Chapter V: Part II: Domestic Life (1)

The Village—The “Morung”—The Head-Tree—The House—The Contents
—Manufactures—Trade—Loans—Agriculture and the Ceremonies
connected with it—Live-stock—Hunting—Fishing—Food—Drink—
Medicine—Drugs—Games—Music.

[Position and defences.] With the exception of those situated on spurs running down from the great mass of Wokha Hill, a Lhota village is invariably built on the very top of a ridge. The two essentials of a site are that it must be easily defensible from a Naga point of view, and near a spring. Unlike the Sema, the Lhota rarely calls a village after its founder. An almost unique example is Mangya, which is said to have been founded by Mangyasang. More usually some peculiarity of the site, or incident connected with the village, gives it its name. Seleku is so called because many flying squirrels (selek) were found when the site was cleared. Niroyo is the place of a plant with red berries called niro. Lungsa (olung = stone, osa = platform) is so called from a flat-topped rock near the eastern entrance of the village. Okotso is said to mean the place where the pigs of Pangti were eaten by tigers (woko = pig, tso = eat). Villages captured by the Lhotas from the Aos, such as Yimbang, Akuk, Mekula, still retain their Ao names only slightly corrupted. Often a village retains the name of its parent village, with Yanthamo (“new village”) added, e.g. Are Yanthamo. To defend his village the Lhota used neither masonry walls like the Angami, nor hedges of living cane like the Konyak. The outer defence was a ditch cut across the ridge in a conveniently narrow place. The bottom and edge of this were studded with “panjis,” and it was crossed by a rough-hewn plank which was taken up at night, or in case of attack. The inner defence was a stout fence of sticks and bamboos, also bristling with “panjis.” This was carried right round the village except in places where the steepness of the ground gave adequate protection of itself. The door was of bamboo, studded with “panjis.” A few sticks are still stuck up along the line of the old fence every year at the Pikuchak “genna,” and whenever the village performs the Oyantsoa “genna.” Huge trees stand at the entrance to most Lhota villages. These were preserved to form a wind-screen for the village and to provide convenient look-out posts for sentries. War between Lhota villages was rare, and a powerful village surrounded by friends would regard defences as unnecessary. Similarly nowadays Tuensang, the most powerful village of the Changs, has no village fence. It is situated in the middle of a circle of friendly Chang villages. The warriors of Tuensang emerge from the circle to smite their foes, and then retire behind their friends again. Woe betide the friend who is so remiss as to let a party of avenging enemies into the circle.

A Lhota village is as a rule built along a ridge and has a main entrance at either end, with smaller paths running down to the fields from the sides of the village, and may contain anything from a dozen to 350 houses. The entrance to the World of the Dead being on Wokha Hill, the spirits of the dead must leave the village in that direction. The path leading towards Wokha Hill is accordingly known as etchhilan (“dead man’s road”). It is a curious sight, flanked with offerings to the dead (sochipen) and bamboo erections (nritangpeng) showing the prowess in war and hunting of those recently deceased.

[Communication.] From village to village there are narrow permanent paths along which men can only go in single file. As far as possible they keep along the very top of the ranges, for in the old days to use a path running under the shoulder of a hill would have been to risk having a spear thrown at you from above. Where the rock is soft sandstone, as it is near Tsori, toe-holes are cut in very steep ascents. Where the rock is hard a notched pole helps the traveller up the bad places. Small streams and ditches are bridged either by a single big tree or half a dozen stout poles laid side by side. Across broader streams, such as the Chebi, cane bridges are constructed. Long pieces of cane are stretched across from convenient trees on either bank. Between these a V-shaped cradle of cane is constructed, on which are laid long bamboos to form a foot-way. Long cane tie-ropes up and down stream prevent the bridge from swinging. The far-seeing Lhota often plants young trees of a suitable kind near the bridge-head trees to provide substitutes in case the old trees are washed away or die.

[The village.] A village usually consists of one long street with a line of houses on each side facing inwards. In the middle of the street are the “genna” stones standing opposite the houses of their owners. The somewhat limited space is further crowded with old fallen “genna” stones, graves and stacks of firewood. The villages are swarming with pigs, dogs and cattle, and the state of the street in wet weather can be better imagined than described, though some attempt is made to keep the actual doorways of the houses clean by scraping away the filth with shovels (mirothenga) made of the shoulder-blades of cattle or mithan. Sanitary arrangements are non-existent. Pigs and dogs do the necessary scavenging in the jungle surrounding the village. In every village one piece of jungle is strictly reserved for men and another for women. Not all villages consist of one long street. At places such as Yekhum, where the ground slopes awkwardly, the houses are built according to the lie of the land and are in broken lines. Similarly at Pangti, which is on a fairly broad, level site, there are several rather badly defined streets and the houses face in all directions.

Unlike the Angamis, the Lhotas do not keep their rice in their houses but in little thatched granaries (osung) of bamboo which are raised on posts above the ground and stand in neat little groups just outside the village. By this arrangement the food supply is generally saved even if the village be burnt. It is absolutely forbidden to spread clothes to dry on the roof of a granary. To do so would cause all the rice to go bad.

[The “Morung.”] Every village, except the very small ones, is divided into two or more “khels” (yankho). Sometimes, but by no means always, a little strip of open ground marks the division between “khel” and “khel.” In some villages these “khels” mark the divisions of clans. For instance, at Tsingaki there are two Kikung “khels” and one Nguli “khel.” But this is not common. Usually a “khel” appears to be nothing more than a convenient division of a village in which men of various clans live. Sometimes some feature of the site gives the “khel” its name, e.g. Hayili (“level”) khel in Akuk. Sometimes, as in the Wokhayankho (“Wokha men’s khel”) in Pangti, the first inhabitants have given a name to the “khel.” Usually a man lives and dies in the “khel” in which his forefathers lived and died before him. But he is perfectly free to go to another “khel” if he wants to. In every “khel” there is a common bachelors’ house or “morung” (champo), [68] a building which plays an important part in Lhota life. In it no woman must set her foot. At the champo raids were planned and discussed, and to it all heads taken were first brought. It is the sleeping-place of every Lhota boy from the time he first puts on his dao-holder till he marries, this rule being only relaxed in the case of boys who are allowed to remain at home and nurse an ailing and widowed mother, or when the champo falls into such a state of disrepair that it is no longer habitable. In the latter case boys are allowed to sleep in a separate room in their parents’ house. The champo usually stands at the end of, and facing down, the village street. Though not to be compared with the huge “morungs” of the Aos and Konyaks, it is the best architectural effort of which the Lhota is capable. In length a typical champo extends to forty feet, with a breadth of fifteen feet at the front and twelve feet at the back. The roof-tree is low in the middle, and curves up to gables at the front and back, that at the front being about sixteen feet high and that at the back a foot or so lower. Two specially fine bamboos are selected for the roof-tree. Part of the root is left on them and forms a horn-like projection at each end of the roof-tree. To each horn is fixed a little cross-piece, from which are hung tassel-like ornaments of reed-stem. The house is thatched with either thatching grass or the leaf of a small palm called oko (Levistonia assamica). The eaves reach almost to the ground and are brought forward in a half-circle in front to form a sort of verandah roof. In the middle of the space covered by this verandah roof stands the front post (humtse), which is elaborately carved with conventional representations of mithan heads and hornbills, and is carried through the roof up to the high gable. Behind it is another carved post (humtse tachungo). At the base of this post are the oha stones on which the good fortune of the champo depends, and to it used to be fastened a piece of skin from the first head taken after a new champo was built. This piece of skin is called humtse lama (“post warmer”). It was believed that it brought strength to the post and luck to the village. So strong was and is this belief, that as late as 1913 Tsingaki was punished for buying a piece of a head to be used as humtse lama from the independent Sema village of Satami. [69] At the back of the champo is another carved post.

The interior of a champo is not attractive. It is dark, dirty, smoky, stuffy and full of fleas. Yet a Lhota talks of his happy champo-days much as an Englishman talks of his schooldays. The floor is sometimes levelled earth and sometimes a bamboo platform raised about two feet above the ground on posts. The walls are of bamboo. There is a door at each end and a passage about two feet wide down the middle, in which fires are lit on cold nights, the smoke finding its way out as best it can in the absence of chimneys or windows. Where the floor is of bamboo four logs are laid down to form a square, the interior of which is filled in with earth rammed firmly down. On this the fire is made. On either side of the passage are cubicles with bamboo partitions, along the sides of which are sleeping benches of rough-hewn planks, or bamboo “machans.”

The time varies in different villages, but a champo is generally rebuilt every nine years. Almost invariably it falls in ruins before the time is up, but on no account must it be rebuilt till the due period has elapsed. The ceremonies connected with the rebuilding are interesting. The Puthi having announced that the rebuilding will take place in so many days, the boys of the champo collect bamboos, thatching grass, posts, tying-bark and whatever is needed. If a new carved post is required the best carver in the village gets to work on it. Every champo has land belonging to it. With the rice from this land a pig and a big cow are bought. These are killed on the day before the work of rebuilding is begun, and the carcases kept in a little hut specially built by the side of the champo. Next day is the first of five days’ emung, [70] which must be kept by the whole village. During these days no one may work in the fields, or weave cloth or make pots or bring into the village meat from a tiger’s kill. If a stranger enters the village he will probably be ill, and he cannot leave it till the five days’ emung are over. On this day the ceremonies begin. The Puthi formally begins the breaking down of the old champo, by pulling a piece of thatch off the roof and throwing it onto the ground. The Puthi’s attendant (Yenga) then removes the oha stones from in front of the humtse tachungo and lays them down a little distance from the champo. The roof is next carefully cut in two lengthways and laid on the ground in such a way that the two halves lean up against one another and form a shelter. Under this the boys of the champo must sleep that night. The posts are pulled out and laid on the ground, the whole building is dismantled and the site cleaned and re-levelled. The work of rebuilding is then begun. This again the Puthi initiates by a formal act. Beginning with the humtse tachungo he digs a little hole with the butt of his spear at the places where the three carved posts are to be set up, and pours or spits a little “rohi madhu” into each hole. The posts are then put up, new ones being substituted for any which may have decayed, and the champo is rebuilt as quickly as possible. Before leaving the work for the night the Puthi places a little ginger sprinkled with “madhu” on two crossed leaves at the foot of the humtse tachungo in order to keep away evil spirits, to whom ginger is particularly obnoxious. Thatching alone is left till next day, which is a day of less work and more play. Everyone feasts and puts on his best clothes, the men wearing full dancing dress. The first bunch of thatch having been put in place by the Puthi, the braves of the village dance, some on the ground and some on the roof of the “morung,” all singing the pangashari, a slow chant in which the war-like deeds of the village in the past are recounted. This song goes on all the time the thatch is being put on. A similar dance on the roof is performed by the Konyaks of Namsang and Tamlu when a “morung” is rebuilt. The thatching being finished the oha stones are replaced by the Yenga at the foot of the humtse tachungo. All the men, led by the Puthi, then slowly dance in a rough column of fours formation round the village, ho-hoing as they go. The chant is called yanungshari. The carcases of the pig and cow are taken out of the little hut in which they have been kept and cut up and distributed to all males, the Puthi receiving as his share half the head of the cow split longitudinally. A feature of this, the second day of the ceremonies, is the dog-killing which takes place. Every champo in the village kills a small dog. That belonging to the champo which is being rebuilt is carefully fattened up beforehand and tied up in front of the Puthi’s house. When the time comes to kill this dog an admiring throng gathers round while the oldest man of the “khel” sits by the dog and gives it a bone to keep it quiet. He then covers it with his cloth. Opposite to him stands the man reputed to be the finest warrior in the “khel,” and the following dialogue takes place. Warrior: “Move away.” Old man: “Will you take care?” Warrior: “I will take care.” Old man: “Do not hurt the dog.” Warrior: “I will kill it quickly.” At these words the old man uncovers the dog and moves aside. The warrior then attempts to split its skull exactly in two with one blow of his dao. When the dog falls about a dozen bucks and boys dance round and round it chanting, “He has killed it, he has killed it.” The head is cut off and brought to the champo, where it is carefully examined to see if it has been well and truly split. If the blow is found to have been a crooked one, the man who killed it is laughed at, told he is no warrior, but a boaster and a wind-bag. The head is then thrown away by the old man who attended at the killing. [71] In the evening a mock fight takes place between the young men and women of the village, both married and unmarried. The women pretend to try to push their way into the champo, while the young men keep them out. This mock fight is believed to increase the fertility of the women who take part in it. On the third day the slow dance round the village is repeated while the yanungshari is again sung. Most of the day is spent in feasting and drinking. On the fourth day the dance and chant are again repeated, but very few men put in an appearance, presumably because most of them have bad headaches after two days’ heavy drinking. The chief performers are a few hard-headed bucks and irrepressible small boys. On the fifth day, the last emung day, everyone rests.

[The Head-tree.] Perhaps the most conspicuous object in a Lhota village is the head-tree, mingetung, generally a magnificent specimen of ningetung (a tree of the Ficus family). It is usually situated on a mound well in the middle of the village. Against its branches were leant the long bamboos from which were hung the heads of enemies taken in war, and at its roots are kept the mysterious oha stones. These are counted and a fence is put round the tree whenever the oyantsoa “genna” is performed. The fortune of the village is regarded as in a way dependent on the mingetung. So sacred is it that in some villages it cannot be photographed. To break a twig off it would entail the performance of the oyantsoa “genna” (village renewing “genna”), which must also be performed if the mingetung dies or a branch falls. The place of the mingetung can never be changed. That at Lungla has been blown down. A small tree close by is being used instead till a new mingetung can be induced to grow on the old site, a vain hope, as the old site is a mound of shale without so much as a blade of grass on it. When a new village is founded a site is always selected on which there is a tree suitable for use as a mingetung. Under the new tree must be put a twig stolen from the mingetung of the parent village, though the parent village makes every effort to prevent this theft, as it entails the performance of the oyantsoa “genna” and is very likely to bring bad luck to the parent village. A curious belief is prevalent in Phiro. Skulls which had fallen from their strings were often picked up and jammed into interstices in the bole of the head-tree. At Phiro the mingetung is growing round and gradually covering these old skulls. This is regarded as a sign that the days of head-hunting are gone, never to return. [72]

[Water supply.] Springs issuing from the side of the hill below the village supply Lhotas with their water. Sometimes it is drawn from a muddy pool of unappetizing greenish water, but often there is a good flow into a basin dammed up with rough masonry. Small fish have been put into the Niroyo basin, and are carefully preserved in order that they may keep the water clear of scum. At almost all springs there is a small dam, and over it a low fence so that women who draw water stand below and not in the supply from which they draw. Unlike the Ao, the Lhota does not fancy water after the village have washed their feet in it. When the path from the fields does not happen to pass near a stream, water is often led to it in bamboo pipes from a long distance in order that men coming up after the day’s work may have a drink and a wash.

The Lhota House.

[Description.] A Lhota house varies in size from the wretched hovel of some old widow to the house of a rich man which may measure thirty feet long by eighteen feet broad—a limit far exceeded, however, by Aos, Semas and Angamis. To build a fine house as a show of wealth a Lhota would regard as great waste of money, and a Lhota likes to waste nothing. The walls are of bamboo and the roof of thatch (lishu) or palm-leaf (oko, Levistonia assamica). The front of all but the poorest houses is semicircular, with a door in the middle of the semicircle. The roof of the front semicircular room (mpongki) slopes up to the roof of the main building like the roof of the semicircular apse of a church. The upper roof-tree of the main building is carried forward over the roof of the mpongki with a slight upward slope, and is decorated with a little mock roof of thatch forming a sort of flying gable. In the middle of the mpongki is a bamboo post, which is carried through the roof of the apse to meet the projecting roof-tree of the main building. The interior of a Lhota house strikes a stranger as very cramped and uncomfortable. Unless one is very careful one bumps one’s head at every step. There is none of the spaciousness which one notices in the house of a rich Sema or Ao. Where the ground is suitable and bamboos are plentiful there is a machan (khantsung) for sitting out at the back. Sometimes the whole floor of the house is simply levelled earth, as in a Sema or Angami house. More usually, however, a step made of a short, thick log leads up from the mpongki to the doorway of the main building, the floor of which is raised above the ground on short posts and made of stout bamboo matting on a framework of whole bamboos, the matting in turn being covered with a layer of beaten earth to keep the draught from coming up from below. The floor of the sitting-out platform at the back is of bamboo without any covering of earth. The pattern of the floor of this platform varies according to whether the owner of the house has or has not dragged a stone. In the former case a mat of split bamboos interlaced in a simple chequer pattern is laid over a foundation of whole bamboos laid at right angles to the back wall of the house. In the latter case the place of the mat is taken by split bamboos laid at right angles to the bamboo foundation.

In a Lhota household each wife has a separate sleeping cubicle with a fireplace (nchü) in the middle. A well-to-do Lhota usually possesses three wives. The main building of his house therefore contains three sleeping cubicles and a little store-room (bhuritheng) at the back. The cubicle nearest the mpongki is called lhuhrui and is occupied by the third wife. The middle one is called olungo and is the abode of the chief wife. The back cubicle is called tachungo and is used by the second wife. Daughters sleep with their mother or, if she is dead, with the step-mother they like best. Servants, if there be any, or a bridegroom working for his bride in his father-in-law’s house sleep in the mpongki, either on mats on the floor or on the pounding bench. Guests sleep on mats on the floor of the store-room or in one of the cubicles.

A step up from the mpongki and a door close to the wall (usually the right-hand wall) lead into a narrow passage running the whole length of the house onto the platform at the back. On the left, assuming the passage to be on the right of the house, are the cubicles, the partitions of which stretch about two-thirds across the house, and up to the beams (khokang), the partitions between the mpongki and the first cubicle, and between the store-room and the sitting-out platform, going right up to the roof. The roof is supported on centre-posts (tirhupu), a bamboo one being placed in the middle of the mpongki, and a roughly-squared wooden one at each partition, and corner-posts (okinge) at the corners of the main building. Small posts in the walls help to support rafters (khirong). There is no chimney and the smoke finds its way out as best it can. The cubicles are lighted only by their fires.

[Construction.] When a Lhota builds a house he sets about it as follows. After the harvest is in he chooses a site and touches the ground with his hand. Then he goes off to a dreamer (hahang), of whom there are two or three in every village, with a small present of food, and asks him to dream that night and tell him in the morning if the site will be a lucky one. Dreams of springs, gourds, cucumbers, leaves, daos and spears, among other things, are good. To dream of digging, hair dyed scarlet and black thread forebodes death. If the dreamer has a vision of frogs, crabs, or tortoises the man who builds a house on the site which is being tested will be ill. If the dreamer reports visions of good omen (and he generally does, for a seer of evil dreams does not keep his clients long) the builder of the house calls his friends and relations together and work is begun. The positions of the corner-posts are first marked out, the length and breadth and diagonals being carefully measured. These posts are then put in, and after them the centre-posts and side-posts of the walls. If the house is to have a raised bamboo floor this is now made. Long bamboos or poles are then laid along the top of the side-posts of the walls, which are notched to receive them, and tied in position with yhandra bark. This bark is taken from the tree in long strips and dried in the sun for some days. The strips are twisted and wetted when required for use. On the top of the skeleton wall thus made are laid and tied bamboo cross-beams in pairs, each pair enclosing one of the wooden centre-posts, to which it is firmly tied. There is no cross-beam across the mpongki. The tops of the wooden centre-posts are then notched and a bamboo roof-tree (mhongki) is put in place. This stretches out far in front of the main building. At its junction with the centre-post standing between the mpongki and the first cubicle it is broken half through and carefully bent down, for the projecting end of it will eventually form the centre rafter of the semicircular roof of the mpongki. The rafters (khirong) are then put on. To enable them to be tied they must necessarily project and form a series of forks along the top of the roof-tree. On these forks is laid another roof-tree, which is not bent down like the first, but projects right out above the mpongki and is supported by the bamboo centre-post. Further to strengthen the rafters and prevent them lifting in a high wind, two other roof-trees are placed in position in the side forks on either side of the main roof-trees. These side roof-trees project beyond the main building and are bent down like the under one to form rafters for the mpongki. Partitions inside the house are now built and purlins (sütesüyo) are put on, all being so bent as to form purlins for the mpongki. The bottom pair of purlins are so made that the projecting ends can be bent to meet and be tied. This gives the outline of the semicircular apse of the mpongki. Posts are put in to which the bottom pair of purlins are tied in position. The projecting ends of roof-trees and other purlins are then brought down and tied to it, and the framework of the house is complete. Chequer pattern bamboo walls are quickly put up and the thatching is begun. Sections of thatching about six feet long are prepared as follows by men on the ground, and handed up to men on the roof, who put them in position. Thatch is carefully bent double over a thin bamboo about six feet long, care being taken to see that it forms a fringe without gaps. Then to keep the thatch in place two more bamboos of the same size and length are placed on either side of it about five inches below the first bamboo. These are firmly tied together through the thatch with strips of bamboo. With palm leaves the top bamboo is omitted, a fringe of overlapping palm leaves being held in place by the two thin bamboos, one on either side. These fringes are then tied on to the rafters and purlins, beginning at the eaves and working upwards so that each fringe overlaps the one below it. Finally, thatch is doubled over the upper roof-tree and fastened down with two long bamboo wind-ties. This last layer of thatch extends to the end of the upper roof-tree, forming a sort of flying gable where it projects over the mpongki. Light bamboo doors are then made. These are not attached to the door-posts in any way and can be lifted and laid aside. Two crossed bamboos are attached to the door by a loop of bark string and jammed behind the door-posts to keep it in place. A man who has dragged a stone more than once can decorate his roof with crossed bamboos representing mithan horns, but this is considered rather a snobbish display of wealth and the privilege is rarely taken advantage of. In some Southern Lhota villages the Puthis’ houses have the roof decorated with crossed bamboos of which the ends are split and splayed apart. This is a conventional representation of human hands, and the right to have the roofs of their houses ornamented in this way was formerly confined to men who had succeeded in bringing the fingers or toes of an enemy home from a raid. Rich Aos decorate their roofs in a similar way.

Before such a house can be occupied lurking evil spirits must of course be dealt with. For this the oldest of the men who helped to build the house is called in to act as tsandhramo epang (“driver away of evil spirits”). Having mixed ginger and “rohi madhu” in a new “chunga,” he sprinkles the inside of the house with the concoction and says, “We are going to stay here. You go away.” He then throws away the “chunga,” which must never be used for anything else. The old man then marks out the places for the hearth-stones, which the owner places in position. The owner then either lights a fire with a fire-stick or fetches fire from another house—any house will do. Matches are never used by Lhotas for ceremonial fire-making. A meal is now cooked and partaken of by the owner and his household and friends and the old man, who then takes the omens. He holds in his hands a small chicken called kichakro, which each member of the household touches with his or her left hand. This he strangles and disembowels, taking the omens from the entrails. After which he cuts it up and, holding eight pieces of meat in each hand, takes his seat with the male members of the household on his right and the female members on his left, and swings his hands backwards and forwards four times with an underhand bowling action, counting the number of swings aloud. The chicken is the old man’s fee, and he takes it away, returning in the morning to report whether he has had dreams of good or evil omen. A man may not act as tsandhramo epang for more than one household on the same day. The only restriction placed on occupants of a new house is one forbidding them to allow men from another village to enter the house till the earth which has been put on the bamboo floor is dry. A house of which the floor is mother earth may be entered by strangers as soon as the above ceremony has been performed.

[The contents of the house.] In the front room of the Lhota house are kept heavy articles, such as the pounding table (tsampo), liquor vat (ochen), and pigs’ feeding trough (wokochakpfu), the last being merely a log split in two and roughly hollowed. The pounding table is hewn from one piece of wood. In the top, which is slightly concave, one, two or three holes about six inches in diameter are burnt. In these the rice is pounded with heavy poles—an arduous occupation at which the daughters of the house spend a good deal of their time. The liquor vat consists of a log hollowed out from one end. Trees for this are carefully chosen, but a very large proportion of vats split or spring a leak before they are finished. On the wall of the front room are hung the feet of game which the owner of the house has killed. Spears are always kept stuck in the ground in front of the big wooden post. Along the sides of the inner cubicles are the small plank beds of the household. According to Lhota ideas a single thickness of cloth spread on the bed makes quite a soft enough mattress. Round the fire are little wooden stools about six inches high cut from one piece of wood. Floor space being limited in a Lhota house, most things are kept on rough bamboo shelves (theka) fixed to the beams of the house. Here are kept bundles of salt wrapped in leaves, cooking pots, baskets of yeast, traps, carrying baskets, and a thousand and one things. For cooking rice and meat Naga-made earthen pots are generally used, but for heating “madhu” shallow iron pots from the plains are popular. In them the brew can be stirred easily and without risk of an upset. Lhota houses contain very few drinking cups. Villages on the Sema border obtain bamboo cups from their neighbours, and nowadays cheap German enamel and aluminium ware are often used. But the true Lhota cup is a folded plantain leaf. It is really an astonishing sight to watch one’s hostess fold a piece of plantain leaf into a cup with one hand, while she talks hard to one guest and pours out “madhu” for another, either from a gourd or, more commonly, an old beer bottle. The usual type of dish is a shallow wooden one, with no legs, called opyi, many of which are made in Lungsa. Some households also use a wooden dish on a raised stand, rather like a dessert dish, called pyikhyu. In the bamboo matting of the walls are stuck daos, bamboo spoons and many odds and ends. The hollow bamboos in which water is carried up from the spring are kept leaning against the walls. Over the fire is suspended a bamboo platform about five feet square. This prevents sparks flying up to the roof and also serves as a convenient place on which to dry meat, and keep such pots and spoons and things as are in continual use. The little store-room at the back is comparatively free from smoke and in it ceremonial ornaments and spare cloths are hung.

Manufactures.

[Spinning.] Spinning, like dyeing and weaving, is performed entirely by women, and every Lhota woman is expected to weave the cloths of her husband and family. The thread is spun as follows. Home-grown cotton—the Lhotas are great cotton-growers—is cleaned of its seeds by being rolled on a flat stone with a small stick, used like a rolling-pin. This cleaning is a tedious process which generally falls to the lot of the old widows of the village, who eke out a scanty livelihood thereby. The cleaned cotton after being fluffed out by being flicked with the string of an instrument (loko) like a miniature bow is then gently rolled between the hands into “sausages” about nine inches long, after which it is ready to be spun into thread. The Lhota spindle (humtsi) is a very primitive affair and is similar to that of the Aos, Semas and Angamis. It consists of a thin penholder-shaped stick of hard wood about eight inches long, tapering to a fine point at the top, and about the thickness of a pencil at the thickest point near the bottom. Just above the thickest point is fixed a whorl made of soft black stone. This is made by rubbing on other stones till it is flat and round a piece of the soft stone used for the purpose. To make the hole in the middle a man holds it between his toes and twiddles a spear on it between his hands till the iron butt of the spear goes through. For spinning the tip of the spindle is wetted with the tongue. The spindle is then spun clock-wise with the right hand against the outside of the right thigh, the base of the spindle being kept in bounds by a conveniently cup-shaped piece of broken pottery covered with a bit of rag. The “sausage” of cotton is held in the left hand, and the end of it laid against the wetted tip of the spindle till it catches and the thread (oying) begins to form. When about a yard has been spun it is unwound from the tip of the spindle and rewound just above the stone whorl. The spindle is then worked as before, the cotton being held in the left hand, and thread accumulates above the whorl till the spindle becomes full, when it is wound off onto a wooden frame (kukung), shaped like a double T, and another spindleful is begun, and so on till the kukung is full. The thread is next hardened by being steeped for about five minutes in hot rice-water, after which the skeins (yingsak) are strung on a stick (phutsi) to dry. It is forbidden for a man to eat the boiled rice from which this rice-water has been taken. When the thread is required for weaving it is wound into a ball (yingtso), the woman who is sitting winding keeping the skein stretched round her knees.

[Dyeing.] Three colours, red, dark blue and light blue, are used by the Lhotas. Red thread is generally bought either from a shop or from an Ao village, for red dyeing is considered a risky occupation likely to bring on dysentery, and therefore only suitable for old women, who are of no value to the community. The industry, however, is carried on in a few Lhota villages, such as Changsü and Okotso. To make red dye the root of Rubia sikkimensis (karung) is pounded up, and another leaf (’ntawo) is pounded and added. The mixture is then boiled with water, and the thread put in while the water is boiling. The pot is then lifted off the fire and allowed to stand for three days, when the thread is taken out and dried.

Dark blue dye is made from the leaves of Strobilanthes flaccidi-folius (tchemo), pounded up and boiled with water. The thread is steeped in the mixture for half an hour and is then dried. This gives a colour like navy blue. To make light blue the leaves which have been already boiled and used for making dark blue dye are drained and dried and kept for a year. They are then broken up fine and mixed with cold water and the white ash of burnt bark, and put to stand till next day, when the thread is put in and left there for a day, or for two days if the dye is weak. It is then taken out and dried.

Dyeing is exclusively performed by women, who when they are so occupied must refrain from sexual intercourse and must not eat beef, goat’s flesh, dog’s flesh, dried fish, or that horrible vegetable known in Naga-Assamese as “stinking dal” (nyingtyingtsing), in fact any food with a strong smell. If any man were to dye a piece of thread he would never again have any luck in fishing or hunting. No one but the dyer must look on while thread is being dyed or the colour will be patchy and bad.

[Weaving.] Like the Semas and Aos, the Lhotas use a simple single-heddle tension loom (tsirochunglung) which is set up and operated as follows. A beam (tsikam) of bamboo about three feet long is securely fastened to the wall of the house or any other suitable firm support in a horizontal position and at a height of about two feet from the ground. On this are slipped two loops (tsisü) of bark string, in which is put the other bar (ncho) of the loom. The loops are set at a distance apart equal to the breadth of the piece of cloth to be woven. The lower bar (ncho) is notched at either end, to enable the weaving belt (ephi) to be attached to it. This belt is of woven cane or bamboo and is worn by the operator in the small of her back. By it, as she sits in front of the loom, she can keep the necessary tension on the warp. Both the beams being in position and a strain having been taken on the tsisü, each tsisü is crossed by the lower string being pulled up and the upper down and a thin stick of bamboo (yingyi) is put in position. This is naturally held firmly in place by the downward pressure of the lower strings and the upward pressure of the upper. Then, working towards the weaver, the lease-rod (chunglung) is put in close to the yingyi without crossing the strings. Below the lease-rod the sword (tsitam) is inserted, the strings being crossed as in the case of the yingyi. The twine which is to form the heddle-loops (ena) is now tied loosely onto the left end of the sword and laid along it. This twine is sometimes thick cotton thread and is sometimes made from the twisted bark of a creeper called enazü (Pineraria Thungbergiana). Two balls of thread are then taken and their loose ends twisted together and joined. One ball is held in the lap of the weaver while the other is passed over the ncho, under the tsitam and the ena which is lying along it, over the chunglung and under and then round over and under the yingyi and then over the tsikam, from whence it is brought straight back to the weaver under the loom. The second ball is then passed under the ncho and over the ena and under the tsitam and chunglung, and under and back over and under the yingyi and over the tsikam, and is brought back to the weaver under the loom. The process is repeated till all the warp (elomo) has been set. The result is that the ena forms a series of heddle-loops and the yingyi (the object of which is to shorten the upper side of the shed made by the lease-rod) is entirely encircled by each warp. Unless the loom be a very small one the weaver cannot reach the tsikam. She therefore generally has an assistant, who can be a man, to pass the warp thread over and under the tsikam. The two ends of the warp thread, when all has been set are turned back across the warp and woven into the material. The shuttle (yingshü), which is simply a thin piece of bamboo, is filled from the ball by being spun against the right thigh. This process and that of setting the warp are the only two in which a man may take part. Before weaving can begin the tsitam, a flat piece of hard wood, is turned on edge and the heddle (natyung) is slipped in alongside it so as to take up the heddle-loops formed by the ena. The tsitam is then removed. The object of substituting the sword for the heddle while the warp is being set is to ensure big enough heddle-loops. The tsisü are then removed, and the lease-rod is moved down close to the heddle thus giving the warp enough strain to keep the latter in place. In weaving the shuttle is shot backwards and forwards by hand, the heddle being raised every alternate pick. To increase the shed the sword is put in for each pick and turned edgeways. For the check pattern so common in women’s body-cloths both warp and weft (mpyo) are changed. For ornamentation little bits of red wool or yellow thread bought from a shop are worked in by hand as the weaving progresses, the warp being manipulated with a porcupine quill. Ordinarily the first weft-element passes alternately over and under a single warp-element, the second passing over those under which the first passed. A variety of pattern is that in which a single weft element passes alternately under and over pairs of warp elements. Another variety is that in which a single weft element passes under and over alternate pairs of warp elements and is returned under those under which it passed before, giving a pattern of interwoven pairs of warp and weft elements. Four pieces of cloth about one foot broad by five feet long go to make an ordinary man’s cloth. These strips are sewn together along their long sides. The Lhota needle (otyam) is simply a piece of bamboo sharpened at one end. To the head is attached by wax a piece of thread about two inches long known as otyam emhi (“needle-tail”) onto which the thread used for sewing is twisted. The broad stripes of light blue seen in so many Lhota cloths are invariably separate strips, sewn between two of the main strips of the cloth. A woman in the old days was forbidden to weave while her husband was absent on a raid, as it might cause him to trip over creepers in the jungle and fall into the hands of the enemy.

[Pottery.] Though foreign articles are being used more and more Lhotas still make most of their own pots. They are round, and slightly contracted at the top, with a curved rim by which they can be lifted off the fire. The only ornamentation used is a string pattern which is applied by patting the pot while still wet with a flat piece of wood covered with coarse string binding (khuzü). The clay is obtained from the banks of small streams. Two kinds are used, grey (linyikcho), which is the best, and red (linyocho), which is not so good. Only women can make pots, but the industry is not restricted to old women. The clay is broken up and kneaded on a stone with a little water. After being left over-night it is again moistened and kneaded. A round base is first made by hand. A wall of clay is built onto this and kneaded well onto the base with the left hand, the wall being supported on the outside by a small stick (phutamphen) held in the right hand. The pot is then shaped with the left hand and stick, and put to dry in the sun while other pots are being made.

After the pots have been dried in the house for three or four days a rough platform of wood is built on the ground outside the village. On this the pots are laid upside down and twigs and rubbish and rice straw piled on them and fired. In this kiln the pots are left till next morning, when they must be taken away before dawn. Certain precautions have to be observed. The woman making the pots must refrain from sexual intercourse, and must not eat any strong-smelling food, such as beef, goat’s flesh, dog’s flesh, dried fish or “stinking dal,” while she is so engaged, for to eat these things would cause the pots to “ring” badly. Anyone may watch the clay being kneaded, but no one must look on while the pot is being shaped, and only those helping the woman by carrying the pots or collecting fuel may be present at the burning. Were a man to see the pots being fired they would all crack. Nor must any dog come near, for should so much as a single hair of a dog touch a pot before it is finished the pot would have a hole at that very place.

[Iron-work.] The trade of a blacksmith is regarded by the Lhotas as a very unlucky one, and is restricted to the families members of which have been blacksmiths in the past. It is believed that no blacksmith lives long after he stops work. It is therefore not surprising that Lhota blacksmiths are few and far between. Nor is there much need for them. Villages near the plains buy all they require from Assamese smiths. The Rengmas are great blacksmiths and make all the weapons and implements required by the Southern Lhotas of the inner ranges, while the Northern Lhotas are supplied in a similar way by the Aos. The few Lhota blacksmiths there are use foreign tools bought from the plains, though an indigenous type of bellows (yongphophen) is still in use in places. This consists of two sections of bamboo set up perpendicularly side by side in a clay base. Into each of these is fitted a piston bound all over with hen’s feathers with their thin ends down. The downward stroke of the piston being against the “grain” of the feathers and the upward stroke with the “grain,” quite an efficient valvular action results. These pistons are worked alternately by an assistant who holds one in each hand. At the bottom of each piston-case is a hole, to which is attached a bamboo tube (zendro). These tubes emerge together at the fire. Only soft iron is used. This is obtained from the plains in the form of old tea-garden hoes. Formerly iron is said to have been found and worked at Khoro Ghat on the edge of the plains, by a village of the Thangwe clan according to one tradition, or by Shans or Burmese according to another. [73] The finished article is tempered by being dipped in water. This tempering is not meant to be final. The purchaser after using the dao, or whatever the article may be, for a time, heats it in a fire of the slow-burning bark of a certain tree (lepokriphu) and tempers it in salt and water, or bamboo-pickle and water to his taste.

So impregnated with misfortune is the whole trade of the blacksmith that no house is ever built on the site of an old forge, though the forge is allowed to be built inside the village. To bring a piece of dross from a forge into a house would cause all the inmates to fall ill. With this in mind a woman in Yemkha in 1919 left a piece of dross as a parting present when she ran away from her husband.

[Basket-work.] Living in a land where cane and bamboo are plentiful Lhotas are naturally expert basket-makers. Every man can make his own household baskets, but the manufacture of difficult things such as cane helmets (kiven) is generally left to experts. No woman is allowed to do any basket-work of any kind. For rough baskets strips of fresh bamboo are used. Cane is far more valuable and is reserved for articles which are meant to last a long time. It is left to season before being used. For rough work a chequer pattern is generally used, but for shields (otsung), cane helmets, and grain baskets a twill pattern is used. A pretty cross-warped pattern with wefts parallel to each other and passing over and under the same alternate warps is used for the outside of rain-shields (phuchyo), giving an open-work effect rather like the cane seat of a bedroom chair.

[Wood-work.] Rough planks are hacked out with a dao, a most wasteful method, as the whole thickness of a tree has to go to make each plank. Wooden dishes are cut out of single pieces of wood with an adze (ophü). They are then dried in the rough and rubbed smooth with stones and a curious rough-surfaced leaf called phukirongti (Clerodendrum serratum). Small “madhu” vats and very occasionally wooden shields are made in the same way. The posts of “morungs” (champo) are carved in relief with conventional representations of hornbills and mithan heads. The work is done with the dao and is as a rule very rough—far inferior to the carvings of Semas and Angamis, who in turn are much behind the Konyaks.

[Nets.] Nets like big landing-nets are made out of twisted strips of bark from the erhingya tree. They are fitted onto a circular frame to which a long handle is attached, and are used to land the stupefied fish which come to the top when a river is “poisoned.” They are made by men, never by women. The maker must remain chaste the previous night.