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Entry 17 - Final Conclusions and Analysis of Theory Choice

     From all the observations that I have made over the course of this project, one central one that I made was the completely and utterly indispensable role that the Ituri forest plays to the BaMbuti. In every single aspect of their lives the forest plays an integral part, and it, I would argue, plays the most significant part in their religion. This is seen in the continued celebration of the Pygmies of their molimo and elima religious rituals, and in their ever-present singing and dancing performed in gratitude to, and connection with, the forest.

     One other “big picture” conclusion that I took from my study of the BaMbuti was their frequent employment of the “importance/informality dichotomy.” Regarding religion, this means that though the Pygmies hold little to no belief in complicated notions of magic, witchcraft, or sorcery; though even their religious “rituals” contain little to no actual ritual or formal ceremony, and are quite flexible in nature; and though their faith in their forest god is remarkably simple and uncomplicated, these things in no way lessen the importance of the forest to the BaMbuti. To them, the forest is parent and friend, giver and taker. And, because the Pygmies know that it is good (as it has been for thousands of years), that is all that they concern themselves with.

     What is interesting about these observations is that but for a short migration on the part of the forest people they might never have been seen. Turnbull notes in the early stages of his book how various explorers, having heard of Pygmy legend and intending to seek it out for themselves, returned to their home countries with disappointment after viewing the BaMbuti’s apparent cultural subjugation at the hands of the villagers. What they didn’t know, Turnbull argues, is that the real explanation for the Pygmies’ apparent lack of autonomy lies in their willingness to momentarily assume village customs. This is done primarily for two reasons: one, to secretly take advantage of their time in the village, to steal and swindle the Negros out of various material goods; and two, to avoid desecrating their own sacred forest culture by refusing it to be seen by the villagers. Thus, the BaMbuti appear to be a completely different people in the forest than they do in the village. This fact calls for a continued look at the BaMbuti from the standpoint of the cultural-anthropological theory of historical particularism. The Pygmies cannot be evaluated based on their behavior in the village, or in the presence of the villagers who are alien to them and their way of life; rather, the BaMbuti must be analyzed on their own terms, and on their own soil – that of the forest’s.

     Overall, I have found that my choice of theory which I used to explore BaMbuti religion to be somewhat valuable. My prediction of the importance to the BaMbuti of their community as a whole’s welfare was proved correct, and I believe that it was then a wise decision to view religion as being a structure which, at least in part, functioned to maintain the cohesiveness of the entire camp. For the reasons that I have mentioned in the above paragraph, historical particularism would also be a viable option with which to examine the Pygmy life, focusing especially on how that life has changed (or remained constant) throughout their happy, peaceful, millennia-long existence.

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Entry 16 - Chapter 15 - “The Dream World”

     In the final chapter of Turnbull’s book, him and Kenge return to their friendly, beautiful, and good home of Epulu to tell their fellow BaMbuti about the stories of their travels. The band is particularly perturbed when it hears about the “model plantations” that had been set up for the Pygmies in an attempt to turn them into productive and produce-growing members of society. The attempt failed, of course (the Pygmies promptly stole or cooked the beans they were given to plant and cultivate, then disappeared into the forest again), but still the BaMbuti are wary of the potential spread of the plantations. They believe that their advent could bring all the dangers of the village that the forest protects them from, including witchcraft. To rid the camp of the gloom that this worrying brings, the Pygmies begin to sing a series of songs to their guardian, the forest. It is during this singing that one completely unrelated sound is heard that finishes the job.

     That sound is what the BaMbuti believe to be the chameleon, which signals the presence of honey in the forest nearby. For the Pygmies, honey season marks an extended period of happiness throughout the entire camp. Rejoicing, dances, and songs of worship to the forest are offered to it nightly in grateful thanks to its precious gift. (One tune that the Pygmies sing, an atypical use of magic, is meant to call to the bees and tell them to make more honey.) One night after dark, when Turnbull sees Kenge seemingly dancing by himself, he jokingly asks him why the biggest flirt in the camp should be dancing without a partner. Kenge illustrates the love that all Pygmies have for their forest when he answers Turnbull. With considerable contempt at his ignorance, Kenge argues that he is not dancing by himself, but with the forest and moon. This anecdote clearly shows what the BaMbuti are most focused on more than anything else – intimate and loving communion with their god.

     The benevolence of the forest even helps to settle external and internal disputes. In the case of the former, when neighboring Pygmy camps invade the Epulu BaMbuti’s territory to steal their supply of honey, Kenge assures Turnbull that the so-called “fight” will not come to any real violence, but rather will be fought with words. Because the forest supplies every band of BaMbuti with more than enough shelter, game, and honey to go around, there is no need to fight about who should get how much. Even when the Epulu Pygmies split into separate camps to take the most advantage of honey season, every year the forest draws its people back together by again showing its beauty and majesty to all.

     During his last trek through the great and timeless Ituri, Turnbull becomes overwhelmed by this beauty. It becomes what he takes as the presence of the God of the forest himself, shown through “every trembling leaf, every weathered stone, every cry of an animal or chirp of a cricket.” The Pygmies’ camps and their residents eventually fade from Turnbull’s view, but the song of the molimo – the soul of both Pygmy and forest – remains . . . for now.

     From my conclusions taken from this chapter concerning the ethnographic specialty of religion, I see that the deity of the forest plays an integral part in resolving both internal as well as external conflict. Its role as provider is key in doing so – it provides in such a way that demands for the cooperation of individual Pygmy camps, yet provides enough so that different BaMbuti bands will not have to fight over resources. Seen from a structural-functionalist point of view, the forest establishes both the parameters (how much food should be taken by each camp after the hunt, how Pygmy groups should work together to maximize their food haul) and the “fuel” (how much, and what kinds, of food are actually provided by the forest) for the BaMbuti’s system, which is their way of life.

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Entry 15 - Chapter 14 - “The World Beyond”

     Towards the end of Turnbull and Kenge’s excursion, they enter the Ishango National Park. Kenge is momentarily stunned by the sheer difference in the Ishango’s geography from that of the forest (“not a single tree . . . not a single tree . . .”). The instance of “culture shock” doesn’t last too long for Kenge, however. Like a typical Pygmy, he unconcernedly accepts what he cannot understand and begins to enjoy the beauty surrounding him. In fact, the same beauty of the Ishango that he sees he begins to see as good, for it is like the beauty of the forest. Both the Ishango and the Ituri are quiet, peaceful, and full of life (and game). From these similarities, Kenge draws the conclusion that the god of the forest must be the god of the Ishango as well. If beauty is of the forest, and if there is beauty in the Ishango, then the god of the forest that created beauty in it must also be the Ishango’s god. So is the uncomplicated world and religion of the BaMbuti tied, as it has been for thousands of years, to the forest – the Pygmies will only die when the forest does.

     From these observations, I conclude that the portability of the BaMbuti’s religion is somewhat paradoxical. On one hand, their religion is relatively simple enough to be accessible almost anywhere – on the other hand, it is only actually accessed in places that are similar enough to the forest. Without a place like the Ituri, the molimo cannot be called nor the elima held in praise; Pygmy religion probably degenerates into the kind of animist outlook that is held by the Negro villagers, or even disintegrates altogether. This dependence of the foraging-adaptation forest people on their home probably reflects a deeper sense of territoriality than most other foraging communities show: the BaMbuti need the forest not just for food, but for every other thing that they require to live on.

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Entry 14 - Chapter 13 - “Forest Horizons”

     In Chapter 13 of The Forest People, Turnbull and Kenge begin a journey around different parts of the Congo to learn more about other Pygmies not from the Epulu district. (The Epulu district is the area in which Turnbull has been studying and living throughout the narrative.) The traits of the BaMbuti bands outside the Epulu vary here and there, but one key quality remains among them: none of the villagers can control them as they would like to. The BaMbuti remain the people of the forest wherever the forest is, and the villagers have no hold on them there – the only real authority for the Pygmies to follow, the only one that these proud people would ever submit to, is the forest itself.

     The trip is nicely supplemented, for the most part, by a few trips to different Christian missions in the area. The first, a Catholic outpost at Nduye, offers a touching portrait of Christians, Muslims, and pagan Pygmies all living and working together in harmony. Led by Father Longo, the mission provides a convincing exemplar for Christian outreach that does not solely seek a large number of converts but instead the welfare of all. However, one particular visit to a Protestant mission gives Turnbull and Kenge quite a different viewing of Christianity. Here, prayers are prayed some five times a day on behalf of all converts, even if they have simply the slightest case of sickness (the Negros, more correctly than they probably know, view this as simply a more powerful form of magic). But when a badly gored Pygmy needing healing is brought into the mission, he is not prayed for as he is not a Christian! This tells Kenge and the other BaMbuti all they need to know about Christianity – “the biggest falsehood I know,” Kenge describes it.

     What I take away from this chapter is the amount of fulfillment that belief in and love for the forest seems to bring for the Pygmies. The forest takes care of all those who love it, even if they are not technically a member of the BaMbuti (as in the example of the villager, Kaweki, found in Chapter 9). If the forest is that benevolent, graciously providing everything its children need and more (even to those who are not its children), then what need do they have for a religion that shuts non-adherents out from help? The answer to this question may be further explored by looking at it through a cultural-relativist lens. The measure of the value of a cultural practice (the forest religion of the BaMbuti, or Christianity), at least in anthropology, should not be analyzed in terms of theological soundness or any other notion of absolute truth, but rather in terms of its appropriateness and effectiveness within the cultural context. Based on that criteria, the religion of the Pygmies serves its purposes quite well.

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Entry 13 - Chapter 12 - “Village Initiations and Magic”

     The village initiation ritual, known as the nkumbi, is the custom that the villagers feel is most effective in terms of subjecting the BaMbuti to village, ancestral, and larger supernatural control. It is also the ritual that demonstrates, better than anything else (even the elima), the unbridgeable gap between the worlds of villager and forester. It does this partly by showing how the peoples of each domain treat this religiously significant ceremony.

     One reason for the nkumbi to be held is to mark the transition from boyhood to manhood, just as the elima marks the transition from girlhood to womanhood. However, to the villagers, it represents more than that – it ensures that those who have undergone circumcision will live after death among the ancestral population, who are just as important, if not more so, than the living, and are not to be trifled with. An interesting situation arises when Yusefu, a Christian village boy, is forbidden by his father to participate in the ritual (presumably for religious reasons). This leaves no other village boy to be initiated, but only Pygmies. The Negros decide holding the nkumbi to be worthwhile anyway, as in their minds it reasserts their authority over the Pygmies (they believe that when an initiated Pygmy has died, he goes on to serve the village ancestors just as he “served” the villagers during his lifetime).

     The nkumbi ritual helps to shed light on the ritual-focused and animist religion of the village peoples. To break custom is to bring disgrace and disaster, not only on one’s self, but also on the members of the surrounding community. Thankfully for the Pygmy boys undergoing the nkumbi, their fathers could not care less about breaking the initiation’s rules, and they care for the boys in their time of pain despite the ridicule of the Negros. The carrying out of many ritual acts is monitored by the villagers for the purposes of the ceremony: these include head-shaving to symbolize the removal of an old way of life, dancing, singing, a sacred banana that serves as a signal to begin singing, heeding the “forest demon,” and smearing white clay from head to foot to symbolize the boys’ deaths as children.

     To these sacred customs, the Pygmies deliberately and vigorously show a deep-set irreverence. After the village’s overseers are gone, they play a punch-ball game with the banana, swing around the object that made the sound of the forest demon, and wash off all the clay from each other’s bodies. The key to knowing why the BaMbuti practice this sort of rebellious behavior regarding the nkumbi lies in understanding just how different the world of the forest is from that of the village. The BaMbuti see the villagers’ laws as meaningless and of a hostile, totally alien world. They may still, at times, temporarily adopt the village’s ways, but this is only because they do not want to profane their sacred forest values by bringing them into the presence of the Negros. (Therefore, the “real” molimo is always called in the forest and never the village.) However, the Negros’ beliefs, especially in witchcraft and sorcery, become credible (at least, for a short time) to the BaMbuti in the case of Aberi’s death.

     Aberi is one of the few Pygmies that hold a real belief in – and fear of – witchcraft. After a couple of close calls, he accuses the Negros of trying to kill him both because he disobeyed the rules of the nkumbi and because he swindled a villager out of a sack of rice. When Aberi dies, along with several other Pygmies that were cursed by the villagers with him, it seems certain that at last the BaMbuti will formally accuse the villagers of witchcraft. No such luck – the Pygmies’ belief in magic remains almost nonexistent. They grow tired of the villagers’ formalities in figuring out who is responsible for the deaths, and so once more the people of the forest return there, where it is good to them, and where the Negros – and, thus, sorcery – have no power.

     These findings help me to further differentiate between the magic and religion of the Negro villagers from the magic and religion of the BaMbuti foresters. It appears that the former could be well-explained through the application of functionalist anthropological theory. This is because, at least in the case of the nkumbi, Negro magic and religion seeks to meet the individual’s needs. The leaders of the nkumbi place their central priority on aiding village boys to become an initiated man of the village, obtain an assured place in the afterlife, and gain the various rights and privileges that a man of the village is entitled to. They do this by calling on the supernatural power of the village’s ancestors, and they hope against hope that the ancestors are not offended by any of the proceedings.

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Entry 12 - Chapter 11 - “The Marriage of Kenge”

     In this chapter, the religion of the Negro villagers is seen to directly interact with the BaMbuti Pygmies specifically through the institution of marriage. By seeing that the BaMbuti are married according to Negro customs, the villagers believe that the newlyweds then become controlled by the same ancestral and supernatural authorities that control married villagers. The Pygmies gladly follow these customs (partly from ulterior motives; they eagerly seek to receive gifts of food, tobacco, and the like) but have their own ways in which they “sanctify” the matrimonial bond. Like much else of BaMbuti life, these ways are relatively informal and flexible, but usually involve sister exchange. This means that the groom of a particular marriage must provide a sister for his bride’s brother to marry.

     From these observations I conclude that, generally, religion is no large exception to the principle that a member of the BaMbuti will “play along” and follow Negro rituals and customs – at least, while he or she is actually in the presence of a villager. In the end, however, a good Pygmy will always revert to the ways that he or she were raised by, which are the ways of the forest. Considering anthropological theory, it makes sense that historical particularism should prominently feature in this discussion. It is paramount that the BaMbuti be analyzed in their own context and not in the context of how they behave when in the physical proximity of a member of a village.

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Entry 11 - Chapter 10 - “Elima: the Dance of Life”

     The elima, the rite of passage which characterizes the transition of girls from girlhood to womanhood, is yet another instance in which the lives of the Negros and the lives of the Pygmies are seen to share a few basic features while differing in the rest – in the case of the elima, they diverge especially in the religious aspects.

     Among the BaBira, the tribe with which the Pygmies have the most contact, blood is seen as a religious symbol of injury, sickness, and death. Thus is the first appearance of menstrual blood considered to be an evil omen – it is defiling and profane, and so religious ritual (kept with fierce notions of protectiveness and sacredness by the villagers), along with isolation, comes into play to cleanse and purify the unfortunate girl from evil. For the people of the forest, on the other hand, blood is viewed as being the (equally terrible, it must be said) religious symbol of death and of life, and menstrual blood specifically represents life. Therefore, the elima, the dance of life, contrasts with the molimo, the dance of death. But because both are brought on by the forest, each occasion is a time of great happiness and joy.

     Menstrual blood to the BaMbuti is a gift given to a young Pygmy girl by the god of the forest. (This is why girls about to go through the elima are spoken of as being “blessed by the moon,” the environment of the forest again serving as its people’s benefactor.) The gift signifies the potential blessing of motherhood that the forest has bestowed on the lucky girl, and, like any other gift that the BaMbuti are given, it is received with gratitude and rejoicing. In this way, the elima is similar to the molimo in that both rituals feature songs and dances of praise, offered to the divine forest as thanks.

     What I draw from these notes is a renewed and assured awareness of how different the religion of the BaBira is from the religion of the BaMbuti. The BaBira are extremely ritualistically-minded, and the BaMbuti are not; the BaBira are constantly frightened of the evil spirits they believe are all around them, and the BaMbuti are not; and the BaBira possess distinct attitudes pertaining to cleanliness and uncleanliness, and the BaMbuti do not. These remarkable differences in the two peoples may be able to be explained by the theory of evolutionary anthropology, specifically E.B. Tylor’s view of the evolution of religion. Because the BaBira and the BaMbuti are two different societies that are located in two entirely different environments, it makes sense that each has “progressed” differently through the stages of religion – the BaBira subscribe to the animism stage and seek to explain death through belief in ghosts, which are spirits of the dead, while the BaMbuti believe in the forest as God, who is the most powerful spirit in their monotheistic worldview.

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Entry 10 - Chapter 9 - “The World of the Village”

     The realm of the village is incompatible with that of the Ituri to the extent that, from the perspective of the villagers, the forest is overtly hostile and full of evil spirits. While the religion of the villagers primarily draws power and help from rituals and charm objects, the BaMbuti are cared for by the forest itself. One similarity between the two peoples is their common belief in the supernatural connection between themselves and the land of their predecessors – the temporary garden clearings of the Negros, and the Ituri forest of the Pygmies. In both societies, then, land is central to notions of social belonging \because it provides a familiar place for one to call home.

     Though the relationship between the Negros and the BaMbuti is, generally, fraught with indifference and deceitfulness, that is certainly not to say that foresters cannot be accepted by villagers and vice versa. One such case of the latter can be found in the fisherman Kaweki. The forest people welcome him to the point that younger Pygmies address him as “Father,” and sacred songs of the molimo are sung to him, just as would have been done for any “real” Pygmy. So, the forest is shown to “adopt” villagers and save them from death, and the great song of worship and gratitude to the forest is sung – participated in by Kaweki – so that it may be glorified once again.

     Kaweki is loved by the people of the forest partly because the forest is where he has made his home – symbolically, it suggests that Kaweki has a stronger bond with the BaMbuti than with the Negros. Thus is the location of a person’s dwelling place tied with the group that he or she belongs to. If you live in the village, you are separated from the life of the forest, and if you live in the forest, you are separated from the life of the village. To the Pygmies, all that defines a member of their group is love of the forest – as Kaweki possesses it in abundance, he is a part of their society whether he is a “villager” or not.

     These findings help to illustrate the potential flexibility of BaMbuti group dynamics. Though the Pygmies pride themselves in being their own distinct people, separate from the villager “animals,” they are not completely averse to associating with (or even assimilating) other people just because they would happen to belong to a different people-group. Historical-particular anthropological theory (in the words of Ruth Benedict, “human personality writ large,”) might explain this behavior first by noting the generalities of Pygmy identity as being separate from that of Negro identity, then by exploring specific “case studies” like Kaweki’s in an effort to discover where and how the personal exceptions to the general rule lie.

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Entry 9 - Chapter 8 - “Molimo: the Dance of Death”

     In this chapter, the molimo of the Pygmies is even further expounded upon and shown to be an act which invokes the presence of the “God of the Forest,” a benevolent and supernatural power that the BaMbuti believe in. This presence enters the camp every night at the height of the molimo singing, and again the importance/informality dichotomy ensures that the Pygmies treat the ritual with such casualty that it belies just how significant those songs of praise are. (The molimo songs actually work to draw the spiritual powers of love and trust, which are from the forest, into the camp.)

     These qualities of the molimo are quite suited for functionalist cultural-anthropological analysis. In the vein of Malinowski, here BaMbuti religion is seen as a cultural way in which to serve an individual’s needs through an appeal to a deity. In this case, the deity is the God of the Forest, and the appeal is for its presence to be made known to the BaMbuti. This presence is needed, in turn, because it brings its precious gifts of love and trust to its people.

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Entry 8 - Chapter 7 - “The Play World of the BaMbuti”

     To the Pygmies, the hand of the forest that brings order, control, and reason can be seen everywhere, even in kinship relations. Following Hawaiian kinship terminology, every BaMbuti child has every adult as a parent or grandparent - not, however, just for the sake of simplicity. A boy or girl is child to every adult because they, in turn, are children of the forest. So does the forest, continually reminding its children that it is taking care of them, even provide a set of statuses for the Pygmies in order for everyone to belong to a family.

     The significance of the forest to the BaMbuti leaves little room for themselves to believe in spirits of any kind as the villagers do. Thus, oftentimes, any stories that the BaMbuti tell concerning the villagers ironically poke fun at them and their beliefs. Strangely enough, the Pygmies do this first by subversively putting themselves down, dismissing their world as being full of “bad” spirits and “poor” Pygmies. These stories always end up with the spirits being imaginary and the villagers unwittingly outwitted.

     These dynamics between forester, villager, and spirit are well-illustrated in the stories of Cephu and Asofalinda. Furthermore, both reflect a larger theme that continues throughout the narrative - the Negros repeatedly attempt to impose their culture on the BaMbuti, and apparently succeed - at least, until the BaMbuti grow tired of the charade, or until the monetary benefits cease, and the people of the forest return there.

     From these observations, it is clear that the religion of the Pygmies has a noteworthy part in their society by helping to define kinship structures and relations. Here, symbolic anthropology might be a useful framework through which to view religion as seen in the “Play World” of the BaMbuti. This is because it holds that religion defines places (here, the forest) and people’s relationships to those places (i.e. the forest is everyone’s father and mother, therefore I am everybody’s son or daughter or father or mother).

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Entry 7 - Chapter 6 - “The Giver of the Law”

     This portion of Turnbull’s text concerns itself with the matter of internal conflict resolution among the BaMbuti. Right away, the title of the chapter implies that the forest is the ultimate lawgiver, and this is affirmed in the last paragraph of the reading.

     Some crimes, rarely committed by the Pygmies, are so serious that they must result in supernatural retribution, heaped onto the perpetrator. Though rare, other transgressions similarly grave in nature are dealt with by the forest itself, through the molimo. (The daily morning riots by the youths of the camp reflect general disdain of the offender by assaulting his or her hut, and possibly even him or her personally.) Such punishments are rare, but when Turnbull observes what happens to young Kelemoke when he is caught pursuing an incestuous relationship, he realizes how severe some sanctions, at least for a time, can be.

     Kelemoke is driven out of the camp and into the forest, where it is said that he will die (”the forest will kill him”). This, perhaps, displays the BaMbuti’s notion of their forest as the chief justice - Kelemoke has experienced “the greatest shame that could befall a Pygmy,” and so now he must pay the price (a brief ostracization) that is exacted by the great Ituri. Apparently, though, both the forest and its people are forgiving, for three days later Kelemoke returns to the camp and begins his relatively short (and successful) reintegration into society.

     Thus are disputes settled informally, with nearly every member of the group cooperating in order to restore peace and unity to the band (essential for survival) as quickly as possible. A general lack of organization as well as of recognizable political leadership further characterizes the conflict resolution of these “people of the forest.” Studying these apparently simple structures and relationship dynamics, it must be remembered again that the forest is “the one standard by which all deeds and thoughts are judged . . . the leader, and the final arbitrator.” That is, once again, we see the misleading informality of BaMbuti society ruled by that all-too-important entity, the great Ituri forest.

     These examinations of how Pygmy religion factors into internal conflict resolution fit well into structural-functionalist anthropological theory. From this chapter, a clear theme emerges that emphasizes a role of religion as settling quarrels between individual persons or parties, no matter what the argument is about, who started it, or even the severity of the crime or punishment. What does matter is the survival and welfare of the BaMbuti community as a whole, and so we see that religion, at least in part, looks to strengthen the social “glue” by rooting out petty disagreements where they arise.

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Entry 6 - Chapter 5 - “The Crime of Cephu, the Bad Hunter”

     Even though the molimo singing continues every night and the youth’s disruptions continue every day, much of the rest of camp life remains the same. This is partly owing to the practical, everyday realities that a foraging society must face in order to endure, but it also provides another example of how the aforementioned “importance/informality” dichotomy is seen in BaMbuti culture, including religion. Without the importance of the molimo festival being diminished, in general it does not hold much formal sway in the other aspects of daily Pygmy life outside of the time and space of the actual “ritual.”

     Unfortunately, this cannot be said for Cephu, the “black sheep,” so to speak, of the band. One of the reasons why Cephu is a bit of an outcast is his, in the eyes of the other Pygmies, disdain for the molimo. To them, this is shown through a refusal to contribute to the offering basket, as well as loud complaints of the noise and disturbance that the singing, trumpet, and mornings bring. Of course, no formal accusations are brought against Cephu (at least, not yet), for that would threaten to undermine the unity of the group. However, that does not mean that the Pygmies forget his behavior or his attitude, and it doesn’t set up Cephu well when he commits another, far more serious crime against the BaMbuti and the forest itself.

     Here, a digression is necessary in order to describe a process of “hunting magic” initiated by the people of the forest - which, significantly, is actually closer to being an attempt to seek divine help for the entire hunting group. The “Fire of the Hunt” simply involves lighting a fire at the base of a tree, not far from the camp. This deceptively uncomplicated act serves to put the hunters in harmony with the Ituri, securing its blessing and guidance for the day’s hunt. Because the BaMbuti consider fire to be the most precious gift of the forest, they offer it back to it and so acknowledge their debt to, and dependence on, the benevolence of the forest. Thus does an apparently ritual and ceremonial behavior for obtaining magic actually become yet another way in which the BaMbuti enter into a time of trusted communion with their god.

     When Cephu’s sin is brought to light, the kumamolimo becomes the central meeting place for his crime to be announced and his sentence to be decided. One of the charges brought against Cephu by Ekianga and Manyalibo is his continued disgracement of the molimo through non-participation in singing, as well as his group’s failure to contribute to the molimo basket. This disgrace is so serious, the two Pygmies say, that the molimo will even need to be ended, as it has been made bad. (This reaffirms the importance of the festival, for it is not right for it to be shamed.)

     All this sounds much more serious than it actually happened to be, for the matter is settled soon after it began (Cephu wisely made physical reparations for the meat that he effectively stole). Though informal, social sanctions against Cephu continue for a time, the place of the molimo becomes happy once again. That night, in the midst of the molimo singing, Cephu is there - and his participation in the religious festival ensures that he is as much of a Pygmy as any other man.

     What I can conclude from these observations is a viewing of the molimo (and, indeed, BaMbuti religion in general) as a way in which to meet the needs of the society-at-large, and certainly not just those of the individual. This interpretation would certainly fall under the anthropological theory of structural-functionalism. In Pygmy life, this attitude about religion is reflected in how use of the antelope paste as a type of “hunting magic” is, in general, discouraged, because it is seen as a way to selfishly claim hunting success for oneself at the expense of others, thus hurting the band as a whole. 

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Entry 5 - Chapter 4 - “The Song of the Forest”

     The fifth chapter of Colin Turnbull’s book concerns itself entirely with the history and characteristics of the eponymous molimo festival. Because of this, there is much to be observed in this chapter about the BaMbuti’s notions of religion - specifically about how those are played out in the execution of the molimo, coincidentally the closest thing that the Pygmies have to any sort of religious ritual.

     To begin with, Turnbull notes the manner in which the forest people travel to recover the molimo trumpets. Normally, they are always loud and noisy (except when hunting) in order to scare off any potential predators, but here they are as quiet as can be. Turnbull takes this as a sign of respect shown to the molimo by the BaMbuti, and also theorizes that because they are so much a part of the forest, in this sacred time they are reluctant to disturb it or its denizens. Unarmed, the Pygmies’ unwavering trust in the safety and goodness of their forest home is beautifully reflected in one of their own’s words: “When we are the Children of the Forest, what need have we to be afraid of it? We are only afraid of that which is outside the forest.”

     Turnbull’s positive feelings of the BaMbuti’s treatment for the molimo momentarily dissipate when he sees how the instrument is treated, as well as what it is made out of. Upon returning with one trumpet, Madyadya blows a raspberry into it, humoring the Pygmies and taking aback Turnbull - Turnbull, advancing closer and expecting to see an ornate, patterned, and extravagant object, perhaps symbolically carved, instead sees that both trumpets are merely made of metal drainpipe stolen from roadside construction workers.

     Here, an explanation of the so-called Pygmy “importance/informality” dichotomy is necessary. The Ituri forest is still everything to the BaMbuti’s world, and the molimo is still their most important act in acknowledging that truth. However, the Pygmies separate what should and what shouldn’t be treated with special significance because of those facts, and with them the should list is relatively short. Therefore, as with every other facet of Pygmy life, informality reigns, yet does so without the importance of any particular aspect of life being lessened. This is why, in the case of the molimo trumpets, the Pygmies can readily answer Turnbull: “Why does it matter what the molimo is made of?” What is important to the molimo celebration is the sound that the trumpet makes in praise to the forest, and not what the trumpet looks like or is made out of, because it is hardly seen anyway.

     This dichotomy is promptly seen in the return of the group to Apa Lelo with the molimos in hand. Curiously, at the crossing of every stream, both instruments are lovingly washed and “fed” of the water - Turnbull wonders to what extent this is a ritual or practical act, and of course Ausu, the skilled molimo player, dismisses it simply as a way to make the trumpet sound better. So, again, practicality appears to win out, but the way in which the instruments are laid in the water, along with the endurance of the “ritual” even for the metal trumpets (it has no effect on the sound like it does with the wooden trumpets), reaffirms the importance of the molimo to the forest people.

     Upon approaching Camp Lelo, Ausu and Amabosu (the two musicians of the camp) begin to play the molimo in earnest, filling the Ituri with its own sounds - elephants and doves, buffaloes and leopards, along with stranger snatches of mysterious, transcendent music. This playing provides a cue for the women and children of Apa Lelo to retire to their huts, for they are forbidden to partake in the religious ceremony. Thus that evening begins the essential repetition of the molimo festival that continues for the next two months, and with it all the information that it provides about BaMbuti mythology.

     Though the BaMbuti’s molimo is certainly not marked by heavy reliance on ritual or custom (as the ceremonies of the Negro villager are), there still remain some defining attributes. The “profane” outside world needs to be shut out, so logs are dragged across the pathway that leads back to the village. Every day offerings of food and firewood are collected from all Pygmies, and every night the women and children retreat into their huts while the men sit around the kumamolimo, eat, sing, and dance. Beyond these deviously simple practices, though, lies an air of powerful anticipation and momentousness.

     There are few things that the people of the forest consider to be more truly critical to the identity of the band than the molimo. Thus is everyone present (after the first “round” of singing is completed) required to eat, and no one is allowed to sleep while molimo singing is going on. Doing so is the greatest crime that a Pygmy male can commit, and punishable by death (though later even Kenge, sleeping in their hut, is found by Turnbull) - therefore, the significance of molimo song is reinforced while the relatively rule-free society of the BaMbuti continues to give and take allowances in the general pattern of behavior. This, again, illustrates the “importance/informality” dichotomy. (For example, Makubasi brings his infant son to the kumamolimo and sings to him, even though he’s technically supposed to be in bed, and Kenge is not killed on the spot when he is found.)

     Though the words of the songs of the molimo are few, they are nonetheless “Beautiful, Good, and Powerful”; most of them repeat, with little variation, that “The Forest is Good.” This helps to reveal wherein the import of the molimo, and especially its songs, lie - since the forest is everything to its people, and since the forest is good, then this should be cause for great joy. So, despite the hunting that is a necessity for everyday living in a foraging society, the men sing and eat every night . . . but the mornings are for the youths.

     One such practice, usually committed before dawn by these young men, concerning the molimo is their imitation of the original struggle for possession of the trumpet. Some Pygmies say that, in the past, this battle was fought between men and women - if the men won, this would certainly explain why women are not allowed to participate in the festival.

     About a month into the molimo, Turnbull writes of a new development in his understanding of the celebration. The same songs sung by the men every night, drawing the molimo animal, also draw something else with it, and it goes away with the animal at the end of the night. This “it” is a presence - a god - the Forest itself. But why is the deity of the Ituri Forest called to at all? Why is it needed? One night, the kind elder Moke explains to Turnbull the most telling revelation of the molimo yet.

     Over everything, the BaMbuti believe in the goodness of the Ituri. It is their mother and father that gives them everything they need - food, clothing, shelter, and even affection. Because the forest is good to its children, when things go wrong, something cannot be right. Moke, then, explains that just as bad things can happen while humans are sleeping because they are not awake to stop them from happening, so the forest must be sleeping and not looking after its children when the hunt is bad, or when someone dies, or some other catastrophe occurs. So, the Pygmies believe, all that is needed is to wake up the forest and to make it happy - then, everything will be alright once again. If it is not, then more songs of devotion and praise continue while the faith of the forest’s children, unwavering, continues to be put in their kind forest world.

     It is in these qualities that the crux of the meaning of the molimo and its singing is found. It is an “intimate communion” between a people and their god, who is never silent but answers them with music and the sounds of the forest when they call out to him. Pygmies have different names for their god, but they all know it is the same one, and they know that the is good, just like the forest is. Therefore, if he is good, then he must be of the forest - good, too, is the darkness of disaster, because to the BaMbuti, the people of the forest, everything of the forest is, ultimately, good - in the utmost.

     What I conclude from these observations is that, geographically, where the BaMbuti live has an inestimable influence on how they view the supernatural. The villagers, in times of crisis, turn to explanations of witchcraft and sorcery, but the Pygmies - whose forest world is far kinder - only know what good things the forest has given them, and none of the bad things that those in the settled villages experience. Studying this chapter from the anthropological-theoretical perspective of structural-functionalism, it seems that one of the functions of the molimo can be seen as bringing different families of the BaMbuti together . . . or driving them further apart (as in the case of the tension and criticism brought to Cephu’s largely non-participant camp from the rest of the band).

[jasonhiegel-blog]

Entry 4 - Chapter 3 - “The Making of Camp Lelo”

     A few days following the “good death” of Balekimito, the band of Pygmies decides to move away from the village (a “bad place”) and into the forest in order to make a camp at Lelo several hours away. They also plan to hold a magnificent molimo festival for Balekimito. Spirits rise significantly as the BaMbuti excitedly anticipate returning to their sacred forest world, one that holds few real dangers. Some even take special care to literally rid themselves of the dust of the village by washing in a stream, before progressing further into the Ituri.

     Turnbull describes Apa Lelo (and the forest by extension) as almost deity-like, personifying it as “beautiful,” “gentle,” “kind,” and “protective” after first acknowledging the fierce and terrifying power that the Ituri can display in a thunderstorm. Now, however, the forest is full of life, color, and sound, and Turnbull notes the pride that shows on Kenge’s face as he gives Turnbull another tour of his home.

     The hunt begins auspiciously, with a coveted sondu caught even before the huts of the camp are set up. Here, the great hunter Njobo reaffirms the role of the forest as provider of food. This is significant, as even a skilled hunter like Njobo does not credit himself for the kill, but rather the forest for graciously gifting it to him. After the camp’s houses are prepared, in the early morning, most Pygmy men venture out to hunt. (This is because a great deal of food and meat are needed to “feed” the molimo, perhaps acting as a basic offering or sacrifice that is given in thanks to the forest.)

     A few days later the food-collection begins in earnest – Amabosu and Madyadya make the rounds about camp and are donated mushrooms, bananas, even cigarettes (the pretense held by the Pygmies is that the molimo is actually a great, mysterious, and apparently very hungry animal). These offerings, along with offerings of wood to build a large, special, central fire, are situated around the kumamolimo (place of the molimo).

     To begin this festive occasion of celebration, first the molimo trumpets must be fetched. Turnbull is invited, and with some controversy comes along with Ausu, Makubasi, Madyadya, and others – including objectors Masisi and Masimongo. The group sets off quickly to return by nightfall, and Turnbull is getting closer to finding out what this “song of the forest” is all about.

[jasonhiegel-blog]

Entry 3 - Chapter 2 - “The Good Death of Balekimito”

     The beginning portion of the second chapter of The Forest People sheds some light on Kenge. Kenge is Colin Turnbull’s (intermittent) employee, helper, and, most importantly, trusted companion. The forest (remember, being the Pygmy notion of god) for him is “Mother and Father, Lover and Friend,” and Turnbull writes that one of Kenge’s favorite activities is to show him around the forest, for he is a proud co-owner of it. Because Kenge, at least in this part of the story, spends more time in the village of Camp Putnam than he does in the Ituri, this helps to illustrate a profound, if a bit trite, truth about the BaMbuti: “You can take the Pygmy out of the forest, but you cannot take the forest out of the Pygmy.” A recurring theme of the narrative is the resilience of BaMbuti culture (thus extending to their religion of the forest) even in hard times, or when the Pygmies decide to move away from the forest’s heart and towards the surrounding Negro villages, or when their way of life is apparently taken over by those same villages.

     Later on in Chapter 2, Turnbull describes the Pygmies’ characteristics in general before moving on to describing the different individuals of the clans that he is among. Here, he introduces a spectrum of “traditional” and “progressive” that most of the people he names - Manyalibo, Tungana, Moke, Ekianga - seem to fall under. This spectrum, importantly, is tied to the preferred location of settled land - forest for the traditionalists, village plantation for the progressives. Therefore, the victory for the traditionalists towards the end of the chapter in choosing to move away from the village and back to the forest is a noteworthy one in terms of truly preserving the forest people’s way of life and religion (as we shall see, the molimo cannot/should not be called near a village).

     Unlike the villagers, the people of the forest possess little to no belief in witchcraft, sorcery, or indeed in any other magic. This helps to inform (or, in the case of this chapter, fails to inform) their view of death, but the BaMbuti have no great need of explanation anyway. They need know only of the forest, for it is good to them. Part of what Turnbull observes in this chapter is what the Pygmies do when it is not.

     When Cephu’s daughter dies, there is no great reaction from the bulk of the Pygmies. The Negros, who conduct the funeral, are the ones concerned with issues of custom, spirits, ritual cleanliness, and wrong-doing; the BaMbuti humor them and play along, and on the night of the funeral (with lack of enthusiasm) call out the molimo. (There are two problems with this, according to the Pygmies: the molimo should only be in the forest, not close to a village, and is not normally called for the death of a child.) Thus is the molimo - at least, according to the ultra-traditionalist Moke - presented as a religiously significant thing of the forest, preferably separated from the culture and strict rituals of the village people. Called in the village, it is a “farce.”

     The traditionalists finally get a chance to portray the molimo in a positive light when Balekimito, a well-respected matriarch, passes away. This time the grief that follows her death, Turnbull writes, is all too authentic and deep. For a little while, the forest seems to go silent, and its protective care over the people of the forest seems far away. However, after all this the Pygmies still make no accusation of sorcery, but rather concede that the death is significant and to be handled by the forest. Thus do these events show that even after the most troubling of occurrences, the BaMbuti’s faith in the Ituri forest ensures that it is always there for them.

     Hope renewed, the forest people plan an immediate return to their true home, in order to plan the biggest molimo festival that they have ever had. This is to praise the forest again, to reawaken it and to make it happy. The Pygmies don’t know why death and darkness exist, but they don’t need to - all that matters is to love the forest, because the forest loves them, and they know that in the end everything will be alright because of it.

     What I take from these observations is a sense of the relative informality and simplicity of BaMbuti culture, including religion - however, its importance to the people is not lessened whatsoever. The BaMbuti are averse to any real establishment of religious ritual or formality (we see later on that the molimo can simply be a crude trumpet made out of drainpipe), yet the forest that is glorified with this seemingly profane instrument is still absolutely essential to Pygmy society. Historical particularism may offer a convincing theory as to why these ostensible discrepancies exist - the forest people’s personalities and quirks are “writ large” onto the larger lifestyle.

[jasonhiegel-blog]

Entry 2 - Chapter 1 - “The World Of The Forest”

      In the very first chapter of The Forest People, we see the characteristics and role of the great Ituri forest (significantly, the closest thing that the BaMbuti have to a god) to be expounded upon. It is, at first, portrayed as dark, oppressive, and foreboding . . . but only to those who do not know it as the Pygmies do. To them, the Ituri is a caretaker, which reverberates constantly with every sort of sound - leopard, elephant, monkey, bird. The villager outsiders, on the other hand, are overwhelmed by the forest’s seeming silence and loneliness, and think of it as a place of evil, full of hostile spirits (perhaps reflecting animism).

     To this great god of theirs, though, the people of the forest continuously sing (and dance) praise, thanking it for providing its benevolence. They have known and loved the forest for thousands of years, and the reciprocal nature of the relationship ensures that the forest knows and loves them in return. The forest brings the BaMbuti little hardship, so they have no need to believe in evil spirits.

     A bit later in the chapter, the molimo is briefly introduced as being “a religious festival.” Much more notes, observations, and discussion will be made later about the molimo, but for now a good explanation is that it is a time for the Pygmies to call to the forest and to praise it as deity, and for it, in turn, to answer back to the Pygmies.

     The Negro villagers believe strongly in custom, tradition, and ritual - to go against those things is to bring on death, disaster, and supernatural punishment. The BaMbuti, however, are bound by no such beliefs, and even when Turnbull is “formally” inducted into Pygmy society by Njobo, Kolongo, and Moke, Kolongo seeks to get it over with as quickly as possible, Njobo leaves outright, and Moke is on the verge of doing the same. Nevertheless, the importance of the “ceremony” is in no way lessened. Turnbull becomes “of the forest” because the forest is now in him - ash of the forest plants reside in his forehead, perhaps symbolizing the eternal presence of the forest - their god - in each Pygmy and his body.

     What I conclude from these observations is that it would be impossible to overestimate the power and influence that the Ituri forest has over BaMbuti culture, and certainly religion. Considering the anthropological theory of structural-functionalism, it is worth noting that the forest is most often worshiped for its function as both provider and protector - of the entire Pygmy people, and not just those select individuals who choose to believe in the forest. Everyone is a believer because the Ituri forest meets the needs of everyone.

[jasonhiegel-blog]

Entry 1 - Specialty Summarization with a Focus on Anthropological Theory

     In simulating fieldwork with Colin Turnbull’s classic ethnography The Forest People, I will be focusing on the ethnographic specialty of religion. Religion can sometimes be difficult to analyze due to its complexity and controversy, but nevertheless it is paramount to understanding people’s lived experiences, and so should be treated with according seriousness and respect. Above all, religion provides a belief system in which people are able to discover and create meaning (Haines 167). After viewing religion through a variety of lenses (including psychological, political, and economic), we can begin to see that the nature of religion is especially useful in helping to make known the nature of the universe (169). This happens specifically through enabling adherents to seek supernatural help, along with providing an explanation for the cause of particular events. Ritual is another important part of religion because it acts as an outlet for connecting to the spiritual domain.

     Of the numerous anthropological theories, in this study I anticipate to rely mostly on structural-functionalism (or 1st British Structuralism, originally championed by A.R. Radcliffe-Brown). It seems sensible to me that because structural-functionalism theorizes that culture is meant to meet the needs of the society at-large, not just the individual, then BaMbuti religion should also focus on strengthening the social “glue” in order to keep their society intact. Since the BaMbuti are foragers, as a result they view every single person in the band as vital to the surviving and thriving of the community. So, it would make sense that Pygmy religion should then seek to achieve a number of things related to reaffirming kinship statuses, roles, and bonds. Assuming a structural-functionalist viewpoint for evaluating religion in the BaMbuti culture will likely result in seeing their society, in general, as being a relatively simple organism, albeit with many exceptions and complexities.

Works Cited

Haines, David W. Cultural Anthropology: Adaptations, Structures, Meanings. Pearson Prentice Hall, 2005.