relationship to the ka/nel was is no longer clear, because the kolnel had been ousted and two usif had stepped iuto the foreground even before the arrival of the N etherlands East Indies Governrnent. One of them, Twlin, even took the ruler's place, because the atupas was too inactive to be acceptable to the Colonial Government, and too feminine, or in other words, too strongly associated with ritual matters to be made available for the strange Government of the foreigners. Both in Insana and in Beboki there are four usif around the centre, in contrast with the western princedoms, where there are always two. This is perhaps attributable to the inf1uence of South Belu, where quadrupartition is the more prominent, whereas bipartition is the basic principle in the Atoni areaP Even here it is a system of double bipartition, however, sa that in actual fact it again amounts 10 a quadrupartition af ter all. N onetheless the emphasis here, especially further to the west, lies rather more on bipartition, whereas in the ea.st it falls slightly more on quadrupartition.

We fiud something of a similar nature in Beboki. Here similarly the atupas, usually referred to by the title loro which he received from the ruler of South BeIu, is so immobile as to he considered unfit for a function in the modern administrative organization. Here, however, not one of the usif was appointed executive authority, because their position was much Iess important. This tends to strengthen the assumption that in Insana the usif did oot become important enough to replace the kolnel in his function until much later. The fact that two of the usif then became prominent - Taolin as raja and Pupu as district head - corresponds with the pattern which prevails in the princedoms which lie further to the west, where there are two executive authorities. It is connected, moreover, with the principle of bipartition which is of vital importance for the structure of the political conununity, the unity of which is expressed in terms of the unity of the masculine and femillJine principles for the whole of the cosmos. But it is as a result of this same principle that scission is also an ever-present possibility. The parts are nonetheless united in their oommon relatedness to the centre, in which the unity of the two halves finds expression. Hence, as in the kinship system,14 the principle of tripartition is also a possibility. The centre, in turn, has a rnasculine and a feminine pole, which factor may give rise to tension, especially in the case of geographical separation. As far as we can see, however, there has never been an example of the division of a princedom along this line.

The different palace functionaries have their place around the palace, first of all those who belong to the interior, and next those who constitute the link with the exterior. A comparison with other princedoms as regards these personages is not possible because the former structures of Beboki and Miomafo are no longer precisely known and research has not been conducted elsewhere. Perhaps no princedom offers a better opportunity for reconstructing these ancient structures than Insana, except, possibly, Amanatun.

c. The Great Fathers

Our point of departure for a oomparative descriptJion of the position of the amaf naek in the structures of the political communities is onee more Insana in the east. For it is here that the structural differentiation between them and the usif is most weIl defined.

In Insana the amaf naek are the four heads of the four sub-territories. They are heads (nakaf) by virtue of their position as amaf of the most prominent clan in tOOr respective sukerritories. Their function is hereditary, therefore - it is normally passed on to the eldest son of the senior lineage. But in practice this rule is not always adhered to, eompetenee, age and mutual rivalries having mueh influenee on the suceession. If, for example, a junior lineage has ance supplied a head because a suitable candidate was lacking in the senior one at the time,

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM 377

it win try its utmost to retain this function within its own eircles. And the senior lineage for its part will make every effort to have the function returned to it.

The amaf naek are the immediate heads of the sub-territories of the princedom and are simultaneously tobe naek. They consütute the "exterior" (mone) of the sonaf, their unity being symbolized by the ruler "inside" thc eentre who is the ritual leader and is therefore feta. They bring him tribute as he is their superior. This implies, however, that they are his providers and supporters (ahaut, afatis) - they are the givers of life. This is borne out even more strikingly by the unilateral affinal relationship existing between them and the ruler, for they are his bride-givers. In this regard also, then, the relationship between the ruler and the amaf naek is feto-mone. But in this case feta is inferior, as he receives brides, or, in other words, life, from his amaf. The latter thereby become his atoni amaf and are responsible for his life-cyc1e rites.

The above may lead one to assume that in the balanee of political power the scale would tip in favour of the amaf naek, if it were not for the fact that they are dependent for their life and for the fertili,ty of the soil on the eorrect performance of the ritual at the ruIer's main altar (tola naek), among other things. Besides, although they are the ruIer's providers by virtue of the fact that they bring him their harvest gifts, they are at the same time his guests at the great saerificial meal and as sueh on the receiving end and hence his inferiors. Moreover, the ruler has at his side the Us Bala and the usif as his executive authorities. The harvest gifts are gifts of homage which have to be presented not only in order to promote the fertility of the soil and the prosperity of the realm, but they aTe also indirntive of ,the unity of the realm. Failure to present this tribute is a sign of scission or rebellion. This the ruler will try, via his kolnel and the usif and with the aid of other a,maf naek, at all costs to prevet1Jt. The deepest significanee of the feto-mone relationship, however, is that eoercion should not be necessary, as feta and mone are oomplementary concepts - the one cannot possible exist and is inconceivable without the other.

In Insana the amaf naek were formerly the heads of the sub-territories oceupied by the quarters of thc princedom of which they were the genealogical heads - the title kapitan indicates this. But in this function they have been more or less supplanted by the usif. The distance between the latter and the eentre gradually increased, so that they came to be more and more part of the "exterior". As aresuIt they formed eentres of .their own and the amaf naek with whorn they were affiliated became their bride-givers and providers and supporters as weil. Hence the possibility 01 a process of scission is inherent within the struoture itse\f. Ainan's attaining independence before 1760, probably under Us Fal, is a good example of this. Later on, as a result of the influence of the Netherlands East Indies Government, two usif of Insana became district heads and one of them became raja as weil. The third faded into the background as an ordinary village head, however, and the fourth has disappeared altogether, probably af ter Ainan's re-integration with Insana.

When the centre disappears the parts cannot but become independent. This happened in the realm of Sonba'i, where the two usif themselves became the centres of new princedoms. It is also possible for one or more of the quarters to become independent with an amaf naek at its head. Then the structural and functional distinction between the amaf naek and the usif disappears. We End this happening especially frequently in the western part of the realm of Sonba'i, so that in early reports and documents of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries we regularly come across references to Manubait, Pit'ai and Taebenu, among others, as independent units of Fatule'u.15 And the same is true of Molo and Miomafo, though to a lesser degree. The amzaf na.ek may himse\f become usif; this is probably .the development that took place in Bikomi, where there are four quarters, each with an usif at its head. Conversely this confusion of the status and function of the usif and the amaf naek may be responsible for the application of the term "ahautafatis (= providers and supporters) of Molo and Miomafo in respect of Sonba'i", to the monef atonif Kono and Oematan. 16 Hence the usif's function as war leader (monef utonif) is confused with that of the amaf naek, who were responsible for the presentation of tribute. It is also likely, however, that in West Timor the structural differentiation between the two was never as clear-cut as in Insana. In the five and nine sub-sections respectively of the two halves of Ambenu, for example, there are usif without any special function. In Amanatun, an old centre of Timorese culture, the distinction is similarly not well defined. The two usif do not (or no longer) exist here, while the four great fathers are ca\led usif, as is Nai Nokas, who is responsible for the defence of the northern border. One of them, Niti Bani, has attained a similar position to that of Nai Nokas.

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM 379 of the story is also related in Amanuban, wh ere it is historically verifi17 P. 199, C. 68, above.

In Amanuban, on the other hand, the amaf naek has declined in importance. Here they are not the ruier's bride-givers, hence never his atoni amaf. The decline of their importance bas therefore benefited the ruler, who is as aresuit much less dependent on his amaf naek.

Hence we have side by side a weakening of the function of the amaf naek as a resuIt of the strengthening of the usif's position (Insana), a decline in function as a resuIt of the strengthening of the ruier's position (Amanuban), and a strengthening of the position of the amaf naek at the expense of that of the usif (Amanatun). Flexibility of the structure makes different processes of change possible without affecting the underlying structure itseIf, especially where the relationship between the centre and the exterior is concerned.

Another point which may serve as a basis for comparison of the position of the amaf naek in the political structures is their relationship to the so-called "original inhabitants" of the realm. This varies from one place to the next and does not vary progressively along a straight line from east to west. In the farmer realm of Sonba'i, Kune, the autochthonous inhabitant, was Sonba'i's bride-giver. In Miomafo he has retained this function and is Kano's established atoni amaf. Here he occupies an important position, therefore. In Amanatun this same Kune was buried alive, according to the myth, and his name changed to Afi (= "past"): here Kune 110 langer exists. Kisnai, who occupies a similar position to that of Kune, is still recognized in N oimuti and Amanuban without this having any further political implications. In the ritual of Insana these two are mentioned as the first guests (af ter Liurai-Sonba'i) to be invited 17 af ter the Atupas' death. But they are mere guests and their names are nat included with Insana's Clown names", and they have no political significance whatsoever. When I carried out my research there it was nat even cIear whether they did, in fact, still exist as separate clans.

Finally there is the somewhat ambiguous position of Abi. In Amabi he is acknowledged as one of ,the rulers who came from the east and is considered to be related to Liurai, Sonba'i and Banu N aek of Amanatun. In the Sonba'i myth he is mentioned along with Kune as one of the original inhabitants who were driven out. 18 This version able that Amanuban for one conquered a great deal of territory from Arnabi.

Our conclusion may he that the distiuction between "those who were already there and who emerged from the earth" and "those who came later from the land of the rising sun" may weU be a reflection of actual historical events. The most like1y supposition is that there was a shift in the balance of power between the different groups (as in the case of Abi); but the tradition may quite possibly also be reminiscent of an invasion or immigration in the very distant past. In accordance with the usual practice these events, which are possibly historical, have been fitted into the Atoni's system of life. The indigenous inhabitants are classified with the earth, night and fertility, but cannot he said to he feminine, because they are clans which are on au equal footing with those of the amaf naek, as we have seen to he the case in Insana. They are given a place in the myths, rites and structures (e.g. Kune) if they have not disappeared, or in the myth only, as in Amanatun.

d. Superordination and subordination

The structures under discussion give rise to the question as to the political hierarchy. The point in question here is not the structure as represented by the concentric circles which represent the situation in Insana 19 but rather the order of precedenee of the functions in the political hierarchy. Represented diagramatically the result is as foUows:

DIAGRAM No. 17

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM 381

The larger whole of the realm of Liura1-Sonba'i encompasses various princedoms. At the head of each of these is a ruler, or, in the east, a ruter and his masculine anti-pole, the kolnel, and in the west the ruler with his two usif whose place is in the centre. The next phase everywhere is a repetition of this at a lower level. We have seen this to be the case in Taitoh in Beboki and Tunbaba in Miomafo and in the circles surrounding Us Kono. And we encountered a tendency towards this pattern in the village in Insana in which four clans had grouped themselves around Nai Bobe, the functionary who is responsibie ~or tribute levying. This is precisely one level lower, but in principle it is an exact repetition.

At the same level as the usif, and only partly distinguishable from them structurally and functionally, are the amaf naek.

Together they make up the stratum of heads in whom the practical, executive authority is vested. Below them in order of precedence are the countless functionaries who surround the ruler in the centre, or those who constitute the link between the centre and the exterior. Generally speaking these functionaries are the amaf of less prominent clans. Needless to say, the amaf of the different clans are also placed under the amaf naek. These mayalso include the functionaries who constitute the link between the centre and the exterior, such as, for in stance, the meo, who are on the one hand the usif's subordinates in matters relating to war, bUJt on the other hand belong to a particular quarter and hence are also the amaf naek's subordinates. Here again we find that in practice the emphasis varies from place to place. To this category also belong the village heads, that is, amaf, who are primi inter pares among the amaf or amnasi (elders) of their village community. These functionaries and the amaf of the different clans therefore make up the third stratum in the hierarchy. Below them are the ~toni or ordinary people. Among these a distinction should he made between the amaf who are ume heads, the amnasi of the village, and the atoni who have no function at all in the political organization.

The fifth and lowest stratum is made up of strangers, refugees or wanderers adopted by a particular ume. In Insana and Miomafo these were quite of ten Belunese. They have no rights, but are protected and in return ren der certain services in labour. Af ter several generations they usua1ly become wholIy integrated into the ume. The same applies in part to slaves. Slaves were usualIy prisoners of war or victims of kidnappings. Although the main objective of war was headhunting, the capture of prisoners was also important, and children were especially sought-after as slaves. This must have been a widespread practice, for especially around political centres there are to this day slave lineages which enjoy complete freedom and had equal rights under the colonial Government, but in accordance with the indigenous political structure are still regarded as slaves without political rights. However, this is a matter of social stratification rather than of politica! hierarchy.

Of old, the social stratification and the political hierarchy have run oompletely parallel with one another. Cunningham 20 speaks of a "nobility" which consisted of the usif, whilst the amaf naek belonged to a class of "commoners". In my view this is not correct, for in making this distinotion Cunningham relies too heavily on the structural model offered by the system of Insana at the time of his research there. In a comparative study such a distinction is impossible. And it is extremely doubtful whether we can speak of a nobility in the case of Timor at all. "Nobility" denotes a social class to which particular families belong and the members of which enjoy special privileges; one belongs to this class by birth. Now, although it is a fact that people may only become ruler, usif or amaf naek by virtue of their birth within a particular lineage, conversely there are many members of the clans of these heads who nonetheless have no right to the usif's title. Even though the names of these clans may endow their members with some social status, the latter certainly do not make up a special class of nobles. U sif and amaf naek are dignitaries; they hold particular functions which are hereditary, but their clans do not form a separaJte class. Admittedly their members do enjoy some prestige which varies proportionately with the di stance of their relationship 10 the particular head in office.

A non-political factor which is important in determining a person's social status is the amount of wealth he enjoys - wealth in terms of cattle and jewellery (such as strings of ooral beads, silver and gold discs and bangles). Formerly wealth and the possibility of attaining it were almost exclusively dependent on a person's position in the political life - it should be noted that this is not identical with position in the political structure, as a person could attain wealth by distinguishing himself as a warrior, since this enabled him to share in the booty, although this was destined primarily for the ruler llJnd the usif. War therefore constituted one of the chief opportunities for vertical social mobility - one might become a pae (or brave) and win prestige and wealth as a result of bravery and success in war.

THE POLI TI CAL SYSTEM 383

Another opportunity for rising on the social ladder was that offered bya knowIedge of the tradition, of the lais meto or the ritual word of the dry (land), that is, the ritual relating to all aspects of life. To same extent such a knowledge is connected with particular lineages, such as the Ana' -pah, though men from other lineages mayalso apply themselves tOo acquiring a knowledge of the ritual texts and the 'traditions of the community. This is comparable with the way in which, although the function of meo naek is associated with specific "names", everyone outside these linea.ges nonethe1ess strives to become a pae. HOowever, this expert knowledge probably remains restricted to lineages which have same connections with the centre to begin with. Someone who has attained a high degree of learning in respect of the lais meto may then become mafefa (spokesman) to one of the heads and as such exercise same influenee in jurisdiotion, for example.

One mayalso win prestige by becoming a competent mnane, (medicine-man) or ote naus (augurer). The function of the mnane is another function which is connected with particular lineages. The le'u which confers special powers is kept in these lineages, but only a few memhers of these lineages become mnane. Again, only a few become famous mnane to whom people flock from far and wide ,in search of a cure. Exceptional gifts are equally to he found outside these lineages as weil - a le'u may he found through avision, for instance.21

Finally there is the long hard rood of constant hard work. One group may work harder than the others, tend larger garden plots, do its burning and planting on time, and give its cattIe especially good care, and thus become more prosperous than the others and win more prestige.

In each of the above cases the A toni will regard his increasing prosperity and his rise on the social ladder as a gift from the forces of the hidden world, as a result of the potency of his le'u musu (in battle), his le'u nono (in the fertility of his fields, his cattle and his wife) and of the correct performance of the proper ritual. Thus he may become prosperous and increase his wealth through the bridewealth of a large number of daughters, or increase the yield of his fields through the services of their husbands, or the services of his own sons as long as they remain at home and continue to work for the ume (later, when they have paid the bridewealth for their wives, they will work for their own ume again, this time together with their wives). Conversely, an urne may decline in importance in the same way through the agency afevil forces. This may be attributable to shortcomings of its own; or it may be the result af errors in the ritual which have angered the nitu; or of the superior strength af the enemy's le'u rnusu; or it may be the consequence of a curse which has been called down on a person by a powerful enemy. Witches, too, are at all times fea.red as evil forces which may bring about illnes and adversity.

101 can be stated that in general the Atoni's sodal position is determined to a large degree by his birth. Personal qualities, however, may he af considerabie influence even in such tnaJtters as the succession of hea.ds - the e1dest son does not automatically succeed his father. Every factor determining a person's position is regarded by the Atoni as being influenced, and for the greater part effected, by the forces of the hidden world.

e. The Unity of the Political Community

The diagrammatic representart:ion of the political hierarchy appeared to he pyramidic in shape, while that of the political structure of Insana was a closed circle. Both diagrams seem to suggest closed, more or less integmted unities. But this belies the actual situation. In our analysis of the vaJrious princedoms we discovered that they were prone to scission. And a description of the functioning of the politica! oornmunity in warfare, government and adjudicaJtion erased the impression altogether that the society under discussion was an integrated one.

The danger of a structural analysis is, moreover, that the structure is sometimes regarded as astatic phenomenon, in rthis case especially so as the Atoni is not able to regard it as anything but static himself, since it has its origins in primeval times. In the functional approach to warfare, administration and adjudication the political community is seen in action, a dynamic state, while this approach furthermore clearly brings to light the tensions which are also inherent in the structure.

In the description of adjudication the structure af the political oornmunity assumed clea.rer outlines. Internal differences in an urne do not develop into law cases uniess the arnaf of the urne himself puts them before his clan hea.d and before the amaf naek or the usif, as ,in the case of manslaughter, for instance. Even then there is not really question of adjudication, as no fine can possibly be imposed internally in the urne. If a member af the urne has misconducted himself the most serious measure which ean be taken against him is for the amaf to announce

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM 385

(mutonan - this implies the requesting of permission of the head who is his immediart:e superior) that this member of his ume must disappear. He may do so only in consultation with the atoni anu:zf of the man in question, i.e. with the amaf of the ume of the mother of the guilty person. If he does not run away he will then he put to death.22

In Ithe case of a difference between two urne a law case may be restricted to negotiations between the amaf of the urne concerned. If the case is restricted to one village, the village head and other elders (amnasi) will usually also become involved. If it concerns a dispute between two villages, the village heads and the mnasi negotiate with each other. As adjudication in Timor is more than simply a matter of private law (in spite of the fact that, according to our Western categories, these cases are mostly in the fin~t instance private law cases and hence open to negotiation) as the entire community is involved, both parties (i.e., in the example in question, the two villages) are in such cases most likely to refer the case to their clan heads and their amaf naek. The mafefa (the spokesmen and authorities on the tradition) then also beoome involved. A dispute which basically concerns only two villages thus a,ssumes the proportions of a district affuir (we use the word "district" here in the former sense of a sub-territory of a princedom). Moreover, the possibility also exists that the parties wil! appeal to the functionaries constituting the link between the centre and the parts. Or the usif may intervene on his own initiative. This is entirely dependent on the local situation and the personalities involved. If the rul er was very powerfui, as Uis Thaal of Ablal,23 it was out of the question that any dispute, not even one of minor importanee, should be settled in his terrÏJtory without his being informed (mutonan) accordingly. This implies that he had to give his permission, though informally, for the case to he tried.

Such powerful usif or amaf naek more or less made interferenee by the centre unnecessary, excepil: in the case of disputes between different sub-territories of the prinoedom. Here the centre most definite1y becomes involved, as failure to settie such clisputes may lead to scission.

The picture of the political community which emerges from a study of adjudication is one of a political community composed of a number of local communities which were to some extent independent. Generally speaking the heads of larger local oommunities, assisted by clan heads or lineage heads and experts on ooat law become involved in the case of disputes between lesser local communirties.

Although the pans are independent, they recognize the necessity of a hierarchy and of a common centre.

In the most: important administrative event, i.e. the levying of tribute, we see the same procedure, though in the reverse direction. An order is issued by the centre, the tobe naek are informed (mutonan - again implying an order) via the appropriate functionaries (the usif and the counsellors in ,the case of Insana) that the time has come to bring tribute gifts. This order is transmitted to the tobe and thence to the village heads and the amaf of the ume, the latter being the basic units of Atoni society, as we have seen in Ithe chapters on agriculture and the kinship sy,stem. The quantity of the tribute and to whom it is paid are indices of the degree of unity of the political community. The Insana ritual clearly 'shows that it is normal for the harvest gifts to be brought to the ruler's palace via heads such as the amaf naek (who are also tobe naek), who also take their rightful share. Tt depends on the local conditions whether the usif receive a portion of these gifts prior to the presentation to the ruler, or whether they levy separa:te harvest gifts afterwards.

Here we see plainly the deviations in pramice from the structure as an ideal pattern. The degree of independenee of the parts varies from one princedom to the next, and history demonstrates that this has always been SQ. I would point out once more, however, that nothing is known about the time before 1642 when the realm of Liurai-Sonba'i, Wehale, was destroyed. What we do know is that the opportunity for the deve10pmem of more extellsive political re1ationships was inherent in the presentation of the harvest gifts to the ruler via the various grades of the political hierarchy, viz. the amaf and the functionaries, the amaf naek and the usif and thence to the ruler. If the ruler were married to a daughter or sister of Liurai or of some other ruler (as, for instanee, the loro of Beboki, the atupas of Insana and Senak of Bikomi were married to daughters of Us Kono, and as formerly rulers were invariably married 10 daughters of Sonba'i) this entailed that a porrtion of the oorvest gifts had to be sent to such an important, bride-giving ruler as tuthais or gifts of homage - rather than poni pah or harvest gifts - that is, to the ruier who had established a political rela:tionship of superordination and subordination by giving brides.

This tension between the independence of the parts and the unity of the whole was best to be observed in the description of warfare. Here

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM 387

the Atoni distinguished between a musu fui (wild enemy) and a musu aem (tame enemy). The former term denotes a war between political communities, while the latter refers to internal wars. This implies a recognition of the unity of the community as weIl as its practical negation. A war against a musu fui might involve the entire community, aLthough this was not essentially 50. These were usually no more than border disputes, which were fought out by local groups, by a mea naek or an usif who guarded "a door and a road" (ena lalan) in one of the four sub-territories of the realm. Moreover, at certain "doors and roads" there were traditional enemies, war with whom was likely to break out at :any time, or rather, at any time during the dry period following the harvest each year. The local group which thoo set out on a headhunting raid might perhaps represent the entire community on such occasions. The usif and the ruler had doubtless been informed (mutonan) beforehand and hence had expressed their approval. If not, the unity of the realm was seriously endangered - 3Jn usif or an amaf naek and his people were in that case acting as an independent entity. This happened quite frequently. For the units to come into conflict with one another and engage in hostilities with each other as musu aem (tame enemy) was only one step further.

Then the structural unity is destroyed by the violence of human aggression. We see from this, however, that structurally the most important social unit could be of a lower order than that of the political community as a whoie, or, in other words, that communities of a lower order mighttemporarily act as independent political communities and might even end up doing 50 for good. This was and still is the practice, a practice which is firmly rooted in the structure itself. The principles of bipartition and quadrupartition imply atension which must almost inevitably lead to conflict. We find this most aptly expressed in the Atoni's own term for the relationship between the constituent parts: it is compared to tbc relationship between younger and older brothers, alif-tataf. The relationship between Oematan and Kono is one such, as is that between Amfoan Timao and Amfoan Sorbian, and in Insana between Taolin and Fal on the one hand, and Pupu and Tonbesi on tbc other. It implies a constant, keen rivalry as between brothers and especially between ume of one clan. Although they belong together their relationship to one another is marked by a rivalry which may, and constantly does, culminate in scission and geographical separation. The relationship between the different sub-sections is on the other hand also expressed in terms of feta-mane. Hitu-Taboi, Saidjao-Banusu are mone - feto in respect of each other, as are Kono and Oematan, Ambenu and Amfoan. The implication of this is that the one cannot exist without the other, that life would he impossible if this relationship were broken. Even so it is of ten broken off. Hence it implies the Atoni's awareness thaJt life is constantly heing threatened. Now, wherever this feto-mone relationship exists there must he peace. This is therefore always the case within political communities, the halves of which are feto-mone in respect of each other, as weIl as between political communities which have a traditional affinal alliance with each other. If a war does break out between them, it is less widespread and less violent thaJn usu al. The two parties are more easily reconciled and will seal the peace with a reciprocal marriage in confirmation of the feto-mone alliance - without thereby affecting the original unilaterality of the relationship, or, politically speaking, the original superiorirty of the one in respect of the other.

In the study of warfare too, we came across political rela:tions which exceed the intemal ones within princedoms. In the discussion of administration we saw how one of the implications of marriages hetween rulers was that the bride-giving, superior ruler had a right Ito exact tribute. A oonsequence of this was that in case of war the bride-receiving ruler could marshal the support of his bride-giver. Theoretically he might ask anyone for assistance, but would do so only of rulers with whom he had friendly relations. Such relations were always symbolized by an affinal relationship. If aid was given the receiving party implicitly became dependent to some degree on the party which lent it assistance. The gifts of homage presented by tbc former on the basis of the affinal relationship between them would then assume the character of obligatory, regular Itribute paid in return for protection. Whereas one might speak on the basis of an affinal relationship of an alliance hetween two rulers, even though generally speaking the one was regarded as the other's superior, thereis .indubitably question of subordinart:ion once the one has received the other's assistance in war. Conversely, once there is question of such a relationship in which the one is superordinate and the other subordinate, a bride may he given as a reward for such assistance. For example, the usif of the virtually independent Harneno was given a bride in the first half of the ninereenth century by the loro of Beboki as rewa:rd for his assistance in the baJttle against Oikusi.

Here we have, then, one of ,the most important factors which have brought about the development of more extensive political relationships; for traditionally Liurai-Sonba'i were the ruling houses which supplied brides. Senak of Bilromi was married to a SonOO'i, and the loro of

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM 389

Beboki had a long-standing affinal alliance with Kono. Similarly Taolin was reported 10 have had an affinal relationship with Liurai, although ÏIIl actual {act the brides came from Manlea, a small tribe dependenrt on Liurai. Sueh affinal relationships with Liurai as bride-giver are usually acknowledged in Belu and the eastern Atoni area. After its downfall in 1642 the realm of Wehale-Waiwiku nonetheless continued to exist, and af ter the Topasses' absolute defeat in 1749 it was even able to recover to same extent. Sonba'i's fate was different, as his palace was too close ro Lifao and Noimuti, both strongholds of Topass power. He fled 10 Kupang, from where the Dutch exercised a strong influenee from 1749 on, so that Sonba'i was not able to exert any authority again until the end of thc eighteenth century. Even then the exJtent of his power did not reach beyond Fatule'u and parts of Molo and Miomafo. This is a reason why affinal relationships with Sonba'i are sometimes oot acknowledged in West Timor. Another reason may be, and most probably is, thart: Amanartun and Amabi were less dependent on the realm of Liurai-Sonba'i.

I t i.s evident from a study of the whole thart: it is extremely difficult to delimit the Timorese political community as a concrete unit. Beginning at the lowest level, a sub-section under an ama.f naek may be considered as a unit. But the very fact that we referred to this unit as a "subsection" of a princedom implies that it is no more than part of a larger whoie. Harneno may act with complete independence and even wage war against Beboki, but wiÜ never deny being part of Beboki. And although Us Bana of Bikomi refused to acknowledge a tie with Kono, i.e. wirth ,the ancient princedom of Miomafo, none of the other usif of Bilromi were on his side. His attitude was clearly a sign of the new times, when Ithe ancient myth had lost mueh of its authority. Miomafo and Molo have been virtually independent for the past two centuries, but they are nonetheless aware that, notwithstanding any wars they may have waged againsrt each other as olif-tataf, they belong to each other as feto-mone, and thart: they both belong to Sonba'i as his right and left hands respectively. Thus sub-territories of a princedom and the areas under the jurisdiction of usif may become partly independent. Molo and Miomafo, formerly sub-terri1ories of the realm of Sonba'i, and the sub-territori.es of Amfoan even became wholly independent in the eighteenrt:h and nineteenth centuries. But even so there remains a certain bond between them as a result of common links with a ritual centre. This is most obvious of all in Insana, although this structure was found almost everywhere. It provides the most fundamental and mosrt prevalent basis for political cohesion. The principal basis for cohesion here was provided by the ritual ties with the sacred centre. Such were the ties which linked the different princedoms to the great ritual centres of Liurai and Sonba'i. We know nothing of the Sonba'i cet1Jtre that disappeared af ter 1642. From the myths it is apparent that Sonba'i was the representative or liurai of the ruler of the realm of South Be1u, the Meromak O'an, who was himself referred to as Liurai outside his oentre. The Meromak O'an had so much atlJthority because of his great ritual power. Like any other ruler he was the custodian of the sacred objects, but he had an uma lulik or sacred shrine which was fireresistant and water-repel1ent, notwithstanding the fact that it lacked a cover on the ridge of its roof. J.t was guarded by two snakes and was the most importal1lt shrine in Timor. Partly because of this the Meromak O'an was the most powerful ruler of Timor, and via him his three liurai (including Sonba'i) as his younger brothers, Were the sovereign rulers of Timor. Diagrammatical1y represented this results in another pyramid, a new unity which was cemented by ritual ties and affinal re1ationships. It is no longer possible to determine the political unity of this realm prior to 1642, but its structure remains clear. The supreme power was vested in the ritual centre, and the political communities shared in this by virtue of affinal relationships, which were in principle unilateral, the supreme centre being the bride-giver. In return it was given bridewealth, while the regular gifts it receivoo can he interpreted as gifts of homage. Participation in the ritual power of the central ruler, Liurai-Sonba'i, became perceptible as soon as a need for marshalling support arose. If such assistance was given the annual harvest gifts Were offered as tribute in return for this. The actual strength of the bond is dependent on the situation. From the harvest ritual and the ritual of the presentation of the harvest gifts to the ruler, however, it is dear beyond a shado'W of a doubt that these should he brought to Liurai-Sonba'i themselves. The names Liurai-Sonba'i are used as metaphors for riee and corn. LiuraiSonbai (and in western Timor, Sonba'i only) are the givers of riee and eorn, and to them these crops should be returned. The ruler as the "son of heaven", in conclusion, returns these gifts in his sacrifiees to the uItimate giver, Dis Neno, the Lord of Heaven. This is the norm in aeeordance with which doubtless a large part of Timor acted before 1642. The concrete political unit was probably even then the princedom as we have become acquainted with it, namely as a unit in which decisions affecting the entire community are taken in a c1early demar-

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM 391

cated territory. Such decisions concerned especia1ly warfare, administration and adjudicaJtion and their re1aJt:ed ritual. There was only unity at the level of the princedom, as it was most like1y never true of the realm of Liurai-Sonba'i that decisions affecting the entire realm were made centrally, except that each part was involved in the ritual power of the centre. Because of this we are justified in speaking of a superstructure af ter all.

DiagrammaJt:ically represented the realm of Liurai-Sonba'i as a whole looks as follows :

DIAGRAM No. 18

Meromak O'an in \\' ehalc the liurai Sonba'i the lil/ra; of Fatu Aruïn, i.e. the the liurai of 4 names realm of \Vehale-Waiwiku Kamanasa in altogether Haitimu . - Fatu Aruin Port. Timor Externally this is the realm ol I Amloan Ambenu Liurai '" / Sonba'i oema~o /oro ~/oro ) lil/ra; plus Lakekun /' /oro ,Fialaran three lorD Amarasi Amanuban / Dirma , / I , " : , Amanatun and Amabi, whieh In addition: loro /oro lorD ) once more liuraÎ lnsana Beboki ~faubara plus three /oro Port. Timor according to their myths al50 had rt'lations with Liurai and SOllba'j

CHAPTER XII

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM OF THE A TONI AS VIEWED BY MODERN SCIENCE AND AS CLASSIFIED BY TIMORESE THINKING

1. THE STRUCTURAL PRINCIPLES

We have seen that apolitical systern is a composite made up af a large number of struotures of the political community. The latter we have defined as a community which is loca1ized in a particular rterritory and within the bounds of which decisions are made which are binding on the community as a whoie.

There is question here of a totality with a tendency towards integration, while there is also constant change or transforrnartion, these changes usually, though nor!: necessarily, being caused by conflict. This is a consequence af, among other things, the fact that there is question of internal inconsistencies. The political structures are based on a number of structural principles which are mutua:lly contradictory.

In our study of the kinship systern we discovered certain structural principles which determined the shape af that systern. These pr.incipl~ may be rtransposed to the political systern - the Atoni himself generaUy uses particular kinship terms to describe certain political relationships.

The first structural principle we discovered was that according to which a parrticular territory and a particular genea.logical group are inseparably bound up with one another.

We established, be irt with some difficulty, that the princedom was the territorial unit as far as the political community is concerned. The community inhabiting it may be called a tribe because it is viewed, in a sense, as a group of kin: the four amaf naek of the prominent clans are "brothers". In each case there are other clans as weU, however, which represenrt: the original inhabitants. These have been integrated into the political community as members who enjoy the same status as the other groups. There are slight variations from one princedom to the next in the relationship between earlier settlers and more recent groups.

The traditional conception of this unit in terms borrowed from the kinship system is of ten inmcated by the occurrenee of the prefix ama before the na.me of the political community, e.g. Ama-rasi, Am-foan, Ama-kono. The name Nai, e.g. Nai Foan, is sometimes also used, however, Nai meaning "lord" and, byextension, the territory ruled by him. The difference is one of approach, the one emphasizing the genealog;ical and the other the territo~ial aspect.1

The second structural principle was the necessity to expand the ume as an exogamic, locally defined, genealogieal sub-group of a clan and to strengthen its vital force. Transposed to the political community this becomes the necessity to expand this community - for which, incidentally, there is na separaJte word, but which is always referred to by its proper name. It is the necessity to inerease its vital f01"ce (smanaf) and the number of souls of both the living and the deceased (smanaf and nitu) in it. The number of living souls may be increased through birth, or, in some cases, through kidnappings. The latter take place only on a limÎlted scale, because of the necessity to add spi rits of the deceased (nitu) to the community as weIl. This is one of the chief motives for headhunting raids.

A difference with the realization of the structural principles in the kinship system is that in the latJter the community is an exogamie, whilst .the political community is an endogamic unit, so that in this respect, too, the political community is a self-contained unit - all affinal relaJtionships are confined within its borders, exeept for some marriages of mIers and heads. Smaller strictly endogamic units do not exist, even though in a.ctual fact the part of a princedom under an amaf naek is to a large extent endogamie. In this respect, too, there are variations from one group to the next.

The third struotural principle, that of reciprocity, the objective of whieh is to maintain the balance of the ume's life, is nat - IlO matter how important i,t may be generally speaking - as important for the structure of the political communirty, as in the latter there is question of hierarchial re1ationships of superordination and subordination. Between princedoms, however, the necessity for reciprocity is all the more strict. J ust as the various parts of the bridewealth are paid on the analogy of the pants of the body of the bride, the payment for the head being made last of all, so the warriors sent as reinforcements by an allied ruler who have died in battle are paid for similarly. Peace is usually possible only when both sides have lost an equal number of men.

The fourth structural principle, that according to which the bridegiving group is the superior one, not only applies in the same way to political marriages, but here it forms the very basis for political superordination and subordination. As in the kinship system, the affinal re1ationship is oonceived of as being a unilateral Olle, a relationship in which the superordinate party remains so permanently, and vice versa. This applies to external relationships between princedoms - in Insana, for example, Liurai is regarded as Insana's traditional bride-giver and hence as Insana's superior - as well as internally, as in the relatonship between the ruler and his amaf naek the latter are the ruler's bride-givers and in this respect his superiors. The relationship is expressed in feto-mone terms, the bride-giver being mone. This fetomone relationship is further transposed to the political re1ationship of superordination and subordinClJtion. But always in the sense that the one cannot do without the other, and that they are each other's complement. In the political sense this feto-mone relationship is no more than a counterbalance to the ritual superiority of the saCTal ruler, who is feto in this sense also.

The fifth structural principle, that of the elder brother's superiority in respect of the younger, also extends to political relwtionships and here, too, indicates the order of precedence of the various political communities as weil as of the various parts inside these communities. Besides indicClJting an order of precedence, the term also bears strong implications of the mutual political rivalry between groups.

The sixth structural principle, namely the tendency to perpetuate ex:isting affinal relartionships for the purpose of promoting the group's stabilirt:y, also plays au important part in the poli,tical Iife. There we find in the first place the fixed affinal relationship between the ruler and his amaf naek or heads of the quarters of his realm, which are perpetuated through all succeeding generations. This way the internal unity of the political community is guaranteed most effectively. Conversely, there are fixed affinal alliances between the ruler and his usif and bdriended neighbouring rulers to whom he marries his sisters and daughters. This way the peace between princedoms as well as the fonnation of alliances in wars is promoted.

The sevenrth structural principle, namely the rtendency to make for as c1ose-knit a fabric of society as possible through a large number of affinal relationships applies in the same way in the political life of the cornmunity, though here it does so more consciously. A ruler or head will try as frequently as possible to establish affinal re1art:ionships with the most prominent groups within their communities. They will marry their daughters to usif, or better still, to rul ers and heads outside their own territory. Conversely, the ruler will marry women from as many prominent clans as possible. So it is not surprising to see a Sonba'i in the first half of the 19th century, when the house of Sonba'i was able to extend its influence once more, with as many as sixty wives.2

The eighth principle, which expresses a preference for patrilinearity of descent, wiJt:h an increa.se in the strength of this preferenee from the south-east to the north-west of the Atoni area, is also encountered in the political structures, where we see a parallel decrease of the ferninine principle in the nature of the ruler's authority from the south-east to the north-west, whieh had direct consequenees for the extent to which he participated personally in active polities.

Besides the above principles which are encountered in bath the kinship and the political system, there are a number of structural principles which apply more directly to the political system.

In the first place there is the hierarehical principle, or an endeavour to arrange the political eommunity in a hierarehical system in which there is no equality between people, but in whieh everyone has his place in a system of ranks, and where every person is simultaneously superior and inferior. Although this may be expressed in terms of the familiar categories of feta-mone and aliJ-tataf, it nevertheless bea.rs a character of its own as it is the ranks in the hierarchy of the political community which are important here. In a village inhabiil:ed by different ume IlO two amaJ are equal. If members of the same clan, the amaf of junior and senior lineages are ea.ch other's alif-tataf respectively. Between ume of different clans the order of precedence is almost always determined on the basis of the c1an's position or function or on thC\Jt of the affinal relationships between the ume. On a higher level, nan1ely that of the amaf naek and usif, a stronger distinction still is made and in the circles immediate1y surrounding the ruler the differences are most marked of all.

In the second place there is in the entire Atoni area the unificatory power of the central figure. This is the case just as mueh at the village level - sueh as in Sipi and Sekon, in Insana - as in the different subterrÏJtories of a princedom - as in Taitoh, in Beboki, and in Bikomi in Miomafo.3 It is of the utmost importanee for the princedom as a whoie, and is especially clearly observable in Insana, although it is present everywhere. It is the ruler who symbolizes the unity of the realm. More than thart:, it is because of him that the realm is an integrated unit. That is why his place is in the "navel of the realm". He is the immobile pivot around whieh all else revolves.

And in the third place there is the tendency towards cohesion through !he ritual relart:edness of the parts to this centre. The ruler is the sacral centre, the guardian of the le'u shrine witth its sacred objects. This implies a more or less explicitly feminine and immobile nature of the ruier's function.

In conclusion of the above we ean say that basieally the two fundamental pninciples of reciprocity and rivalry are key features. No system is ever quite covered by either one of these denominators. Mauss has demonstrated the structural principle of reciprocity in a most brilliant way in his Es.wi sur Ze don, while Lévi-Strauss in his authoritative Les structures éZémentaires de la parenté considers it the fundamental structure of the kinship system and hence of the whole of the primitive society.

Although this is true, it is only one side of the medal of truth or of our empirical knowledge of reality. He does not break in this with the tradition of the Freneh school of Durkheim, which also exereised a strong influence on functionalistic thought and funct,ional structuralism in the Anglo-Saxon world.

Our modern era of constantly a.cce1erating change, of revolutions and violence, has drawn the atlention to the significanee of another structural principle, namely that of rivalry, which leads only too readily to conflict and violenee. This has resulted in the development of a special sociology of conflict, as in the case of Coser, Dahrendorf and Wertheim,4 for example, who suggest that conflict is ever present, itin ,turn being based on a lack of security or of uniformity of the norms and values which are share<! alike by all. As aresuilt coercion beoomes a necessary condition for achieving a certain degree of unity. It is this coercion which leads to conflict. Hence fundamenltally it is coercion that is the cause of constant conflict, such conflict similarly leading to continual change and development.

This is typically a model derived from a modern society undergoing revolutionary changes, which upon comparison with the political system of the Atoni loses its universal validity.

2. TYPOLOGY OF THE SYSTEM

In the foregoing section we directed our attention to the principles, or the driving forces which in the dyn:arnic procesSIeS of change of the struotures direct these processes, so that as a result a certain autoréglage or a tendency towards recovery of the structures is observable.

Through our empirical analysis we were able to find a number of these struotural principles, which the Atoni recognizes and acknowledges, bUIt of which he is only partly conscious. They form as it were the "syntax" of his political system, the only differenee with grammatical syntax being that in the political system we are dealing with an aspect of life in which man is more conscious of the why and wherefore of his conduct than he is of the ru1es in a.ccordance with which he speaks his language. N everthe1ess, even in the political system we clearly touch on a number of matters of which the Atoni is only partially conscious.

Moreover, we are dealing here with the empirica1ly observable structures of his political system which are ttanslated into words by the investigator in accordance with the methods of his scientific approach. This translation is the result of an interaction of knowledge and reality, it is a scientific "translation" of that rea1ity, and it is out of the question that science cau claim to have spoken the last word on this and thus exclude other possible aLternatives or approaches.5

Another approach is that in which an aJt:tempt is made to place such a political system in a genera! typology. The difficulties encountered in doing so are considerable.

Eisenstadt,6 following the example of Fortes and Evans-Pritchard in their pioneering work on African political systems, makes a dichotomy between "types of segmentary tribes" and "centralized chiefdoms". The fifth type of segmell'tary community listed by him he calls "the ritually strart:ified tri bes" ; among these are the Anuak, Shilluk and Ankole. This type is usually divided into two "classes - nobles and commoners".

This type comes nearest to what we fiud in Timor. N onetheless the Atoni princedom by no means fits into ,this category: the structure of Insana, for instanee, is slightly too centralized for it to do 50. Furthermore, there are no class distinotions, although there are differences in rank.

EisenstadJt himself states that "the dichotomy between 'segmentacry 2.nd centcralized' primitive societies is not a true dichotomy". I t is therefore better not to use it. Anyhow, as Smith 7 has demonstrated quite condusively, a segmentary kinship structure need not necessarily provide a basis for poHtical classification, as there are processes of competition between segments in every political system. The picture presented by Timor for one, confirms the implications of this statement. EisenstadJt tries rather to establish a connection between "social differentiation and levels of political organisation". He follows this up with the hypothesis "that the greater the differentiation and/or the inability of various subgroups of a society to regulate their inrt:errelations, the greater would be the development of special political organisations, other conditions being equal". This may be correct, but it is 50 general that it offers little to go on in a further classification. As far as Timor is concerned, the subgroups of a community are eapable of conducting most of their affairs independently, both in the economie life and in adjudieation and, to same extent, in war; sa there is litrt:le specialization here. But they are nonetheless sa closely related to the cenrt:re ritually that they form a cohesive unit, as a result of whieh the tensions inherent in the system itself are usually overcome.

We mayalso compare with this a few of ,the West African states, such as the kingdom of the Habe, the part of Zazzau that is not occupied by the Fulani, with as capital Abuja. Smith 8 characterizes the Abuja government in the first place as corresponding "to the general idea of a 'state', perhaps the most important element of which is the exercise of government through a system of offices". It seems advisable to avoid the word "state" altogether. In the case of the Atoni there is also a "system of offices", the essenrt:ial differenee being, however, that in Timor these are conneoted with certain clans, while in Abuja virtually none are hereditary. The similarity as far as West Timor is concemed lies rather in that, as Smith says,

"the political power exercised by the Hahe king was Iimited and conditioned by the context of political alignments in which he operated. We cannot therefore classify this Abuja system as either segmentary or centralised since its details reveal the prominence of both these conditions."

Easton,9 in his analysis of a JX)litical system, distinguishes

"five basically different kinds of activities in which memhers of a society must engage if binding decisions are to he made and put into effect: 1. the formulaton of demands, 2. legislation, 3. administration, 4. adjudication, and 5. the marshalling of support or solidarity."

A1though they may be important distinotions in themselves, they are not of much help in a typology of the politica1 conununities of Timor. They only provide a basis for comparison.

"The formulation of demands" has direct associaJtions with "decisionmakers". It is difficult in any situation to grasp the subtie political reality in this respect. This applies to Timor also. The ruler, usif and amaf naek take decisions. Which one of them will carry the most weight is difficult 1:0 predict in the case of a structure which is as flexible as the ones in Timor. And, moreover, the hierarchy is not rigid enough for the group ,in which decisions are made to be accuraJtely delimited. Conversely, it is quite possible for the ordinary Atoni to force a decision, as in the case of the medicine-man decapitating his patient ; this act made war inevitable for the conununity to which the victim belonged.lO The principle of "right or wrong, my country" (or rather, "my people") carries much weight. Blood-revenge is usually a compelling factor. In this case demands cannot even be formulated, but are al ready an accomplished fact so that there are no "decision-makers" involved.

Legislation is the second kind of activity listed by Easton. This concept is far toa Western. In principle legislation is inconceivable for the Atoni. Laws or norms regulating behavioUT are firmly rooted in the cosmic order; no-one could possibly "create" them. People may observe laws or transgress them, but do not codify them. J urisdiction does not

involve adminis1:ration of the law, but justice has to be sought by con9 Easton, 1959, pp. 227 H. Cf. Easton, 1953, p. 130.

sulting the tradition. This is exactly the same procedure as that followed in ancient Gennanic jUl1isdiction. Even in Islam it is assumed that the Shari'a or divine law renders further legislation superfluous. If it does not provide the solution, the sunna or "way of the prophet" is consulted; it hasbeen laid down in the hadith via the silsila or "chain of traditions" .11

Administration, too, as we have seen, is minimal and elusive. The fact is that in an archaic society toore are only few affairs to he managed.

The fourth kind of activi,ty, adjudication, offers a standard for comparison which is easier to manipulaite. In the case of Timor we have seen that a legal verdict bears the character of a settlement rather than of a binding decision, and that most matters may he dealt with on rthe distriot level. Only if a settlement cannot he reached, or if geographically diffeI'ent groups are involved, au appeal is made to a higher authority and the verdict assumes a more binding character.

Easton's fifth "kind of activity" is "the marshalling of support or solidarity". This is so much a key issue that the political community stands or falls with it. The objective of the study of the structures and the functioning of the political oommunities of Timor was 1:0 discover the degree of solidal'ity determining the unity and the boundaries of the political oommunilty. It is important 10 note rthat Easton differentiates between support and solidarity on three different levels - the government, the regime and the political community. In the case of Timor the implication ,is that the regime, the system, is in principle inviolable. And changes in the administration (i.e. the body of persons responsibie for administration) are almost out of the question, although there are a few examples of 1ineages which supply heads fading into the background, as happened 10 Fal in Insana, Nai Mone in Amanatun and Fina in Amanubao.12 In the politica! community, the highest level according to Easton,scission is oot an impossibility, however. But the integrative factors are strong enough here 10 re-establish unity. Now, this potentiality is inherent in the struoture, and Easton has no eye for structures or for categories which exercise a structurizmg influence. Hi·s classification is restricted to role-differentiation, though this may he impol1tant in its own right or for the sake of comparison.

In atypology of a political community I should in the first place wish to take ioto acoount the following factors:

1. To begin with, the typology should indicate the degree of territorial segmentation within what has emerged as the unit of political organization. As regards Timor we may state, then, that in view of the great flexibility of the structure the unity of the political community varies with time and place, and is on the whole unstable. Therefore scission is possible, but the re-establishment of unity can, on the other hand, he expected on struetural grounds. This way it is possible to oreate the structures which will form a new political system. It is also possible for units which have enjoyed independence for a long time to develop new structures when a ruler establishes himself in their midst. This is what happened when Sonba'i set himself up as raja in Fatule'uP

In a classification based on the differentiation of functions it is of importance to observe the degree 10 which political and non-political functions co-incide with each other. So we ean distinguish:

2. The degree of relatedness of political funotions to genealogical functions. This is a rommon phenomenon in Timor, where all political functions are wholly or partially connected with oertain lineages. Birth is an import:a:nt determinant in the occupation of political functions. Only in the case of a medicine-man (mnane), a warrior (meo), who can become a hero (pa'e), or a speaker (matefa) is there question, to some extent, of the appoillJtment to these functions on the basis of personal talent, courage or competence.

3. The degree of relatedness of political functions to age and sex. Genera:lly speaking the amaf (fathers) and mnasi (elders) are the leaders of the pol1itical community. But funotÏons are heredi1:ary. When a ruler or a head dies he will normally he succeeded by his eldest son, unless the latter is unfit for the function or is still a minor. A new ruler may therefore he a re1atively young man. In some cases a woman may even become ruler. At the beginning of the present cen·tury Amfoon had a female ruler, as did Insana and Luca in the seventeenth century.14 These are exceptions, however, and are only possible with regard to the ruler's function, probably because of its immobile, feminine nature.

4. The degree of relatedness to religion. As far as Timor is concerned,

a special, well defined religious and rituaJ functÎon is as a rule con13 P. 316 above.

nected to every political funotion, although there is marked differentiatÏon in the naJtUire of the ritual and the degree to which a political funotion is connected wi,th the ritual.

5. The degree of relatedness to (a.) associations and sodal groupings with political functions - in Timor this is nil;

(b.) to social status - it is oot frequently the case either in Timor. At most it can he said that mnasi (elders), i.e. the heads of ordinary descent groups (urne), enjoy somesocial prestige by virtue of a knowiedge of the adat and the ritual, and may thus gain influence as advisors in law cases. They mayalso he appointed as speaker (mafefa) to a head, so that they may exereise a certain influence at meetings of heads.

(c.) to economie position; in Timor economie inequality is to a large extent determined by political functions rather than the reverse heing true.

6. I t is furthermore of importanee in making a typology to investigate the nature of the differenJtiation in respect of the number of poJi.tical functions. I t ean he stated too.t as a general rule the number and the diversity of functions inerease in proportion with the complexity of the political system. We even so came across a large number of political functions in Timor: all amaf are integrated inro the political system as heads of their respective ume, while there are many different functionaries besides.

7. It is essential therefore to enquire also into the differentiation in respect of differences between functions and possible repetition of the same function at a higher level.

Now, this is very much the case in Timor. Here the function of the arnaf of an urne is the lowest level; the elders (mnas~) of the village administration are the amaf of the urne or lineages inhabiting the village. The differentiation that oocurs here is that one of the amaf is simultaneously village head while another is simultaneously custodian of the land (tobe). We have a repetition of this one step further up in the functions of the great fathers (amaf naek) and the clan heads of a subterritory. But here there is also some further differentiation: there are warriors (meo), tribute collectors, speakers (matefa) and medici ne-men (mnane), whose political functÏons particularly lie at this level Furthermore, there is the usif as representative of the centre, i.e. of the ruler and aH the functiona:ries in and around the palace. 50 we see that there is repetition - and this is typical of segmentary political communities while at the same time there is a certain hierarchy, this heing characteristic of the centralÏzed poIiticaI oommuruty.

The significance of this hierarchial order is more apparent in the political system, however. This brings us back to structure as the determinant of the nature of, and indispensable in giving an insight into, "the organisational idea.s",15 or as I would caIl them, the struotural principles of the political commuruty. I t is all very well for Lloyd 16 to criticise Vansina 17 for omitting to take "policy-making" into account in rus classifica:tion of "struotural modeis" of the African kingdoms - which Lloyd ascrihes to the fact toot the resea.rcher does not usually do his work in the capitalbut he forgets, like so many social anthropologists, that in a colonial society poliitical decisions are never taken independently; the entire hierarchy, from the local government official up to and includingthe home government of the colonial power are involved. It is virtually impossible to catch the complete process of decisionmaking "in the act" in a colonial situation.

The analysis of the differentiation of functions has succeeded in giving us a clea.r delimitation of the poiiticaI community. This outline must he supplemented by a characterization of the system.

On the basis of the ana:lysis of the struoture of the politioal eotnmunity ,jn the Atoni area of Timor this can he best characterized as a political system which is based on rituaI relationships whioh are laid down in rites and myths, ronsolidated by a network of affinal relationships, mainil:a.ined by a system of tribute consisting of agricultural products, and both strengthened and weakened by repeated, al most regularly recurring wars. It is a political system. Even a ritual ruler is, as Sierksma 18 correctly observes, first and foremost a ruler and hence a political figure. We have made our acquaintance with the affinal relationships in the chapter on the kinship system, and with the economic foundation of the political community in the description of agriculture. It now remains for us to analyse separately the ritual relationships, which we have already observed in other connections.

We should nol proceed wi,thout first asking ourselves whether this characterization will provide us with any clues as to the "origin of the state". Since the publication of Lowie's 19 hook by this title it has been obvious that a state as a more complex political system can originate in more than one way and that, on the other hand, the "state" in the sense of a political community is a fundamental reality underlying every fonn of human society. To qume Eduard Meyer 20:

"Die landläufige Anschauung, welche die Familie logisch und historisch dem Staate vorangehen lässt, ist falsch .... Eine solche Familie (aber) kann nur existieren, wenn sie nach aussen und innen anerkannt ist, wenn sie als geheiligte und unverletzliche Institution gilt und ein Element eines grösseren, sie respectierenden und schützenden Verbandes ist; sie setz also das Bestehen staatlicher Gemeinschaft voraus .... Jede Theorie über den Ursprung staatlicher Verhältnisse ist falsch, da wir einen Menschen ohne Staat nicht denken können."

(The widespread notion which pre-supposes the family as the logical historical antecedent of the state is an incorrect one .... A family as such (however) can only exist if it is recognized both from within and without; if it is recognized as a sacred, inviolable institution; if it is a component of a larger whole which may respect and protect it. Therefore the existence of a political community is a prerequisite condition for the existence of the family. Every theory about the origin of political relationships (in this comprehensive sense) is false, as man without the state is inconceivable.)

By demonstrating this Lowie laid the foundations for the science of political anthropology. Lowie poses that "what is required (for the origin of the state) is some centralizing authority powerful enough to counteract primitive separatism".21 This is precisely what we find in Timor. The central, ritual ruler usually has sa much authority as to he powerful enough to counteract scission. This authority is of a ritual, religious nature, and is supported by the physical power he can exercise through his masculine counterpart. Whether or nm we call this kind of political system a state is completely irrelevant. Suffice it to say simply that it is apolitical system - and a fairly complex one at that.

There are no historical data available to allow speculations about the manner in which the political commurnty in Timor origin.aJt:ed. We lack the opportunity of observing the system in statu nascendi here, as Southall was aJble to do in the case of the Alur in East Africa.22 There too, we have prioces from abroad settling amongst segmentary tribes, exactly tlre same as is described in Timorese mythology. They are even requested to do sa by the tribes themselves. Thus a clientpatron relationship Iresults. The majority, if not all of t'he East African states probably came aJbout in this manner. Lucy Mai:r 23 cannot resist the temptaJtion of supposing that "This relatiOl1ship of clientage may weil be the germ trom which stalte power springs", although she restricts the implicart:ions of this statement by saying that thisrelationship is certainly of "prime importance" for tOO East African states. The origin of the state in this way is certainly not prevalent, but the hypothesis is important in that it does away once for all w~th Oppenheim's 24 thoory (refuted by Lowie 25) according to which COl1qUest is the only origin of tOO state.

In Timor, toa, tOO structure is such that conquest must definitely be ruled out as the primary factor responsible for the origin of the political system. The myth certainly contains a number of references to odginal inhabitants fading in10 the background, sometimes as a oonsequence of violence, but the rolers have hardly any part or no part at all in this. What is more important still - there is not a single tradition which makes mention of a conquest of the Atoni area by the realm of South Belu. The rulers and the usif came from South Belu to settle in the Atoni area, where they were acknowledged as rulers and usif by tOO local inhabitants. This is somewhat similar to the Alm paittern, with the exception thaJt a clienrt-patron relationship never existed in Timor; nei,ther did the rigid caste-like distinction between autochthonous inhabitants and the more recenrt immigranJts which is so typical of the East African states.

The myths,rites and the political system of Timor seem to indicate rather ,that the structural principle of a ritual centre with clans grouped around it in a fixed formation of double pairs is the unique cultural heritage of tOO Atoni. It is not a repetitiOl1 of tOO South Belu system, as there five-fold division did not exist; but the ruler of South Belu was considered to have greater ritual power and the sacred objects guarded by him more potency. It is no longer possible to discover the why and wherefore of this, nor is it very important. The Atoni simply rated one lparticular centre a:s the most important and most powerful. It then follows that on tOO one hand this centre was desirous·of exerting its power, and that on the other hand other communities (i.e. in this case tlhe Atoni) were anxious 10 share in thispower. The manner of realizing th1S ambition which füted in best wit'h the Atoni structures WaJS to establish affinal l'elationships. This made recognitiOl1 of the superiority of the cent re possible at the same time - it was superior also because it was rthe giver of brides, the source of life. This relationship at the same time expresses the necessity of such unity, the relationship being a feto - mone (= feminine - masculine) one and neither the feminine nor the masculine being able to exist the one without the other. If a priocedom had close ~inks with South Belu, as Insana did, only this feto-mone relationship is usually mentioned. If the di stance was greater, as in the rea.lm of Sonba'i, the relationsihip became an olif-tataf (= older brother - younger brother) one, implying a higher degree of rivalry and a greaterdistance. Similarly in Amabi, in western Timor, Abi is said to be Sonba'i's twin brother but the grandson of the first mIer of Sourth Belu !l6 - hence the distance between Amabi and South Belu was greater.

Hence we Ishould ·posi:t with regard rto the origin of this particular poli.tica:l system, though on the analogy of its typology, that thc structurizing principle of one centre as riltually the strongest aud therefore the most (powerful bas asserted itselif and tha't the system as it has existed for fue past 500 years bas developed as a resutt of the recognition of this centre. Relations with this centre were symbolized in the first place by affinal relationsmps connected with gifts and followed by or coupled with the presentation of harvest gifts, which later assumed the farm of tribute.

Here we seem to have, therefore, a unique ,type of ritual poli'tical system which has come about in an equa1ly unique way in comparison with other culture provioces.

3. TIIE POLITICAL SYSTEM AS APPROACHED IN TIMORESE THINKING

Our analysis in the foregoing sectlion ena!bled us to define thc Timorese political community as apolitical system ",hieh is based on ritual relationships, laid down in the rites and myths, consolidated by a network of affinal relationsmps, maintained by a system of tribute consisting of agriculttllrttl produoe, and either strengthened or weakened by frequent wars. Hence ,the political system embraces all aspects of life and is the expression of the system :of life, whioh becomes visible and assumes its farm in thiJs politic:al syst'em in a simil'ar way as in the ancient Greek ,polis, or "la cifé omtique", as Fuste1 de Coulanges ~7 ealls it in thc title of his famous work.

In Timor we find the unity of this "polis" in thc sacral foundation of .:I.ll relattions. Not only are agriculture ~ induding animal husbandry - thc life of the genealogical group and the political life béllSed on sacred myths and accompanied by fixed rites, but the myths and rites themselves point to a set cosmie order in which all ,aspects of life are embedded. Only in the light of this a:ll-embracing aspect of thc system of .1ife ean thc position of the ritual centre be undenstood. This is thc way tlre Atoni himself sees his wor ld.

In our discussion d the V'arÎûus aspects of life, and especially in the analysi:s of thc polLtical system, we discovered that the Atoni fitted his oU't'look on the world in which he lives and the relations ,which asre important in this world intoset frameworks, or fixed categories within which he arranged his world and assigned everything its proper place. The Aroni, like all of us, classifies. Hence it is essential in the context of the analysis of the poliJtical system to ,direct our attention first .to his classificatory system ,before we are able to see the political system as a "totalitarian" whoie.

The fact that we are able to speak of a classif.icatory system is a consequenee of the circumstance that the Atoni ean see certain connections between the abovementioned frameworks, whieh he bas expressed partially in a series of polar opposites, which are rela1:ed in their diversity and diverse in their 'relatedness.~8

Bipartirt:ion is the predominant principle. This is never indioa1:ed by the number two but always by the men1:ion O'f two ,POi'ar oppositets in pairs. Thc most important of these are:

feminine ma.sculine (jeto - mone) wife/sister husband/brother (je, fetof - mone, nauf) female ancestor male ancestor (be'i - na'l) inside outside (nanan - mone) silence speech c10sed open immobile adtive west/nor th left east/south right yellow /black? earth red/white? heaven night day death lirfe.

All of these pairs of opposites fit into one schelle and combine to farm one impotranlt diehdtomy. All of the ooncepts listed in the lefthand column are mutually re1ated by aprocess of mental associations, whil!gt the same is itrue of those in the lTight..:hand column. The one is inconceivable withouIt ,the other. Besides the above there are a number of dyadic opposites ,which do ,nd!: quite fit, or do not fit at all, into this scheme, because it C'annot be said that they can be associated with the other pairs. Theyare:

sun and moon and silver gold fertility power and enmity power (le'u nono - le'u musu)

These almost Ht into the general di<:lhotomy, but here the Atoni seems to be grappling with nis world order. In order to determine their appropriate pllace in ,spite of this, a reversa:l of the usual order is necessary.

Another very important oppositionis rhat between olif - tataf (younger and e1derbrother). Good 'and had, sacred and "profane" also beloog to a different order.

a. The Symbolism of Numbers

The cosmic order is also frequently indicated by means of numbers, the meaning of whkh is nOll: always clea.r, although we ean say that in the dichotomy the numbertwo is implied. This dichotomy usuaUy provides the basis for further classification for the Atoni, resulting in four-fold and eight-rold division. The dy adie opposiltesof the dichotomy also belong together, and are together integrated into a larger whoie. Two or four parts that make up a wholeare expressed by the numbers three and five, which are used in many diffelTent ways. Three is the number of the hea.rth inside the ferninine part of the house, it consists of three IStones with the fire burning in between thern.29 It mayalso consist of five stones, the fifth lying in the centre.

Similarly, three ~nes are used in the war ritua!. Red spittie is spat onto these in order to ensure the succes of the headhunting raid.30 Tbere 'are three sacrificial poles: the Vis N eno Mnanu, the Vis N eno Pala and the Ni Ainaf. The sacrificial poles OI.ltside the house of ten have three mmifications and three altar stones a!t their foot.3l

In the agricultural ritual t!hree sacrifidal baskets are placed before the seat of P'ah Tuaf, three before that of the ancestors and three for the le'u of the ancestors.32 So t'hree here stands for the totality of the hidden forces.

In each political community there is invariably a centre which links the twohalves of the princedom together. In the western Atoni area. this centre in turn invariably consists of a ruler and his two usif; there, too, three is symbolie of a totality. Similar'ly Liurai 'bas three figures at his side; 33 the passage in the Insana ritual according to which Liura1- Sonba'ihave sprung from three sterns and three roots will probably have to he interpreted in this light.34 Liurai (together with Sonba'i in the Atoni area.) is the comer-stone on which the entire political struoture is founded. This is reflected by the Sonba'i myth wrnch tells of the arrival of three brothers.35 Furthermore, the first inhaJbitants of the Atoni area. (DJabi and Besi 36) make up a three together whh Fai KUIlie. They are classified with the ea.rth from which they have sprung. Whether the trident in the meo's crescent also helongs with the earth and is symbolic of its progenitive power is nolt clear.37

In the kinship system we also came across an example of tripartition in the triad formed by the ego-grOl.lp, the bride-giving and the brideroceiving group.38

In the dichotomy the number two is never explicitly mentioned, but the opposed concepts which belong together are always mentioned in! pairs. Similarly, objects which are not opposed may be frequently mentioned in pairs, such as implements.39 The nrumber four, denoting two-fold bipartition, is always explicitly mentioned, on the other hand. Four villages combine to form one commuruty,40 four grains of com are plamed in one large hole.41 A child is carried outside by its mother and its father's sister four days af ter birth. The agricultural crops sprouted forth from the body of Sonba'i's sister af ter four nights.42 A meo has four silver discs attached to his belt.43 The songs sung by the women in accompaniment of the dance around the enemy's skull are always repeated four times.44 The heads taken in a headhunting raid used to be placed before the ruler, who kicked them four times, kicking them away the fourth time.45 Four is the number which constantly recurs in the political system as a struotural prinoiple, both in the village46 and in the political community a:s a whoie. In In:sana, fue structure of which is the easiest to trace, the whole consisted of two dual parts. In Ithe same way the number eight may he named as a double set of four: the first inhabitants constructed a house with eight instead of four pillars 47 - this connotes a certain intensity. Or it can be four pairs, as in the case of the agricultural crops, whereas four times four grains of com and ri ce are planlted around the Vis Pah, the altar stone in the garden plot,48 and the vital foroe of the com (pen smanaf) always consists of a number of cornstalks 49 which is a multiple of four, the number mentioned being either four, eight or sixteen. This does not necessarily mean ·thaJt that is the number found in reality, but it is simply a way of arranging the actual multiplicity in same sort of order.

Although the numher five is not frequently mentioned, the ruler and two times Itwo quarters grouped around him always make up a five, the ruler himself in the centre being the fifth. Besides the number five the number nine should also be mentioned, because four double groups with a centre Ill3ike up anine. The realm of Ambenu is divided into "the five tribes and the nine tribes".50 Five is the symbol for the totaHty of the political community or for any totality in genera!.

The number seven must have the same symbolic meaning. According to a different myth from the one just quoted 51 the culture crops sprout forth from Sonba'i's sister's body at the end of seven days. The war leader of Amfoan had acrescent moon with seven prongs and he had seven of his upper and seven of his lower teeth covered with gold.52

In Insana, too, the number seven occurs in the agricultural ritual - seven pieces of silver Mld seven quids of betel are placed as offerings on the ~one for Vis Pah.

The key numbers which recur again and again are: three as the symbol for a totality, four as the symbol of the constituent parts, and five, seven and nine or multiples of four as derivations from these numbers. So it is sufficiently c1ear from the above alone th alt there is a possibility of bridging the dichotomy of the numerous polar opposites.

b. Feminine· Mascu/ine (feta· moneY

One of the most important divisions, by which bath cosmic and social relationships are expressed, is that in<to feto - mane. This par'ticular form of pol ar opposition may act as a frame of reference for the distinction between diff.erent kinds of relationships.

In the kinship system the feto-mone relationship is found to exisl between two ume which are allied by affinal relationships. The ume with which the natal ume has affinal relationships via its daughters is called feta and the one with which it has sueh relaltionships via its soos is mone. Or in other words, the ume receiving a woman (who is the souree of life) is inferior in respect of the one which is the giver of life and which i,s hence its superior. This relationship of subordination and superordination is expressed in terms of feto-mane. But at the same time the term feto-mone indicates that the one cannot exist without the other, as life is impossible without the unity of male and female. Thus feto-mone groups form each other's complements.

Another re1ationship of superordination and subordination is that existing between husband and wife (mone - fe) and that between brother and sister (nauf-fetof). A husband's superiority is limilted, however, by his being the inferior of his wife's brother. The latter, in turn, is aware of the fact that: he owes his social supet'iority to bis sister's marriage. For this reason he will not regard her primarily as his inferior, but as the woman who merits bis protection. This relationship has important hearings on the political system, as it determines the relationship be!l:ween the amaf naek and the ruler on the one hand, and that between the ruler and rulers of other princedoms, especially Liurni-Sonba'i, on the ather. The relationship between the two halves of the realm of Insana is also a feto-mone one, the half living in the eastern and southern part being mone and superior in respect of that living in the west and north, which is feto. The relationship between the usif is similarly expressed in terms of a feto-mone relationsbip. The relationship between Kono-Oematan (Sonba'i's usif), for instanoe, is a feto-mone one, Kono being mone, because when mentioning the names the more important is always mentioned first, while when speaking of the relationship ,itself the more important one is gene rally mentioned last.

c. Inside - outside; closed - open; silence - speech; immobile - active

The relationship between inside and outside (nanan - mone) runs parallel with that between feta - mane, with one important reservation, namely that the centre, i.e. the interior, is superior to the exterior. The order of the words denoting this relationship is mone-nanan, the second always indicating the superior of the two, as in feta-mone, alif-tataf. "Inside" is equivalent to "the centre in which the ruler lives"; he is the supreme being, and is feta. The rentre links the parts together, and is symbolie of thetotality which it itself effects. That is why the interior is superior to the exterior. It i,s inside that the most sa.cred ritual is perfonned. It is inside, in the feminine half of the house (the left-hand half), that the maternal pillar (ni ainaf) is found (in the amaf's house the sirih purses of the ancestors are suspended from this pillar). It is here, furthermore, that the hearth with its three or five stones is located: hence here again it is the symbol for the superior tota!. The masculine post (hau monef) is the sacrificial post outside (mone) the house. It is inside, in the "navel" of the realm, that the chief altar (tala naek) is located, adajacent to the ruler's palace. Here is also the centre, the culminating point of the war ritual; it is here that the harvest gifts are presented to the ruler, who stands in relation to Sonba'i, who in turn is the liurai of the supreme ruler of South Belu, just as the rulers of Insana and Beboki are the latter's loro or suns. Here the harvest gifts are sacrificed to Vis N eno, who has given man the fruits of the earth.

We see the same connection between feminine and inside, and between masculine and outside in the agricultural ritua1. 53 Winnowing is done by tOO women of tOO lineage; it is done by daylight and in complete silenoe. The corn, on the other hand, is tied into bundies by the men - at night; whi}st men from other lineages are also invited to take part in this. They are noisy and set each other pantun to complete.

Inside is feminine, but activities carried out inside may be orientated either towards tOO inside or the outside. Hence the division, inside Kono's sanaf, of the clan of Sonla'i into a masculine and a feminine half. Sonla'i mane welcomes and addresses guests, and has his place at the masculine door at the southern end, while Sonla'i feto carries the harvest gifts up to the sonaf attic andhas his place at the feminine door on the northern side. 54 These door may also be set in the south and west walls respectively, as in the Neno Beboki,55 for south and east belongtogether, alS do north and west.

Similarly there are, in the centre of Insana and of Beboki, a feminine sanaf for the ruler on the western side, and a ma:sculine sonaf for the kolnel or the executive authority on the eastern side.

Vnless special attention is given to the nature of the relationship in question, the fact that in this relatiollJShip inside (nanan) is equivalent to feto, but is superior to outside (mone), whilst in the feto-mone affinal relationship mone is superior, may· create an impression of contradictoriness.

The relationship between tOO ruler, the leader of the ritual, who is inside, and his usif, whose sphere lies outside in spite of the fact that they belong to the palace in the centre, is also referred to by the term feto-mone (inside - outside). Hence the usif are masculine, but feto is in this case superior. In his relationship in respect of the amaf naek, the groups from which he receives his brides he is also feto, but here feto is inferior.

In a part of the realm such as Bikomi,56 which is inclined <io act independently although it lacks a centre of its own, the usif are feto-mone in respect of ea.ch other. Here the term refers to three different kinds of re1ationship: (1) the affinal relationship, where Lake is feta because he receives brides from Senak; (2) the mobile - immobile relationship, where Lake is mone in respect of Senak by virtue of his position as SenaI<'s executive authority, whiist Senak is atupas; and (3) the insideoutside relationship, where Lake is feta because together with Senak he constitutes the interior of Bikomi.

An excellent example of seeming iocol1!sistency is offered by the N eno Beboki, in which the sacred objects of Beboki are kept. Here there are two main pillars: the Ni Liurai, which is feto and is classified with the north, and the Ni Sonba'i, which is mane and belongs with the south, as the north is feminine and the south masculine. (Liurai is the supreme ritual ruier of the Atoni area and therefore feta.) In actual fact, however, the position of the pillars is different, the Ni Liurai being on the southern side near the superior or men's door, and the Ni Sonba'i on the northern side, near the women's door. 57

An analogous exampie of contradietoriness is found in the meaning of tasi feta and tasi moneJ the feminine and the masculine sea. In Amarasi tasi feta refers to that part of the sea which is close to the coost, whiie tasi mane is the sm further away from the coast. Here, then, it is the inside and the outside that are contrasted.58 In Central Timor, still in the Tetun speaking area, tasi feta is always the sea to the north of Timor and tasi mone that to the south; hence the same terms here distinguish between north and south. Application of the same category here produces different resuIts, and the Aooni himself will immediately concede that this is 50.

The complementary opposition between feto-mone, 11ume-nanan also relates to immobile and active. The Atoni has no abstract words for these concepts, although he says toot the ruler is atupas (= he who sleeps). In Ambenu the feminine ruier ,is called Bobo (= he who sleeps on his beIly). 59 With reference to the ruier it is always said thaJt he onIy eats, drinks and sleeps, i.e. that he must not be active. He is the pivot around which all else revolves but which is itself immobile. His usif are therefore active as his executive authorities. In their capacity as war leaders they are manef atanif (= masculine men). In the war dance the women stand still in the one spot heating gongs, whilst the men in their sworddance continually jump up high in the air as they cirek around them

(this dance is called fori = to run). And in the mixed dance (bonet) performed by both men and women, both form a c10sed circ1e. They move slowly, as in the bone nak af, the dance performed for the skull taken in a head-hunting raid. 60

d. West/north - east/south

left - right

yellow/black? - red/white?

As we have seen above, the west and north are associated with the feminine, and east and south with the masculine. The correct order is that of the course of the sun : east - sou th - west - oorth. What strikes us here, however, is that Timor lies in the southem hemisphere, at a latitude of 9 degrees south, so that for most of the year the course of the sun is different, as in aetual fact irt is almost perpendicularly above Timor for a considerabie portion of the year. It is indeed remarkable toot the Timorese, in spite of the fact that they have been living in Timor for many centuries, have not adjusted themselves to their "natural environment" in this one respect.

Of the four cardinal points, east and west (neon sa' et and neon tes = "sunrise" and "sunset" respectively) are the most important ones. The palaces of the ruler and his masculine counterpart are due west and east of each other respectively, as are the two storage huts of the tobe, namely the tola mala and tola metan.

When orientating himself the Atoni stands facing the east, so that the south is to his right (ne'u) and the north to his left (ti'). Apart from this, right and left play an insignificant part in the Atoni's c1assificatory system. The usif are sometimes called the ruler's right and left handsKono and Oematan are caJled this in respect of Sonba'i, for instance. They are located in the east and the west respectiveJy, however. As far as 1 know the terms for right or left do oot occur anywhere in the ritual, except in the ritual preparation for war in the Tetun area.

Certain colours are most likely associated with the cardinal points in a fixed order. White (muti) is probably associated with the east. It is generally stated that the colour white goes with sunrise and with heaven.

Yellow (molo) is associated with the west.61 Kono lives in Miomafo, to the east of Sonba'i: mio means "morning" and mafo "shadow",

"twilight". Hence Kono lives in the land of the morning twilight, i.e. the dawn. Oematan lives to the west of Sonoo'i, in Molo, which is both the name of a mountain and the word for the faded yellow of the evening sky. Are we to assume that "shadow" stands for "black", so that we have here a dyadic opposition of molo - metan, or does the expression refer to the light of the breaking day, i.e. whrte?

Black is a difficult colour to place. It is said to he a.ssociated with the north, but no-one is certain as to this, and there are no concrete examples of it to he found anywhere in the texts. It is certain that molo and metan (yellow and black) form a pair as do west and north. And, moreover, they are always mentioned in the same order. We have further indication for this in the circumstJance that every tobe has two altars, each with its storage hut: a tola molo and a tola metan; this is where the fruits of the earth are stored. Now the tola metan is situated to the east of the tola molo, for if there are only two, they should be placed facing each other. Is this another indication that black may possibly he associated with the east? If so there is queSltion here of internal contradictoriness, as the opposed colours black and white are then c1assed together, a reversal of the kind we have come across before, or in other words, a polarity within the system of symbols itself.

The fact that metan is also c1assified with the soil is evident from the distinction drawn in Amfoan hetween the Hau Muti (= the white wood, i.e. the people who came from abroad) and the Hau Metan (= the black wood, or the descendants of the originai inhabitants, who sprang from the earth). Likewise the civet-cat is called meo metam and is said to have emerged from theearth. If the earth and the feminine are associated with one aoother - a tenable supposition - black is also associated with the feminine, and hence with the north, as yellow is definiteiy associated with the west.

The location of red (mtasa) is even more uncertain. Red is the colour of war, courage and victory. Warfare was pre-eminently a masculine pursuit. The jacket of the war chief of Amfoan 62 was red. Red was the colour of the sirih spittie spat onto the warriors selected during the ritual preceding a headhunting raid. 63 Red was the colour of the kerchief with which his face was covered 64 and red and black were the colours of the sacrifices offered prior to the raid.65 Red was said to he the colour for victory and for Uis Neno, and black the colour for the nitu pah, the earth spi rits. White and black also featured in this ritual - the enmity le'u was addressed as le'u muti, le'u metan.66

Seeing that red is associated primarily with the masculine pursuit of headhunting, and white is most probably associated with the east, red may belong to the south. The Atoni is very uncertain about this. Perhaps there is no set connection between the cardinal points and certain colours af ter all - with the exception of molo, which definitely belongs with the west - but it is dependent on the context in which the colours are used.

Even though it is not possible IX> associate the colours with the cardiaal points and hence place them in the general dichotomy, they nonetheless have much symbolic significance. Sacrifices of white animals are always offered to Uis Neno 67 or are a symbol of purification.68 At the conclusion of peace a white buffalo was kiUed, it being said that white was the colour of the usif, the amaf and the meo - hence it was classified with masculine figures. The Meko clan has a meko (disc) for its totem, for example, there being two varieties of the latter : the meko muti, styled meko mone, and the meko metan or meko feto. 69 Hence whiteis doorly associated with the masculine and black with the feminine here.

On another occasion the sacrifice of a white buffalo bull confirmed a new alliance.7o And it was said that a black sacrifice offered during a period of drought had to bring black douds.71

The final act in the war ritual was flinging a black dog's hood into the enemy's village. Is black the colour of the nitu here? The colour of death is definitely primarily yellow. When the dog's head was fIung away, the words: "hute molo" (= displaying the yellow) were shouted. This is clearly an announcement of death, an association which the Atoni is able to discern himself. When the cause of death is investigated, a "yellow" pig is sacrificed. 72 M 010 is the colour which is prominent in the mortuary rituaI. 73

The symbolism is sometimes most obscure. Why was a white dog's head buried by the victorious side in order to defy the enemy to come back out of the forest in which he had saught refuge? 74 Why is the cam harvest always referred to with the saying: "the white cam, the yellow com"? 75 Is it only because the early variety is ivory white in colour and the late variety is yellow? Why are black animals sacrificed at the corn harvest 76 - because black is classified with yellow?

Just as the language of the ritual is characterized by parallelism, both halves of the sentence being either synonymous, thus intensifying the meaning of the line, or each other's opposites, sa colours may complement each other in the same way. This is the case when the two lineages of the Toto clan are referred to as nwlo and metan 77; the same applies to the two lineages of the usii clan of Tunbaba.78 Similarly the meo used to wear a red and white jacket.

Colours mayalso indicate opposition, however. Each meo, for instance, was given a tuft of black and red hair, with the red hair on top, to put on his silver leg ornaments af ter he had participated in taking a head. Red and black are the colours for victory and death in this case. The clan N enobais consists of two sub-clans: N enobais molo, which consists of meo, and Nenobais muti, the members of which do not participate in headhunting.79 Black and white occur even more frequently in contrast with one another. The most important of these contrasts is probably that between nis metan and nis muti: the blacktoothed people, i.e. those who have their rteeth filed, and the whitetoothed people, i.e. those who do oot as a rule file their teeth. I do not know the exact nature of this dichotomy, but in any case it cuts right across the whole of Atoni society - not only the Belu or the Helon are nis metan.80 In Molo the nis metan are styled siu lulat (= upper arm tattJOo), and the nis muti are called siu luman (= empty upper arm). The nis muti were not allowed to wear ikat cloths, they did not favour filing of the teeth, and if they did, they did sa together with their wife or her brother, and did not blacken the teeth that were filed as the nis metan did, from which practice they derive their name. Formerly there were no affinal re1ationships between the nis metan and the nis muti unless a person from the one entered the nono of the other. 81

The distinction encountered by Lx:her is equaJly puzzling. He discovered that in Molo people had double names, having a nitu name besides their ordinary one; but they ctmld oot, or would not, give an explanation for this.82

The colours of the cJoths wom in particular areas is no more a criterion by which a distinction ean be drawn between the Belu and the Atoni than the colour of the teeth. Amarasi, Amfoan, Amhenu and Molo cJoths are red with a white central band. In Miomafo they are a brownish red, without any white, and partly blue. Amanatun and Amanuban are different again, Amanuban heing represented by dark blue and Amanatun, to the east of it, by red with a white stripe in the centre. Approximately the same difference exists hetween Insana and Beboki, where the colours are mainly blue and brown. The question as to whether there is an analogy here hetween the colours of the cJoths on the one hand and filing of the teeth on the other, is an intriguing ooe, speculative though it may he until further research is conducted. We know for a fact that there is no geographical correspondence, though there may be a symbolieal one.

The Toto clan, which is affiliated with Kune, the original inhabitant of Timor, is one of the nis metan, while a Mela was called nis muti.83 It is tempting to suppose that the nis metan may have belonged 10 the groups which "came forth from the earth". Opposed to this, however, is the tradition acrording to which filing of the teeth is a practice imported from abroad. The Atoni knows nothing aoout this. The symbolism of colours is a real one for him, but he only partiaJly fits it into his general oosmic dualism.

e. Earth-heaven; night-day

No matter how important these oppositions may be to the Atoni, they nonetheless also defy a straightforward classification in the general dichotomy. In Belu heaven is cJearly masculine, because rain is compared to male sperm. I did not encounter this belief anywhere in the Atoni area, although in Beboki people sometimes talk aoout a marriage between heaven and earth.83a Nevertheless the deity of Ithe earth is Vis Pah, the Lord of the Earth, i.e. a god and not a goddess - the Atoni is not familiar with this concept.

The colour associated with heaven is white and that with the earth black; these colours are associated with the masculine and feminine principles respectively. A logical conclusion would therefore he that the earth is feminine too. The Atoni himself does not explicitly say so, but we have strong indications in the use of the epithet Bi (= woman) before names of villages in pantun that it is considered feminine. Entire princedoms mayalso he referred to in this way, e.g. Bi N oni (instead of Amfoan) and Bi Molo.84 An indication that heaven is associated with the masculine and earth with the feminine is found in the myth of Sonba'i in which the son of heaven (neno a.na) slaughters his sister, and the culture crops sprout forth from her limbs.85

The same applies to the opposition between night and day. Although night and earth are classified together, it can no more he said that night is feta than that day and heaven are distinctly mane. As we have said above, the women winnow the rice in the day-light, while the men bundie the com by night. In serious droughts sacrifices are offered by day and the myths of origin recited by night.86 Hence masculine activities are carried out at night. The name of the first Kune, who belongs with the earth, is Fai, i.e. night, and the name of rus le'u is Nai Masu, Lord Smoke,87 but he is never referred to as heing feta, and in the affinal relationship he is mone in respect of Sonba.'i and Kono. Sonba'i is the son of heaven and his name is of ten Manas, i.e. sun.88 He is associated with the day. But as the ritual centre he is feta. There are inconsistencies everywhere in the system, which is not a closed system, therefore. This may he a result of the Atoni's propensiJt:y for constantly devising new polar oppositions. J ust as a certain tension is inherent in the struotures themselves, and as there are mutually oontradictory structural principles, there is likewise a certain polariJt:y in the very system of symbols with which he orders his world, and, what is more, even a total reversalof that order.

In the context of the discussion of the opposition between heaven and earth it may he appropriate to put forward the view that the Atoni does nat oppose heaven and the underworld to one another. The nitu do not live in the nether world but on the "opposite side, on the other side of the river" . They remain on earth and later on move to the

Mutis. But the Atoni is vague as to their exact whereabouts. The only indication which may point to the existenee of an underworld is found in the myths of the crocodile living in the depths of the sea.89 But these are so vague that they do not justify the assumption of a nether world. In that case there would also have to he an intermediate world, as that encountered in Bali, for instance.90 Besides the dichotomy of heaven and earth, which finds expression primarily in the pol ar opposition of Vis Neno and Vis Pah,91 there is that of pah - nifu (= earth and lake), between the dry land (pah meto) and the springs, i.e. the water found in the earth. This is probably the same dualism as that expressed in the Indonesian national anthem: tanah air kita (= our land - water, i.e. our native land).

Above this dual unity of earth and water, heaven stretches its vault.~ And so we have once again a two-fold as weU as a three-fold division.

f. Sun - moon; gold - silver

The sun and gold are associated with the ritual, feminine ruler who is, as we know, neno ana = the son of heaven or of the sun. Silver is the distinguishing mark of the masculine usif and the war leader, and it is of silver ithat the meo's crescent-shaped omaments are fashioned. According to the myth, Kune, the oldest lord of the land (pah tuaf) has a si Iv er chair, whilst the golden chair is for Sonba'i.93 The sun is the "man of heaven", whilst the moon is the "woman of heaven". The moon is sometimes even caUed the wife of Vis Neno, Neno here c1early referring 1:0 the sun.94 Here too, then, we have a kind of reversal, as with day and night. We should not endeavour to ignore the inoonsistencies of the system by grouping everything in accordance with a fixed dichotomy. The Atoni himself certainly does not attempt to do so. There are c1early a numher of categories which do not fit in at aU with the existing dualism. The Atoni is aware of the possibility of reversal of the usual order, however.

g. Reversal of the usual order

We have seen instat1ces of sueh reversal in the discussion of the curious contrast between meo mone and meo fetO'.95 The meo is a preeminently male figure and this is the conception that all Atoni have of him. But in the same way that woman, the earth and the buffalo are fertile, the mco similarly has to reap the fruits of war and introduce new nitu into the nono of his own eommunity in order to inerease the number of its "souis". Here we have the same unity as that between nitu and smanaf which is found in the harvest ritual where the pena nakaf, ane nakaf (the head of the corn, the head of the rice) are hauled in with a harvesting-hook (kait) as offerings to Vis Neno. This same harvesting-hook features in the mortuary ritual,96 where Uis Neno gathers in the harvest of death with it.

The contrast is essentially only an apparent one, therefore, though opposition it is definite1y feIt lo be a realone. I t is forthis reason thart: there are meo fcto besides meo mone, ,tbe Jatter having a feminine name, viz. "Lord Souree-bed" (Nai Oe Nono) for rus le'u. That is why the meo mone goes headhunting by night and his colours are molo and metan - this expresses the feminine aspect of his work; he is the symbol of fertility. The meo feto, on the other hand, does not set out until day has broken, when the morning-star (the name of his enmity le'u) has appeared in the sky. Being a hero he attacks an entire band at onee.

To some extent war in all its aspects is a reversal of the usual order. Or perhaps it is more correct to speak of a complementary order. When the meo prepares himself ritua11y for the headhunting raid, sexual intercourse is taboo. Woman is no longer the source of life, or of the smanaf, but the meo himself has to reap the harvest of death, namely the nitu. Only af ter the raid will he be led back to the sphere of coolness by a virgin. During war the le'u nono or fertility le'u is put out of action, and the Ie' u musu begins to operate in its place. Af ter the raid it in turn is put out of action by means of the appropriate r:itual, and is put away in the le'u house. Hence life ana death are two complementary spheres.

We find a similar reversal of the usual order in the mortuary ritual,97 of which the atoni amaf is the leader. The ume of the dead person and those of the affinallineages are then in mourning. The primary objective of the mortuary ritual is to transfer the mourners, "the snivelling ones, the tearful ones", from the sphere of mourning and death. In conclusion, in many cases years later, the "meal of separation" is prepared. Then the dead person's social ties with the ume of his affines are considered to be completely severed. And all the mourners then have "a bright countenance, bright eyes" (hum miu, mat miu) once more. Now, the mortuary feast is also attended by groups which belang neither to the ume of the deceased nor to that of his immediate affines. These come from "across the river". They do not mourn, and hence have "bright countenances - bright eyes", but belang to the sphere of death during the rnortuary ritual. Toto, Middelkoop's informant, remarked in this context: "This is a reversal, for these hum miu, mat miu belong with the deceased across the river during the mortuary ritual". For the purpose of -the ritual or the "tabie of separation" is, af ter all, to cause the deceased to fly "across the river". This is one of the reasons why the dead are associated with birds, the finikliu and the nus: the birds which are said to be the spirits of the deceased. It is essential, then, that there should be a group which may be placed on the side of death and thus represent the deceased so that the ritual may address the dead in concrete terms.

h. Remaining Categories

It is quite impossible to fit the categories of superordination and subordination, olif-tataf, younger and elder (brother), in with the general dichotomy in any way. This distinction determines the whole of the social and political life of the community and may be compared with the feto-mone one, although it has a different chara.cter, cutting right across the dichotomy of masculine and feminine because, unlike it, it lacks a complementary nature but rather gives expressian to the principle of rivalry between persons and groups of persons who are nonetheless related.

There is further the distinction between father and child (amaf - ana). This refers to the order of precedence in respect of authority, in the first place inside the ume, between different generations, and secondly in the politicallife. In the village of Sipi-Sekon, for instanee, Nai Bobe is the amaf and the various other clans settled there are his ana. 98 The heads of the sub-territories of the realm are called the great fathers ; the mIer stands above them because he is neno ana, the child of heaven.

The distinction between good and evil does not fit in any possible way into the existing, fixed frameworks either. The word for "good" is leko, for "evil" kanleko (= lit. "not good"). There are many kinds of evil: every kind of misfortune (e.g. failure of the crops, disease and death by accident or violence) is evil. Evil is manifested in the superior strength of the enemy and his success during a headhunting raid in the community. Any offence against the usual order, such as incest, murder or theft, is also evil. However, a headhunting raid ,is of course not the same as murder, while cattle raids in enemy territory are even "good". But what of a cattle raid which leads to war? The Atoni himself is aware of the fact that he lives on a razor-edge between good and evil.

Acting in accordance with the established order is good. The Indonesian word that wouId fit this concept is adat. Adat is usually defined as a system of legal rules, Iike adat-Iaw. This is a rather limited view, however. Schärer's definition, in his work on the Ngadju Dajak, is a much better one:

"Hadat rules the whole of life and thought, and all relations between man and the cosmos. It is the guide through life, and only if man constantly orients himself by it does he step surely and go through life as the true man who submits himself obediently to the godhead and carries out its will, and thus receive wellbeing for himself and for the entire cosmos." 99

Adat is a system of Iife. The Atoni caIls it lais meto.lOO Lasi, usually used in paraIleIism with toni in ritual texts, means "rite", "word", "issue", "matter", "case". The Atoni aIso uses the word in the sense of "to have words or a dispute with someone" - in that case lasi means "Iegal case" or "dispute". Lais meto is a contraction of lais atoin Pah M eto, i.e. the ritual of the Atoni, the peopIe of the dry land; Pah Meto is the Atoni's name for his own country.101 Lais meta refers to the ruIes of conduct, which have their roots in the cosmie order. This order must be preserved at all events, and it is dangerous to commit an offence against it - even 10 the extent of its being dangerous to use a wrong word in a ritual (lasi). An Atoni once said with reference to the mortuary rituaI "I am not weIl acquainted with this ritual and therefore cannot recite it, for I shall surely die if I commit an error".102 Lais meto is the strict order which prevails in the land and bas its foundations in the rites and myths. It is of ten ealled: lais U is N eno, toin U is N eno. 1tis not only the divine order, but is also the course of events to which man is accustomed and in accordance with which he should act. For instanee, when the Dutch arrived the lais Kompani (the rules of the Company) were introduced. 1t is "bad" to act agains the lais meto, as itamouns to acting against the norms and would bring down misfortune and disaster upon oneself or one's ume, or upon the crops or the eattle of the community.

The Atoni distinguishes the categories of good and evil by the very nature of his human condition. But these categories eannot be placed in the existing dualism. At most one ean say that Vis N eno is the giver of all that is good and tbat the earth spirits are the agents of all evil. But this does not assign good and evil a place in the cosmie order, for while the fertility of the erops and the cattle and of woman is associated with the earth - the earth brings forth life, and life is good - the earth is also associated with the nitu or death. For this reason I have not included the opposition hetween life and death in the diehotomy. Of course this opposition exists, but it does not fit in with the eosmie dualism either.

The same can he said of the opposition between sacred and profane. Although death and life may he said to belong together and to he each other's complement in the Atoni's wayof thinking, this eannot he said of the saered and the secular. The sacred is le'u, maputu, malala - heat and flames. The opposite of maputu is mainikin (= coolness, well-being). Maputu means "dangerous"; here man eommunieates with the hidden forces. M aputu also describes the burning down of the garden plots before they ean he planted. Before the trees are felled a saerifiee first has to be offered to the nitu, the le'u and the Lord of the earth.103 And af ter burning, a lengthy ritual, the sifo nopo ritual, is required to make the earth mainikin again. The procedure observed in war is analogous to this. War is also described as maputu. :&ites and sacrifiees are required before the warriors set out, and af ter the raid the meo has to he made mainikin again. Both in agriculture and in war heat is necessary in order to he able to gat her in the harvest. Hence maputu is saered. But it cannot possibly be said that mainikin means "secular". Mainikin means "well-being", and is too c10sely associated with the le'u nono, the fertility le'u, to be said to mea.n "secular".

"Sacred" is best rendered with le'u. The sacred is dangerous, and this danger may bring about evil. This is apparent from compounds formed with le'u: amle'ut is that which brings evil or misfortune; namle'u means: it is braken, spoilt; an ume namie' u is a house that has fallen into disrepair ; mo' et amle' ut is to act incorrectly, to act against the lais meto, or against the established order or the norms (mo'e = to act, do).

Although the Atoni is aware of the contrast between sacred and profane he has no word to describe the latter - it is simply the direct opposite of le'u. Mo'e meto is the way we, the Atoni Pah Meto, behave in our day to day existence. The further removed from the ritual sphere, the more ordinary or "profane" man's activities tend to beo To name a few such activities: going to market, bartering with the Chinese, the women's household chores, their tending the pigs, the children's play. But even such ordinary activities are never far removed from the ritual sphere. Cooking may he an every-day activity, but the fire of the hearth is connected with certain rites. For months spinning is the ordinary, almost every-day work of the women, but there is a ntual aspect to weaving. The tapping of palm juice is on the face of it an ordinary activity, but the whole of agriculture is surrounded by rites. Our conc1usion must therefore he that on the one hand the totality of life has its ordinary "secular, profane" pursuits, but that on the other it is as a whole surrounded by rites and rooted in the sacred sphere.

As far as the Atoni of Timor are concerned, it is c1ear that the polarity of the sacred and the profane does oot fit in with the categories of the general dichotomy and therefore does not fit in either with any sort of classification of the political community. 1t is therefore incorrect, in my view, to speak of "secular lords" and "ritual lords" 104 as opposed to each other. This does not detract in any way from the great significanee of the opposition. Particular objects are holy or sacred; others are made this through the ritual, in the same way that the ingredients of the le'u musu are made sacred. People mayalso he sacred; especially so the roler, who is responsible for the ritual. Generally speaking people are not sacred, but may move in a sacred sphere when performing certain acts, that is, whenever they communicate with the hidden world during the performance of some ritual, or during warfare, at birth, circumcision, marriage, or anything connected with death and "the meal of separation", i.e. the mortuary ritual. Women and children never perform a ritual but are not as a result profane; they may be closely involved in a ritual.

Even if one were to agree with the statement by Durkheim and Mauss according to which "things are above all sacred and profane, pure or impure, friends or enemies, favourable or unfavourable",l°5 one could not base the classification of people and objects in the general dichotomy of male and female, outside and inside, right and left, heaven and ea.rth, day and night, and whatever else it may include, on this distinction between the sacred and the profane. This is IWt what Durkheim and Mauss are actually saying either, although we find this thought expressed by their pupil Hertz.l06 He suggests that distinctions connected with space as weIl as those connected with the hu man body all have their origin in the contrast between the sacred and the profane. Acoording to him the sacred is always associated with the right and the profane with the left. But if in the case of the Atoni the sacred and the profane were connected with this classification, he would tend to associate .the sacred with the left-hand side, the left being associated with the feminine, and the sacred centre being feminine. The same would be true of the Meru, where the ritual Mugwe is associated with the left. Needham 107 opposes this 1:0 "the political power" of the elders, who are associated with the right; or as the French synopsis of his article states, the point in question is the opposition "de fautorité religieuse et profane". Unquestionably the Mugwe issacred, but I am not convinced that the elders are secular. They do nat appear to be so from Bernardi's 108 publication. Here black is associated with the ritual, and the elders, like the Mugwe, wear black cloaks. Needham 109 himself finds these data difficult to reconcile. When looking for the distinction between the sacred and the profane we should always bear in mind Needham's citation of Leach: "We must take each case as it comes ... Our concern is wi,th what the significant social categories are; not with what they ought to be" .110

CHAPTER XIII

TOT ALITY, UNITY AND ADAPT AB1LITY OF THE SYSTEM

A. TOTALITY

We have been able to discover the Atoni's c1assificatory system from dart:a. which have come to lighit: in our analysis of agriculture and the social and politica1 struotures and their connected rites and myths. We have not devotoo a separate chapter to it, bUIt iJt emerged from data collected for other purposes. Now that we have become acquainted with the categories it is c1ear that the political community of the Atoni is indeed rus "polis" or his world. lt now becomes c1ear also what the frameworks are in which he sees his world, by means of which categories he arranges it and by means of what structural principles he gives it shape: we see how he accommodates everything in a "totalitarian" system. This system is not a c10sed one - just as the structural principles of the kinship system tend partly in different directions, this is also the case with the categories of his c1assificatory system. The Atoni is confronJted daily with this all-embracing system of life (though not a c10sed one) in its most statie farm in the house in which he lives, and in the lopo in the centre of his village. He hears it anew each year in the rites of the agricultural cycle when he plants and harvests "Liurai-Sonba'i". He experiences it in a more dynamie way in his kinship re1ationships, which, though they may change, nonetheless follow a set course. lts centre and iJts culminating point he finds in the politica1 system, however, where the ruler is the son of heaven.

Together with the amaf naekand the usif, "the lords of the land, the lords of the lake" he goes and brings his harvest gifts in order to "feed and provide for the son of the moon and othe son of the sun, the son of the Koka and the son of Nai Bate", sa that "Liurai-Sonba'i may eat without anxiety, drink without anxiety".

1. The house

The order as embodied 111 the Atoni house 111 Amarasi has been admirably described by Cunningham. His conclusion isthat the house represents the re1art:ionship between "the symbolie and social order", and he suggests quite justifiably that his analysis may oontribute towards placing the Atoni house "within such great and ancient traditions as Hindu - Buddhist architecture and ancient Asian, N ear Eastern, and Central and South American cities".1

The Atoni house is oval in shape. In Amarasi, where Cunningham speut the greater part of his time, i>t was formerly oval too, but now the square house hase become more oommon.2 Cunningham demonstrates most convincingly that the structure of the house embodies the cosmic and social order. For the Atoni his house is indeed an open hook in which the order of his world is clearly written. In my view Cunningham erred on one important point, however, and it is interesting to see how this is connected with his views in respect of the political structure.

In the ground-plan in diagram no. 19, k represents the ni ainaf or maternal pillar. If there are four pillars the one behind it is the suIit, and is its pendant; in thart: case the one in front is sometimes called ni ainaf nakaf (= main maternal pillar) and the one behind it simply ni ainaf. Now, the more traditional, oval house of ten has only two pillars. Cunningham also calls the front pillar in the right-hand half of the house (i.e. the si de to one's right wh en one stands inside the house facing the door) ni ainaf. But in actual fact this pillar has no name, and the relationship of the ni ainaf to it is a feto - mone one.3 Cunningham does mention the aJI1alogy between the feminine, left part of the interior of the house, with irts bed, its hearth and its maternal pillar, and the atl/pas. But just as his views on the position of Vis Bala or the kolnel in his description of the political structure are, in my view, incorrect - he does not describe him as the atupas' antipole - he similarly has no attention for the feto-mone re1ationship between the two main pillars of the house.'

TOP VIEW DIAGRAM No. 19 • a. nanan ·MONE inside door entrance periphery outside; pan mone - masculine pole, altar pole large bench or couch sleeping-bench serving-bench fixed water-tank entrance to 10ft 'foot', smatt exterior pillars supporting watt watt

n1 .~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.!...~.!!!...!.!!!...!!.!!..!!.~.!...!!!...!.!!!...!!.!!..!!.!!..!!.~.!!!.!.!!!...!!.~. . . . . . . 10 oooiqo. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 1 0 I ~h ::. 0 · /\0· · 1 0 1 0 • tso 1 0 • • • • ·1 I: 'y/ ·1 J 10 10 , ki) , 9 :1 10 .1 10 .1 • 10 .1 10 .1 OHAU MONE 10 • • .1 10 .1 tl .1 10 fd ali' I 0 (I.ft) '"-- few k (right> ne'u 0 • 10 .1 10 mone I .1 I. .1 I. .1 0 0 ,f 0 0 b , n1 ~1C:°======O======o======~ n1 q J 111111111 [ t .n2 1L:Y d • • c • • • •

b. eno

c. toi

d. si'u

e. mone

f. harak ko'u

g. harak tupa

h. harak manba'at

hearth, possibly in centre and made up of three or five stones

i. (i) tunaf

j. nai oe teke

maternal pillar, which is feto (feminine)

k. ni ainaf

1. right-hand pillar, which is mone (masculine)

m. toi

n. 1 and n. 2 ni manu chicken pillars

o. haef

p. haef mese 'first foot'

q. piku

smatt interior pillars supporting watt

r. rusi

s. rupit

ledge under the watt

t. harak bench for guests to sit on

The distinotion between these two complementary si des of rthe house is clearly apparent, the rna.sculine, right-hand si de with its large bench for si,tting on and the pillar which is mone heing opposed to the feminine, le&-hand side with the ni ainaf and the three hea11th stones with beside rthem the bench on which food is served and the bench for sleeping on. The water vat has its place either in the centre or in the left-hand part, but never in the right-hand side, as water is classified with the eapth, which is associated with the feminine.

Both these parts combine to form a whoIe; together they make up the interior and as such are feta in respect of the exterior (mone) where the hau monef, the masculine sacrificial pole, which of ten ends in three prongs, is located.

Inside and outside are separated by the si'u or "rim", the front verandah with the sea1: for 1:he guests. This constitutes the transition between the two, just as we found a "rim" or periphery between the palace and the quarters of the princedom of Insana. Nonetheless this "rim" is considered to he outside rather than inside. It is here that the guests from outside are welcomed. That is why its masculine nature is more prominent - on rthe analogy of the periphery of the palace of Insana, where 1:he counsellors are called "the old men, the old women".5

The corner posts of the house are called the ni manu (= "chicken posts") as are the eight or four posts around the front verandah. 6 In view of the fact that the ni ainaf and its masculine counterpart form the ceIlJtre, just as the ruler and his masculine counterpart are the cent re of the rea1m, it is very striking that ,these posts should he called ni manu. as this is what the ruler calls his subjects, who are in manu. in kola (= his fowls, his birds). There are four large pillars (hesides a numher of smaller ones) - just as there are four main clans, each headed by au amaf naek, in addi,tion 1:0 a uumber of smaller clans. J ust as a number of sub-sections are colleotively referred to by the symbolie number eight, there are similarly eight small ni manu.7

In addition to his dwelling the Atoni has a la po, which serves as communal house and storage hut.s The lopo clearly symbolizes the four groups surrounding a fifth which is the ferninine centre. For it has four pillars with in the centre the ni ainaf, which is not supported by the ground but rests on the floor of the 10ft, on the analogy of the feminine rul er raised above the four sub-sections of the princedom. So the house and the lopo are for the Atoni - lacking a script as he does - a hook in which the order of his world is recorded. They are the reflection and embodiment of the categories of his thinking.

2. Agriculture

The malm er in which agriculture is fitted into the total sySll:em of life has become sufficiently c1ear in the description of every phase of the cycle of agricultural activities in re1ation to the ritual. The cultural act to which the word "culture" owes its primary meaning, name1y the tilling of the soil (co/ere), is inseparably linked with the other cultural act part excellence, namely the religious cult, in which man, who has leamt to master his natural environment, concedes that he is dependent on the forces of the hidden world to whose benevolence he submits himself, while at the same time he tries to influence thern by means of a ritual that is pure.

This is universally true of all archaic agricultural societies, though the manner in which ~t fiOOs expression here is typically Timorese; it is integrated into the systern of life, or, in other words, the system of life determines the place of the actions relating to both co/ere and the religious cult. Certain structural principles found in the kinship systern and the political system also obtain in the case of agriculture.

In the first place we have here the fundamental indissolubility of the ties between a particular group of kin and a particular territory. One tobe disposes over a particular, well defined territory on behalf of certain umc or lineages.

The second structural principle was the requirernent to reinforce the vital force (smanaf) of the natal umc. In the case of agriculture this involves multiplying the anc nakaf, pena nakaf (= the head of the rice and the head of the oom). The same applies to animal husbandry. which is f1itually connected with agriculture. The aim here is to increase the "number of souis" .

The third structural principle, thart: of reciprocity, here finds expression in the exchange of gifts before marriage. If there already exists an affinal alliance between two ume, the bride-receiving group knows the approxirn.ate size of the bridewealth. This may be expressed in terms of buffalo which, however, usually are or have to be substituted by silver coins or jewellery and coral beads, and of cloths and pigs as counter-gifts.

These are the fundamental categories in which agriculture is placed within the totality of the system of life.

They are realized within the matrices of Timorese symbolism. Numbers, especially the number four, exercise astrong influence on social and politica! structures. The general symbolism of feto-mone is similarly encountered in the division of labour .. 9 But this symbolism does not extend to the crops, although we do find the requirement of silent reserve during the women's work, which is performed strictly indoors, during the ri ce harvest, as opposed to the opetmess and boisterousness of the men's work during the oom harvest.

3. The Kinship System

The fact that the kinship system is closely interwoven with the total system of life and occupies a central position in it, is evident from the analysis of the kinship system.

Here we need only turn back to the question as to the possibility of double unilinearity as a struetural principle. Van Wouden believed that this could be concluded on the basis of a unilineal form of descent and a conneoted system of cross-cousin marriage. Although we did find unilinearity of descent, it was not in a pure form, and although we encoun:tered cross-cousin marriage as weIl, we found that such marriages are not the general practice. I have rejected the hypothesis of a double unilineal system, partly because it does not furnish the key, as a theoretical structural model, to the social reality of the kinship system of the Atoni.

We must now place these data on re1artionships in the kinship system side by side with the data derived from agriculture, the poHtica! system and the tota! system of life.

Four grains of com are planted in one hole. Four residential units (kuan) belong together,lO one kuan originally being inhabited by one ume or lineage, i.e. by the members of one clan (kanat). If the supposition that therefore originally four such residential units must have been inhabited by only four lineages is a plausible one, we may safely assume that the traditional community was made up of four lineages residing in one particular, well defined territory. The factthat the word "kwzrn" is applied both to a residential uni,t inhabited by various lineages and consisting of a number of hamlets, and to a residential unit inhabited by one lineage strengthens this supposition. We should bear in mind, however, that although the word lopo is used with reference to a hamIet as a constituent part of a kuan in part of the Atoni area, it is not found throughout the entire area, as in some pants the lopo as a community house is not known.

In the political community the key names are always those of the four most prom~nent "great faIthers". Every political community is referred to by four names, as, for example, in the ritual following the deaJth of the atupas in Insana 11 - there are similar examples everywhere, righ,t down to the village leve1.12

Within the political community we further find a dichotomy dividing it into a masculine and a feminine half. In Insana and Ambenu 13 these clearly still are the two parts which are united through the centre; but the dichotomy inrto masculine and feminine groups is found everywhere, as, for example, in MoloY In Bikomi, Taitoh and Manlea 15 we find the same dichotomy within re1ative1y independent sub-sections of the political community. And similarly we find a division into a masculine and a feminine ume in two of the four groups which together cOllstitute the viIIages of Sipi and Sekon.16 In the myth, too, as weIl as in the rituaI, four names, four groups, mascuIine and feminine, constantly recur. And rthe same is observa:ble in the house.

If we add tothis the almost universal dichotomy found in the total system of life and the symbolie significanee of the numbers four and eight, a double unilinear system coupled with a circulating connubium is no langer inconceivable, though only as a likely theoretical possibility, as a purely theoretical model. Then almost anything will fit in with it, even though it is not (or no longer) fully realized and is a closed system only from a theoretical point of view. It is not altogether unreasonable to assume that it may at one time have aotually conformed to practical reality. If we make this assumption a historica1 interpretation becomes inevitabie. It may have been the case, and there are some indications which may possibly be interpreted as pointing in that di rection , but there is no conc1usive proof. We should ask ourselves the question, moreover, asto what irt is we are explaining with it - certainly not the kinship system as it functioned in the Atoni area in the pre-colonial period.

Furthermore, the assumption of a double unilineal system coupled with an asymmetric connubium here more or less implies that the indications which we found for this in the agTIcultural and political systems and in the total system of life, as weil as in the rites and in the myths, are the consequence or reflection of relationships as found in the kinship system. This is what Durkheim 17 has suggested. A grand hypothesis, but defiuitely one-sided, as Needham lS shows in the penetrating introduction to his translation of Durkheim's work. This is equally c1ear in respect of the Atoni area.

Why should the division into feminine and masculine, and the principles of bipal'ltition and quadrupartition have derived from a pattern of social grouping or from a double unilineal system which simply does not exist? We have found a different solution, what is more, for the existence side by side of a matrilineal system. in South Belu and a pa:trilineal system in the Atoni area, especially further to the west, by analysing the affinal relationships in the border area, particularly Beboki. There we found a frequent occurrence of permanent uxorilocality of marriage as a result of the custom of not paying a bridewealth, so that the children come to belong to the patrilineage of the wife's father. If marriage remains uxorilocal for many successive generations descent aUJtomatically becomes matrilineal.1Sa lt is not necessary to use the model of a double unilineal system in this case. The essen ti al point in question is more like1y that man has to arrange his world in some sort of pattern so as not to lose his foothold in the surrounding chaos. We may logically assume th<lit in so doing, man is automatically prompted by the elementary realities of his own existence to refer to these when creating order in his world. Man and woman live as husband and wife: life itself is dependent on this form of dual unity. Besides this, he cau see the dualism of heaven and earth, day and night, sun and moon, east and west; when "orientating" himself he sees south and north as right and left respectively. It is man's innate desire to create a certain order, and it is because of this propensi,ty that he is the creator of culture. The next obvious step is to combine certain opposites in a series of pairs. This can assume such excessive proportions that everything is classified in one, all-encompassing dichotomy, as was done by the Chinese.l9 But it may also take place on a more modeSlt scale, as is the case with the Atoni. Here any two things which are complementary or which combine to form a unity are accommodated in one classificatory scheme. In addition the Atoni has other principles by means of which he orders his world, similarly based on the fundamental realities of his existence. These are furnished not only by his historical mode of existence, but alw by the manner in which he provides for himself, that is, agriculture and animal husbandry where the Atoni are concerned.

It is impossible to indicate the primacy of any particular aspect of human existence in a culture, the capacity to think (the human mind) not excluded.

But once the categories have been established, and the frameworks within which human life is lived have been recognized, when a certain order has been created, the words of the ritual (toni ma lasi) have been formulated, the lais meto (the ritual of the people of the dry land) emerges consciously, clear for everyone to see, with in the background the more or less unconscious classificatory principles which COllsti-tute the matrices of man's world. Everything is classified in fixed categories. It is difficult to say to what extent the Atoni is conscious of his system of life, of the order of his symbolism or of the functional relationship between the different aspects of his culture.2o The analogy of a language which is spoken in accordance with fixed grammatical rules of which the speaker is unaware, is only valid in part. The Atoni are very much aware of what is unique and characteristic of their own culture. The Sooth Belunese speak explicitly of the femininity and immobility of their ruler and of the mart:rilineal system which is found only there. Similarly they fully realize that further away to the north and west there is a shift away from this centre of matrilinearity towards an increasingly more distinctly patrilineal sySltem of descent, coupled with a decrease of the ruler's immobility. The degree to which the Atoni is conscious of the categories 3It1d the basic structures of his system of Iife is very much dependent on the personality of the individual. In Beboki, for instanee, I had many a long conversation about these matters with Sikone Alumas, an old man who had done agreat deal of thinking about his own culture, whereas the average person knew much less about it. Knowledge of the /ais meto is not strictly esoterie, but is nonetheless restricted to a number of people whose function makes such knowledge prerequisite. The general lack of such knowledge can perhaps be attributed to the great changes which are taking place: the old frameworks have to a large degree become devoid of their original meaning and significance, leaving man hewildered and confounded.

4. The Political System

We have found abundant evidenee for the significanee of classificatory thinking for the political system. The whole of the political life is ordered in accordance with the fixed matrix of the classificatory system. For instance, the seven or eight lineages which live in SipiSekon, are reduced to four, with a fifth one making up the centre.21 The same pattern is found in an even more pronounced form in the political system of Insana. The muItiplicity of clans and names here is always arranged in sets of four. And so all of the C<lJtegories of the system of life are brought to bear on the organization of the politicallife.

Now that we have acquainted ourselves with the system of life and come to see it as a totality, it remains for us to make one further observation concerning the position and function of the ruler in this totality. He constitutes the centre of the system of life. Here we should think in the first place of Liurai-Sonba'i as they are mentioned in the ritual of Insana.

This mIer - or possibly this pair of rulers - also forms the centre of agriculture. Sonba'i is the giver of the agricultural crops. LiuraiSonba'i are alternative names for the two chief crops, com and rice. The mIer is the lord of the rice and com (tuan pena ane). That is why harvest gifts have to he presented to him - if this were omitted, the crop might fail. There is a close connection hetween the ruler (especially Sonba'i) - who is regarded as the son of heaven - and rain. When we recall the uncertainty and irregularity of the rainfall in Timor,22 the significance of the rul er hecomes even more obvious. We might even ask whether there is perhaps some correspondence between the unpredictability of the weather and the capriciousness, arbitrariness and despotism of the ruler, particularly Sonba'i, and his subjects' acceptance of this. Heaven (neno) sends down floods and droughts in sueh an unpredictable, unreliable way that the harvest, and henee man's livelihood, are most precarious matters again and again. So the harvest gifts have to he presented to the ruler, as "if Liurai-Sooba'i should eat with anxiety, drink with anxiety, he would surely he angry with us and - furious with US".22' In the myths, too, he regularly recurs as a tyrannical and despotic ruler. And even as late as 1940 Timorese rulers could he capricious and mueh dreaded in the practical administration, as, for example, Pae N ope of Amanuban (see photograph ).

Similarly the ruler is the sodal centre of the community. LiuraiSonba'i is "the holy mother, the holy father" of his people.23 He occupies an intermediate position between the living and the deceased. He is the central, connecting link between the eommunity of the living and the world of the ancestors.

From a political viewpoint he is the centripetal force in the "iIlavel of the realm". For this reason he is the lord of his realm (paha in toon).

Religiously speaking he is the sacral centre. He is the custodian of the sacred objects of the realm, he is the son of heaven, or "the son of the moon, the son of the sun".24 That is why he is l~u (sacred) and is referred to as the son of the Koko and Nai Bate, the mythical l~u animals whieb represent all that is sacred and dreaded in heaven and on earth. Liurai and Sonba'i are both associated with the python,25 and the ruler of Kupang and Us Senak of Bikomi with the crocodile,26 that is, with the earth and the night. But on the other hand, he is the son of the moon and the sun, and in Beboki, for in stance, lives in the Neno Beboki (= heaven of Beboki). He is everywhere the son of heaven. Here we see the polarity of the two opposed concepts of heaven and earth united in the one person, sueb as we have already frequently encountered in the system of symbols of the classificatory system. The

Sonba'i myth 27 conceming the man who, as a filthy Atoni, asked the daughters of Kune for water and became as radiant as light itself when he had poured wa:ter all over himself should he interpreted in this light. A similar myth was recorded by Cul1itlingham in Insana.28 According to it the daughter of the ruling Afen-pah refused 11:0 give the atupas, who had come from abroad unaccompanied, water. So then he picked a leaf off a plant and wiped away the charcoal, upon which his face became bright. This is the symbolism of the atupaS association with earth and heaven, night and day. He represents both as the cosmie dual unity. That is why he is called cnna-ama (mother and father). This terms does not denote a bisexual nature, but is applied to him because he represents the two aspects of the community, namely the masculine and the feminine aspects. He is feta but does not lack a mone aspect. Towards the west his masculine aspect is the predominant one, coinciding with a decrease in the importance of the function of his masculine counterpart. But towards the east too, he has a mon,~ side, because he constitutes the foundation for his masculine counterpart, the kolnel, who realizes that which is implicit in the feto~ness of the ruler. He represents the totality of heaven and earth, and likewise that of the ancestors, both female and male.29 This combination of male and female aspects is further brought out by the myth in which Sonba'i's sister was slain and the culture crops sprouted forth from her limbs. And the motif of night and day, dark and light, further recurs in Sonba'i's relationship to his wives - they are "his darkness". They beloog with the night and are therefore forbidden to leave the house by day.30

In the total system of life he is located not only in the "navel of the realm", but in the very centre of the world in which the Atoni lives. He is k'u by virtue of his position on the periphery between this visible world and the hidden world. He is the ritual mediator between his people and the forces of the hidden world. It is because of this that he disposes over the awe-inspiring power of imprecation - sukat ma le'at, both words of this expression meaning "curse". Sukat is always used ooly in this connection, while le'at mayalso he used in parallelism with tunan, in which case it then denotes a bond, an alliance with the ancestors entered into hefore undertaking a headhunting raid.31

One might he tempted to caU this "religious power" as opposed to political power, as Needham 32 does in his excellent study of complementary dualism among the Meru in East Africa; or spiritual authority as opposed 1:0 temporal power, a distinction which Coomeraswamy 33 makes. As far as the Atoni are concerned, however, there is no point in making such a distinction - it lies beyond the horizons of his categories. The power of imprecation is such a palpable and immediately tangible reality for tbe Atoni, that he is unable to distinguish between it and political power.

For instance, one of the wives of Tua Sonba'i (who was still raja of Molo in 1947) once disobeyed the mie prohibi1ting women from going outside in broad daylight and went out to relieve herself. When Sonba'i saw her he called down a curse upon her so that she became ill. Some time later Sonba'i approached her house saying, "There is an odour of corpses here". She died shortly afterwards.34

It is this same power of imprecation which may bring about a victory in war. Victory over the enemy is not primarily the result of the use of arms, but also of the potency of the imprecation cOllitained in the war formula. In addition to this potency, there is that of the le'u musu which is held in safekeeping by the ruler; his le'u ~s the strongest of all, and so is his le'u nono which confers fertility. As weU as being le'u, in the sense of "holy", and tnaputa (hot), in the sense of dangerous, he brings about weU-heing and coolness (tnainikin). A good harvest is to he expected through his mediation, and the welfare of the community is dependent on him.

As the ritual rul er he is the ana' plenat (= he in whom authority and power are vested); he is not only the centre, the pivot around which all else revolves and which is itself immobile, but also the mediator on whom the community is dependent for its weal and woe.

B. UNITY AND ADAPTABILITY

Now that we have come to see the political system as a "polis", or "une cité antique" - in the sense of an all-embracing system of life with which the Atoni is confronted daily as a tangible reality in the design of his house and his village lopo, and which finds expression in the agricultural and kinship systems as weIl as in the political system itself - the question must be asked to what extent and in what way this system is a unity which embraces all aspects of life and may therefore rightly be termed a system of life. The ne..xt question, name1y that concerning the degree of flexibility of this system and its capacity for adapting itself to change, is c10sely bound up with the first.

The question as to the unity of the system may be approached in four different ways. In the first place we may inquire into the functional unity.

1. Functional Unity

This we find in every culture, though it is perhaps more easily discernible in archaic cultures.

The economie life, the kinship system, the political system and religion here areinextricable bound up with one another. This has become c1ear from the above. On the one hand, agriculture is the indispensable sub-stratum for the political system, as without an agricultural surplus the payment of tribute gifts would be impossible. That is not to say that the political system will eollapse if for some years there is no surplus - on the contrary, in cases of erop failure the political centre is more indispensable than ever, because it is the religious, ritual centre as weIl. Agrieulture, the kinship system and the politica1 system are finnly rooted in the re1igion. On the other hand, agriculture and animal husbandry exercise astrong influence on the fonn of the religion and on that of the political system. Not only are the kinds of sacrifices determined by it, but they influenee the Atoni's religion to such an extent that it ean partia1ly be tenned an agricultural religion, in whieh heaven and earth are deified and offered sacrifiees in order that the earth may be fertile. However, this is not so pronounced that th ere is question of an identification of the earth with a mother goddess. There is certainly a tendeney towards this, but the conclusions of this have, as it were, not quite been drawn. Although the earth is regarded primarily as feminine, the notion of a sacred marriage between heaven and earth is definitely not a widespread one, and people always speak ofthe Lord of the earth.

The Atoni's religion is therefore more than a mere agricultural cult. lts central aim is the preservation of the established cosmic order and the attainment of well-being or mainikin. The Atoni might weil give a similar definition of it to that once given to Onvlee by aSurnbanese: "coolness" rneans "that the rice may wax and the corn may thrive (here too the agl'icultural crops take first place), thélJt the hens may lay and the sow drop young, that there may he food in abundanee and wealth beyond measure, that the cock's spurs may grow long and the pig's teeth grow crooked (this is a sign of advaneed age), that rny name rnay becorne famous and rny fame rnay spread".35

The kinship systern, too, is of fundamental irnportance for the politica1 system. The political system is to a large degree a repetition of thc kinship systern. Political re1ations are for the greater part expressed in terms used prirnarily in the kinship system; people are aware of the distinction between thetwo kinds of relationships thereby referred to, however. Just as an ume has an amaf at ilis head, so a clan sirnilarly has an amaf, though the latter has greater authority; and a sub-territory of the realrn is headed by an amaf naek. The latter is the head of the most prominent clan in that sub-territory; he is at the same time tobe ooek, and in this capacity district head. But this is as far as repetition of the pattern of the smallest kinship unit goes in large politica1 units. For the unity of the total politica1 community does not find expression in the person of an amaf naek placed at the head of the trihe as a whoIe, but in that of the "son of heaven".

Conversely, the politica1 hierarehy deterrnines all social stratification, all re1ationships of subordination and superordination, notwithstanding the fact that these again are expressed in kinship terrns, name1y "older brother" and "younger brother".

Rence the Atoni's economie, social and politica1life are closely interwoven and aceompanied in every phase and situation by a re1igious ritual in which the myths also have their function.

2. Unity of the Structural Principles

The question as to the unity can he approached in the second place by taking the structural principles as our point of departure. The outcome of our investigation of these was that there was a large measure of unity in the prineiples which give shape to the Atoni's ehanging structures of life. Suffiee it here to refer the reader to the forrnulation of these principles at the end of the chapter on the kinship systern 36 and in the summary of the political system. 37 1 should like onee more to stress, however, that we are dealing here with principles whieh are to some extent mutually eontradictory and eonflieting. This empirical fact is of the greatest significance for the possibilities of adaptability of the system.

We diseovered furthermore that a large number of structures have their roots in the myths, using the word "myth" in its general sense as defined by Locher,38 where he says that myths are "the representation by means of language of events which human beings eonsider as absolutely essential for their existence and as giving meaning simultaneously to the present, the past and the future". These myths, moreover, are inviolable and sacred.

Myths in this sense of the word form the basis for agrieulture. Here the eight agrieultural crops are said ta have sprauted forth from the lim'bs af Sanba'i's sister, and the buffalo is believed to have been a present to mankind from the crocodile, the lord of the waters.

Similarly, eaeh clan has its own myths af origin with which the myth of the origin of its totem animal or plant is connected. And eaeh political community finds the basis for its existence in the myth of both its own origin and that of its ruling head.

The myths are therefore themselves among the most important structural principles by means of which the various aspects of the society as a whale combine to form a homogeneous religious unity, the ritual ruler as the son of heaven being the palpable symbol and the centre of this. They do not form a closed, integrated whole any more than the other structural principles. On the contrary, every prineedom and every clan has its own myth of origin in which its rivalry with other princedoms and clans is expressed just as much as their mutual solidarity. Moreover, as we have seen, myths can he adapted to suit the requirements of a ehanging political situation.

3. Classificatory Unity

The third approach to the question of the extent to which we can speak of a unity, of an interconnectedness of all aspects of life, is that fumished by the Atoni's classificatory thinking.

The study af this has demonstrated clearly that here lies the key to an appreciatioll of the culture of the Atoni as a system of life in the way in which he himself views it. It provides him with the categories by means of which he orders his world.

The c1assificatory categories are difficuIt to distinguish from the structuraI principIes. The distinction is this, that for the Atoni himself the structural principIes are not quite as easiIy discernibIe as these categories. The structuraI principIes are formuIated by the scientific observer, who records the results of his structural analysis with the aid of these. These, of course, he derives - if he sets to work correctly - from his own observations and his personal perspective on the peopIe of the culture he is studying. But the Atoni, although he is more or Iess conscious of these principIes, does not express them expIicitly in the same way that we as outside observers do this, but expresses them in terms of the categories of his own system of symbols. Where we would observe that there is a certain propensity for hierarchica1 c1assification, the Atoni will make us of his olif-tataf categories to express the same idea, and thereby indicate the fixed position of every person in the social and politica1 hierarchy. Where we might start:e that there is a certain cohesive force which favours synthesis, the Atoni wiII resort to his symbolism of numbers, to express totaIity by taIking of f01lr groups (four representing totaiity) or about "the five tribes, the nine tribes", as in Ambenu; 39 or about "the ten Iying-pIaces, the ten roots", with afather and a mother, as in Beboki and Fiaiaran.40 But the essential point in question is always that there is athird in the middIe, which is equivalent to a fifth in the centre. This is the ruler, whose pIace is in the navel of the reaIm. The idea is similar to that expressed by Hegel. But whereas Hegel does so in terms of the categories of thesis, antithesis and synthesis, the Atoni uses the symbolism of numbers. His methocl is equalIy valid. It goes without saying that there is aIso a profound difference, for whiIe the Atoni's conception of the synthesis which acts as a binding force in respect of the compIementary poIes is a static one - the centre being immobiIe - Hegel's synthesis is no more than a phase in an eschatoIogica1 progression. This is his Judaic-Christian heritage.41

4. The Structural Model

Now, by recapitulating tbe functional unity, tbe unity of the structural principles and tbat of tbe cIassificatory system by means of which the Atoni himself orders his world, we may arrive at a structural model.

The fundamental principle of the cIassificatory system of the Atoni as apparent in the categories, or matrices of thought, was seen to be an a11-pervasive dualistic principle, which exerted its influence in the cosmology, in the political and social relations, in the economie life and in tbe religion.

The all-important dualism in the cosmology is that of heaven and earth, of sunrise (associated with the masculine and witb life) and sunset (associated with tbe feminine and death). Furthermore, tbe south is classified wÏJth the sunrise or the east, together forming two masculine parts; and tbe north is cIassified with tbe sunset or tbe west, thus combining to form two feminine parts.

The same double dichotomy is encountered in the political system, a princedom consisting of two double halves which not only are associated with the four cardinal points, but are in fact locaIized due east, south, west and north respectively of the centre. The two halves stand in the relationship of masculine and feminine to one another, or in other words, they are as two opposed poles which are nonetbeless complementary, the one being unable to exist without the other.

This brings us to the structural principle of reciprocity, which is responsible for solidarity and integration. 1t is, however, two-sided, and can only realize itself in this polarity. It exercises its influence in every relationship, each half in turn consisting of a masculine and a feminine half, and the relationship between princedoms and between the parts of princedoms intemally - namely the clans and the descent groups - a1ways being one between a masculine, bride-giving group and a feminine, bride-receiving group. The latter in turn is masculine in respect of groups which receive brides from it. In accordance with this principle of reciprocity every marriage is accompanied by an elaborate exchange of gifts and counter-gifts, which is not restricted to the marriage ceremony, but goes on right up to the death of one of tbe two partners. J ust as tbere is no life possible without the partnership of man and woman, the existenee of the polity is impossible without the partnership of the two halves of the princedom.

Now, tbe masculine half is a1ways superior, just as in marriage tbe husband is the superior of the two. But on the other hand, the wife is the source of life, and without her there is no life possible. Similarly, although the tendency towards a hierarchial order is present in the politica1 system, this is offset by the fact that the mIer is classified as feminine.

So we arrive at the conclusion that within this same general dualism there is the structural principle of reciprocity and that of rivalry and of hierarchy. For instance, the two halves of the princedom stand in the re1ationship of younger and e1der brother to one another. The fact that there is no word for brother as such in the Timorese langua.ge brings out most aptly the strength of this tendency towards rivalry. The distinction between younger and elder indicates the re1ative diffenmce in the order of precedence between the halves and the subterritories of the princedom, between the different clans, and between the descent groups, and even between princedoms mutually, in accordance with a fixed order which is laid down in the myths.

Here again we have a two-sided principle. This way an all-embracing hierarchical order results, and oontinuity is ensured. But at the same time there is the constant striving of the younger to assert himse1f as elder brother in respect of those who are in turn his juniors, without the slightest regard for his e1der "brothers". This eau only lead to scission, the "brothers", or in other words, rthe princedoms, subterritories of princedoms, clans or descent groups then ooming into conflict with one another. Then the e1der is no longer recognized as the superior party, and the younger seeks to become independent. This may lead to war, and such wars may sha'Her entire princedoms or even cause the total disappearance of whole clans.

The internal unity of bath these principles of reciprocity and rivalry, each of which is itse1f in :turn two-sided, finds expression in the headhunting ritual, in which the "heat" of war (the word "heat" in Timorese indicating at the same time all that is dangerous and sacred), the culmination of rivalry, is necessary to make the land "cool",the latter word meaning "well-being", "shalom", which is the essence of reciprocity. This is a reversal of the usual order, an internal polarity which is symbolized by classifying the warriors or "masculine men" with the west, which is cIassified with femininity and death. So the attacking warriors are called "feminine" warriors. Furthermore, the skulls - the harvest of war and death - are ga:rthered into the shrine for die Lord of Heaven with the aid of a harvesting-hook which is also used for harvesting rice and oom. And harvest is identical with life.

This brings us ai the same time to dualism in the religion. Here the Lord of Heaven is the God of Life; he provides for rain and the growth of the crops. But <IIt the same time, life springs from death. Similarly, the Lord of Heaven is opposed to the Lord of the Earth, which is the source of fertility, but also the domain of death. A large number of spi rits emanate from the Lord of Heaven, while the Lo1-d of the Earth is also himself a plurality of farces, being allocated a place on every plot of land brought under cultivation, henee a large number of times. The symbol is such a palpable one that ihere is question here of an identification of the altar stone instalied for him with the Lord of the Earth himself. The prevailing multiplicity is redueed to a definite form in the polar dualism of the Lord of Heaven and the Lord of the Earth. This is only one step removed from the polarity between a maseuline sky and a feminine earth, or a heavenly god united in marriage with an earth goddess, as found in Belu and Sumba.41a

So we see that the unity of the cosmos embraees all systems of life. However, it is not an absolute cosmic order or a perfectly il1ltegrated society. Besides the principle of reciprocity, which is the basis for the complementary unity in the magnetic field between the masculine and the feminine pole, and between the two pol es of superordination and subordinaiion, there is the principle of rivalry, which is the basis for the hierarchical order in the polar tension of confliets which may bring about death and destruction.

This ever-present tendency to take as point of departure two halves, or two principles expressed in tern1:S of the most elementary realities of human existence, namely those of heaven and earth, feminine and masculine, younger and older, implies ,that this dualism is nonetheless viewed as a dual unity - since two halves belong together. Three-fold division is a development which is implicit in this principle of dual divison. Lévi-Strauss has pointed to this in a comparative analysis of several cultures.42 The dual unity ean find expression in the figure of the ritual rul er, who lives in the centre. Henee rthe ruler is not only the synthesis or the unifying force of the politica! community, but also the immobile pivot around whieh the whole of life revolves. He is the cosmie centre.

5. Adaptability of the System

The principle of reciprocity was discovered and developed by Durk41_ Cf. note Il, p. 153 above.

heim, Mauss and Lévi-Strauss. It is taken by Lévi-Strauss as his point of departure in his great work Les structures élémentaires de la parenté. His cOl1clusiOll is that "the theory of reciprocity ... continu es to stand, as soundly based as the gravity theory in astronomy".43 Although this is true, it is only half a truth since, as we have discovered, the principle of riv-alry is inex:trieably bound up with it. Reciprocity and rivalry are directed, as opposed principles, to equality, cooperation and harmony on the one hand, and inequality, competition and conflict on the other. They are the eausative factors in the dynamism of a culture, or in the possibility of change.

In principle the Atoni sees his own culture as a static one. It was given to man in primeval times, aru:l it is only fit and proper that it should remain constantly the same now and for ever, from primordial times until all ages to come.

The Atoni lacks historica! perspective, i.e. past events by which changes ean be discemed. For this reason it is impossible to write a history of the Atoni from his own perspective. All traditions are drawn into the OI1e plane. Sonba'i's mythica! ancestor, who came from the land of the rising sun, is in a sense one and the same person as the Sonba'i who in 1947 was raja of Molo, although a slight distinction is still made here. But in Timorese accounts of the battle between the younger and elder brother as a result of which Fatule'u probably came into being in approximately 1800 there is virtually no distinctioo at all. And Sonba'i's identifieation with his mythieal ancestor is complete in stories of the ex:ploits of Sonba'i. It is perhaps to be attributed to this that genealogica! trees of the house of Sonba'i 44 have less depth than those of other heads, which go back seven to ten generations. Where clan heads are concerned the objective of the myth is to distinguish their lineage from other lineages of the same clan and to point out links in the genealogical tree which are of social relevance as regards side lineages. Where the ruler is coocerned the objective is simply to demonstrate his legitimacy - it is proven if his father, grandfather and great-grandfather were rulers before him.

But as we saw above, change is possible on the basis of the mutually contradictory tendencies of the structural principles. On the one hand we found the aim to expand the natal community, an urge for expansion, with besides the principle of inequality, ex:pressed in the terms "older urother" and "younger brother", and the superiority of the bride-giving mne. These principles can lead to scission. On the other hand there is the principle of reciprocity, the search for balance, which is also vel)' ~trong. Hence there is also a tendency towards unity and connected with it a desire to establish and rnaintain affinal relations with as many groups as possible.

The ruler is the unifying force, but the urge for superiority on the part of the constituent sub-sections is sometimes so strong that unity breaks down. One of the decisive factors may be, in some cases, the personality and age of the ruler; a weak or vel)' young ruler will hardly be able (or not be able at all) to maintain unity. Such changes do nothing to affect the system, however, tbis dynamism being inherent in the system itself, because the tendencies towards integration and disintegration are structurally inherent. Fusion may take place as well as scission, and a powerful, more mature rul er rnay be able to reestablish unity, for people realize the necessity for this. Amanuban offers the best example of this.45

There are, in addition, the processes of cultural change. They are dosely bound up with the above, though easily distinguishable from them. The dynamism of change is the point in question here. What we should investigate in the first place in this respect is the degree to which the traditional system of life has sufficient flexibility to absorb changes by giving the new a place in the existing system.

6. Synthesis of the aId and the New in Noimuti

An excellent example of this capacity for incorporating the new into the existing strueture and classifying it in the established order is fumished by Noimuti.

Af ter the realm of Liurai-Sonba'i was destroyed in 1642 and Sonba'j fled, the Topasses settled in Noimuti, approxirnately 20 km. to the south of the centre of the realm of Sonba'i and at an equal di stance from the border of Waiwiku-Wehale. Lifau, on the north coast of Ambenu, remained their port, but Noimuti became their inland stronghold and the centre of their dominion.

The Dominican missionaries had built a church here, as in most places in which a ruling prince had his residence. (After the downfall of Wehale they had 22 churches.46) Tt is evident from Van Pluskow's repeated attacks in 1760 that Noimuti must have been an important and weU fortified town. His first attack failed, and a!though the second ended in defeat for the Topasses Noimuti did not yield. The power of the Topasses had been dealt its deathblow, however.41 The Dominican Mission had also declined completely since the time of the uprisings O'f around 1720.48 TO'wards the end O'f the century, though possibly long before that, there were no priests left in NO'imuti.49

N ow the myth of origin andthe legends of N oimuti, recorded in 1946, show nO't only how these historical events had been assigned a place in the myth, but also hO'w far-reaching changes in ,the rites and structure had been incorporated in the Timorese system of life.

The gre 50 or church, the sacred ritual centre, was in the navel of the realm. The harvest gifts (maus suja 51) were brought to the church each year by the four tobe: Tnone -Metkono, Bani-Laöt. Apart from these harvest gifts offered by the people of Noimuti, all miers in the neighhouring districts regularly sent wax for can<l1es for the church. This was still being done af ter the introduction of colonial rule this present century. Formerly they undoubtedly had to pay a great deal more tribute, especially sandalwood. The gifts of homage were accepted in the church by its four guardians: Meol-Laklus, Meol-Salem, corruptions of the Portuguese names Melo, Salem, La Cmz.

The ruler, Da Costa, occupied a place next to the church, analogous tO' that of the masculine counterpart of the ritual mier in the other Timorese princedorns. He was represented internally in his realm by the heads O'f the two districts of Noinakan (= upper reaches O'f the river) , governed by KO'sat 52 - Anin, and Noilhain (= lower reaches O'f the river), governed by Salem.53 The title of the district heads was sersjintomor. 54 Each district had nine village heads, each with the title of Mestre Campo or Mestre Posto. Each village was in turn divided il1ito four wards with a kabu 55 at their head.

Considering that the settlement in question was established by the Topasses in an area which had never before been the centre of a Timorese politica1 community, and that it was, therefore, a construction dating back to af ter 1642, it is surprising to see how faithfully the Timorese model was copied.

1t is obvious from its position in the plain - where normally the Atoni was not accustomed to live - and its construction that Noimuti is the creation of the Topasses. 1t was a large kota, or fortified, walled town in which each lineage had its ume mnasi (= old house). The town Noimuti was a reflection of the territory of Noimuti as a whoIe, being divided into two halves, each with nine times four quarters partly made up of straight streets. Here all important events took place. This was where the church was located and where Da Costa lived. Here the people were able to withdraw in times of war.

DIAGRAM No. 20

The princedom of Noimuti na Costa ppstrearn dowllstream

Everything is new: the politica1 community itself, the religion and the ruler, but it has all been fitted into the existing categories of Timorese thinking. The most noteworthy point in this structure is that the atupas, the ritual ruler, is replaced by the church, which was equated with the palace to which the tribute gifts were brought and with the tola naek or great altar at which rites were perfonned and sacrifices offered to Vis N eno (the missionaries had adopted this name with reference to God). The ritual was different - different words were used in a different language, namely the Latin of the church. The altar was situated in the church and on it burned candles made of wax brought in homage.

The powder-house was situated next to the church, in the same way that norma1ly the ume le'u in which the Ze'u musu was kept was adjacent to the sonaf. A le'u musu was no longer used, but the practice of offering sacrifices before going to war was still upheld - this was now done in the church (le'u naek) - and the stakes withthe enemy heads impaled on them were placed outside the powder-house. N o-one was able to tell whether this was done during the time when Dominican Missionaries were still in Noimuti. But this is not unlikely, since even as late as 1730 the Opperhoofd of Kupang went to Sonba'i's palace, some miles outsidethe town, accompanied by the members of his Council, "to attend their feast in honour of the heads taken among the enemy in one year". They stayed there until 10 p.m .. The entry in the same journal for the next day is: "The church service was conducted on Sunday as usual."56 The difference between the approach of the Dutch and that of the Dominicans is that the fonner used the categories of "Christians" and "heathens" wi:th which to label their own culture and that of the Timorese respectively, whereas the Dominicans tried to Ülristianize the Timorese culture. It is not clear here to what degree they consciously made use of the categories of the Timorese culture, or to what extent they unconsciously allowed the Atoni to influence them with their culture. The traditional dual unity of the immobile, commanding authority and the active, executive authority developed into a clear-cut dichotomy. The guardians of the church belonged to the centre - they are equivalent to the "guardians of the rea1m" of Insana.57 The religion is new, hence the names are Portuguese: Melo, Salem and La Cruz. There are only three names, but as in accordance with the Timorese pattern there should he four, one is repeated, as follows: Meol-Laklus, Meol-Salem. There are also sersjintomor, who were commanders-in-chief and district heads. They have replaced the usif. Only three were named, because there was no agreement as to who the fourth was. Sonba'i, like Amanuban, had two usif, while Insana and Beboki each had four. In all probability it was chiefly Ambenu which served as model here.68 There, too, two-fold division is the more pronounced, with a c1ear-cut boundary running from north to south and an eastern half whichis tataf (= e1der). In Noimuti the categories "east" and "west" are not used, as the west is inhabited by the more important haJf. Different categories are used to denote the same thing, however, namely those of up-stream, which is superior, and downstream. Where in Ambenu we find the area of the "five tribal lords" and of the "nine tribal lords", in Noimuti this number is twice nine. The number of tobe, too, is an artificial creation. There are in every case a large number of these, with four tobe naek at their head, these being at the same time amaf naek. Noimuti is a newly settled area with a population which consists mainly of immigrants. For this reason tobe had to be appointed. But their number is stated to be four, as this is the appropriate number. According to the myth they came from Malacca, except for Nai Laöt, who is said to have come from Amanuban. The name Metkono probably points to some relationship with Kono of Miomafo. And Bani is identical with Kisnai, the "original" inhabitam of the land. According to his myth of origin he was on the Mutis together with Kune during the deluge. 59 He gave Kune a bride, Aunono 60 Kisnai. Af ter the deluge he resolved to go and live in the "navel" of the reaIm and hence went to Noimuti. There all the rulers from the land of the rising sun once came to visit him; these were Sonba'i, Kono-Oematan, Atok-Bana, Lake-Senak,61 who were all assigned their places. Thereupon Kisnai sem a token of his presence to Sonba'i, who subsequently asked him whether he wanted any subjects. Kisnai's reply was in the affirmative, whereupon Tnone-Metkono, BaniLaöt came.

As was pointed out above, Kisnai and Bani are identical, and Bani is sometimes referred to by Kisnai's second name, Ninu. Nai Ninu is therefore Pah Tuaf. He is the most prominent head af ter Salem. Da Costa has more or less faded into the background since Portugal ceded Noimuti to the Netherlands in 1916,62 as his ties with Portugal were too strong. Nonetheless Da Costa.'s history has been integrated completely into the Atoni's mythica.l sphere, as is apparent from the foIIowing myth.

In primeval times there were four brothers, Kosat-Omai,63 LiuraiSonba'i. They came from the land of the rising sun. Af ter a joumey which took them through a number of different places, Kosat-Omai arrived in Lifao and became the rul ers of the realm. They were folIowed by other groups. The fom clans of Bikomi landed near Oinun 64 on the coast of Malacca and encountered Kosat-Omai on their westward joumey. These gave them land, and they settIed in Bikomi. But KosatOmai themselves settled in Noimuti. Later the Portuguese arrived. They too were welcomed by Kosat-Omai, who entered into an alliance with the Portuguese, whom they ca.lled kaes metan, soib metan 65 (= the black strangers, the black hats). Af ter them came the kaes muti, soib muti (= the white strangers, the white hats, i.e. the Duteh) with whom they lived on hostiIe terms.

There also was a war onee against the Sultan of Temate, who marched on the mIers of Timor with his prople - Djabas-Bidjoki, Bugis-MakasaI.66 Where they came ashore is no longer known, bUIt in any case they engaged in battle with Amanubanand Kono-Oematan. The latter asked Kosat-Ornai for help. Mateus da Costa marched against the enemy but was killed near Adjao Feti, not far from Tjamplong. Kono-Oematan onee more asked for help. Now Gaspar da Costa. marched into battle, but he too was kiIIed, in Molo. The enemy was dangerously near now, and so Franciscus da Costa marehed on him with all remaining able-bodied men. He drove the enemy away and defea:ted him in the neighbourhood of Kupang.

Now Kono-Oematan had to pay for the aid received. They had to pay compensation for the two usif killed in battle. Kono-Oematan offered two brides adomed with strings of caral beads and other omaments. But Da Costa refused ,this offer - it was insufficient payment for two sueh great usif. Then Us Kono brought some soil to Oesono, i.e. where the sonaf was located in Lifao. This was accepted by Da Costa. Now 'that the soil had been accepted Franciscus da Costa gave Kalan Kono a sceptre named Fiardo 61 - henee Kono's name from then on was Fiardo Kono. A spear and a rifle were presented to Oematan, furthermore. Thenceforth Kono-Oematan brought sandalwood to N olmuti every year.

This story, a mixture of myth and legend, is authenticaIly Timorese. It teIIs of four original rul ers who came from the east. Liurai-Sonba'i were among these, as in Ambenu éIII1d Amfoan, the only difference being that Kosat-Ornai here are the more important, as they are mentioned first, for af ter all they drove out Liurai-Sonba'i.

The De Hornay clan has died out. This riyal of the Da Costas is not mentioned again in the rest of the story - but he is indispensable in the four-fold division. 1t is impossible to reconstruct the historical background of this story. The war against the Sultan of TernaJte more than likely refers to the invasion of the Kraeng of Tolo in 1640.68 This tradition is still alive in Amanatun as weIl, where mention is made of the pen-pena Makasal, lub-luba Makasal (= the flags and banners of Macassar).69 The faat that Ternate is mentioned here may he explained by the extremely important position which the sultanate of Ternate occupied for many centuries in the East 1ndies.70

Why the Dutch were called white and the Portuguese black strangers ean only he eXplained in the light of the Atoni's classificatory system. Da Costa caUed the Portuguese "the black strangers" and the Dutch "the white strangers", but the Atoni refers to the Portuguese as he became acquainted with them in the past with kaes m.etan - except for a handful of missionaries these were almost invariably Topasses, i.e. Portuguese of mixed descent. Their skin colour was generally lighter than that of the Atoni, but definitely darker than that of the Dutch. Among the latler there were relatively few persons of mixed blood, and even then their colouring was lighter because their parentage was Dutch with an admixture of Balinese or J avanese or some other light skinned 1ndonesian race. The Topasses, on the other hand, were the offspring of Portuguese who had inter-married with the darker skinned people of Solor, East Flores and Timor. 1t is not surprising thaJt once he has established this difference in pigmentation the Atoni should classify the two groups in his categories of muti-metan (= white and black). The colouring of the Topasses may have undergone some slight influence from inter-marriage with negro slaves, moreover. This is probably negligible, as ,there was question of Portuguese dominion in western Timor for only a few decades, namely between 1702 and 1769, and even then they had no power or authority worth mentioning.71 Nor is it likely that the Topasses themselves ever bought negro slaves, as it was much cheaper for them to capture Timorese slaves. The fact that De Hornay had two "blackamoors" (negroes from Mozambique) with him in the battle of Penfui 72 is given special mention in the journals, and this must have been a rarity, therefore. Portugal did not begin to govern Oikusi effectively until af ter 1911. It was only then that negro soldiers first came to the area. The Timorese distinction between Aflika (= African) and kaes metan probably dates back to this period.73

Both the structure and the myths furnish a splendid example of how the culture of the Atoni is capable of incorporating and absorbing foreign elements. Even the Christian liturgy which has replaced the ancienrt ritual has been assigned aplace. That is not to say that Christianity here developed into heathenism. Christianity was accepted by the propIe, and when in 1910 N oimuti became N etherJands East lndies territory there were 110 adult Christians and 57 children who had been christened.74 Even non-Christians were stiJl in the habit of bringing their tribute to the church. Hencethe people must have feit an affinity with this gre, the Christian ritual centre; an integration of the old and the new had taken place which had left remarkably much of the old intact.

The significance of this for the Roman Catholic Mission was that it met with a culture here which was prepared to listen to what the missionary had to say.

7. Conflict and Disruption in Amanuban

While it was possible for a new centre of Timorese culture to come into being in N oimuti af ter Wehale was conquered and Sonba'i fled, we have in Amanuban a classic example of the way in which a Colonial Government official was able to cause a complete break-down of the traditional structures as a result of understanding them only in part; the consequence of this was a suicidal reheIlion on the part of the ruler simply because he and his people were not capabIe of thinking in terms of any other categories than those of their own culture.

Af ter 1905 Dutch colonial rule was introouced into Timor by force of arms, in accordance with special instructions to the Resident from the Government in Buitenzorg.75 In that same year Kauniki, Sonba'i's seat high up in the mountains, was conquered. The next year Amanuban folIowed, as weIl as the "large princedoms on the south wast never before visited by us", namely Amanatun, Anas and Wehale-Waiwiku.

The aged ruler of Amanuban, Hau Sufa Le'u 76 was resident in Niki-niki. He paid homage to the "Kompani" and was grateful to it for restoring his power.77 He had once been a feared and respected ruler but his authority had weakened as a result of old age and ilIness. Now the heads were forced to acknowledge him once more. Out of gratitude he offered the services of his 11UJ,fefa (mouthpiece) as interpreter on a military expedition against Amanatun, married off his brother's daughter to a sergeant and even had a house built for the latter in Niki-niki.

The rul er thereby established an affinal relationship with the foreign power and became superordinate in respect of its representatives by virtue of the fact that he was their bride-giver. The sergeant had not paid bridewea1th and so it was normal for him to live uxorilocally. These were probably the ruler's considerations, which neither the sergeant nor his superiors understood.

Lieutenant C. G. Hoff was posted to Niki-niki as civil administrator. He spoke Timorese and by intuition understood the structure of a Timorese princedom weIl enough to he able to undermine it completeIy.

In the first place he dismissed about a hundred of the "courtiers", including even the lineages with functions in the S01Wf. Only a handful of people were left. He ended up by forbidding the mafefa to en/ter the s01Wf.

Secondly, he himself married one of Niti Bani's daughters. The latter had since time immemorial been the only amaf 1Wek from whom the ruler received brides, and hence was the ruler's atoni amaf.78 In other words, he married a woman who was destined to he the ruler's bride. It implied, then, that Niti Bani saw a grea.ter advantage in becoming the atoni amaf of a Dutch lieutenant than of the ruler.

Ne~t he took three girls away from the sonaf who were similarly destined to he the ruler's brides as soon as they reached a marriageable age. One of these he took into his own house; she later married a Chinese. And, moreover, he dismissed the daughters of one of the ruler's brothers - the same brother whose daughter had been married to a sergeant - to their own homes. Hence he not only spurned the daughters of the royal lineage, but destroyed the ruier's opportunities for establishing affinal alliances.

He humiliated the ruler, furthermore, by spitting on the ground in his presence and he discriminated against the ruier in favour of his father-in-Iaw. There is no more effective way than this of mortally wounding the pride of a Timorese ruler. As Hoff spoke Timorese weIl and there were hardIy any interpreters, and as the people were probably too afraid to complain to the Government in Kupang, the latter had no inkling of what was going on, and the ensuing uprising therefore came as a complete surprise.

The humiliation had been too great for the ruler and he preferred to die. He felt "disgraced" (ma' e). The revolt was not direoted primarily against the "Kompani" but rather against Hoff, although the crownprince Koko Sufa Le'u 79 had appealed to N oimuti for aid. Da Costa refused this, however, forthough nominaIly his territory belonged to Portugal, he was virtually independent and afraid of losing this independence by supporting an uprising against the Duteh. In the main the nature of the uprising resembied that of a mortuary feast in honour of Sufa Le'u, who was going 1:0 consecrate himself to death. His oid slaves surrOUltlded him as a mark of respect. An a1:tack was made on the administrative quarters in which Hoff Iived, the military barracks

heing left undisturbed. SubsequentIy a captain charged with adminis78 See p. 311 above. The crown-prince was also married to a Niti Bani.

trative affairs arrived with troops, but the ruler refused to surrender and met his death in his palace together with his people. No more was ever seen of Koko Sufa Le'u either.

It was because the Netherlands East Indies Government understood nothing of the structures of Timorese political communities that a local Government official was able ,to execute his poisonous and destructive schemes. 80 The deeper reasons why this was possible were that the Atoni thought exclusively in terms of his old caJtegories. Whereas in N oimuti the changes were integrated into the traditional system of life, in Amanuban the political system utterly collapsed through the interference of a foreign power for the very reason that it was still functioning as of old.

Even 50, in neither of these cases is there question yet of the enormous changes which were to undermine the system of life itself and which came about when Timor came to he part of the colonial empire and later on of the Indonesian nation. This brought with it a more intensive penetration in all kinds of ways of a multitude of strange influences in every sphere of life than ever before. The ancient structures oollapsed beneath the superimposed struotures of the oolonial empire and the Indonesian state. As a result of this as weil as education and missionary activities the structural principies and the categories of thinking eventually broke down, though nat completely 50. Rites and myths no longer function and have lost their meaningfulness.

The study of these processes in pre-eminently the responsibility of the cu1tural at1Jl:hropologist.

CHAPTER XIV THE PLACE OF THE CULTURE OF THE ATONI IN THE INDONESIAN CULTURE PROVINCE

The question which remains to be answered is where to place the culture of the Atoni as it has taken shape in his political system as a system of life. A system of life is a totality which has its own individuality, and as such is in a sense unique. We may compare ~t with a building. It is located in a particular envirorunent in which its members have to provide for their livelihood; so it has an economie substratum. The structures of the kinship and political systems are as it were the materiais, which are arranged in accordance with a number of structural principles. In addition the general categories which further shape man's thinking and activities are the determinants of the style of the house. However, this image falls short for our purposes, as it is too statie. In reality the structural principles are to some extent mutually cöntradictory and the general categories do not eover one another, so that dynamism, tension and constant change are possible within a particular system of life. The house is constantly being rebuilt, for the greater part in the same style, but the result is always different.

Now the question is to what extent comparison with other cultures is possible. Up to this point we have compared the structures of West Timor, and particularly those within the Atoni area, with one another. This was worthwhile because we did so within a unity of structural principles and general categories, any differences which arose being differences in emphasis or in the use of the same materials in different ways.

A comparison of structures and functions becomes progressively more difficu1t in proportion with the increasing differences between structural principles, or the design, and between the general categories, or the style. The necessa.ry pre-supposition underlying all comparison, namely the "all other things being equal", then becon1es less tenable. When making compansons we are always venturing into the magnetie field between the universality of the frameworks in which alone human life appears to realize itself, and the uniqueness of a particular culture.

It is unrealistic to isolate particular e1ements of the different cultures and compare them with each other out of the context in which they function. Tbis method is favoured only too much by the diffusionists. Although it may he relevant to establish that a house is constructed of brick, there is no point in comparing the individual bricks of the different houses, for this would convey notrung about the structural arrangement of these houses and even less abowt their styles. A comparison of functions and struetures bas more relevance, although a knowledge of the purposes which different rooms of the respective houses serve does oot enable us to say anytbing much about any similarities or differences between the houses. Parrinder's 1 work on the religion of West Africa offers an eloquent example of this kind of error. Although he mentions the institutions of the various religions he fails to see the wide divergence between the structures in their totality of the religion of Dahomey and that of the Ashanti. This is even more true in respect of the differences between the societies as a whoie, or the systems of life of these two areas. Yet comparison should he possible here because bath areas are culturally closely related. The same applies to Timor. Here we have on the one hand a society in which we discovered a particular system of life - with dynamic, changing struotures which are to some extent the result of mutually partially contradictory structural principles but with an obvious style of its own -, and on the other the possibility of affini,ty with surrounding cultures. We have based ourselves in our comparison on J. P. B. de Josse1in de Jong's definition of an ethnological field of study as a particular area "with a population whose culture appears to he sufficien<t:ly homogeneous and unique to form, in its totality, a separate object of ethnological study and which apparently reveals at the same time sufficient subtIe local shades of difference to make internal comparative research worthwhile".2

P. E. de Josselin de Jong's definition is slightly less specific. It is as follows: "An ethnological field of study is an area which prima facie appears to have a certain unity from the points of view of language, rustory, and culture".3 The point in question is nat a comparison of discol1Jtlected. e1ements or of a few functions or structures isolated from a larger whoie, but "a certain unity".

This, I feel, brings us in the first place to the general categories. The difficulty that faces us here is that these may be so general that we shall come upon most of them in the great majority of archaic cultures.

In the case of the Atoni we found a fundamental dichotomy which, however, is also found with striking similarities among the Meru,4 the Nyakyusa 5 and the Shilluk.6 Even before ,the publication of the studies of these ]. F. Holleman T wrote au article about "Die twee-eenheidsbeginsel in die sociale en politieke samenlewing van die Zulu" (The principle of dual unity in the social and political organization of the Zulu). It deals with the right-hand and the left-hand sides of the kraal, the former of which is superior.8 This concerns dual unity in the sphere of heads and rulers. The confed.eracy of the Creek Indians also had a white, ritual half which was charged with the supervision of the centre and its communal house, and a red, military executive half.9 And in the case of the Omaha the dichotomy of the tribe is associated. with that between heaven and earth.

The symbolism of numbers is equally universal. Four is the most important number for the American Indians and the Australian aborigines, for instance; likewise in Indonesia. Bertling IQ lists many exarnples from the whole of Asia of the significance of the number four and of the cross, i.e. four plus a fifth as centre. The Javanese five.-day week is connected with this.l1

The symbolism of colour also displays similarities. Although admittedly we were unable to discover a fixed correspoooence of the colours with east-south and west-north, we did find that there was a tendency to associate eertain colours wirt:h the cardinal points. Pigeaud 12 names these in respect of Java, though with some reservations as regards the association of red wirt:h the south. The same symbolism was also found in the Sivaite mandalas of Old Java and Bali. White, red, yellow and blaek were usually associated with east, south, west and north respectively, while multi-rolouredness was associated with the eentreP Now it is very likely thrut Java was influenced by India in this respect, but Javanese influence in Timor is less likely, notwithstanding the fact that the Nägarakrtägama says in respect of Timor and Seran: "These make the first of the numerous islands that are mindful".14 This "mindful" "refers to a relation of submissiveness".15 But, says Pigeaud in his commentary, "it is very doubtful whether Majapahit aurthority has been of much consequenee in these eountries" . The principal attraction was most probably the spiee trade. 1f1 These contacts must have been very :super~icial, as there are no traees of Hinduism as in rthe rest of Indonesia, unless the name usif is related to the Balinese and J avanese gusti, as Middelkoop 17 and Adriani 18 suggest, although Onvlee 19 questions this. Thetitle datu in Belu, furthermore, points to some affinity with other parts of Indonesia sueh as Celebes and Java, but it is in such widespread use throughout lndonesia that little ean be inferred from it.20 A title is one of the first things to be adopted, moreover, as we have seen in the case of Portuguese titles in Timor. Similarities in the symbolism of colours would therefore rather point to an ancient common heritage, as historical eontacts between Java and Timor were infrequent. Goris 21 says with referenee to Bali: "in my opinion the eolour division, possibly even linked with a corresponding distribution over the directions, is older than Hinduism. The four-five system (four around the eentre) is also pre-Hindu, in my opinion". It is impossible to gain absolute certainty as to this, although Timor is alrnost proof of Goris' theory. The same applies to the remarkable similarity of the classification of the cardinal points, east and south being associated with masculinity and strength, west and north with femininity, night and death. In Old Java east and south used to be associated with masculine, strong and moral, and west and north with feminine, weak and sensuOUS.22 Apart from the absence in Timor of a connection with a moral judgment of conduct this classification is the same in Java and Timor. It is the same also in respect of the order in which the cardinal points are enumerated and is connected with the course of the sun, although Java, too, lies only just in rthe southern hemisphere.

Hence this method does not help us in our arttempt at defining the lines of demarcation. These general categories are probably universal and characteristic of all archaic structures even though they may not be used in the same manner everywhere. French scholars have described the symbolic systems of the Dogon 23 and the Fali,24 in whose case two sets of altogether similar categories have resulted in different symbolic orders. This marks them clearly as two different "ethnological fields of study". We have seen in the case of the Atoni that not all of his polar oppositions run strictly parallel, some of them cutting right across the general dichotomy. We should inquire, therefore, into the effects of these categories on ,the structures of agriculture, the kinship system and the political conununity, as weil as into the complex of myths, rites and structures in these aspects of culture.

P. E. de Josselin de Jong 25 has done this in respect of the complex of agricu1tural rites and myths of South-East Asia. Agriculture here is focused primarily on rice-growing, while buffaloes are the chief domestic anima!. He has taken as his point of departure Condominas' data concerning the Mnong Gar, a so-called Proto-Indo-Chinese prople of Vietnam. These he has placed against a background of material from various parts of Indonesia and Malaya. The result of such comparison and combination of data has brought to light a complex of rites and myths dealing with the regenerartion of life from death. Rice and other agricultural crops are seen to grow from the body of a woman, and buffaloes to come from the underworld.

This we find in Timor also - the agricultural crops sprouted forth from the body of Sonba'i's sister, while the crocodile in the sea, in the waters of the earth, was the giver of the buffalo.26 A1though the Atoni is not farniliar with the concept of an underworld, these myths seem to approach this idea. They fit in completely with the complex of SouthEast Asia.

Again the question that arises is where the boundaries lie. Mabuchi,27 in an analysis of the myths of origin of grains, mentions the occurrence of the same myth in Japan - here rice, millet and other agricultural crops sprout forth from the body of a slain goddess. He c1assifies the above myths into three groups, viz. those concern~ng grains obtained from heaven or from overseas, those concerning grains obtained from the underworld, and those that have sprouted forth from the body of a woman in most cases. The danger that lurks in this method, one which Mabuchi has not aLtogether avoided, is that a classification of this sort leads to historical speculation. 1t is important to discover, however, that in Indonesia, too, there are correspondences with the general picture which emerges from the agricultural myths. The West Toraja also have myths in which rice comes from the moon or from heaven.28

At first glance there definitely appears to he a certain unity, although the boundaries cannot he indicated. We find the same crops, cultivated to the accompaniment of mutually related rites and connected with myths which to some extent also show considerable similarity. All this is placed against a cosmic background with fundamental similarities. This is perhaps brought out most dearly hy a comparison of this complex of agricultural myths with that of the American continent,29 as there we are in a totally different world. But upon examination of detailed descriptions of particular areas in Indonesia, such as that of the Toraja lands hy Kruyt,30 we can also discern rnarked differences within the area itself. This is what happens when we place Timor in this totality - although it fi,ts in with it, there are definitely a number of differences as weil.

The kinship structure reveals a similar picture. Here there are

definÏJte similarities with Sumba, East Flores, the Batak area, Minang26 P. 324 above.

bbau and Malaya. In all of these there are unilineal (either patrior matrilineal) descent groups with a tendency towards an asymmetrical connubium. But the bilateral kinship system of Java presents a totally different picture, as does SOUIth Celebes. As opposed to this, there is a comparabie system in the non-Austronesian language area of West Irian. Here we find patrilineages with open, asymmetrical affinal relationships and the same tendency to maintain a network of such relationships in different directions.31

I myself feel inclined to llittribute similarities with other Indonesian ethnic groups to a histol'ical relationship, and divergences such as that in Java to a difference in historical development. The similarity with Papua cultures is not surprising either, in view of ITirnor's marginal position with its strong Melanesian influences and even non-Austronesian languages. Kinship structures in the Papuan culture area are sa varied, moreover,32 thlllt similarities with any particular Papua culture may of course be quite coincidental.

There is even less one ean say about the political structures in the totality of the Indonesian field, as so far very little work has been clone on them.

The Frenchman Pilan 33 pointed to the extraordinary dualism which existed between the immobile prince and his executive authori,ty in the priocedoms of Timor as earlyas 1778. He compared this to the situation among the Merovingians. The capable Resident Couvreur 34 referred to this dualism in ,terms of the Mikado-Shogun complex and pointed to its existence in Sumba and Bima, where a former title of the mier was Dewa Sang Hien or Lord of the Spirits ; the first rulers were immortal beings. However, by such comparison with Japan we are agaln crossing the boundaries of the Indonesian culture provioce, as in the case of agriculture.

We are of course moving even further away from our culture province, and indeed from the whole of the Asian culture area, when we compare the patJtern to the Athenaion politeia as described by Aristotle.35 The similarity is too striking for us nat to do so, however, and would even tempt us to speculate about the existence of a universal basic pattern in archaic societies. In Athens there was a ritual basileus with at his side the pole1tWJ/"chos for warfare and an archon for adjudication. Together they formed the political and ritual centre of the four phyles or tribes.

Held 36 carried out his last field research in neighbouring Dompu. It was never completed, and I would stress in connection with questions regarding the political structure the desirability of working out the data collected by this perspicacious scholar. But other data show that th ere is a similar pattern here. There is an immobile ri,tual centre with beside it an executive authority, surrounded by four districts. According to the ,tradition the ruler is the descendant of a celestial being, while both in Bima and in Dompu the structure of the realm also includes two functionaries who bear the title bumi (= earth) , one for the east and one ,in the west. ST

In Minangkabau and the Malay Peninsuia the same dualism is found. In Minangkabau there existed a double dichotomy with in the centre a ritual prince, the symbol of unity and the bearer of daulat (an Arabic word meaning "majesty", very aptly rendered with "mysterious power" by De Josselin de Jong). His rule was also said to be crue! and despotic. He was the radjo alam, or ruier of the world. He had at his side the radjo adat, also called Tuan Gadih (= Lord Virgin) and the radjo ibadat, the prince in charge of religion. Grouped around them were the four masculine executive authorities. 38 In Malaya, too, the sultan is "immobile", and his "immobility was a sign of diviIllity". He had an executive "prime minister" at his side.39

The dual monarchy of South Celebes had a similar structure. According to some chronic1es the first, and according to others the fifth ruier was a celestial being, her name, Tumanurunga, meaning "she who has descended from hea.ven". She was the first and last female ruler. She married a prince, and after they ascended to heaven their son inherited the rea.lm. He also disappeared, as did his son atter him. The fifth ruler was the first mortal king of Goa. He left two sons, one of whom received Goa, the other Tallo.40

According to the tradition of Tallo that territory was ruied by four brothers. They inv~ted the ruler of Goa, who had been banished because of a fraternal quarrel, to become their over lord. Later on the two realms formed a league, and the provision was made that from then on both peoples should be as one people under two rulers.41

The ruler of Goa bore the title Sombaja (somba = to worship, plus the article). This brings out the ritual nature of the ruler's function, therefore, while in the myth his association with heaven also becomes apparent. I t is further interesting to note that :the first ruler was a woman. The ruler had beside him the pabitjara butta or "speaker of the realm", who was the most important personage af ter the ruler. Originally, when Goa and Tallo were still one united people with two rulers, the eldest was supposedly always pabitjara butta, thus giving expression to the dual unity of the monarchy. Af ter that came the two tumailalang (tu from tau = person, i-lalang = inside: hence "the person inside"), the highest palace dignitaries, tbe senior of whom transmitted the ruler's commands. Together with five gallarnmg and four karaeng they formed the council of the realm (hadat). These nine heads were the baté-salapang (= nine standards) or nine district heads who at one time formed a federation of independet1i1: heads but accepted the celestial Tumanurunga as their queen.42

In West Ceram 43 we find a striking affinity of an entirely different nature, as here we have no political centre. Here there live two tribes, the Alune in the west and the Wemale to their cast. They speak different languages, and marriage between the two tribes is strictly prohibited. Now, the Alune and the majority of the Wemale belong to the Pata siwa (= nine tribes), and the remainder of the Wemale and the more easterly groups belong to the Pata lima (= five tribes; siwa = nine, lima = five, pata = tribe).

Hence here we encounter amongtwo peoples the same division into nine and five groups which we found in Ambenu 44 in one political community. Moreover, the two groups are masculine and feminine in respect of one another. 45 Another fact worth noting is that the Pata siwa are divided into two groups, namely the "black" and the "white" Pata si wa. The former of these reportedly derive their name from the fact that their members are tattooed on initiation into the secret Kakean society. As in Timor, these phenomena have not been sufficiently investigated and are perhaps at present difficult to trace. It is c1ear, however, that we have here a similarity of ancient basic patterns which, for the rest, is only to be expected on the basis of the linguistic affinity between West Ceram and the Atoni area.46 Possibly the weaving-loom of West Ceram and that of the Atoni are exactly alike also, as the Atoni and Alune looms (the Wemale do not weave) bath have a leart:her backstrap 47 in contrast with most other ethnic groups in Indonesia, which have a loom with a wooden back support.

So we see dualism in all of these political structures: dualism between two parts, or between a centre and a periphery, but especially dualism within the centre, where the ruler is the pivot which is itself immobile, the ritual centre of the political community and the link between heaven and earth; he has at his side an executive authority who together with him forms a dual unity of the fundamental principle of power and the realizational principle of that power, of commanding and executive power. In this case there is no question of dualism between religious and secular, or sacral and political power. But in addition to this kind we find another kind of dualism brought about by external influences, such as that encountered in Noimuti where the prince had been replaced by the gre or church with an executive authority as its counterpart. Here there is definitely question of dualism between re1igious and secular power, the secular power of the Topasses, or of Da Costa, being the political power, while the religious power rests with the church. In reality this led to a great deal of internal conflict and wrangling for political supremacy between the Dominican missionaries and the Topasses. A struggle which, af ter centuries of conflict between the pope and the emperor in Europe, could not seem strange to either party. The fact that a relatively high degree of unity was maintained in spite of this is conceivable and explicable in the light of the very nature of the Timorese political structure. It is probably partly as a result of this structure that the Dominicans rook sides with the Topasses against the Portuguese.

The latter kind of dualism is found also in areas where Islam has become the established religion. In Minangkabau 48 and in Sumbawa, as Needham points out,49 this gave rise to tension between the hukum and the adat, between Islam and the ancient tradition. This dualism should not be confused with that of the traditional Indonesian system, however, for there is a differenee in that in the traditional system there is question of a dual unity, whereas in the new system, whieh has eome about under the influence of the new religion, it is a rather purer form of dualism. Formerly the sultan of SumbaJWa was the ritual, immobile prince, whose title was Datu Mutar meaning "the all-embracing prince", or "the pivot around whieh all e1se revolves". N ext to him he had the Datu Ranga and ,the Datu Dipati as his executive authorities. 50 At present the Sultan represents the secular power as opposed to the power of the leaders of Islam, even though he is still regarded as the defender of the faith. The fact that this dualism was a.ccepted without too mueh difficulty was, as in Noimuti, c1early the result of the nature of the old struoture.

Examining the system of life as a totality, in eonclusion, we may perhaps suggest in the first plaee that there exist no monographs relating to ,the Indonesian culture province in whieh the culture is approached as a unity of myths, rites and struetures, sueh as these give shape within the frameworks of a classificatory system to agriculture, the kinship system and the political system, in the same way in whieh the present Ixx>k attempts to do 50.

The fascinating studies by Hildred 51 and Clifford Geertz 52 deal with the "rites and myths" of Javanese religion as wel! as with the kinship system and the economie life. Hence they constitute an invaluable eontribution to rthe existing literature. They contain by far the best description of life in contemporary Java sinee Snouek Hurgronje's 53 De brieven van een Wedono-pensioen (Letters from a retired Wedono). But they deal with these aspects in separate volumes, and although the interre1atedness of the different aspects of culture of ten finds expression in them, 110 attempt bas been made to pla.ce them in the general frameworks of Javanese thinking. We may weil ask, of course, whether such general frameworks ex.ist. If not, then Java would tend to display radical and even fundamental differences with Timor and many other parts of the Indonesian Archipelago.

Both Geertz 54 and Mrs. Geertz 55 categorically deny the ex.istence of a fixed correlation between such a c1assificatory sy3tem and the social stmctures. These gifted sociologists must be correct at least in part when they say this, for they would almost certainly have come across it in their investigations in the small country-town of Modjokuto in East Central Java if irt ex.isted there. Their statement nonetheless lacks conviction as their research was restricted entire1y to a synchronie approach and to life in a small pravincial town. Not that I would presume to say that like Schärer they ought to have confined rthemselves to the most exalted expressions of that culture. But I cannot but agree completely with Schärer 56 when he says: "we must not only give a superficial view, but must seek the background of the appearances and the supporting and driving forces which inspire the empirical and which continually renew it. We have to penetrate through the surface to the cent re from which everything receives its meaning".

This means that as far as the Javanese culture is concerned at least the Old J avanese epics, such as the Nägarakrtägama, and the works of the mystics should have been consulted in the study of J avanese religion. In his hook on Javanese religion Geertz does not appear to have read these, and does not mention even one of the countless secondary sources on this topic. If he had done sO he would have been able not only to discover perhaps a little more of "the background of the appearances and the supporting and driving forces" of J avanese culture, but would also have been able rto give some historical perspective to his otherwise excellent study. He would undoubtedly have discavered at the same time that Old Javanese philosophy definitely did have something to say about a cosmic order and a classificatory system. We have al ready mentioned the symbolism of colour associated with the cardinal points, while quadrupartition with a fifth as centre is another key feature - here we should note especially that the mIer is in this case regarded as the fifth in the centre. 57 "When seated on his throne the mIer required that his officials group themselves around him in concentric circ1es, or as the case might be, semi-circ1es ... when walking or ri ding on state occasions his retinue would walk in front and behind him in double file (Jav. djadjaran), namely 'right' and 'left'." In the centre are the prince and his executive authority, OT patih, each surrounded by four wedana or functionaries. 58 Furthermore feminine and the west are associated with one another, while the men's residence is still situated in the eastern half of the Javanese kraton. 5o The classificatory system reveals the enrt:ire cosmic order, and therefore forms the basis for the system of divination.60 Pigeaud 61 observes in this connection : "The c10sest links exist between everything that exists on earth, inc1uding man and life, and between this and all ,that surrounds it, both animate and inanimate, that is, the entire cosmos. All of this constirtutes one unitary community." This is reflected in many different ways by the shadow theatre (wajang) in which "the interplay of philosophy and artistic expression ... is typically Javanese". 6~ In other words, it has its rightful place in the culture of Indonesia. The same is apparent in Javanese mysticism. The soul consists of five parts 63 and man has four desires.64 I t is interesting to note that in a 16th century Javanese primbon just rulers are the fifth category to enter paradise, "as just rulers are the shadows of Allah".65 This links up perfectly well with earlier J avanese conceptions of the ruler as an incarnation of Shiva or Vishnu 66: he is referred to as "shadow", "incarnation" and, in Timor, "son of heaven". In each of these cases the ruler features as the sacral centre which links heaven and earth together. Paku Alam, the tirtle of an independent prince in Djokjakarta, means "pivot of the world".

In the political system there appea.rs at one time to have existed some congruence between the system of symbols, the cosmic order and the political structures.

All this has become extinct in Java, but whether these ideas no longer constitute one of "the driving forces which inspire the empiricai" remains to he seen. Viewed against this background it can hardly he considered a mere coincidence that the lndonesian people should endeavour in this age af revolutionary change to give shape to new ideas by means of the Pantja Sila (= the five principles) in accordance with which life must he ordered in the new state.61

A comparable situation prevails in Bali. Geertz 68 worked here for some time and here, too, failed to discover any correlaJtion hetween the struotures af social life and the pattem of cosmological ideas. He considers that the idea that there might he "an exact formal congruence between the structure of social life and the pattern of cosmological ideas, such thaJt one can predict from the first what the second will he and deduce from the second what the first is, or - more commonly - was" is "the most pemicious axiom" af the Leiden School. Since Rassers, the Leiden school af anrthropology has sunk "into a morass af unprofitable theorizing". Liefrinck and Van Eck, though "less reliable in detail" were not yet affected by this, bUIt their successors are the victims af their prejudices.69 "That is to say", says Hildred Geertz,10 "the dyadic pairs and other 'patterns' employed by the memhers of this school did not emerge out of an empirical examination of the data, but rather were preseleoted by the ethnologists on theoretical grounds, and then held up against the cultural material to see if they fitted." These statements do not altogether acId up with what Clifford Geertz says concerning the memhers of this so-called Leiden school in his review of a bundie af studies on Bali, viz.:

"The virtues af this school are the classical ones: thoroughness, accuracy, concreteness, pertinacity, modesty, caution, breadth of interest, and a simply amazing control af the historica!, literary and linguistic tools of lndonesian scholarship. There is about all of these papers an air af total dedication to the principle that ethnography is to he done weIl or not at all. Phenomena are to he described exactly, oot generally. Apatient, piece by piece review of evidence is the only reliable rood to knowledge ... The result is that there is a solidity and reliability about this work which secures its permanence." 11

This statement suggests painstaking empirical work. If a certain degree of correlation between political and social structures and the patterns of cosmological ideas was found to exist thirty to forty years ago, when the great processes of change had only just set in, it is rather rash of Geertz to explain it all away by saying that this is atiributable to Rassers' "speculative, unrealistic armchair approach". The fact that Korn also lists various examples of bipartition in his doctoral thesis, which is based primarilyon the work of Liefrinck, Van Eck and Lekkerkerker, might have served him as a warning, as they were publishing long before Rassers developed his ideas. An important fact whichemerges from their work is that each petty realmhad a government of two - the prince with at his side a co-rul er or "younger prince" who ruled over a portion of the realm.72 This is unquestionably an example of political dualism.

The fact that Geertz himself was unable to discover any trace of this in the village of Tihingan in 1957 is not surprising. It is a consequence of his approach, looking as he does only for patterns of behaviour at the moment of research. As aresuIt his work constitutes a most welcome and absolutely indispensable supplement to the work carried out prior to this by philologists and government officials - not by anthropologists, as Geertz asserts. But his work supplements but does not supersede previous research, as he himself acknowledges. It is not to be expected that sociological research conducted over a relatively short period of time without an adequate literary and historical background and without a thorough knowledge of the language can undermine work of an enJt:irely different nature which is based on many years' study.73 It is possible, moreover, that the village of Tihingan, because of its situation in the plain of South Bal'i, nOit far from. a po1"t which handles a great deal of interinsular traffic, may by 1957 have undergone considerably more change than the Old Balinese village in the mountains studied by Grader in 1937. This would correspond with Cunningham's experience in Timor. The latter carried out research in the Amarasi village of Soba,74 not far from the capitalof Kupang, and found very little trace or none at all of the old patterns in the village structure. In Insana, 200 kilometres further in land, oowever, he found, on the basis of my memorandum of 1947, that these were still c1ea.r1y discemible.75

As far as Bali is concerned, Grader 76 arrived at the following conclusion :

"The only explanation of the basic characteristics of the structure of the Balinese village as a social and religious community ean be that it is the product of a cosmogonieal system of classification which found its fullest expression in the tangible reality of the Old Balinese vil1age.

The cosmic example of the dichotorny of the world of the gods gave rise to a sysltem of classifieations in which every phenomenon was characterized by opposition."

Thus he arrives at a double dichotorny. Grader 77 summarizes· his conclusions in a memorandum of 1965, as follows:

"Symbolic dualism finds expression in the components of which sacrificial offerings are made up, the manner in which they are arranged and the place in which they are offered, in the decoration and lay-out of the temple and its compound, in the arrangement of the village and the town, and so on. I t is possible to furrush any number of examples of the way in which the principle of dualism finds expression. Similarly the e1aborate c1assifieatory systems are based on this dualistic principle. These examples and these classificatory systems, however, are always restricted to the sphere of the 'symbolic order', or in other words, they always pertain to religion and the world view."

He suggests that this dualism is based on the distinction between heaven and eal11:h.

"We know nothing of an indissoluble unity of myths, rites and social structures in the sense that there is also question of a social dichotomy in the form of a division of 'the tribe' into Itwo moieties with a circulating connubium as its basis ... But we do know for a fact that there is a sufficiently close connection between dualism and a social dichotorny for the descendants of the first cultivators and original founders of most archaic villages to be divided into two 'halves' (sibak) which furnish the leaders of the ritual dedic3JI:ed to the gods in heaven and the leaders of the rites conducted for the gods of the underworld respeotively. This division is functionally connected with the dualistic nature of the state ritual, however. We know furthermore that in most villages of the district of Kintamani there is a main street which divides the village into two parts."

These conclusions reveal a remarkable degree of similarity with the results of our research in Timor. Here there is also an underlying dualism in the cosmic order, though I did not venture to draw the condusion that the opposition of heaven and earth is predominant. I have classed i,t with other pairs of opposites, such as that of masculine and feminine, without presuming to assert the primacy of any of these. There are furthermore a numher of pairs of opposites which do not fit in with this scheme at alI.78

1 further drew the conclusion that there is no dichotomy in the kinship system, but that there is clearly a territorial division of the political community into two parts.

So the conclusion th3JI: here we have a number of systems which display a high degree of similarity with one another is completely justified. This is true ,in spite of the wide difference as a result of Sltrong Hindu influence in Bali.

There is probably an even closer affinity with the Dayak of Borneo. The type of society found there reveals a more marked similarity to that of Timor, and the similarities in the religion and the classificatory sySitem are also con si derabl e. Schärer 79 in his excellent hook on the religion has omitted, regrettably sa, to give attention to the repercussion of the ideas concerning the cosmic order in the empirical reality of the social and political life. He does not present the system of life in its totaJi,ty.

As regards the Toraja, on the other hand, the thousands of pages which Kruyt and Adriani have devoted to them teach us a great deal concerning every aspect of the culture.80 But here the system has not received any attention - not a word is mentioned about ,the system of either the social structure, the religion, the cosmic order or the c1assificatory categories. Judging from Kruyt's meticulous and detailed descriptions there seems to he a relatively high degree of similarity between the Toraja and the Atoni, however. Warfare - ,to ment ion only one important aspect of the culture - has almost the same place in the system of life as among the Atoni. Here, too, the headhunting raid possesses a ritual charaoter, and has some associations with harvesting. War is a prerequisite condition for life, or for the welfare of the community and the success of the harvest.81 The word for headhunting is mengaJe and for harvesting menggae.82 Among the Toraja as weU, headhunting was connected with the initiation of youths. Religion and cosmologieal ideas, inasmuch as these have been described, similarly display a marked degree of similarity. Here there is no corre1ation hetween the cosmie dichotomy and the kinship system either.83 The world of the Toraja is very similar to that of the Atoni.84

The same ean he said of Sumba. I should begin by refernng to Onvlee's 85 important article on the archaic irrigation system of Mangili in East Sumba. Although there are a number of patrilineal clans here, "the population as a whole may he designated by the names of the kabisu 86 mangu tanangu (= the occupanrt:s and owners of the land), viz. Maru, Watu Bulu, Matolangu, Wanggi Rara". Not only this princedom, but most others as well, are referred to by a set of four names.87 Even though there may he more than four clans, it is always only four that are mentioned. The total population of Mangili is distinguished into a masculine and a feminine half, and this has important consequences for wet-rice farming. The leader of Wam Bulu is masculine and the leader of Maru feminine, and there is a masculine and a feminine aquaduct. This is connected with the unilateral affinal relationship existing between the 'uma' (lineages) of the clans as well. The bride-receiver is responsible for the feminine aquaduct. This is coupled wi.th a ritual that is a "shadow" of the marriage between this kabisu and ,the bride-giving one. The connection between the masculine and the feminine (muni-kawim) is a dominant feature of rice-growing here. Onvlee writes: "We may possibly even go one step further and suggest that this connection between the masculine and the feminine is also realized in the irrigation of the fields". There are masculine water conduits and feminine fields. "And when we further consider that an alternart:ive name for rain, the annual water which falls from heaven and which occupies a central position in this ritual is 'heavenly sperm', the idea of cosmie forces surrounding this event and providing it with a background and a meaning is evoked".88

The similarity with Timor is almost complete in spite of the fact that the Atoni have no wet-rice cultivation. The unity of rites and social structuresis similarly present in Sumba, while life bere is also placed against the background of a distinction between the masculine and the feminine, a distinction which at the samecime denotes unity. Furthermore, the dual unity of heaven and earth fits in with this dualism even more c1early than in Timor.

The symbolism of colour and the headhunting ritual reveal a similar degree of affinity. Among the Sumbanese the analogy between war and harvest 89 is also found, and it is quite likely that the kinship system of Timor is virtually the same as rthat in Sumba. There, too, there are uma or lineages of clans which show a marked preferenee for establishing asymmetrical affinal relationships extending in a large number of different directions. Although the political system of Sumba has not developed quite such extensive relationships, there may possibly be considerable similarilty in the grouping and function of rthe four most prominent clans in the political community. Agriculture and its associated ritual are also closely related to those in Timor.90 Most important of all, the system of life in Sumba is probably closely related to that in Timor as far as rthe inrternal struetures are concerned.

Further comparison between Timor, Sumba, Central Celebes and Ceram, four areas located in different Indonesian language areas which were none of them influenced by either Hinduism or Islam, is important and may be fruitful.

So ,the question as to the place of Timor in the whole of the Indonesian culture province ean only be answered in part. In the first place because it is impossible to define the lines of demarcation, and in the second place because actually monographs on any of the areas in lndonesia which set out the system of life as a unity in its various aspects - a unity in spite of, or perhaps partially especially because of tension and constant change - do not exist. Andit is doubtful whether there will be an opportunity for writing many such monographs in the future.

But the lack of adequate comparative material notwithstanding, rt:here ean be no doubt that there are obvious affinities with many parts of Indonesia, especially those areas in which the trihal religion has remained intact longest, though also with Bali and to a lesser extent Java.

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE BIBLIOGRAPHY

A Anthropos.

A.A. American Anthropologist.

Archives B.Z. Archives Netherlands Department of Internal Affairs, The Hague.

B.K.I. Bijdragen Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Landen Volkenkunde (Bijdragen of the Royal Institute of Linguistics and Anthropology).

B.S.C.B. Berichten uit Ned. Oost-Indië voor den leden van den Sint-Claver Bond (Despatches from the Netherlands East Indies for members of the St. Claver Association).

B.S.G.A.E. Bull. Schweizerischen Gesellschaft für Anthr. u. Ethn. (Bulletin of the Swiss Society of Anthropology and Ethnology).

C.A. Current Anthropology.

c.I. Cultureel Indonesië (Cultural Aspects of Indonesia).

D.G.B. Deutsche Geographische Blätter (German Geographical Papers).

E.N.I. Encyclopedie Nederlands-Indië (Encyc1opaedia of the Netherlands East Indies).

F.E. Ergebnisse der Frobenius-Expedition, 1937-38.

H. De Heerbaan (The High Road - a bimonthly Mission Journal).

l.A.E. Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie (International Archives of Ethnography), Leiden.

l.G. De Indische Gids (Dutch East Indies Journal).

l.T.-M. Koninklijk Instituut voor de Tropen, Amsterdam, afd. Handschriften (Royal lnstitute for the Tropics, Amsterdam, Manuscript Department).

J.A.S. Journal of Asian Studies.

K.I.T.L.V. Kon. lnst. Taal-, Landen Volkenkunde (Royal lnstitute of Linguistics and Anthropology), Leiden.

K.l.-M. Kon. lnst. Taal-, Landen Volkenkunde, Leiden, Manuscript Section.

K.M. Katholieke Missie (Roman Catholic Missionj.

K.M.T. Koloniaal Missietijdschrift (Colonial Mission Journal).

K.T. Koloniaal Tijdschrift (Colonial Journal).

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS 481

K.V.I.I. Koninklijke Ver. Ind. Instituut (Royal Indonesia Institute

Society). M. Het Missiewerk (Missionary Work), 's-Hertogenbosch. Madjalah See T.B.G. M.N.Z. Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap (Reports by the Netherlands Mission Society). M.T.Z. Mededeelingen Tijdschrift voor Zendingswetenschap (Bulletin for Missionary Science). N.B.G.K.W. Notulen van het Bataviaasch Genootschap voor Kunsten en Wetenschappen (Minutes of meetings of the Batavia Society of Arts and Sciences). N.I.O.N. Nederlandsch-Indië, Gud en Nieuw (Duteh East Indies, Old and New). T.B.B. Tijdschrift van het Binnenlandsch Bestuur (Civil Service Journal). T.B.G. Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal-, Landen Volkenkunde van het Bataviaasch Genootschap (The Batavia Society Journal of Indonesian Linguistics and Anthropology), continued as Madjalah untuk Ilmu Bahasa, Ilmu Bumi dan Kebudajaan. T.N. Tropisch Nederland (Netherlands Territories in the Tropics). T.N.A.G. Tijdschrift Nederlands Aardrijkskundig Genootschap (Journalof the Netherlands Geographical Society). T.N.I. Tijdschrift voor N ederlandsch-Indië (Journal for the Netherlands East Indies). V.B.G. Verhandelingen van het Bataviaasch Genootschap voor Kunsten en Wetenschappen (Transactions of the Batavia Society of Arts and Sciences). V.K.I. Verhandelingen van het Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Landen Volkenkunde (Transactions of the Royal Institute of Linguistics and Anthropology). V.K.N.A.W. Verhandelingen Koninklijke Nederlandse Akademie v. Wetenschappen (Transactions of the Royal Netherlands Academy of Sciences). V.M.K.A.w. Verslagen en Mededelingen der Koninklijke Akademie v. Wetenschappen (Reports and Communications of the Royal Academy of Sciences). V.N.B.G. Verhandlungen der N aturforschenden Gesel/schaft Basel (Transactions of the Natura! Science Society of BasIe). Z.M.

W.K.I. Werken van het Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Landen Volkenkunde (Publications of the Royal Institute of Linguistics and Anthropology).

Zeitschrift für Missions Wissenschaft (Missionary Scienee Journal).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1. TIMOR

a. Unpublished Sources. See also Ormeling, 1956, pp. 256-269. The rnajority of the reports mentioned by him are not present in the Netherlands, and most of them are completely lost. Agerbeek, J. H., 1912. Nota over Belu (Report on Belu), 33 pp., I.T.-M. Anon. Iets over het eiland Timor en Onderhoorigheden (A few words about the Island of Timor and Dependencies) (shortly af ter 1819), KI.-M. Anon. 1912. Nota over het eiland Timor (Report on the Island of Timor), 158 pp., I.T.-M. Anon. 1925. Nota over Amarassi (Report on Amarassi), Archives B.Z. Anon. 1930. Militaire Memorie van Timor (Military Memorandum on Timor), 143 pp., I.T.-H. Brouwer, A. G., Geheime nota betreffende Timor en in 't bijzonder betreffende die landen, welke de Nederlandsche vlag voeren (Confidential Report concerning Timor and in particular the princedoms which fly the Dutch flag) , Kupang, 1849, KI.-M. Couvreur, A., Letter 20th Nov., 1923, with Report on Amfoan by A. R. van Lith, Archives B.Z. - 1924. Nota over organisatie van het zelfbestuur in Belu (Report on the organization of the autonomous government of Belu). - 1924. Memorie van overgave van den aftredenden resident van Timor en Onderhorigheden (Memorandum written on the termination of his duties by the retiring Resident of Timor and Dependencies), 142 pp. + appendix. Cunningham, C. E., 1962. People of the Dry Land. A study of the social organisation of an Indonesian People. Thesis, Oxford. Francillon, G., 1967. Some Matriarchic Aspects of the Social Structure of the Southern Tettln of Middle Timor, Doctoral Thesis, Australian National University, Canberra. Francis, E., Verslag van den Kommissaris voor Timor (Report by the Governor of Timor), 1832, KI.-M. Franssen Herderschee, B. H., Nota van Toelichting betreffende de zelfbesturende landschappen en rijken van Midden-Timor (Explanatory Memorandum concerning the self-governing princedoms and realms of Central Timor), Kapan 1909, KI.-M. - Bijdrage tot de kennis van Midden (Nederlandsch) Timor en de Bergtimoreezen (Contribution to the knowledge of Central (Duteh) Timor and the Mountain Timorese), Kapan 1909, KI.-M. Grader, Ch. J., Dorpsstruktuur Bali. Nota 8 september 1965 (Village Structure in Bali. Report 8th September, 1965). Owned by the writer. Gramberg, 1913. Nota over Amanoeban (Report on Amanuban). Appendix to Memorandum by Resident Maier, Archives B.Z. - 1917. Algemene memorie over Noorden Midden-Timor (General Memorandum on North and Central Timor), 19 pp., I.T.-M.

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Haan, H. C. de, 1947. Nota over Beloe (Report on Belu), 28 pp. with 24 appendices. Owned by the writer. Kempen, C. J. van, 1917. Nota over Zuid-Timor en eilanden (Report on South Timor and islands), 148 pp., I.T.-M. Koopmans, 1917. Nota over West-Midden-Timor (Report on West Central Timor), 195 pp., I.T.-M. Koot, A. van, 1913. Toembaba. Lith, P. C. A. van, 1921. Nota over Zuid-Midden-Timor (Report on South Central Timor), 90 pp., I.T.-M. Overakker, 1926. Nota over Beloe (Report on Belu), 45 pp., I.T.-M. Pelon or Pilon, J. B., Description abregée de [,Ile de Timor et SI'S Environs. Batavia, around 1778, K.I.-M. Reijntjes, W. H. G., 1948. Nota over Zuid-Midden-Timor (Report on South Central Timor), 120 pp. + 20 appendices. Owned by the writer. Rooy, de, 1908. Memorie omtrent de toestand van het gewest Timor en Onderhoorigheden (Memorandum on the conditions in the territory of Timor and Dependencies), 23 pp., Archives B.Z. Ruychaver, 1918. Nota over het landschap KOI'Pang (Report on the princedom of Kupang) , 42 pp., I.T.-M. Venerna, 1916. Nota over Zuid-Midden-Timor (Report on South Central Timor), 208 pp., I.T.-M. Visscher, G. B., Daghregister der voornaamste voorvallen op het Eyland Timor, gehouden door den Onderkoopman en Opperhoofd dezes Comptoirs, G. B. Visscher, van 2 september 1730 tot 3 sept. 1731 (Journal of the most important events on the Island of Timor, kept by the Onderkoopman and Opperhoofd of this Factory, G. B. Visscher, from Znd September, 1730, to 3rd September, 1731), 210 pp., Maritime Museum, Amsterdam. - idem, from 20th August, 1734, to 19th August, 1735, 202 pp., K.I.-M. Vroklage, B. A. G., Field Notes. Archives Mission House S.V.D., in Tetringen. Weidner, C. H., 1932. Nota van Zuid-Midden-Timor (Report on South Central Timor), 26 pp., I.T.-M. Wouden, F. A. W. van, 1949. Enige aantekeningen bij de ethnografische literatuur betreffende Timor (Some not es on the ethnographic literature on Timor), 5 pp. Owned by the writer. b. Published Sources. Anonymous, 1847. Offeranden op het eiland Samauw; ook van een klein kind .. (Offerings on the Island of Samau, also of a smal\ child ... ), T.N.I. IX, deel 4, p. 146. Anonymous, 1849. Bijdrage tot de kennis van het eiland Timor en Onderhoorigheden (Contribution to the knowledge of the island of Timor and Dependencies), T.N.!. XI, pp. 307-324.

Steinmetz, 1915. Nota over Insana en Beboki, met proces-verbaal van vergadering van volkshoofden te Maubesi, 17 maart 1916, en te Wini, 30 augustus 1915 (Report on Insana and Beboki, with minutes of the meeting of chiefs in Maubesi, 17th Mareh, 1916, and in Wini, 30th August, 1915). (Owned by the writer.)

- Nota betreffende de Zelfbesturende Landschappen Miomaffo, Insana en Beboki gelegen in de onderafdeling Noord-Midden-Timor der Residentie Timor en Onderhorigheden (Report conceming the self-goveming princedoms of Miomaffo, Insana and Beboki in the district North Central Timor of the Residency of Timor and Dependencies). (Owned by the writer.)

Anonymous, 1854. Moord. Volksbegrippen (Murder. Popular Beliefs), Tijdschrib van het Recht (Law Joumal) , IX, pp. 784-786. Anonymous, 1878. Ons prestige op Timor (Our prestige in Timor), T.N.!. XL, deel 1, pp. 202-204. Anonymous, 1892. Het landschap Amarassi (The Princedom of Amarassi), Tijdschrift voor het Binnenlandsch Bestuur (Civil Service Joumal) VII, pp. 201-227 Alphen, R. van, 1933. Hongersnood (Famine), M.T.Z. LXXVII, pp. 116-130. - 1950. Een le'oe onderzoek op Timor (A le'u investigation in Timor), H. lIl. Asse1bergs, A. J., 1902. Geschiedkundige bijzonderheden over den Soloren Timorarchipel (Historical particulars on the Solor and Timor Archipelago), B.S.C.B., Nijmegen, No. 3, pp. 53-73 and No. 4, pp. 51-67. B ... , D., 1852. Het eiland Timor (The Island of Timor), T.N.I. XIV, 1, pp. 199-224. B ... , J. P. de, 1909. Timor herinneringen (Reminiscences of Timor), Indisch Militair Tijdschrift (Dutch East Indies Military Joumal), pp. 1205-1210. Barge, J. A. J., 1942. Contributions to the anthropology of Timor and Flores af ter data collected by Dr. B. A. G. Vroklage, S.V.D. Pigmentation and hairgrawth in Beloe (Timor), Acta Neerlandica morphologiae IV, pp. 329-356. Basilio de Sa, Arthur, 1955-1958. Documentaçao para a Historw das Missoes do padroada Português do Oriente, Lisbao 2-5 (1550-1605), (discontinued). Bastian, A., 1885. Timor und umliegende Insein. In: Indonesien ader die InseIn des Malayischen Archipels, Berlin, Lieferung 2, pp. 1-31. Berthe, L., 1959. Sur quelques distigues Buna'. (Timor centrai), B.K.I. CXV, pp. 336-371. Biermann, P. B., 1924. Die alte Dominikanermission auf den Solorinsein, Z.M. XIV, pp. 12-48. Bijlmer, H. J. T., 1929. Outlines of the Anthropology of the Timor Archipelago, Weltevreden -Bata via. Bik, J. Th., 1864. Reis naar Bima, Timor, enz. (Journey to Bima, Timor, etc.), T.B.G. XIV, pp. 125-183. Bloembergen, S., 1940. Verslag van een exploratietocht naar de eilanden Timor en Wetar (Report of a Voyage of Exploration to the Islands of Timor and Wetar), Tectona XXXIII, pp. 101-196. Bor., L., 1663. Amboinse oorlogen door Arnold de Vlaming van Oudshoorn (Amboinese wars by Arnold de Vlaming van Oudshoorn), Delft. Bork-Fe1tkamp, A. J. van, 1951. A contribution to the anthropology of Timor and Roti af ter data collected by Dr. W. L. Meyer, Amsterdam. Boxer, C. R., 1947. The Topasses of Timor, Mededelingen 73, Kon. Ver. Ind. Instituut te Amsterdam. - 1948. Fidalgos in the Far East, 1550-1770, The Hague. - 1949. Some Sources for the History of Timor. Far Eastern Quarterly IX, pp. 63-65. - 1958. Portuguese and Dutch colonial rivalry, 1641-1661. Studia, Centra de Estudos Históricos Ultramarinos II, pp. 7-42. - 1965. The Dutch Seaborne Empire. 1600-1800. - 1967. Fransisco Vieira de Figueiredo: A Portuguese Merchant-Adventurer in South East Asia, 1624-1667, V.K.I. Vol. LIL Bruynis, J. L., 1919. Twee landschappen op Timor (Amarassi en Zuid-Beloe), (Two Princedoms in Timor (Amarassi and South Belu», T.N.A.G., 2nd s., XXXVI, pp. 169-198. CapelI, A., 1943-45. Peoples and Languages of Timor, Oceania, Sydney, XIV, pp. 191-219; 311-337; XV, pp. 19-49. - 1945. Review of A. B. Mendes Corrêa, Timor Português, Oceania XVI, pp. 177-178.

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Radcliffe-Brown, A. R, 1935. On the concept of function in social science. In: Structure and Function in Primitive Society, 1963 (1952). - 1940. On Joking Relationships. In: Structure and Function in Primitive Society, London, 1963 (1952), pp. 90-105. - 1962 (1950). Introduction: African Systems of Kinship and Marriage, pp. 1-85. Rassers, W. H., 1959. Panji, The Culture Hero, The Hague. Rattay, R S., 1932. Ashanti, Oxford. - 1954 (1927). Religion and art in Ashanti, Oxford. Röder, J., 1948. Alahatala, die Religion der Inlandstämme Mittelcerams, Leipzig. Rouffaer, G. P., 1923. Chronologie der Dominikaner Missie op Solor en Flores, en Bibliografie over het Ende-fort (Chronology of the Dominican Mission in Solor and Flores, and Bibliography concerning Fort Ende), N.I.D.N. VIII, pp. 204-256. Rümke, H. c., 1967. Psychiatrie (Psychiatry), Vol. 3, Amsterdam. Salisbury, R S., 1956. Asyrnmetrical marriage systems, A.A. CVIII. Schapera, I., 1956. Government and Polities in Tribal Societies, London. Schärer, H., 1963. Ngaju Religion, transl. by R Needham, The Hague. Schmidt, F. H., and J. H. A. Ferguson, 1952. Rainfall types based on wet and dry period ratios for Indonesia with Western New Guinea. Djawatan Meteorologi dan Geofisik, Djakarta, No. 42. Schoorl, J. W., 1957. Kultuur en Kultuurveranderingen in het Moejoe-gebied (Culture and cultural change in the Muju area), Doctoral Thesis, Leiden. Sierksrna, F., 1955. Religie en politiek leiderschap in primitieve culturen (Religion and politicalleadership in primitive cultures), Nederl. Theologisch Tijdschrift X, pp. 209-236. Smith, M. G., 1956. On segmentary Iineage systems. The Journalof the Royal Anthropological Institute LXXXVI, pp. 39-80. - 1960. Government in Zazzau, London. Snouck Hurgronje, c., 1893. De Atjèhers (The Achehnese), Vol. 1, BataviaLeiden. - 1892-1893. Brieven van een Wedono-pensioen (Letters from a retired Wedono), Verspreide Geschriften (Miscellaneous Writings) IV, 1, pp. 111-248. Soekarno, 1952. Het ontstaan van de "Pantjasila" (The birth of the "Pantjasila"), An abridged translation of Soekarno's speech of 1st June, 1945. Inforrnation Service Indonesia, The Hague. SouthalI, A. W., 1953. Alur Society, Cambridge. Stapel, F. W., 1922. Het Bongaaisch verdrag (The Bongai treaty), Doctoral Thesis, Leiden. Steenis, C. G. G. I. van, 1954. Homo destruens, Leiden. Sumba, 1965. Leven en dood op Sumba (Life and death in Sumba), Catalogue of an Exhibition held by the Ethnological Museum, Rotterdam. Swellengrebel, J. L., 1960. Introduction : Bali, Studies in Life, Thought and Ritllal, The Hague and Bandung, pp. 1-76. - 1966. In Memoriam Dr. Roelof Goris. B.K.!. CXXII, pp. 205-229. Timasheff, N. S., 1957. Social theory, its nature and growth. New Vork. Tobing, Ph. L., 1956. The structure of the Toba-Batak belief in the High God. Doctoral Thesis, Utrecht-Amsterdam. Urnar Junus, 1964. Some rernarks on Minangkabau social structure, B.K.!. CXX, pp. 293-326. Vansina, J. L., 1962. A comparison of African Kingdoms. Africa XXXII, pp. 324-335. Vaux, Q.P., R de, 1961. Hoe het oude Israël leefde (The way of life of ancient Israel), I, Roermond-Maaseik.

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LIST OF TIMORESE WORDS

A'atan - helper, assistant.

Abeat - guard, warden.

Aem - tame.

Afatis - supporter, provider.

Afinit - highest, supreme.

Ahaut - provider.

Ahonit - progenitor, male parent.

Aina ama - mother - father.

Ainaf (generic form aina) - mother.

Aisaf - sheaf of corn-cobs.

A(d)jau - Indon. tjemara, Casuarina.

A laut - witch.

Ali' - left-hand side.

A luk - betel purse.

Amaf (generic form ama) - father, Iineage head, clan head.

Amaf naek - head of sub-territory of princedom.

Amfini - plural form of amaf.

Amnasi, mnasi - elders.

Anah (generic form ana) - child, Iittle.

Ana fetof - daughter.

Ana'-pah - guardian of the realm.

Ana'plenat - ruler, he who holds the reins of government.

Ana'uel - bearer of staff, rul er, envoy of ruler.

An monef - son.

Alle - riee.

Apinat - the radiant one, used with referenee to Vis Neno and to the ruler.

Apuf - small basket used in harvesting.

Asak - heap, pile.

Am - dog.

Ate - slave.

Atis - breast beam of weaving-Ioom.

Atiat le'u - guardian of sacred objects, ruler.

Atoni - human being, man.

Atoni amaf - amaf of bride-giving ume, mother's elder brother.

Atoni Pah M eto - the people of the dry land (cf. tOlli).

Atupas - "he who sleeps", the ruler.

Au - I, me, my.

Auk - (my) body, self.

Auni - lance.

Ba'at - root.

Babaf - mother's brother, father's sister's husband, masculine affine of preceding generation.

Bab honit - mother's brother.

Ba'ef - sister's husband, wife's brother, masculine affine of same generation.

Ba'ef mOlll!f - wife's brother.

Ba'ef fetof - sister's husband.

Bahan - wooden enclosing fence.

Baki - stone, stone fence.

Bak-bak - altar for Vis Pah in garden plots, itself also referred to as Vis Pah.

Be'if (generic form be'i) - grandmother, female ancestor.

Blli-wii - ancestors (female and male).

Belu - friend.

Benu - friend.

Benas - matchet.

Besi - crocodile, iron.

Bi - designation for women, e.g. Bi Tal (cf. Nai'), and for villages or districts, e.g. Bikomi.

Bian - companion (au bian, au benu - said with referenee to totem and to a head taken in headhunting).

Bibi-goat.

Bidjael - buffalo.

Bifel - woman.

Bikasi - horse.

Bninis - cotton-mangle, small press used for seeding cotton.

Boas - ten.

Bone - round-danee.

BOlle nakaf - danee performed for head taken in headhunting.

Bo'o - large basket (Ambenu).

Bltnuk - curse, taboo sign.

Eka haë - the filling in of the ditch. Ena - door. Etu - yard, garden laid out for a head. Fafi - pig. Fanu - war formula. Fatu - rock, cliff. Fatu le'u - sacred, awe-inspiring cliff. Fe lalan - the woman (from bifel) of the (trodden) path. Feta - feminine, sister. Fetof-nauf - sister-brother. F etor, fettor - district head. Fini - portion of harvest put aside for planting or for a mortuary feast. Finiklios - soul-bird. Funan - moon. Ha - four. Habu - mist, vapour. Hakef - messenger. H alak - beneh. H au - tree, wood. Hau monef - masculine pole, or altarpole outside the house. Hau tes - heartwood. Hin - to know, comprehend. H oka - small weeding-hook. H onu ane - ripping rice grains off staik. H onu suni - to drawasword; in trial by ordeal: to run hand along sharp edge of sword. Hulan - rain. Ike - spindie used in spinning. Ik - elo - "tail grass", imperata eylindriea, term used with reference to finest variety of rice. Ikun - to follow. Inu leko - fine coral beads. Istana - ruler's garden-hut. Kabesak - acacia. Kabu - servant. Kaidjulan - rain-tree. Kait (-lolu) - hook, harvesting-hook. Kanaf - name, clan, lineage. Kapitan - from the Port. eapitao, title of amaf naek. Kase - strange, foreign. Kasu no no - to shed the nona.

Kasui - basket of lontar leaves. Kato - wife, spouse. Kelili - small oblong basket used in sacrificing and for serving important guests. Kmat - rifle. Kesel (keser) - from Dutch keizer (= emperor). Ketemukungan - Indon. village. K iu - tamarind. Kliuka - pul se-beat. Kluni - lair, lying-place. Kolnel - from Port. eoronel. Kola - bird. Kota - fortified place. Kuan - community, residential unit, village, hamiet. Lake - leech. Laksae - transgress, overstep the bounds. Lais Kompani - the rules or adat of the Dutch. Lais meto - the laws or adat of the dry (land) = Timor. Lasi - word, matter, ritual, adat, rules, tradition, case, issue, matter in dispute. Leka - good; kan leko - not good, bad. Le'u - sacred, holy, awe-inspiring, sacred object. Le'u abanat - le'u used for taming buffaloes. Le'u fenu - le'u used in childbirth and illness. Le'u kinat - le'u for weaving. Le'u musu - le'u used against enemy, enmity le'u. Le'u nana - fertility power. Amle'ut - broken, evil, bad. Namle'u - it is broken. Mo'et amle'u - to do wrong. Li - left-hand side. Lolu (kait) - harvesting-hook. Lopo - community house, storehouse. M afefa - mouth, speaker of head. M ainikin ma menas - coolness and heat, well-being and disease. M ainikin ma oetene - coolness and cold, health and prosperity, well-being. M aká - cooked rice, food. M alak - mark, from Port. marea. Manas - sun. M anus - betel.

M aputu - melala - fiery, buming and hot. Mata - eye. Matau - progenitive power. M atsau - to marry. Mate - unripe, green. Maus - tame. M elala - fiery. M elUJS - heat, disease, evi!. M eo - cat, warrior, headhunter. M eo metan - civet-cat. M etan - black. Nis metan - black teeth. Nis muti - white teeth. Meto - dry. Miu - c1ear, bright. Huin miu - bright face. Mat milt - bright eye. MlUJne - medicine-man, authority on occult forces. MlUJnu - long, tall. Mnasi - old. Mo'e - to do, act. Mone(f) - masculine, exterior. M one-fe - husband and wife. Mala - yellow. Mone fe'u - "new man", son-in-Iaw, masculine affine of younger generation. Mone lalan - man of the (trodden) path. M onef atonif - masculine man, headhunter. Mtasa - red. Muni - young. Musu - enemy. Musu fui - wild enemy. Musu al/n - tame enemy. MI/ti - white. MI/tonan - to notify, implying at the same time "to ask permission" or "to instruct" . Naek - large. Na'j - grandfather. N ai - lord, when preceding a name it designates a man, e.g. Nai Ta!. Naidjan - lord. N aidjuf - founder of tribe; great chief

N akaf - head.

Na' a - blood.

N amso - individual dance.

N alUJlI - interior.

Nanef - daughter-in-Iaw, sister's daughter, wife's brother's daughter. Nauf - brother (sister speaking). Nekan - bamboa ware beam, used for tautening weaving-loom. N eno - heaven. N eno alUJn - divine child, the ruler. Neon sa' et - sunrise. Neon fes - sunset. Nesu - door. Neus atoni - masculine or men's door. Neus bifel - feminine or women's door. Ne'u - right-hand side. Ni - pillar. Ni aina! - maternal pillar. Ni monef - masculine pillar. Ni manu - chicken pillar. Nifu - lake, pond. N ikis - pandanus. Nitu - deceased, corpse; death spirit. Niun - leather back-st rap of weavingloom. Noil Noni - Gold-River. N ono - liana, circle, fertility; cf. le'u nono and kasu nono. N uni - taboo, forbidden. N unuh - banyan. N us - parrot, Indon. nuri. Oe - water, spring, source. Okan - cucumber. Oke - all. Oko - large basket, poni (Beboki). Olif - younger (brother). Onen - invocation, prayer. Ote - to chop. Ote nakaf - headhunter. Ote naus - augurer. Pae - hero, brave. Pah - land, ground, soi!. Paha tuakini - lords of the land. Pah M eta - the dry land, the Atoni area. Pah nitu - earth spirit. Pah tltaf - lord of the earth, earth spirit. Pak in tuan - lord of his land, territory. Pane - coconut shell. Pena - com. Pi/u - kerchief. Poni - large basket. P ani pak - harvest gifts. Puah-pinang - areca-nut.

Puah manus - sirih-pinang (betel-nut), part of bridewealth.

Puah manus luman or mnuke - first instalment of bridewealth.

Puah mnais-manus mnasi - definite instalments of bridewealth.

Sakan - cry of victory.

Seki pena - com harvest.

S epe - split bamboo.

S etel - pi1e.

Sial - one of two laths used for making odd and even strands run cross-wise.

Sifa - implement for separating cotton from its seeds, a bamboo bow with taut string. The cotton is beaten with this.

Sifa napa - the extinguishing of the bamboo.

Smanaf - vital force, soul. Ane smanaf - smanaf of rice. P ena smanaf - smanaf of com.

S onaf - palace.

Suti - plate on which yam is spun.

Suni - sword.

Tak - we eat.

Tah feu - the eating of the first com harvested.

Tani - liana, forest-creeper. N ana - tani - fertility power.

Tanhai - transgress, overstep the bounds.

Tasi feta - feminine sea, sea in the north, or sea closer to shore.

T asi mane - masculine sea, sea in the south, or sea further away from shore.

T etus - straight, erect, righteous.

T ataf - elder (brother).

Tima - water-mei on ; name for rain brought by easterly monsoon.

Tiut - to watch, to guard.

Tabe - sacrificial basket; lid of sacrificial basket; custodian of the land; properly: ana' tobe - he who holds the sacrificial basket.

Tabe naek - major custodian of land.

Tafa - large weeding-hook.

T ai - entrance to 10ft.

T ala - altar pole.

Tala ana - small altar poles of the usif, surrounding the sanaf.

Tala metan - black altar pole.

Tala naek - large altar pole near ruler's sana/.

Tala mala - yellow altar pole.

Toko - to sit.

Toni - word, see lasi.

Tuaf - lord, pI. tuafini.

Tuak - palm-wine.

Tup - to sleep.

Tuthais - gift of homage, present.

Tunaf - hearth, fire-place.

Uf - stem, tribe.

Uis Neno - Lord of Heaven.

Uis Pah. - Lord of the Earth.

U me - house, limited lineage, descent group.

Ume le'u - shrine with objects for war ritual.

U pu-mangga - designation for rains of westerly monsoon.

Unu - formerly.

U n unu - in primeval times.

Usapi - a tree (Schleichera Oleosa); Indon. kusambi.

U sif - lord, pI. uisfini.

Uisfinit - supreme lord.

Uta - roller (of weaving-loom).

INDEX OF NAM ES

Abucar, 135 n65.

Adriani, 463, 476.

Alphen, van, 75 n94, 272.

Endert, 34 n46.

Bastide, 10.

Beattie, 11.

Belt jens, 101.

Evans-Pritchard, 16 n34, 46 n6, 146 n10, 397.

Benardi, 427.

Ezerman, 37 n54.

Berthe, 26.

Berthling, 462.

Biermann, 163 n17, 176 n74.

Bor, 36, 94, 168.

Boxer, 166, 173 n53, 174 n59, 175, 176.

Bovill, 35 n50.

Bork-Feltkamp, 22, 26.

Brouwer, 167.

Felgas, 8 n17, 25 n17, 32 n40, 173.

Ferguson, 32, 33.

Bylmer, 21.

Faria de Morais, 315 n27.

Fernandes, Francisco, 164.

Forbes, 68 n83, 233 nl3l.

Field, 124 n42.

Fischer, 111 n27.

Fortes, 135 n64, 397.

Francillon, 116, 122, 132.

Fustel de Coulanges, 407.

CapelI, 25, 26.

Cassirer, 17.

Castro, de, 161 n10, 223.

Coomeraswamy, 440.

Costa, da, 173.

Couvreur, 466.

Costa, Mateos da, 168.

Cowan,26.

Cunningham, 2 nl, 94, 98, 105, 111, 113, 128, 136, 138, 185, 187, 201, 202, 203, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 213, 214, 216, 218, 219, 327, 342, 429.

Cuylenburg, van, 173 n57.

Dam, Pieter van, 168 1138.

Drewes, 472 n65.

Duarte Barbosa, 40, 50 nZO, 100 n14, 159.

Durkheim, 427, 435.

Easton, 399, 400.

Eisenstadt, 398.

Eliade, 145 n6.

Geertz, Clifford, 470, 471, 473, 474.

Geertz, Hildred, 470, 471, 473.

Glotz, 407 n27.

Goody, 123 n39.

Goris, 463.

Goudriaan, 463 n13.

Grader, 475.

Gramberg, 332.

Groeneveldt, 50 n19, 100 n14, 159 n4.

Gryzen, 98 n12, 232, 233, 235, 238, 255. 363.

Haga, 170 n41, 177 n79, 179 n84, 181 n88 n89.

Hazaart, 346.

Heine-Geldern, 472 n66.

Hegel, 444.

Held, 466 n32, 467.

Hertz, 427 n106.

Hessing, 49.

Heymering, 125, 180 n85, 327, 328, 331, 335, 337, 338, 340, 354, 358.

Hoekstra, 49.

Hoff, 458.

Hogendorp, van, 322, 367.

Holleman, 462 n7. Homay, 168, 173. Hornay, Jan de, 166. Horst, Hendrik ter, 171.

Jonker, 25, 159, 321 n46. Josselin de Jong, J. P. B. de, 92 n1, 461. Josselin de Jong, P. E. de, 123, 124, 461, 464, 467. Joustra, 136 n70.

König, 14.

Koopmans, 316. Kom, 474. Kraemer, 472 n63. Kruyt, 83, 122, 262, 267, 268, 340, 465, 476.

Kuperus, 35.

Lalau, 95 n10.

Lammers, 23.

Leach,427.

Leitao, 163 n16, 176 n75.

Lévi-Strauss, 11, 107, 350 n82, 447 n42.

Lewis, 135.

Liefrinck,473.

Lip, 178, 180.

Lith, van, 309 n6.

Lloyd, 403.

Locher, 93, 148 n18, 301, 443.

Lowie, 403, 404, 405.

Löwitt, 444 n41.

Murdock, 462 n9.

Müller 125, 184, 217, 266, 275, 307, 315, 331.

Maine, 134.

Mair,404.

Meyer, Eduard, 404.

Needham, 107, 427, 435, 440, 462 n4, n5, 470. N yèssen, 22, 26. Onvlee, 9, 145 n8, 442, 477. Oppenheim, 405. Ormeling, 27, 30, 38 n58, 46 n5. Ossenbruggen, van, 259, 472 n58, n60.

Meilink-Roelofs, 165 n24.

Middelkoop, 49, 86, 95, 111, 125, 142, 207, 210, 222, 262, 269, 275, 279, 313, 327, 330, 332, 336, 339, 340, 341, 342, 351, 463.

Mabuchi, 465.

Martino, 26 n18.

Mendes-Corrêa, 23.

Mohr, 30, 31, 35.

Mead, 102.

Matthysen, 367.

Meyer-Drees, 34.

Mauss, 427.

Paravicini, 182, 232, 279.

Piaget, 252.

Parrinder, 461. Pigafetta, 48, 64 n56, 160, 232. Pigeaud, 463, 471 n57, 472 n59, n61, n62. Pilon, 322 n52, 325. Pluskow, von, 182. Pouwer, 124, 131. Prins, J., 470 n48.

Radcliffe-Brown, 15, 62 n52.

Rangel, 36.

Reyntjes, 264 n7, 273.

RockhilI, 165.

Rassers, 92 n1, 473.

Roo van Alderwelt, de, 49, 177 n77, 280 n58, 292, n73.

Rattray, 124 n41.

Rouffaer, 47 ns.

Roux,le, 48, 64 n56, 232.

Salisbury, 129.

Sarzedas, 161, 235.

Schapera, 135 n62.

Schärer, 424, 471, 476.

Schmidt, 32, 33.

Scotte, ApolIonius, 160.

Sierksrna, 403.

Smith, 398.

Snouck Hurgronje, 124 n46, 470.

SouthaII, 404.

Steenis, van, 35.

Steinmetz, 37 n54, 83, 86, 203 n85, 217, 244.

Swellengrebel, 421 n90.

Tobing, 9 n19.

Urnar Junus, 136.

Valentyn, 168. Vansina, 403. Vaux, de, 135 n68. Veen, v. d., 26 nZO. Venema, 308, 365. Vergoowen, 124 n44, 136 n69. Weidner, 275 n35, 276 n41. Versluys, 136. Wertheim, 17 n35. Veth, 322. Wiggers, 365. Vieira, Francisco de Figueiredo, 173. Wortelboer, 232, 293 n74. 170. 314, 433.

Vollenhoven, van, 224. Vroklage, 21, 124. Vrye, de, 160. Visscher, 177 n76, n78, 325 n61. Wouden, van, 18 n18, 92 n1, 123, 125, 128, Vlaming v. Oudshoorn, de, 36, 168, 169, 237, 238, 239, 255, 258, 268, 269, 270,

SUBJECT INDEX

Adaptability, 447-459.

Administration, 357-361.

Administration of justice, 361-367.

Affines, see relations.

Agnatic lineage, 53.

Agriculture, 52-91, 432.

Amabi, 320-321, 379.

A maf, 78, 99.

Amaf naek, 110, 220, 376-380.

Amakono, see Miomafo.

Amanatun, 310-314, 378.

Amanuban, 118, 132, 307-310, 379, 456-459.

Amarasi, 36, 94, 181, 319.

Ambenu, 37, 116, 316-319.

Ambilineal, 131.

Ambilocal, 131.

Amfoan, 75, 117, 162.

Animal husbrandy, 46-49.

Atoni amaf, see kinship relationships.

Atupas, see ruler.

Bali, 421, 463, 474, 475.

Bali cow, sapi, 90.

Bikomi, 225, 226, 291-306.

Beboki, 1, 2, 22, 34, 114, 120, 185, 239-255.

Bima, 466.

Blood-relations, 99-105.

Bride service, see marriage.

Bridewealth, see marriage.

Buffalo, 46, 47.

Bunak,234.

China, Chinese, 159, 161, 165, 233.

Circulating connubium, 112, 123-125.

Clan, kanaf, 92, 93 ff.

Classification, c1assificatory system, 18, 406-427, 462-464.

Climate, 29-33.

Colours, see symbolism of, -.

Coral beads, ina, 47.

Com, 52, 67, SO, 86.

Counsellors, 207-209.

Crocodile, 322.

Crop failure, 70.

Culture Province, Indonesian, 18, 460- 479.

Custodian of the land, tobe, payment of -, SS, 76, 96, 130, 224.

Dayak,476.

Dogon, 464.

Diachronie, 16.

Dichotomy, 397, 407, 408.

- double, 139, 405.

- earth - sky, 419.

- night - day, 419.

- sun - moon, 421.

Division of labour, 90.

Dominicans, 166, 176, ISO, 368, 449, 450, 469.

Drought, 30-32, 70.

Dualism, 469.

Dutch, see also Hollanders, Netherlands, 51, 165.

Dutch East India Co., 177.

Elder, mnasi, 133.

Evil, see good.

Exogamy, 108, 139.

Fatule'u, 272, 273.

Fauna, 38, 39.

Feto-mone, see also kinship relationships, 106, 187, 417, 420, 422.

Fialaran, 255-261.

Five-fold division, 98, 188, 189, 250, 259, 432, 462.

Flora, 33-38.

Four-fold division, 95, 96, 130, 186, 212, 234, 236, 249, 259, 292, 431, 462.

Fowl,48.

Function, 10.

Genealogical, 132, 222.

God, Uis Neno, 142-146.

Good and evil, 425, 426.

HamIet, see village.

Harvest, com, 80, 86. - rice, 83.

Harvest gifts, see tribute.

Headhunting, see warfare.

Hinduism, 20, 476.

History, normative past, 17.

Hollander, see also Dutch, Netherlands, 51, 165.

Horse, 48, 49.

House, 428-432.

Hunting, 49.

Implements, 83.

Insana, see also Mena, 1, Z2, 51, 118. 186-231, 376. - structure of, 200.

Islam, 20, 470.

Java, 20, 470-473.

Jokes, practical, 62, 113, 114.

Kanaj, see clan.

Kinship relationships, father - son, 100. father - daughter, 101. brothers, olij-tataj, 102. grandparents - grandchild, 104. bride-giver, bride receiver, fetomone, 106, 113. father-in-Iaw, atoni amaf, 107, 113, 114.

Kinship system, 92-140, 433-437.

Kolnel, 79.

Kuan, see village.

Kupang, 167-172.

- princedom of, 321-325.

Land tenure rights, 224.

Languages, 25.

- non-Austronesian, 466.

Lasi, 153, 333, 383, 424.

Le'u concept, 151, 283.

- musu, 333.

Life cycle, 141.

Lineage, ume, 97-100.

- locally determined, 130, 131, 132.

Liurai, 236, 386, 389.

Liurai-Sonba'i,

- the entire realm of, 236, 242, 386, 390, 391.

- as name for com and rice, 55, 428.

- as appellation for ruler, 195.

SUBJECT INDEX 509 Marriage

Lopo, 96, 431, 432.

Loro, 236, 238.

M afefa, 383.

Magic, 153.

Mainikin, 55 n34, 74, 337, 344, 425, 440, 442.

Majapahit, 49, 50, 463.

Major custodian of the land, see also amaf naek, Z26.

Malaya, 467.

Man, origin or creation of -, 147, 148. - conceptions about -, 147-151.

- relationship to hidden world, 151-153.

Manamas, 27, 29, 37.

Mardekers, 178.

- asymmetrical connubium, 129, 138, 140.

- bride service, 114, 137.

- bridewealth, 112, 114, 115, 116, 137.

- cross-cousin, 109, 112.

- conclusion of marriage, 116.

- exchange of sisters, 109.

- within clan, 109, 139.

Matrilineal, 116, 117, 118, 120, lZ2.

Matrilocal, lZ2.

Melanesian, ZI, 466.

Mena, 160.

Meromak O'an, see ruler.

Meru,427.

Minangkabau, 467.

Miomafo, 1, 3, 37, 117, 184, 185, Z25, 378, 379.

- structure of, 279-287.

Mnane, 383.

Molo, 1, 4, 117, 125, 274-277, 378.

M onef atonij, see warfare.

Mutis, 121, 275.

Myth of Bikomi, 293.

- unity of -, 448, 468.

- of Sonba'i, 262 H.

- changing -, 298 ff.

- of South Be1u, 234 ff.

Netherlands, Hollanders, 37, 166 H.

Nobility, 382.

N oimuti, Z2, 120, 303, 449-453, 469.

N ono, 116, 349.

Offering, 46.

.:Jlij-tataf, see also kinship relationships, 102 187.

Patrilineal, 116-122. Patrilocal, 116-122. Penfui, battle of, 179, 181. Physical anthropology, 21-27. Physical environment, 27. Pig, 47. Polarity, 17. Political cornmunity, unity of -, 384- 391. Political system, 368-391, 437-440. - Insana., structure of -, ZOO. - dualism in centre, 202. - dualism centre and exterior, 212. - historical background, 368. - typology of -, 397. - unity of -, 440-444. - adaptability, 447-449. Portugal, Portuguese, 19, 29, 158 H. 455. Portuguese, the, Timor, 94. Portuguese, Black, see Topasses. Prayer, invocation, 54.

Rainfall, 30-32. Reciprocity, 136, 138. Relations, aHinal, 105-114. babaf, - affines of preceding generation ; bab mone - mo.br.; fa.si.husb.; bab feto - mo.br.wi.; ba' ef - affines of same generation ; ba'e mone - fa.si.so., mo.br.so., si.husb. ; ba'e feto - fa.si.da., mo.br.da., br.wi.; mone fe'u - da.husb., si.so., wi.br.so. ; nanef - so.wi., si.da., wi.br.dau. Re1ations, blood-, 99-105. na'ij - grandfather, ancestor; be'if - grandmother, female ancestor; amaf - father, father's brother; ainaf - mother, mother's sister, father's brother's wife; anak - chitd; an mone - son, brother's son; wife's sister's son; an feto - daughter, brother's daughter, wife's sister's daughter; upu - grandchild. Reversal of usual order, 345, 422-423.

Rice, 52, 83. Ritual, agricultural, 52-91. - error in -, 71. - knowledge of -, 100, 383. Royal marriage, 93. Ruler, 200, 357, 371-374. - acceptance of tribute, 190. - death of, 195. - centre of realm, ZOO. - Meromak O'an, 233-238. - atupas, ZOO. - custodian of le'u, 330. - the curse of, 439. - bringer of mainikin, 440.

Sacred, and profane, 152, 425-427. Sandalwood, SO. Soit, 17-29. Soit erosion, 35. Sonba'i, 4, 109, 149, 157, 159, 160, 162, 163, 164, 165, 215, 228, 235, 262-274, 357, 358, 368, 389, 439, 448. - myths of -, 262ff., 308, 312, 329. - structure of realm of -, 273. South Belu, 95, 109, 116, 122, 132, 157, 232-239, 368, 369, 390. Spirits, 151. Structural principle, 15, 16, 140, 392-397. Structure, 10-15. Sumba., 129, 442, 466, 477, 478. Sumbawa., 470. Superordination and subordination, 140, 380-384. Symbolic order, see c1assificatory system. Symbolism of numbers, 408-411, 462. - of points of the eornpass, 415, 463. - of eolours, 415-419. Synchronie, 16. System, 15, 16. System of life, 9. Taxation, see tribute. Temperature, 30. Territorial, territory, 130, 132, 133, 134- 136. Tetun, 19. Timorese, pronunciation of, XIII. Topasses, 51, 121, 165 H., 279, 292, 318, 368, 449, 469. Toraja, 465, 476-477. Totem, 341, 342.

Trade, 50-51.

SUBJECT INDEX 511

Traditional order, adat, lasi, 153, 424.

Triad, see tripartition.

Trials by ordeal, 365.

Tribute, 52, 190-195.

Tripartition, triad, 130, 139, 409.

Tunbaba, 38, 225, 283, 287-290.

Uis Neno, 54, 142-146, 425.

Ume, see lineage.

Ume le'u, 335, 336, 351.

Unilineal - double, 123.

Unity of the political system, 440-444.

Usif, 212-220, 228, 374-376.

Uxorilocal, 122, 131.

Village, kuan, 94 ff., 130, 132, 186-190, 433, 434.

Vital force, smanaj, 137.

Warfare, 152, 326-357.

- monef atoni!, 217.

- causes of war, 327-333.

- war ritual, 333-338.

- the meo, 338-345.

-meo mone, meo jeto, 342.

- the headhunting raid, 345-348.

- ritual following, 348-353.

- connection with harvest, 352, 353.

Wehale-Waiwiku, see South Belu.

9* INDONESIAN TIMOR A 10 20 30 40 50 km E Atambua S Mena 3000 anumean N. MENA Lifau atilulik 2 OIKUSI AMBENO (Portuguese) 560 500 Manlea N. BIKOMI 4 Naikliu Sipi HAUERS inun MUTI N BENAIN TOBAK Soliu N BEN S N.BUN Besikama 500 BAKI PUTAIN Toinanas N. TARMANU Bonfat A 0. FAU NIKI NIKI NEKENA E c. Menu H.BESIAM S 1115.ml 10° Pitai Noilmina Pariti KOLBANO N. MINA KUPANG BAY Babau R OISAU C.Oisapa isapabesar KUPANG P.SEMAU Baumata c. Batuputih - Panmuti Pulau - island Oikabiti Noil river M Oil Baun F Fatu N Nuaf mountain Tuba cape 125* 12 G1 -ku 70