Page:Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society (IA journalofstra85861922roya).pdf/445

 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