# Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society/Volume 86/The Akuan or Spirit friends
## The Akuan or Spirit-Friends

By Zainul-Abidin bin Ahmad.
   There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in our philosophy.
   Shakespeare's Hamlet.
Akuan is the term generally in use among Negri Sembilan Malays to designate the Spirit-friends which certain individuals among them are believed to have from among the inhabitants of the spirit-world. Other terms are used in other parts of the Peninsula, and the belief varies with different states in matter of details. In this paper I am speaking of it as it obtains in the "Nine States," particularly those portions of it inhabited by the descendants of the old Menangkabau tribes. The persons credited with the possession of the spirit-friends are usually those having some pretension to the knowledge of a pawang, a diviner, or a medicine-man. They may be men or women, "wizards" or "witches," but in either case they are almost always past middle-age. The word akuan is derived from aku, to own or to claim as one's own; while the thing owned is supposed to be a spirit which may either remain in its natural airy state—a sort of Ariel to the Malay Prospero—or may take the shape of the body of some animal, ordinarily a tiger, for its permanent residence. The "owner" may possess one or both of these two types. But if he is master of the first type, he is as a rule master also of the second. As for the first type, their "owners" are mostly anen, and the number of akuan belonging to each owner is always more than one, ranging from three or four to a dozen or more. They may be male or female, but more often the latter if the owners are men. Their relationship to the owner is, without exception, that of old acquaintances rather than of intimate friends or of servants and master. Hence, they are less under control and never so devoted to the owner as the animal type. Some far-off locality is assigned to each of them as dwelling place—such and such a mountain, rapid, kĕmpas tree (Cumpassia malaccensis), ravine, plain or forest. The names by which they are mentioned are not proper names, but merely epithets descriptive of their sex and dwelling. They do not come unless ceremonially conjured in a solemn séance-like-fashion. This is only done when their aid is imperatively needed on the occasion of very urgent sickness which has taxed all the wit and skill of the medicine-men to cure. Otherwise it is considered improper or even sacrilegious to mention them.
​The method of conjuring them, which is more or less the same in main details for every "owner," may probably be of some special interest to students of modern Spiritualism. A general description of it like the following which has been gathered from a number of villagers who have themselves seen the proceeding independently of each other at different places and times, may be obtained almost anywhere among the rustic population of Ulu Jĕmpul, Kuala Jĕmpul, Batu Kikir, Juasseh, Sungai Dua, Sĕri Měnanti, Rĕmbau, Jělěbu, Lĕngging, Bĕranang and other places. The ceremony is called Běrějin (from Jinn, genii or demon) or Bĕrhantu, literally to call up spirits or to have spirit-meetings. It is always performed during the first part of the night at the patient's house, and occupies some three hours, say from 8 to 11 p.m. The function being one not often met with, the people within one mile and a half around regard it with great interest and come to attend in crowds. The owner of the akuan plays the part of a medium, and some one, usually his wife or one of his closest lady-friends or pupils, takes up the rôle of an interpreter, as the medium will talk in some language unknown to the uninitiated audience. Before the meeting begins the preparations for it have to be got ready. This consists of bĕrteh (toasted wet rice-in-the-husk), three or five or seven pots (pěrěni or buyong) of water, betel-leaves and all their accompaniments arranged in the most ceremonial manner in a richly ornamented bujam, or pĕrminangan. To all these are added new, rich little mats, spread specially for the expected spirit-guests, so that the scene presented "is just like one when there is going to be a marriage ceremony" (macham orang na' nikah). All the relatives and friends of the patient are informed and asked to be present, as the occasion will finally settle whether the sickness is curable or fatal. As the expected hour comes, the actor of the evening arrives. All is now solemn and silent. He takes his seat on the rich mat reserved for him near the other articles of preparation. He veils his face, and then recites some strange songs of invocation in a weird appealing tune, and in a language partly unintelligible. He begins to be unconscious as the trance state of mind gradually overmasters and takes possession of him. He shivers terribly while the smell and smoke of the burning incense (kĕměnyan) becomes suffocatingly diffused in the air. He may dash his hands and feet against the floor and his body against the wall. He may even rise, walk about the room, throw off his veil, disclose his flashing blood-shot eyes, sit upon the earthenware pots, snatch some of the red-hot cinders from the incense-urn (pěrasapan, pěbaran or tĕmpat bara) and chew them in his mouth—all these without causing himself the least injury. The house shakes and the spectators are full of awe. As the medium grows more and more frantic in his movements and recitations, the spirits invoked come one by one. Sometimes only one of them turns up, the others excusing inability. If they are Moslems their greeting on arrival would be "Assalāmu 'alai-kum" communicated through the ​medium by the interpreter. Those of them who are not Moslems employ some other polite formula. At each arrival the interpreter introduces the guest to the audience—as Dato' of this mountain or that mountain, etc. They are, of course, not visible but to the unconscious medium who, through the interpreter, most politely motions them each to their reserved seat. When all have arrived and seated themselves, one of them asks: "What is it that you all want, friends, that you call us? We shall always be pleased to do you any little service that we can." These words are spoken by the medium to the interpreter in a strange language. On their being interpreted, the relative sitting closest to the patient speaks out, describing the patient's sickness, the length of the time he or she has suffered, the powerlessness of the medicine-men to cope with it, and asking for an explanation of the cause, the possibility of cure, and the treatment for such a cure. The interpreter communicates this to the medium who, as the embodiment of all the spirit-guests for the time being, replies after a few minutes' real or pretended meditation. The reply will be that the sickness was caused by such and such evil influence (kĕlĕguran or badi); malicious persons (di-buatkan orang) or whatever it may be, at such and such place and on such and such occasion: that such and such is the treatment for its cure. Or he might say: "This so-and-so's sickness is incurable. There is no hope. Be resigned." If many of the spirits are present, they all agree in the decision given. This done, they all leave; and after some half-an-hour's more exertion, the medium comes back to his senses, extremely exhausted. He will immediately quit the house without a word, and go home accompanied, it is alleged, by "his" mysterious tiger.
On the other hand, if the akuan is one that permanently assumes the form of an animal, it is to all appearance sexless. Even if it belongs to any particular sex, the distinction is regarded indifferently. As for number, never or very seldom more than one of such animal—akuan belong to any one master. But that one acts towards him more like a faithful attendant than a far-off friend. The animal is not known by any special name. Its dwelling place depends upon the nature of the animal whose form is adopted by the spirit. Mostly the form adopted is that of a tiger, and so it lives in the forest over which it is supposed to wander like all ordinary tigers. Its assistance is not invoked, as it is always ready to help when the need arises, provided such emergency occurs, so to speak, within its "sphere of influence," that is to say, where it can make its appearance consistently with its natural form. A tiger, for instance, cannot live in the water, but in the jungle or in the dark it can render services to the "owner" in many ways. When he loses his way in the forest, the tiger would come and lead him out by distinct marks and scratches on the ground. He has no cause to fear anything, as the spirit-beast is always close by, assuring him of assistance and protection by making familiar ​noises. Those in the company of the "owner" at such times may feel justly frightened. The more courageous of them may be inclined to use their weapons. But the master of the akuan will keep on urging: "Be reverent and silent. It is nothing. It is our protector. It need not cause any alarm, nor should any harm be done. There is no danger." And so on and so forth. What he says always turns out true, and never a mishap has been heard of, though the monster really does keep pace with them not many yards away. Besides these the tiger would do the master other services also. Such little courtesies as scaring away thieves and mischief-makers from his house are common-place examples. Popular belief goes even so far as to say that, in extraordinary cases, the "owner" even rides on the tiger when he goes out at night.
I know an old woman at Bukit Kerdas (Jĕmpul) who died three years ago and who, besides having a reputation as a fairly successful medicine-woman, was believed to have akuan of both descriptions. The spirit type were seven in number, scattered all over the country, and the animal type was in the form of a tiger. Her husband from whom, it is said, she inherited these akuan as well as her art of medicine, had died many years previously. Many people believed that the husband turned into a tiger after his death (see "The Tiger-Breed Families" Journal 85, pp. 36-39) and that the tiger-akuan was no other than himself. The spirit-akuan were conjured many times. Once the old woman herself was seriously ill. In her illness she herself invoked their assistance, and she got better. But during her last illness nothing came, and she died. The tiger-akuan, on the other hand, used to accompany her when she went into the forest, or was going out at night. Besides, the animal always came to the rescue whenever she or any member of her family happened to fall into circumstances which made them wish for companionship and protection. Many curious incidents occured as evidence of the animal's attention. One, quite romantic, was as follows: The old woman had a pretty daughter (who is still alive). As is usual with love-sick Malay swains, those who entertain a fancy for a girl, delight to go stealthily to the house of their lady-love at night to be able to steal fuller glimpses (mĕngintai) of her face and doings than they could ever do anywhere during the day. Now, in the present case, two lads were specially enamoured of the young lady. One night the two arranged to go to měngintai to the house. Many friends had warned them that the house was always guarded by the old woman's tiger. But partly impelled by the desire to test the report and more especially by mad love, they decided to act against the warning. When they reached the house and each bad taken up a position to command the view through the chinks in the bamboo walls and floor, they succeeded in enjoying the coveted sight only for a few moments. On one of them turning round to relieve his strained neck and eyes, he found himself, to his unspeakable horror, face to face with a tiger, sitting about two yards from him and watching ​apparently with great interest what he and his companion were doing. He pulled back his companion and the two had to beat a retreat as stealthily as they had come, and make the best of their way home, resolved never to try the experiment again in future.
Another one: On one occasion the old woman was spending a night at a friend's house about half-a-mile away, leaving only her daughters and grand-daughters at home. As they were sitting with their mat-plaiting and basket-work and chatting light-heartedly they heard the silent panting of an animal like a cow under the house. On turning their torches upon it to see what it was, they found it to be a tiger. So terrified were they that they put up wild screams for help till people came, and the tiger sneaked away into the darkness. (I can vouch for so much of the story as a fact, for I was one of those neighbours who heard the screams and went to help). The old lady came home and told them that the beast was only keeping them company and protecting the house. If they had harmed him, she told them, some terrible catastrophe would certainly befall the family. On another occasion, the old lady with three of her granddaughters went out měnimba (i.e. fishing by baling dry the water of a shrinking pool and then catching the fish—a favourite pastime in the village during the hottest part of the year) at a certain pool close by the road-side. When they had baled the pool dry and were beginning to secure the fish, one of the party saw two tigers crossing the road in their direction from the thick jungle on the other side. The grand-mother's attention was instantly called, and she, realising the danger, had no other alternative but to tell them to be quiet and calm. Suddenly from beneath the scrub, a few yards away between them and the two tigers, rose a third and bigger tiger. Without seeming to notice the panic-stricken youngsters, the beast walked right towards the advancing pair, and after persuading them, as it seemed, to turn to another direction, he marched away from the scene. The two followed suit. But the young girls could not regain control of their nerves, and their grand-mother had to hurry them home, taking only whatever fish they had caught and leaving the remainder without further search.
It may be added as a digression that the grave of the old lady's husband used to be regarded by many as an object of pious reverence. The chĕmpaka trees (Michelia champaca) planted over it were overhung with strips of white cloth (panji-panji) as emblems of sanctity, and indications of the number of "vows" (niat) that had been paid there. I daresay they still continue to be so overhung at the present time. Credulous people have for long been attracted to "make their vow" by the grave. Incidentally, this practice may be described here in a few words: A person, for the fulfilment of some great prayer, "makes a vow" saying: "If I recover from this illness" or "If a male baby be born to me" (or whatever that desire is) "I will cut two goats at so-and-so's grave and call people to eat there." If the prayer is granted he ​goes there to execute his promise. He cuts (sĕmběleh) the promised goats or whatever it may be; cooks some saffroned-rice (nasi kunyit), invites people to eat, has prayers of thanksgiving (do'a sĕlamat) read for him by some lĕbai, (cf. Skeat, Malay Magic, p. 42), and fires some big crackers as expression of peace and joy. Thus he "pays his vow," discharging himself of the binding promise he made to the spirit of the grave. If he fails to do so the spirit will appear to him in a dream demanding fulfilment, and in case of further default some toward event is certain to follow.
One more story about the tiger-akuan will finish the matter. A man living in Mĕmpanas, an outlying corner of Kuala Pilah, on the right bank of the Muar River, told me that he once had a long illness. No effort of the medicine-men was spared to restore him to health, and yet he did not recover. But he had a tiger-akuan which, by the way, he is believed to have even now. During his delirium the animal appeared to him and told him that his affection had become clironic and that his only chance of life would be in having his body licked by it. On coming to himself, he told this to his people and asked to be exposed the following night in the open verandah without any light. This was done. The door was bolted and the people kept themselves inside breathlessly watching what was to happen. The tiger came, stripped him naked and began to lick all over his body, so that the "lip-lap" sound of its tongue was clearly heard. Then it went away leaving him drenched with its salivary fluid. Two days after, he was completely cured.
The akuan in the shape of any other animals than tiger is probably very rare. I have heard only of one single case, occuring in Jnasseh, where a certain man is reported to have a crocodile-akuan, living in the river opposite his house. He feeds it, treats it kindly and at his call the animal comes up to the surface. Не is even said to ride upon the animal's back when necessary. Nobody but he dares to bathe in that part of the river. The crocodile is always there. According to his own story, the spirit came to him in a dream asking to be "owned" and protected (běla) in return for which it would look after the water-supply of his paddy-fields, bring him luck and protect him and his family from evil spirits. He accepted the offer and was told that he could always find the new friend in the shape of a crocodile in the river opposite his house. The next day he found this to be true, and thenceforward he has been the "owner" of the crocodile. The terms of agreement seem to have been faithfully adhered to by both. The man gathers in a good harvest every year,—quite above the average,—is always at ease and contented, and never gets ill, neither any member of his household. One striking fact about this case is that the "owner" is no medicine-man. The animal is not to be harmed, or all the benefits accruing from its friendship will be withdrawn, and some disaster threatened to the unfaithful "owner." Before the animal came to this man it had offered ​itself to a woman-neighbour of his. But on its commencing to stay in the river in front of her house, the woman's people disturbed it with sticks and fish-spears (tirok) so that the animal could not rest in peace. When it was leaving the place, the woman had a dream in which the spirit said to her, "I (awak) desired to act to your profit, but it seems you do not care to have my service. You disturbed me. Now I don't want to have anything more to do with you. If you want my friendship again yon must sacrifice one of your children to me." I do not know if any similar case occurs anywhere in the Peninsula.
To sum up such are among the alleged phenomena purported to lend support to the numerous spirit-beliefs of the Malay peasantry. An upholder of the doctrine of Transmigration of Souls may possibly be tempted to suspect some connection between this akuan-belief and the doctrine. But apart from mere suspicion, there is nothing in the popular conception of it to show that its believers have even the barest idea of that theory. The "owners" themselves never have any such idea. But that the akuan may pass down as a legacy from parents to children or from a dead husband to a surviving wife appears to be a generally accepted possibility. With the introduction of modern ideas and surroundings the belief in akuan is gradually dying out among the younger generation of Malays. But among their old-fashioned elders of the purely conservative type, whose contact with this new influence has not gone to any extent beneath the surface, the grip of the belief and other kindred superstitions is still very strongly in evidence. However, it is remarkable that in matters of this kind, investigators can hardly have much data to go upon owing to the scarcity of "actual cases." One must also allow for the Malay habit of exaggeration and their fondness for the marvellous and mysterious. The same applies to the wide-spread belief in polong, pontianak, pěnanggalan, pělĕsil, etc., etc., which is now confined only to the most superstitious. The difference between the polong, pontianak, etc., and the akuan is that the former are malignant spirits, kept for inhuman purposes, (cf. Skeat, Malay Magic, pp. 327-331) while the latter are good and serviceable auxiliaries.
The Muhammadan religion, it is true, discountenances all such belief in the powers of the devils. Any recognition of a power, other than God, as a being superior to man is repugnant to it. But ignorance is as much a power as knowledge: where it exists the impossible becomes possible. The most opposite beliefs and doctrines can subsist side by side in two water-tight compartments in any raw and uncultivated mind. And so it is with the majority of the Malays. With all these they "are among the most orthodox of Muhammadans."