Strategies to avert disaster

Because of the ardent wish for children, a husband and wife and their relatives would become increasingly worried if a woman failed to become pregnant after a certain period of time.

Apparently the wife often bore the brunt of this misfortune: ‘especially sad and depressed is the wife; such a woman will be held in low esteem by her husband and society at large and often enough she is the subject of vicious mockery by other women, who have children. She is therefore very much ashamed and stays at home as much as possible’ (Bruch 1912:16).

Sometimes a woman could not bear the stress caused by her barrenness, as is illustrated by an incident reported in 1930 by Martha Schachter, a nurse working at the hospital in Tarutung. A woman who had not conceived after six years of marriage was so frustrated and pained by the reproaches of her husband that one day, after he had slapped her, she poured boiling water over him. Badly burned, he had to come to the hospital for treatment. The parents of the husband did not blame their son for his relentless reproaches addressed to his wife (Schachter had inquired about that), but found fault only with their daughter-in-law. Schachter, who had pity on the woman, also remarked indignantly that none of the men in the men’s hospital who heard the story defended the poor wife.⁵⁰

Childlessness was considered a curse, inflicted as the result of transgressing prevailing norms. In the Batak myth of origin, Batara Guru and his brother Soripada were worried that the marriage between their children Si Boru Surbajati and Raja EndaEnda would be infertile, since the marriage was a forbidden union (sumbang). The awesome power of the notion of infertility is also reflected in the curse a father might inflict on a daughter who refused a marriage he had arranged: she would remain barren (Warneck 1909:63). One had to go to great lengths to avert such a curse, soliciting the help of a datu. The curse of infertility was used also in the setting of court cases. If the judges suspected someone of perjury, they could demand that he take an oath using a small puppet. Holding this puppet in his hand, the man had to swear that if he had not told the truth, he would die without offspring, or his children would be born crippled.⁵¹

Toba Batak couples dealt with the infertility or death of children in three ways: ritual aversion of the curse of barrenness; divorce by mutual consent or force majeur; and bigamy with consent of the wife. Adoption was not an option, unless it was a boy of the same bloodline as the adoptive father and therefore could fulfil the obligation to organize the mortuary rites for his step-parents. It was not easy, however, to find a kinsman who would be willing to part with one of his sons.⁵²

49 To trick the begu so she should not see the giver?

50 Der Meister’s Ruf 1930:84.

51 Ypes 1932:385. Ypes also recalled a Batak saying in this context: the one who has been cut down because of an oath (perjury), will not sprout; what is cut down by an ax, will (Na tinaba ni gana, ndang martumbur, alai na tinaba ni tangke, martumbur do).

52 Vergouwen ([1933]1964:229-30). He also mentioned that adoption was easier in ‘olden times’, because there were many uprooted people and slaves. This is not confirmed by the authors of Ruhut and Patik nor the missionary source, which

If a husband and wife felt they had waited long enough for a child, the first step they would take was to visit the parents of the wife, their hulahula. The husband would address his parents-in-law very politely, implore them to forgive him and his wife for any offence they might have given, and ask for their blessing so that the wife would get pregnant. The parents then gave a woven cloth (ulos) to fortify their daughter’s soul, sometimes adding a paddy field, the ulos gift

‘that does not wear out’. If this did not help, the couple turned to the hulahula of his parents-in-law, whose power to bestow blessings was considered more powerful (Vergouwen [1933]1964:

55, 86). The term for this power was the sahala hulahula (Sherman 1987:868).

The infertility of women was a matter of public concern as well. At the yearly ceremony to celebrate the new harvest, the ancestors were always asked to bless their descendants with numerous offspring. Besides this customary appeal, the marga could also arrange for a special ceremony if only a few children had been born or an epidemic had broken out, if this was advised by the expert on divination, the datu. Such a ceremony called upon the divine forces of prosperity and fertility, the male one called the silaon na bolon and the female the sibaso na bolon.⁵³ These supernatural forces had their own place of worship in the village of origin of every marga, in a separate construction similar to a Batak house, but smaller in size.⁵⁴ This rumah parsantian contained a wooden rack called ragaraga, of which the mythical origin has been narrated previously.⁵⁵ This was believed to be the site where the ancestors descended to visit their descendants on earth, if they were called upon in the appropriate ritual way (Tobing 1956:78-81). The living gods (debata idup)—two wooden effigies, one male and one female—

were believed to promote fertility and protect pregnant women. These, too, were stored in the rumah parsantian, along with an earthen pot (guriguri) filled with a special type of ritual oil.

The ceremony to ask for the blessings of the silaon na bolon and sibaso na bolon was held on a fixed auspicious day and served to unite the members of the hosting marga and the representatives of its bridegiving and bridetaking clans; it lasted for several days in a row. The square rack, the ragaraga, was lowered by ropes which were attached to the roof. Meat and fish were put on a special plate and placed on the rack, with some palm wine and water. Betel leaves placed on a broad type of leaf were the most important part of the sacrifice. Each man marked his betel leaf to be able to recognize it at the closure of the ceremony. Ritual oil was poured from a pot into a horn, whereupon the whole square rack was covered with an ulos ragidup—the most prestigious woven cloth, as it was believed to enhance life.⁵⁶ Then the barren women and those who had lost their children were placed in a row alongside the wall of the sacrificial place. They carried the female effigy of the ‘living god’ (debata idup) on their backs⁵⁷, while their husbands did likewise with the male counterpart. Meanwhile a Batak orchestra played and they danced,

do not even mention adoption as a known institution. An in-living son-in-law (sonduk hela) could never become a member of his father-in-law’s marga and perpetuate the latter’s patriline, see Nasoetion 1943:69-87.

53 In some places the silaon na bolon and sibaso na bolon were revered as the spirit of the oldest male and female ancestor of the marga, whereas in other places they were considered of divine origin (Ypes 1932:228, 294) Interestingly, Ypes (1932:191) notes that the sibaso na bolon is not the spirit of the wife of the oldest ancestor but that of a daughter-in-law who happened to be chosen by the silaon na bolon as his spirit medium during her lifetime. It seems that sometimes only the silaon na bolon was invoked (Tobing 1956:80), or only the sibaso na bolon.

54 Other names for this construction are ruma parsantian, pasogit and parsibasoan (Vergouwen [933]1964:72-3).

55 Chapter 2, page 45,48.

56 Ragi means pattern, idup means life (Malay: hidup). An ulos ragidup thus means the cloth with the pattern of life (or life-giving cloth?).

57 Some sources mention that there is only one effigy used, others two, and others again mention women and men carrying an effigy. Niessen (1985:127) mentions that the women carried a sack of rice, not an effigy, on their backs (Christian influence?).

while the raja leading the ceremony as priest uttered a prayer to invoke the spirits of the silaon na bolon and sibaso na bolon.⁵⁸ The couples to be blessed were then asked to take the debata idup on their lap ‘so that you may carry sons and daughters on your laps’. Each couple uttered a prayer supplicating the gods to remove the curse of barrenness and to reciprocate their offerings by granting them children. They fed the dolls with sticky rice so the blessings asked for would ‘stick’

and result in the birth of a child. Ritual oil from the earthen pot was sprinkled in the direction of the genitals of the barren women, and the ragaraga with all its contents was pulled up again.

When it was lowered on the last day of the ceremony, every couple looked at their own betel leaf put on the rack on the first day. If it had withered, adversity would await them. But if the leaf had remained moist, one could expect a happy future.⁵⁹

If the rituals described above proved to no avail, a divorce could be contemplated, as barrenness in a marriage was an accepted reason for a divorce. Most childless marriages probably ended in divorce, because the Batak believed that ‘that which does not match, should not remain united’.⁶⁰ Often the decision to resort to a divorce was taken after the marriage had endured for years. A couple could ask for a divorce simply because each wished the other might be blessed with offspring in a new marriage.⁶¹ After the separation, the woman would wear a garland of the leaves of the rias plant in her hair when going to the market, a sign that she had been separated from her husband by mutual consent. This garland would inform a man who might be interested in marrying her of the reason of the divorce (Patik 1899 [tr. De Boer 1921:362-3]). Sometimes the husband waited with the request for a divorce until his wife was middle-aged. This was disadvantageous for her, as it would be unlikely that someone would still want to marry her.⁶² It could also happen that the datu advised the couple and their families that a separation was necessary because the souls (tondi) of the spouses were not compatible (rongkap). A couple who had lived in harmony until then might not necessarily agree with the suggested divorce, but had to bow to the decision made for them by their families on the advice of the datu. Warneck (1909:12, 21) mentioned that a husband was even obliged to let go of his wife if the marriage remained barren. In such a case, the wife would wear a garland of banebane leaves to the market, symbolizing that she had divorced by force and was sad about it.

If barrenness was the cause, the bridegiver (parboru) and bridetaker (paranak) would be inclined to settle the divorce amicably.⁶³ The parboru would provide another daughter or a close kinswoman to take the place of the daughter who was returned to him. Otherwise the marriage payments had to be returned to the original givers.⁶⁴

58 Such a prayer is included in Tobing’s discussion of this ceremony (Tobing 1956:80-81).

59 Tobing 1956:81. Vergouwen ([1933]1964:73) did not mention this, but wrote that the childless men and women were eager to take hold of the rope on which the lowered ragaraga was suspended, to receive the good fortune of the ancestor’s spirit.

60 The complete Batak saying runs as follows: saut na marrongkap, sirang na so marrongkap (the marriage of a compatible couple endures, the marriage of a man and women who are not compatible should be dissolved), Vergouwen [1933]1964:167, 249.

61 Indonesische dorpsakten (1933:93-94): In an example of such an agreement between husband and wife about repudiation of the latter, signed by both spouses and four rajas, the brideprice was partly returned, with the outstanding debt to be paid when the wife remarried.

62 Case adjudicated by the adat court (Rapat Hadat) of Balige in 1929 (KITLV, Adatrechtstichting H 1051, 81, Vonnis no.

11, 16 April 1929). Husband and wife were approximately forty-five years old. The husband had already married another wife.

63 Other reasons for amicable separation: if a marriage was arranged by the parents, but the young couple turned out not to get along; a physical illness or mental disorder of either spouse, see Meerwaldt 1894:538-9; KITLV, Korn, OR 435.450.

Routs, Nota inzake het leprozenhuwelijk te Hoeta Salem, 1932, 6-7).

64 This is illustrated by a court case: the son-in-law claimed the return of the brideprice because his parboru, who had

It was also possible that the couple did not wish to separate and their families preferred to keep the marriage intact because the affinal relationship was valued and also because it entailed the return of the marriage payments. The couple could then decide to look for a second wife for the husband, in the hope that she could produce a son. It seems that the first wife often took the initiative, or at least cooperated to bring about the second marriage. It was she who chose the co-wife, often a woman from her own marga, or at least a woman related to her.

The new bride became a member of the household of the first wife and remained completely subservient to her. She did not receive any property from the husband as her own to manage. Her sole role was to bear the husband children, who would be considered the children of the first wife. Such a co-wife was called a tungkot (Malay: tongkat), literally ‘a stick to lean on’.⁶⁵ This expression symbolized the first wife’s need for her co-wife in order to produce the children she did not have herself. Basically, the tungkot wife was a surrogate mother. She had a particularly low status in the region around Toba and on the island of Samosir, where she was also termed ‘the subordinate one’ (panindi) or ‘the outcast’ (siambolongbolong) (Vergouwen [1933]1964:233).

The tungkot form of bigamy was probably the preferred strategy for all strata of Batak society to solve the problem of barrenness or lack of male issue.⁶⁶ This served the interests of both husband and wife, as the latter could regard the children her own. This alternative to divorcing his first wife, however, was open to a man only if he had the means to support more than one wife (Meerwaldt 1894:539). Otherwise he had to give his first wife back to her family in order to recuperate the brideprice and use it to pay the brideprice for another woman. On the other hand, the family of the unfortunate first wife would probably be willing to provide a tungkot co-wife for a small brideprice. An older man might marry a tungkot co-wife if his elderly first co-wife was unable to take care of him and the household any longer (Meerwaldt 1894:539).

The disaster of dying without male issue was felt so strongly that the Toba Batak were prepared to go to great lengths to provide a better lot for the spirit of a man deceased without sons. With the consent of her husband’s heir (uaris), his widow would make herself available to any man in the hope that she would conceive. If she gave birth to a son, it was passed off as the child of the deceased.⁶⁷