who generally stands at the head of the dying man, utters the first piercing shriek, to which immediately other women respond, till the village is filled with the strange harmonies of the melodious dirge. From this moment all the varied activities of the days, and even weeks, which follow will be carried on to the choral accompaniment of a long-drawn wail which never stops for one instant. At times it swells up in violent and discordant gusts; then ebbs again into soft, melodious strains, musically well expressing sorrow. To me, this powerful uneven stream of sound, flowing over the village and enveloping as it were all these human beings in a feeble, imbecile protest against death, became symbolic of all that was deeply human and real in the otherwise stiff, conventional, incomprehensible ritual of mourning.
First the corpse is washed, anointed, and covered with ornaments (pls. 32 and 33), then the bodily apertures are filled with coconut husk fibre, the legs tied together, and the arms bound to the sides. Thus prepared, it is placed on the knees of a row of women who sit on the floor of the hut, with the widow or widower at one end holding the head.[1] They fondle the corpse, stroke the skin with caressing hands, press valuable objects against chest and abdomen, move the limbs slightly and agitate the head. The body is thus made to move and twist with slow and ghastly gestures to the rhythm of the incessant wailing. The hut is full of mourners, all intoning the melodious lamentation. Tears flow from their eyes and
- ↑ Cf. pl. lxv in Argonauts of the Western Pacific, where this act is re-constructed outside the hut for purposes of photography and the widow is replaced by the son.
