Peter Berger

Feeding, Sharing, and Devouring

Religion and Society

Edited by
Gustavo Benavides, Kocku von Stuckrad and
Winnifred Fallers Sullivan

Volume 59
Peter Berger

Feeding, Sharing,
and Devouring

Ritual and Society in Highland Odisha, India

Translated by
Jennifer R. Ottman

DE GRUYTER
The translation of this work was funded by Geisteswissenschaften International –
Translation Funding for Work in the Humanities and Social Sciences from Germany, a joint
initiative of the Fritz Thyssen Foundation, the German Federal Foreign Office, the collecting
society VG WORT and the Börsenverein des Deutschen Buchhandels (German Publishers &
Booksellers Association).

This work was translated from the original German into English by Jennifer R. Ottman.

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for Amrei
and in memory of
Rogu Sisa
and
Jomna
Contents
Note on Usage XI

Preface XIII

 Introduction 1
. The Research Region 2
. Ethnography of the Gadaba 10
. My Fieldwork among the Gadaba 12
. Food and Society 16
. Some Theoretical Remarks 38
. Organization and Theses 51

Part One:
The Social Order

 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships 57

. The House 58
. The Local Sub-Line 78
. Local Lines, Status Categories, and Dignitaries 81
. The Village 94
. The “Latecomers” 123
. The Land 135
. Relationships between Villages 166
. Concepts of “Society” 190
. External Relationships 198
. Conclusion 203

Part Two:
Rituals and Festivals

 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person 221

. Pregnancy and Rebirth 221
. Birth 222
. Sacrifice for the Dead 227
. Tying the Chicken Bone 228
VIII Contents

. “Ending Pollution” 228

. Tying the “Birth String” 234
. “Taking Down the Hair” 235
. The “Path Wedding” 237
. The Process of Marriage 245
. On the Living, the Dead, and Dying 274
. The Mortuary Rituals I 283
. The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 304
. Conclusion 332

 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle 364

. Seasons and Festivals 364
. Forms of Labor Help 366
. The Hot Season 368
. The Rainy Season 400
. The Cold Season 415
. Conclusion 444

 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing 475
. The Social Meaning of Illness: Precarious Relationships 475
. Causes of Illness and Misfortune 477
. Specialists, Diagnoses, and Treatments 480
. The Healers’ Means 483
. Curses 486
. Destruction 488
. Possession and Exorcism 503
. Attacks by soni rau 510
. Conclusion 512

 Conclusion 520
Transformation and Constitution of Social Relationships through Alimentary
Processes 522
Symbolic Classification in Alimentary Processes 523

Appendix

Epilogue 531

Bibliography 554
 Contents IX

Glossary 568
Desia 568
Gutob 584

List of Figures 590

List of Photos 591

List of Maps 592

List of Tables 593

Index 594
Note on Usage
Indigenous terms appear in the text uncapitalized and in italics, except for the
names of places, persons, groups, castes, ethnicities, and languages. For terms
used throughout India, such as Kshatriya or Durga, I have taken Fuller’s (1992)
spelling as a guide. At the end of the volume is a glossary of frequently used
and/or thematically important Desia and Gutob terms. In the text, Gutob
words are marked with an asterisk, as in go’yang*, except for the names of places
and groups. All other italicized indigenous terms are Desia words. Emphasis in
quotations is original unless noted otherwise. When quoting informants, I give
the Desia original in parentheses in the text if the quotation is short, in a foot-
note if it is long; however, the original is not available for all quotations. In ritual
descriptions, I use the so-called ethnographic present; when discussing a specif-
ic event, I use the past tense. Where the ritual actors may be either male or fe-
male, I have sometimes used the masculine pronoun only, for the sake of read-
ability, but both genders should be understood unless specified otherwise.
Pseudonyms are used for places and people in some cases.
The Indian state where this research was conducted changed its name from
“Orissa” to “Odisha” in 2011. Although the German original was published before
that date, the new designation is used in this translation, except when referring
to earlier publications or research programs like the Orissa Research Project.
Preface
“Even a century ago most of India’s tribal communities persisted in a way of life
which had remained constant for scores of generations.” One wonders what
made Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf (1984, 71) so confident when he wrote
this sentence in the 1980s. While such statements are difficult to believe, as
they rest on a static view of culture, more recent declarations about the general
fluidity of culture are likewise problematic, as they seem to originate in the ideo-
logical frameworks of Western cultures. Obviously, the situation is more com-
plex, not only because in order to persist, cultures have to change (Oosten
1999; Sahlins 1999), but also because it is an open question what exactly requires
an explanation, perdurability or transformation, and whether we are able to au-
tomatically grasp the former when understanding the latter and vice versa. More-
over, it is easy to be misled into coming up with a diagnosis of “change” based
only on the superficial aspects of social life.
When Fürer-Haimendorf, together with his wife Betty, travelled in the Kora-
put District in April 1941, visiting several Gadaba villages, he described various
phenomena that the reader of this book will also encounter in the pages that fol-
low. In his diary¹ he mentioned that, as the April festival (chait porbo) was going
on, women would block the road and demand fees (pajor) for passing through
their village; boys would bring twigs, representing a “stag” that they had hunted,
to the shrine of the village deity (hundi); and the village sacrificer would trans-
plant the first rice seedlings into the paddies. He also briefly described a healing
ritual for a child that was conducted next to a river and in which the heads of the
sacrificial animals were placed on a leaf plate and thrown into the river. On the
other hand, he mentioned aspects that he considered to be part of the process of
change. For example, he noted that some villages had only a few round houses
left, those of the “ancient type” (“des altertümlichen Bautyps,” 68), while this
kind of construction actually continued to be relatively common in other loca-
tions. Moreover, he also described situations and institutions of which I could
find no trace during my research conducted about sixty years later: for example,
local members of the Congress Party who would refrain from any participation in
village festivals and would neither hunt nor fish, or the bisé, only briefly men-
tioned by Fürer-Haimendorf in one of his few articles on the Gadaba (1943,
151), the title given to the youth who was the leader of the boys and girls in
the youth dormitories.

 I had the chance to read his diary entries, written in German, in the library of the School of
Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London (reference: Box 2, PPMS19, No. 55).
XIV Preface

Forty years after his initial stay, Fürer-Haimendorf briefly revisited the area.
While he reported the astonishing feat of the Bondo, the neighbors of the Gadaba
to the west, in having “remained virtually untouched,” even though in general
“time is running out for such communities” (Fürer-Haimendorf 1984, 73), he de-
scribed more of a double-sided situation when it came to the Gadaba. With re-
gard to landholding, tribal endogamy, the appearance of villages, and “megalith-
ic structures,” Fürer-Haimendorf found the situation to be basically the same,
while at the same time the traditional dress (kisalo’*) and ornaments of the Ga-
daba women had almost completely disappeared (77 f).
The research for this book, which was submitted as a PhD thesis at the Free
University of Berlin in 2004, was conducted between 1999 and 2003. During this
period I did not experience the local cultural context as undergoing a period of
rapid change. On the contrary, I was able to document economic, social, and es-
pecially, ritual practices that seemed to bear a very close resemblance to those
described by Fürer-Haimendorf and also by Verrier Elwin in his book on the
Bondo (1950), based on his fieldwork in the mid-1940s. The situation was differ-
ent in 2010, when I returned to Koraput for the first time after six years. In several
ways, empirically speaking, certain changes were conspicuous.
During the time of my fieldwork, an Oriya song was popular, the chorus of
which went, “We have a school in our village, but the teacher never shows up”
(ga iskul ochi kintu mastreo asila nai). While this was certainly true for the gov-
ernment primary school of the Gadaba village I visited regularly during my first
stay in Koraput in 1996, it did not apply to the school in Gudapada, the village on
which my research focused from 1999 onward. Already at the beginning of my
fieldwork there, the school, which was founded in the 1960s but only ran some-
what efficiently from the 1980s onward, was well established and had boarding
facilities for pupils from some of the surrounding villages. However, Gadaba
adults’ attitude toward the school certainly remained one of indifference, a
fact about which the teachers frequently complained to me. As a result,
among the young men of my age, and certainly among the older men and
women in general, few could read or write. If the school had little impact in ed-
ucational terms, however, it at least tried to influence the children’s way of life
and, more indirectly, also that of the adults as well. While local religious practi-
ces were ignored in school, the annual worship of the Hindu deities Saraswati
and Ganesh was obligatory for the pupils. Beef eating was particularly discour-
aged among the pupils, sometimes forcefully so, according to what they told me.
While in the past some of the children had resumed eating beef after their four
years of primary school, and many of the adults also ate beef in 1999, there was a
general tendency noticeable among the young, just-married generation to avoid
 Preface XV

beef consumption. As a result, some had already begun sacrificing goats instead
of cattle in the life-cycle rituals.
In 2010 I attended part of a four-day workshop conducted for teachers in this
tribal region. The workshop leader made it very clear what the local population
would need: “education and exposure,” or in other words, to be “main-
streamed.” Indeed, the local primary school in Gudapada was running even
more efficiently than it had ten years before, and education was now taken
more seriously by at least some of the adult Gadaba; a few young men were
now even attending college (Higher Secondary level) in the city of Jeypore. More-
over, there was now a consensus in the village – and there had been a formal
meeting on this issue – that cattle sacrifices were no longer to be conducted
as part of life-cycle rituals, although all still agreed that these remained indis-
pensable for sacrifices at the village’s local shrines. With regard to life-cycle rit-
uals, only in the case of a “bad” death did discussions occur as to whether cattle
should still be sacrificed under such dangerous circumstances. However, the
statement of a young woman of about twenty years of age that she felt ashamed
(laj) about the beef-eating habits of her parents is probably representative.
What added to the school’s “mainstreaming” impact, in particular for the
younger Gadaba, was the fact that in 2006 the village was connected to the elec-
trical grid. As a result, in 2010 a few televisions could now be found in some of
the houses of the village, and mostly young people would gather in front of them
in the evening to watch Oriya films on DVD. Undoubtedly connected to this is a
new word that has found its way into the local vocabulary, style, which means
something like “popular” or “in modern taste.” At least some of the adolescent
boys, who were only about four or five years old when I began my fieldwork,
have now adopted the style of clothing worn by their film ero (“hero”: the “h”
is not pronounced). Not only did they dress according to style, but I also saw sev-
eral rooms completely plastered over with posters of film actors and whatever
else was considered style, often with a stereo and cassette player placed in the
middle. While the boys dress in shirts and pants, the girls have now largely
adopted the Hindu way of wearing a sari – at least when “dressing up” for spe-
cial occasions – instead of the former Desia style. The changes I observed in-
volved not only clothes or the decoration of houses, but also to some extent ges-
tures. For example, I noticed that some young Gadaba would raise their right
hand to their forehead when their feet were touched accidentally or when pass-
ing a temple in a motor vehicle, gestures I had previously encountered only in
the plains.
Another factor that reinforces the “mainstreaming” efforts of the government
schools and the influence of popular films is a new form of wage labor. Gadaba
have worked on the tea plantations in “Assam,” as they still call it (the northern
XVI Preface

part of West Bengal), for more than a century, and when the harvest is over, the
men of the village go off as a group for a few weeks to look for wage labor in the
surrounding area, work such as cutting down trees or constructing paddies in
river beds. What I was able to observe in 2010 had a different quality to it, how-
ever. Young unmarried Gadaba went away to work on construction sites in Mum-
bai for seven months at a time or on a pineapple plantation in Kerala for nine
months. They would then return with considerable financial resources and,
from what I could see, invested their money in style-related things.
What should be made of these “changes”? On the one hand, too many an-
thropologists have heralded the end of local cultures on the basis of what they
had originally encountered in the field and considered to be traditional, so this is
certainly not what I want to suggest here. What I do want to indicate with the few
examples above is that new dynamics are visible in this area, mainly with regard
to the younger generation of the not-yet or just-recently married, from which we
cannot really predict whether fundamental changes in religion or social struc-
ture (or both) will follow. As of 2010, radical change (cf. Robbins 2010) has
not yet come about, comparable, for example, with what Piers Vitebsky has de-
scribed for the Sora (Vitebsky 2008). What was very clear during my last research
period, however, was that the processes I could observe were complex and would
need to be studied systematically and thoroughly. It is an open question, for ex-
ample, whether the change of style in dress is having any impact on the system
of ritual practices. The gradual change from kisalo’* to manufactured cloth, in
the case of the women mentioned by Fürer-Haimendorf, did not have any
such impact, as I can confirm with this study. Processes of change occur at dif-
ferent speeds in different areas of social life, and in different ways at different
times.
Moreover, I was able to observe in 2010 that the Gadaba of Gudapada implic-
itly or explicitly deal with new situations and innovations in a variety of ways.
The change in dress and evaluation of style is a very explicit choice and an adop-
tion of lowland patterns. Such influences are clearly and just as consciously re-
stricted when it comes to the ritual domain. While cattle sacrifices have now
largely been abandoned in the context of the life cycle, such as for marriage
or death rituals, at local shrines such a transformation is perceived as being im-
possible. In a less explicit but similarly unequivocal way, the Gadaba are re-
sponding to another economic innovation, that of a second paddy rice harvest,
common in the lowlands, that was adopted by some people in the village a year
or two before my visit. As I describe in this book, the agricultural cycle is embed-
ded in a complex ritual framework. Ritually, however, this second paddy rice
harvest did not exist, so therefore no rituals were deemed necessary around it.
While aspects of lowland culture may be explicitly adopted, or partially accepted
 Preface XVII

and integrated into local patterns, they may also be explicitly rejected. “We are
Adivasi, not Hindus,” is a statement I heard for the first time in 2010, made by a
man whom I would describe as the first Gadaba “activist” I have met (cf. Berger
forthcoming). I had never encountered political claims to indigeneity and ethnic-
ity such as this – so common in other parts of Central India and elsewhere –
among the Gadaba before.
A thorough investigation of cultural change would thus need to take into ac-
count implicit and explicit strategies, different forms of agency in dealing with
innovations, the complexity of the process, and its lack of synchronicity. Most
importantly, such a study would need to consider the particular “historicity”
(Sahlins 1985) of the culture concerned, that is, the way empirical changes are
perceived, articulated, or ignored on the basis of the specific system of cultural
ideas. In the case at hand, this would mean understanding the local view of the
situation on the basis of a “flat” view of history, in which the “people of now”
(ebro lok) are opposed to the “people of the past” (agtu lok), and changes can
be accommodated with respect to a notion of “tradition” or niam that is consid-
ered to be of divine origin and unchanging, and yet is so vaguely defined that it
has probably integrated empirical changes in the past, masking them as tradi-
tion, and will most likely continue to do so in the future as well. This is a cultural
system, moreover, which is oblivious of and indifferent to absolute or linear time
– the kind we are used to measuring in terms of years – but which instead values
relative or oppositional time in the form of seniority.
A reflexive approach to the study of cultural change also needs to take into
account the diverse predispositions that can hamper an appropriate investiga-
tion into such dynamics. This includes an awareness of the bias inherent in
the anthropologist’s own culture as well as the culture of anthropology in and
of itself. While change enjoys the status of a value in the former case (Rio and
Smedal 2009, 24), this is not necessarily so in the latter (Robbins 2007). Finally,
and quite naturally, the personal experience of change by the anthropologist in-
fluences his or her perception of the local situation. This perception is related at
least as much to transformations in personal relationships with people from the
ethnographic field over time as it is to the general empirical changes that I have
mentioned above.
After the bus dropped me off at the intersection between the main road and
the road to Gudapada in 2010, the first thing I noticed as I walked down the road
to the village was the power supply line, signifying the changes I was about to
encounter. Had I looked more closely, I might perhaps also have noticed three
small upright wooden sticks in a field near the government school, just outside
the village. The most “national” of all games played in India, cricket, had now
also found its way into the local youth culture. Nevertheless, I was certainly un-
XVIII Preface

prepared for the painful news with which people met me as soon as I entered the
village. Even if my male friends would be away doing wage-labor jobs, I was sure
that Jomna would be there to welcome me at her house, which had become in
many ways also mine, as I was part of her household when staying in the village.
I had eaten countless meals cooked by her there, had shared many drinks, lis-
tened to songs and gossip, and witnessed fights. But she was not there to receive
me with her usual, slightly mocking smile. Jomna had killed herself. She had
poisoned herself in the awful way unfortunately quite common in the area, by
drinking insecticide. Her husband had just left the day before I arrived for Bhu-
baneswar, along with other men and women from the village, in order to build a
traditional Gadaba round house for the annual state-sponsored Adivasi Mela or
Tribal Fair.
Dazed by this devastating news, I somehow managed to struggle through the
day, and in the evening I was put up in Jomna’s house, in the room that used to
be the kitchen, the place I associated most with her. Jomna’s daughter, Komla,
then perhaps twenty years of age, had had to take over all of her mother’s re-
sponsibilities and leave school to run the household, which consisted, besides
herself, of her father and three brothers. Komla refused to cook at her mother’s
hearth, however, and was now preparing all the meals in a small extension
added to the house. Hence, for a month I was able to sleep in the former kitchen.
It was there, when Komla and her brothers had left and I had closed the
door, that the sensation of radical change came down on me with full force. I
could hardly recognize the room anymore. The young people had transformed
the former kitchen into a kind of lounge, according to style. I noticed a stereo
with cassettes piled on top of it, placed on a shelf and decorated with warning
tape that read “caution.” All the mud walls had been plastered over with old
newspapers, and on top of these were pasted posters of Bollywood film stars,
Hindu deities, and modern buildings. On the opposite wall, next to a big wall
clock, which was loudly ticking away, hung framed pictures of Jomna’s children,
all posing in clothes and sunglasses like those of their ero. While earlier the
kitchen had been lit only by the fire on the hearth and an oil lamp, now,
along with a dim light bulb, there was a chain of colored lights that alternately
bathed the room in red, green, and blue. Looking at these walls, I suddenly no-
ticed a familiar face on a piece of newspaper visible in between the posters and
colored lights, a person probably few villagers had even heard of: Karl Marx.
Before I retreated into the former kitchen, I had been sitting quietly in a cor-
ner of the house extension, where we had just finished a meal Komla had pre-
pared. She and some of the young adults and children from the neighborhood
sat chatting around the hearth in the small hut. They were not talking about
Oriya films, however; they were talking about the rumors they had heard at
 Preface XIX

the weekly markets about two gotr, elaborate secondary funerals, that were sup-
posed to be conducted soon in two Gadaba villages in the area. So far, none of
them had ever seen one, and they were eagerly speculating about how many
“heads” of buffaloes would be offered by the hosts.

***
Many people have contributed in various different ways to the writing of this
book. However, there are three pillars in particular on which it rests: the Gadaba,
my teacher Georg Pfeffer, and my wife Amrei Volkmann. I am deeply grateful
that the Gadaba of Gudapada allowed me to stay in their village and to partici-
pate in their lives. I especially want to thank my neighbor and frequent compan-
ion Ori Sisa, as well as Rogu Sisa, Jomna’s father-in-law, in whose house I lived
and who has since died. This book is dedicated to Amrei, Rogu, and Jomna.
Samo Sisa especially helped me at the beginning of my time in the village.
Along with these individuals, Sukro Challan, Boro Birsa Sisa, Domru Sisa, and
Gurubari Sisa made a special contribution toward deepening my knowledge of
their culture. I would also like to mention Samo Sisa from Auripada, Dono Mun-
duli from Choktoput, and the Gadaba of the village of Gorihanjar. Georg Pfeffer
supported and motivated me relentlessly from the beginning of my study of an-
thropology in Berlin more than twenty years ago, both as my PhD supervisor and
later as a colleague. I always was, and still am, deeply impressed by his energy,
enthusiasm, and commitment to his discipline in general and the study of Cen-
tral Indian cultures in particular. Amrei Volkmann not only supported my re-
search and the writing of this book in myriad ways but also had a considerable
share in the research process itself, as will become clear from the epilogue. I am
grateful that we shared these experiences.
Manto Pradhan was my assistant in the field for well over a year, and I want
to thank him for his commitment, endurance, and good company. His whole
family has become very dear to me, and I very much appreciate their warm wel-
come whenever I visit Sambalpur. Furthermore, Deepak Kumar Behera (and his
family) supported all the members of the Orissa Research Project with great com-
mitment and enthusiasm. I also received support of all kinds from S. N. Ratha
and Tuna Takri. P. K. Nayak helped me in taking my first steps in learning
Oriya, and M. D. Hussain (†) shared his immense knowledge of and social net-
work among the tribal communities of Koraput with me. Without him my initial
fieldwork period would have been much more difficult. I profited a great deal
from discussions with my colleagues from the Orissa Research Project: Ulrike
Blindt, Elisabeth Conzelmann, Lidia Guzy, Tina Otten, Uwe Skoda, Christian
Strümpell, and especially Roland Hardenberg. I am also greatly indebted to
Arlo Griffiths, Frank Heidemann, and Thomas Malten for our constructive collab-
XX Preface

oration. Birte Müller, Dirk Landt, and Arndt Sonnenschein helped me in making
maps and drawings.
The financial costs of the research project were borne in the first instance by
the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG, German Research Foundation), but
the FAZIT-Stiftung also bridged the gap between the completion of my master’s
degree and the start of my DFG funding in a very non-bureaucratic way. I am
grateful to the Geisteswissenschaften International foundation for funding the
translation of my book into English. I want to thank Kocku von Stuckrad for
his suggestion to publish the translated version with De Gruyter and Alissa
Jones Nelson for her very professional, efficient, and supportive attitude
throughout the publication process. Finally, I am indebted to Jennifer R. Ottman
not only for her excellent translation and great accuracy but also for her elabo-
rate, knowledgeable, and patient explanations of and answers to all the ques-
tions and comments I had in the process of reading through the translated
manuscript.
My heartfelt thanks once again to everyone who has supported me.
1 Introduction
The idea of food underlies the idea of
sacrifice. When the themes of blood-shed and
life-giving are counterpointed in elaborate
harmony at the high point of religion the
meanings of food could never be exhausted. In
such cultures food would surely rank above
music, above theatre, above dance and poetry.
But the gastronomic arts are hardly to be
developed there – perhaps rather the opposite.
Perhaps gastronomy flourishes best where food
carries the lightest load of spiritual meanings.
Mary Douglas (1977, 1)

Based on twenty-two months of ethnographic fieldwork, this study examines the

rituals and festivals of the Gadaba of highland Odisha (India), with a special
focus on the associated alimentary processes. A basic research premise was
that in societies in which ritual action is among the most fundamental social ac-
tivities, the rituals had ideally to be comprehended in their totality if the mean-
ing of each individual ritual was to be deciphered. That is, structural anthropol-
ogy’s assumption that rituals are not isolated sets of facts, but rather stand in
relationship to one another and refer to one another, was one foundation for
the research. In addition, I started from the expectation that motifs and value-
ideas articulated in ritual processes would also resonate in other social domains,
for example in spatial organization, dance, or mythology.
To study the rituals of a society or even just of a local village community as a
whole is an ambitious goal, one that probably cannot be fully achieved. Never-
theless, the results of this study demonstrate, I hope, that the attempt to under-
stand a society through the interconnections of its rituals and to approach this
ideal goal is one that can be meaningfully made. In researching Gadaba ritual
processes, I have made a special effort to allow myself to be guided by the
themes and internal structures of the rituals themselves. Relatively quickly in
the course of the research, a variety of ritual domains became clear, unambigu-
ously differentiated by the Gadaba although not separately named by them. The
multifarious interconnections and allusions among them, on the other hand,
only gradually became visible to me. It was also only gradually that I became
aware of the elementary significance of eating and food in Gadaba rituals and
hence for Gadaba society as a whole. The research was not designed as a culina-
ry ethnography (cf. Trankell 1995), but the persistence, omnipresence, and im-
portance of the motifs of feeding, eating, and devouring in Gadaba rituals led
2 1 Introduction

me unavoidably to address this topic. The production, consumption, and distri-

bution of food and foodstuffs are correspondingly viewed throughout in relation
to ritual actions, with the exception of a few additional details about food among
the Gadaba in the introduction. The intertwined alimentary and ritual processes
can be described and understood only in correlation to one another.
On the one hand, the results of my research are intended to make a general
contribution to the ethnography of Odisha. Only a handful of ethnographies
about the many highland societies exist, going back to Elwin’s time, and
many tribal groups have remained almost entirely unmentioned in the literature
until today. In order to provide material for a regional comparison, I have includ-
ed in my text ethnographic details to which I do not directly refer in my analysis.
On the other hand, my work aims to highlight the significance of food and eating
in highland societies. The wide-ranging ethnological studies that exist on the
cultural relevance of food in India have up to now ignored tribal contexts almost
completely; within Odisha, the food and nutrition of these societies are primarily
perceived in the context of development-oriented research as substandard.

1.1 The Research Region

The region where I conducted my research is located in the district of Koraput, in

the southern part of the Indian state of Odisha (see map 1). Geographically, Kor-
aput is part of the mountain range known as the Eastern Ghats, which – roughly
parallel to the coastal strip running from southwest to northeast – stretches from
the Godavari River in the south to the Mahanadi (the “Great River”) in the north.
The largest part of the district is located on a high plateau that is part of this
mountain range, about nine hundred meters above sea level and the site of
the district capital of the same name. Hills and mountains, few of which are
more than fifteen hundred meters high, are scattered across the high plateau.
West of the city of Koraput, the road twists and turns down to the six-hun-
dred-meter plateau on which Jeypore is located, the former royal capital and
today the largest city in the region (cf. Senapati and Sahu 1966, 8ff).
South of Jeypore and Koraput, on the nine-hundred-meter plateau, is the
Lamtaput block, the focus of this study. From Vishakhapatnam, in Andhra Pra-
desh on the Bay of Bengal, the area is about an eight-hour trip by bus. After an
hour of travel through the plains, the Eastern Ghats rise steeply, and the bus
struggles almost a thousand meters upward between sharp mountain peaks to
reach the high plateau. The route continues through the broad valley of Araku
to Lamtaput, a small town that is little more than a crossroads and in which
the block development officer has his headquarters (see map 2). The railroad,
 1.1 The Research Region 3

which runs up from the coast more or less parallel to the road, is somewhat fur-
ther east of Lamtaput, on the other side of the Goradi River, and is roughly iden-
tical to the eastern border of the Gutob Gadaba area. Continuing north on the
road, the traveler reaches the city of Jeypore forty kilometers on (followed even-
tually by Jagdalpur in Chhattisgarh). On the way there, the road once again
twists and turns steeply downward to the six-hundred-meter plateau, flanked
by dense tropical forest for part of the descent, before crossing the Kolab River
and stretching through a broad valley for the last ten kilometers to Jeypore.

JHARKHAND

ORISSA B WE
SUNDARGARH EN S
LOCATION OF STUDY AREA G T
AL
(DISTRICTS)
MAYURBHANJ
20 0 20 40 60 Kms JHARSUGUDA
AR
DEBGARH S HW
KENDUJHAR LE
BA
BARGARH SAMBALPUR

SONEPUR ANUGUL BHADRAK

DHENKANAL JAJPUR
BAUDH
RH

NU AP AD A

BALANGIR CUTTACK KENDRAPARA

GA
IS

NAYAGARH H A
RD
TT

PHULBANI JAGATSINGPUR
O
KH
HA
CH

PURI
NA

KALAHANDI
BA

GANJAM
RA
NG
PU

AL

RAYAGADA
TI
R

G
A PA

EN
B

KORAPUT
GA J

F
O

LOCATION
AY

OF
B

ANDHRA ORISSA
PRADESH

Study Area
MALANGIRI See Map 2
District Boundary

State Boundary

Map 1: The Study Area in Southern Koraput District of Odisha. From Jena et al. (2002, 2),
adapted by Peter Berger.

On the left for a traveler arriving in Lamtaput from the coast, a narrow as-
phalt road cuts diagonally across Gadaba territory and ends thirty kilometers far-
ther southwest in Onukadilli (“Duduma” on map 2), a small town that has
sprung up as a consequence of a hydropower plant. On this westward journey,
the broad valleys that characterize the area around Lamtaput quickly narrow;
the hills grow steeper and closer together. Beyond Machkund, where the area’s
4 1 Introduction

Map 2: The Region around Lamtaput (Onakudilli indicated here as Duduma). Copyright Nelles
Maps 1:1,5 Mio: Eastern India (Including Nepal; Special Map: Calcutta) (Munich: Nelles Verlag,
s.a.), adapted by Peter Berger.

largest police station is located, the forest becomes notably denser; monkeys are
often to be seen here. For the last ten kilometers before Onukadilli, the road
bends and curves along the course of the Machkund River, which marks the bor-
der between Odisha and Andhra Pradesh. A few kilometers beyond the small ad-
ministrative outpost of Machkund, the Machkund River (tamed by the hydropow-
er project), plunges over one hundred meters in the Duduma Waterfall, and the
river’s deep valley, stretching far to the southwest, is visible even from the road.
A traveler who leaves the road and heads northwest through the hills will reach
the end of the high plateau after a relatively short hike and be able to look down
from the last foothills into the plains, where the towns of Gobindpalli and Boi-
 1.1 The Research Region 5

pariguda lie along the road that runs southwest from Jeypore to cut diagonally
through the neighboring district of Malkangiri. A few kilometers southwest of
Onukadilli, the area inhabited by the Gutob Gadaba comes to an end; the first
villages of the Bondo, whose territory begins there, are already in the Malkangiri
district (see map 3).

Map 3: Gutob Gadaba Villages and the Surrounding Tribal Communities

The Koraput district, one of India’s largest districts before its 1995 division,¹
long had a reputation as inaccessible, backward, and malaria-ridden, an estima-
tion still voiced by many inhabitants of the plains today and one that plausibly
also reflects the judgment of the British conquerors.² When Ahuja (2007, 291)

 Into the four districts of Rayagada, Nabrangpur, Malkangiri, and Koraput.

 In an article with the title “Underdeveloping Koraput,” Vyasulu puts forward the thesis that
Koraput is an example of “internal colonialism” (1985, 67). According to this author, the deve-
lopment measures implemented since independence have so far primarily resulted in the ex-
ploitation of the district’s resources and have bypassed the majority of the district’s tribal
inhabitants. In his view, this is the primary reason that Koraput is a “backward district” (67). He
calls for a development policy that incorporates the indigenous groups and is oriented toward
6 1 Introduction

writes that “[e]arly colonial administrators were not so much interested in mak-
ing a way into Orissa than in getting past it without hindrance,” this applies es-
pecially to the “remote” Koraput district. Before the district was established in
1936, along with the state of Odisha, the region, as the Jeypore Zamindari
(i. e., kingdom or princedom), belonged to the southern Madras Presidency of
the British colonial regime, which demanded collaboration and taxes from the
petty rulers of the “princely states” but otherwise showed little interest in the
mountainous hinterland. Since the king of Jeypore did not fulfill these obliga-
tions, East India Company troops occupied his capital in 1775, and twenty
years later, his successor signed a treaty intended to provide the British with
guarantees in this regard. It was only in the middle of the nineteenth century
that British officials took over direct administration of the area and chose as
their headquarters the previously entirely insignificant Koraput, perceived as
having a more comfortable climate. Before Koraput and Jeypore, Nandapur
was the political center, the original seat of the so-called “Sun Kings,” whose dy-
nasty began in the fifteenth century and who moved their capital to Jeypore in
the seventeenth century, at a time when they were under Mogul influence. The
Mogul rulers began their conquest of power in the region in the sixteenth centu-
ry, moving up from the south (the Golkonda empire), and lost their dominance to
the East India Company only in 1766 (cf. Schnepel 2002, 138ff; Senapati and Sahu
1966, 60ff; Thusu and Jha 1972, 139ff).³
The indigenous inhabitants of the high plateau call themselves Desia, mean-
ing “people of the land.” The Desia are not a homogenous unit, but rather are
made up of numerous different groups that nonetheless have many cultural
(morphological and ideological) traits in common, so that Pfeffer (1997a) charac-
terizes the region as a “culture area” and speaks of a “Koraput Complex” (16). He
aims in this way to counter the relatively arbitrary administrative classification of
the Desia into Scheduled Tribes (ST), Scheduled Castes (SC), and Other Back-
ward Classes (OBC) and clear the way for a differentiated anthropological exami-
nation of the highland social constellation. In particular, his approach runs con-
trary to the migration hypotheses that contrast the ST to the immigrant “castes”
(SC, OBC) from the plains, in his view without convincing evidence. He does not
doubt the immigration as such of various groups to the highlands, which were
never entirely isolated and immigration to which is assumed by the Desia them-
selves; the commentaries of colonial officials and the few available ethnographic

their needs and perspectives (70). The article also provides a great deal of information about the
district’s infrastructure, economy, and ecology.
 Kulke (1980, 27– 34) provides a brief survey of the history of Odisha.
 1.1 The Research Region 7

studies, however, have limited themselves up to now to establishing the “other-

ness” of the immigrants, overlooking the complex forms of interaction, the over-
arching social institutions, and the ideology of Desia society, all of which differ
in significant ways from those of the Hindu inhabitants of the plains. In an ar-
ticle, I have sketched the relationships between the Gadaba (ST) and other
Desia in the Lamtaput area. In so doing, I distinguish a general hierarchy of
the different Desia categories – one which is certainly similar to the tripartite ad-
ministrative classification – from the specific local context of the village, in
which the “earth people” (matia) outrank all other groups of “latecomers”
(upria) (Berger 2002).
In what follows, I will briefly discuss the tribal groups that neighbor on the
Gutob Gadaba and subsequently note the most important other Desia categories.
The Bondo have already been mentioned as the Gadaba’s western neighbors and
are probably the best-known tribal group of Koraput district, thanks to Elwin’s
(1950) monograph. Despite the well-known weaknesses of Elwin’s works, result-
ing especially from his “common-sense” interpretations and psychologizing
analyses, Bondo Highlander is an important ethnographic reference point for
this study and a background against which the Gadaba data can be viewed,
since very large cultural (and linguistic) similarities exist between the two tribal
groups. In the language spoken by the Bondo, called Remo like the group’s own
term for itself (“human being”), the expression used for the east means “in the
direction of the Gutob,”⁴ that is, in the direction of their “younger brothers”
(sano bai), the Gadaba. Elwin (1950, 6 f) also mentions a section of the Bondo
who are referred to – apparently by the other Bondo groups – as “Gutob
Remo” or “Gadaba Bondo” (7). These are the villages located closest to the Ga-
daba area and, according to Elwin, under Gadaba influence. From the Gadaba
perspective, interestingly, the picture is reversed. The Gadaba of the Lamtaput re-
gion call the Gadaba of the Onukadilli area “Bondo Gadaba” and consider them
– because they are under Bondo influence – “uncivilized,” as seen, for example,
according to their account, in the fact that they drink their beer from gourds. I
have not encountered any Bondo further east than Onukadilli, and the Gadaba
of the Lamtaput area have almost no contact with them, but they are nonetheless
convinced of their unpredictability and hot tempers. This reputation, like the
Dombo’s alleged craftiness, is also reflected in the literature on these groups.⁵

 The term gutoben gari literally means “towards the Gadba villages,” that is, east (Bhattacharya
1968, 44).
 Elwin (1964, 187) has a lively description of the incursion of Bondo youth into a Gadaba
village, where they steal palm wine and no one dares to intervene.
8 1 Introduction

Almost nothing is known about the Gutob Gadaba’s other neighbors. To the
north and east live the Ollar Gadaba, their “younger” (sano) brothers, who speak
a Dravidian language (Ollari) but are otherwise scarcely distinguishable from the
Gutob Gadaba. Also east of the Gutob Gadaba is the home of the Joria, almost
unmentioned in the literature up to now but among whom my French colleague
Raphael Rousseleau (cf. Rousseleau and Behera 2003) has recently worked and
on whom he expects to publish in the near future. In the area around Nandapur,
there are also villages of the Kuvi Kond, who are otherwise found only scattered
here and there in the Lamtaput block (cf. Otten 2000a). South of Lamtaput begin
the villages of the Parenga (or Gorum), about whom there are likewise almost no
ethnographic reports and who, like the Joria, are considered junior to the Gada-
ba. Finally, we should mention the Didayi (Gata’ or Gitare), who live in the Kon-
dakamberu Mountains along the Machkund River and are neighbors of the
Bondo. The Anthropological Survey of India undertook research in their area
in the 1960s (Guha et al. 1970).⁶
All the mentioned Desia groups are classified as ST by the administration
and also refer to themselves as Adivasi (original inhabitants) or Roit (landhold-
ers). Alongside the Oriya dialect, also known as Desia, spoken by all the inhab-
itants of the highlands, these tribal groups each have their own language, clas-
sified as belonging to the Austroasiatic Munda language family or to the
Dravidian language family (cf. Mahapatra 2002; Parkin 1992, 19). The Gadaba
(Gutob), Didayi (Gta, Gata’), Parenga (Gorum), and Bondo (Remo) speak
Munda languages, and the Kond (Kuvi) and Ollar Gadaba (Ollari) speak Dravidi-
an languages. While Remo and Gutob – despite multifarious and presumably re-
ciprocal influence from Desia – continue to flourish as living languages, Gorum
and Ollari are scarcely spoken any more, at least in the villages known to me.⁷

 The few ethnographic studies of the Parenga and other tribal groups speaking Munda lang-
uages are listed in Parkin’s (1992) bibliography.
 Desia has been the subject of in-depth work by Gustafsson (1987, 1989) and Mahapatra (1985),
and a further project is currently underway under the supervision of Dr. Thomas Malten from
Cologne. In contrast, work on Gutob is rarer. The Academy of Tribal Dialects and Culture (Goud
1991) has published a book, largely in Oriya, that contains a grammar, songs, stories, and a
Gutob wordlist. More recently, several contributions by Rajan and Rajan have appeared: a Gutob-
Gadaba Phonemic Summary (2001a) with a basic vocabulary, a Language Learner’s Guide
(2001b), and a presentation of the grammar (2001c). Another linguistic study, by Subba Rao
(Subba Rao and Patnaik 1992), deals with a Gadaba village near Bobbili in Andhra Pradesh, that
is, in an area dominated by Telugu. Due to the high degree of similarity between Remo and
Gutob, the extensive Bonda Dictionary by Bhattacharya (1968) is also worth mentioning. Finally,
a more recent contribution by Bhaskararao (1998) should be noted for Ollari.
 1.1 The Research Region 9

The remaining Desia groups of the Lamtaput block, most of them classified
as OBC or SC, speak only Desia, save for a basic knowledge of the language of a
given village’s dominant Adivasi group. Most of these groups specialize in par-
ticular activities, engage in agriculture only on the margins, and as a rule do
not inhabit villages of their own, but rather live in Adivasi villages, although
often in separate hamlets and certainly in large numbers. Multiple houses of
the Dombo (musicians, traders, and weavers), a few houses of the herders
(Goudo), and usually one house of the blacksmiths (Kamar) are to be found in
almost all large villages. Gardeners (Mali), potters (Kumar), and liquor distillers
(Sundi) are not to be met with in every village, and the individual households
consequently offer their services to various villages. The Rona, who were classi-
fied as ST from 1931 to 1950 (cf. Behuria 1965, 25) and today are considered OBC,
deserve special mention. Like the potters and herders, they possess a higher sta-
tus in the local hierarchy and wear the sacred thread of the Hindus. They hold
land on a greater scale than the other “non-ST” Desia, however, pursue no
other vocation, and are the dominant group in some villages. Before Indian in-
dependence, they had a special relationship with the kings of Jeypore, as sol-
diers (rono means “war” or “battle”) but also as local representatives of the
king (mutadar); the land was presumably assigned to them as recompense for
their service (cf. Berger 2002; Guzy 2002; Otten 2008).
The demographic data from the Indian census make clear the numerical im-
portance of the part of the population classified as ST. According to the 1991 cen-
sus, 7,032,214 members of a total of sixty-two tribal groups lived in Odisha, mak-
ing up 22.21% of the state’s overall population (31,659,736). In the divided
Koraput district (i. e., after 1995), over 50% of the more than one million inhab-
itants (1,029,986), namely 521,849 individuals, were considered ST. Together with
the individuals classified as SC (138,169), most of whom can be assumed to be
members of the indigenous Desia population, they amounted to over 63% of
the district inhabitants. In the 1981 census, the Gadaba figured with 56,913 mem-
bers, almost all of them (56,413) living in what was then the undivided Koraput
district (Dash and Pradhan 2002, 43ff).⁸ This data does not distinguish between
Ollar Gadaba and Gutob Gadaba. The Ollar Gadaba are more widely spread,

 All the information in this paragraph is taken from the article by Dash and Pradhan (2002).
The new census from 2001 was evidently no more available to the authors than to me, and they
use data from three different surveys. Table 4.2 of their article, which breaks down the numbers
for SC/ST inhabitants by district, does not indicate a year, but since Koraput, Rayagada, Na-
brangpur, and Malkangiri are listed separately, the figures must derive from the period after
1995.
10 1 Introduction

while the Gutob Gadaba, except for immigrant enclaves in Andhra Pradesh⁹ and
Chhattisghar,¹⁰ are limited to the area mentioned (cf. Thusu and Jha 1972). I con-
sider the figure of 15,000 to 20,000 Gutob speakers given by Rajan and Rajan
(2001a, 9) realistic.

1.2 Ethnography of the Gadaba

No monograph on the Gadaba exists that approaches the quality of the studies
on the Juang (McDougal 1963), Sora (Vitebsky 1993), or Muria (S. Gell 1992) or
that offers the ethnographic abundance of Elwin’s writings. The Gadaba were
spared a “Gumsur War”¹¹ in the nineteenth century; in other words, they did
not become enmeshed in an armed conflict with the British colonial authorities.
German missionaries who were active in the highlands – from the Breklum Mis-
sion, for example – also apparently did not come into contact with this tribal
group. Correspondingly, no ethnographic descriptions exist from this period.
In publications from the second half of the nineteenth century, the Gadaba
are most prominent by their absence. In his Lectures on the Aboriginal Race of
India, General Briggs (1852) makes no mention of the Gadaba, and his statement
that “[t]he Khonds border on the Sonthals, and the latter merge into the Gar-
rows” (298) makes clear how vague the conceptions of the tribal areas were at
the time. Carmichael, too, in his report on the Vizagapatnam district, to which
the Gadaba belonged, writes that a good deal is known about the Kond – thanks
to the “efforts” of the Meria Agency – but “of the others we have but little to tell”
(1869, 86). All the same, he does make occasional mention of the Gadaba. Even
at this early date, he remarks on those visible traits of the Gadaba about which
we read repeatedly later and that still today characterize the image of the Gadaba
at “tribal festivals” and on tourist visits: the women’s colorful handwoven
clothes, their striking jewelry, and their circle dance. In addition, he mentions

 For the northeastern districts of Andhra Pradesh (Srikakulam, Vizianagaram, and Vishakha-
patnam), Patnaik (Subba Rao and Patnaik 1992, 7) gives an overall figure of 10,679 for the
Gadaba-speaking (i. e., Gutob-speaking) inhabitants.
 In 1916, Russell gave a figure of “some 700 persons” (1969, 9) for what was then Bastar.
 In the course of a punitive action in the hinterlands against the king of Gumsur, who sought
to evade his tribute obligations, British officers discovered that the Kond offered human sa-
crifices as meria to the earth goddess. Decades of bloody suppression of this ritual practice
followed, with a high level of military and administrative effort expended on the British side.
Two officers charged with combatting the “meria sacrifice,” Campbell and Macpherson, drew up
the first fully detailed descriptions of the religion and society of the Kuttia Kond (cf. Niggemeyer
1964, 7 f; Padel 1994).
 1.2 Ethnography of the Gadaba 11

the Gadaba in their function as palanquin bearers, which earned them the title of
Boi Gadaba (boibar, “to carry”).¹² The book is accompanied by a map on which
the route from the coast to Lamtaput (and beyond) is marked and several Gadaba
villages along the road are also noted (e. g., Auripada, Tikrapada); west of Lam-
taput, no villages are marked, and Koraput is likewise unindicated. The set of
“portraits of the wild races” that also accompanies Carmichael’s volume in-
cludes one of a Gadaba woman in traditional clothing and jewelry, perhaps
the first photograph of an individual from this tribal group. Only a few years
after Carmichael, on the other hand, a short report on an excursion in the
Bondo area passes over the Gadaba in silence (May 1873).
Little is to be learned about the Gadaba in the “tribes and castes” encyclo-
pedias compiled by colonial officials. Aside from stereotypical repetition of the
topics already mentioned, Thurston (1909) and Russell (1969) make passing ref-
erence to forms of marriage and religion among the Gadaba of the southern and
central provinces. Two articles in the journal Man in India call attention to Gada-
ba mortuary rituals and especially to their last phase, gotr or “Gottar” (cf. Ram-
adas 1931; Somasundaram 1949), a topic that would also dominate ethnographic
reports on the Gadaba over the following decades. Both articles offer only a su-
perficial description of the ritual, and Somasundaram in particular expresses
himself with scorn on the subject of these “poor savages” (44) and declares
his hopes for the quick suppression of this “monstrous performance” (42).
Serious ethnography of the Gadaba began with an article by Fürer-Haimen-
dorf (1943b) comparing the “megalithic rituals” of the Bondo and Gadaba, with a
focus on their mortuary rituals. Together with his wife, from whose field diary
among the Gadaba a few pages were published, Fürer-Haimendorf visited the
area around Onukadilli and Machkund in the spring of 1941 (cf. Fürer-Haimen-
dorf 1990, 47ff). Except for a brief overview article (Fürer-Haimendorf 1990;
1985, 82– 86), however, he published nothing else on the Gadaba. Another lead-
ing figure of the tribal ethnography of India, Verrier Elwin, apparently planned
several publications¹³ on the Gadaba and also reported that he had a “great
many notes” (Elwin 1964, 176), but no such publications appeared. Izikowitz
(1969), an expert on Southeast Asia, traveled in the Koraput district in the
early 1950s and published the first substantial description of the gotr ritual,

 The Gadaba apparently provided this service not only to the king, but also to British officials,
in order to spare them wearisome journeys on foot. Carmichael (1869, 103) complains in this
connection about their insufficient number: “The Gadabas and Parengagadabas are the only
castes who will carry a palanquin, and they are by no means numerous.”
 The publications were to deal with the “question of sex and marriage,” childhood (Elwin
1950, vii), and weaving (Guha 1999, 176) among the Gadaba.
12 1 Introduction

but he then returned to other pursuits. The only scholar to show continuous in-
terest in the Gadaba up to now has been Georg Pfeffer, who has conducted eth-
nographic research in Koraput on a regular basis since 1980 and who has pub-
lished three articles on gotr (Pfeffer 1984a, 1991, 2001a) and one on Bondo and
Gadaba kinship terminology (Pfeffer 1999), in addition to general comparative
studies of Central Indian tribal society.
Indian authors have also published various monographs and articles, in ad-
dition to the early studies already mentioned. The Anthropological Survey of
India undertook research among the Ollar Gadaba in the area around Pottangi
in the 1960s (Thusu and Jha 1972), and Subba Rao and Patnaik (1992), a linguist
and an economist, studied a small Gadaba community near Bobbili (Andhra Pra-
desh). NISWASS (the National Institute of Social Work and Social Sciences) pub-
lished a “handbook” on the Gadaba (Nayak et al. 1996) as a practical tool for de-
velopment assistance. The biologist Kornel (1999) published his experiences with
the Gadaba in a book in which the description of the already mentioned gotr
(“Gotar”) occupies a prominent place. In the journals Man in India and Adivasi,
a variety of papers have appeared on demography (Sabat et al. 1998; Som 1993),
social organization (Baliarsingh and Nayak 1996), economy (B. B. Mohanty 1976),
and gotr (Pradhan 1998). An article by U. C. Mohanty (1973 – 74) offers general
ethnographic information on the Gadaba of the Lamtaput area and detailed de-
scriptions of different types of ritual friendship (“bond-friendship”).¹⁴

1.3 My Fieldwork among the Gadaba

This study is based on twenty-two months of ethnographic fieldwork conducted

in Odisha between January 1999 and January 2003, in four phases.¹⁵ In order to
allow the reader to better evaluate the results of my work, I will briefly describe
the conditions of research and my working methods. Since the choice of research
methods is closely connected to the embedding of the researcher in the social

 I was unable to consult the two studies by P. K. Mishra (1972, “The Social Structure of the
Bodo Gadaba,” unpublished dissertation, Utkal University, Bhubaneswar) and S. Som (1973,
“Community Organisation of Gadaba,” unpublished M.Sc. thesis, Utkal University, Bhubanes-
war).
 January to April 1999, September 1999 to August 2000, October 2000 to April 2001, and
December 2002 to January 2003. In spring 2004 I traveled with two Gadaba friends from Koraput
to visit their relatives working in tea gardens and factories in northern Bengal. I spent three
weeks in the workers’ colony and obtained an impression of the way of life and ritual practices
there. My last visit to Koraput prior to the completion of this study took place in December 2004.
 1.3 My Fieldwork among the Gadaba 13

environment, they are also subject to gradual evolution and have to be adjusted
to the researcher’s status as an individual. A more extensive reflection on the
fieldwork process is found in the epilogue.
During my first three-and-a-half months in Odisha (January to April 1999), I
spent two months in my chosen village, which I will call Gudapada. Accompa-
nied by the “home guard” of the nearby industrial town of Onukadilli, a friend
of my supervisor Georg Pfeffer and someone well-known to and respected by the
Gadaba in Gudapada, I had previously sought out the village and had at the
weekly market some days later made arrangements for my stay. Initially, I lodged
with the village memor, who prepared a room for me next to his stable. This man
is an important figure in the village but has an ambivalent reputation, since he
has sold almost all his fields and “eaten” the money (as the people say), and his
son must now manage with little land. In addition, he is a central figure in the
local tourist trade, and in that regard, it was probably no coincidence that I fell
in with him. Since he initially showed himself to be not very cooperative and was
more interested in capitalizing on my presence, I quickly made the decision to
look for an alternative residential possibility for my next stay.
My research goal was to study Gadaba rituals, especially the connections be-
tween the rituals and ritual cycles. As I was a complete stranger with very limited
knowledge of Desia,¹⁶ however, my primary need was to improve my linguistic
abilities and initiate social contacts, which also meant explaining the purpose
of my work. I therefore tried to participate in all the activities of daily life, accom-
panied men to fish, collect wood, or work in the fields, and observed rituals
when the opportunity arose. Two topics in particular offered themselves during
the first research phase, house construction and the roughly-four-week-long

 I had already had the opportunity to study Oriya with Prasana Kumar Nayak for three
months in Berlin in 1994, but I noticed as soon as my first visit to Koraput in 1996 how different
Desia is from the Oriya spoken on the coast, since I initially understood almost nothing. My
three-month stay in Odisha at that time, however, in the course of which I also had my first
experiences among the Gadaba, made a significant contribution to my ability to demonstrate at
least basic knowledge of Desia at the start of my research in 1999. Throughout my research, I
concentrated on Desia, which I ultimately learned to speak fluently, while I acquired only a basic
knowledge of Gutob. There were several reasons for my focus on Desia. All Gadaba grow up
bilingual, and in the ritual sphere (e. g., in invocations) Desia is the dominant language, as
Fürer-Haimendorf (1943b, 168n1) also remarked for the Bondo. In addition, Desia enabled me to
communicate with other inhabitants of the highlands who do not know Gutob. Further, and
independent of these considerations, it was not possible for me to master Desia and Gutob
fluently within a reasonable period of time, although this undoubtedly would have been des-
irable. As is clear from the text, I am aware of only Desia terms for many concepts, often ones of
great importance, such as niam, for which I am unable to report Gutob counterparts.
14 1 Introduction

April festival (chait porbo). I conducted neither interviews nor a census during
these first two months. For interviews, I lacked sufficient knowledge of the lan-
guage, appropriate conversation partners, and meaningful questions, which only
crystallized over time. I chose not to conduct a census in order to differentiate
myself from the employees of the census and health agencies, who frequently
pester the Gadaba with questionnaires.
The second research phase lasted a year (from September 1999 to August
2000) and began with decisive changes in comparison to my first stay. Having
become a member of the research project sponsored by the Deutsche For-
schungsgemeinschaft (German Research Foundation) in the area, I had access
to a motorcycle, and I occupied my own house, in which I have resided during
every stay since then. I thereby detached myself from the sphere of influence of
the memor, who initially held it against me but later let the matter drop and be-
came a well-disposed and excellent informant. The house enabled me to receive
guests and conduct conversations undisturbed. It was previously occupied by a
widower, Rogu Sisa, who was convinced by the young men – many of whom I
had in the meantime gotten to know – to make do with the covered veranda.
This man also became an important informant and an observant conversation
partner, and like him, I ate every day at his son’s house. The motorcycle enabled
me, on the one hand, to quickly visit various villages that I could previously
reach only with difficulty, and on the other hand, it gave me the opportunity
to perform a service for the village. Within a ten-kilometer radius, there are
two hospitals and various private healthcare providers, and it soon became
known to all the inhabitants of the village that I would take anyone to the doctor
of their choice when needed or would bring the doctor to the village in serious
cases.
For my further research, I had planned to find an assistant through our part-
ner university in western Odisha. In November 1999, a young man from Sambal-
pur, about four hundred kilometers away, joined me in the village. As a conse-
quence of his differing career goals, but also due to the lack of creature
comforts in the highlands, he stayed only two weeks, so that I had to continue
to manage without an assistant. In total (including my first two months), I lived
in Gudapada without an assistant for over half a year, something that I judge
with hindsight to have been very positive for my integration into the village com-
munity. A fundamental change came about with the visit of my life partner, who
came to Gudapada for the first time in January 2000, for a month’s stay.
To our surprise, my partner, whom I had gone to the coast to meet, was re-
ceived in the village as a new bride. The musicians, who had actually been hired
for a mortuary ritual, accompanied us from the village boundary to my house,
where we had to ritually feed one another rice (tikdar bat). A few days later,
 1.3 My Fieldwork among the Gadaba 15

some of my closest friends suggested that we should marry in Gudapada, and the
preparations began soon afterward. We underwent the entire ritual cycle, com-
pleted only a year later, when my partner came back to Gudapada, this time
for five months. It goes without saying that the ethnographic documentation
of one’s own wedding is not an unproblematic enterprise, leaving aside the
fact that the resulting data are questionable due to their many deviations from
the norm. I consequently used my experience of the wedding rituals as a discus-
sion starter, in order to talk with my informants about adjustments to tradition
(niam) and “correctly” performed segments. In addition, I had the opportunity
to observe most of the sequences of the wedding rituals elsewhere.
At least as important for my research as the documentation of the experience
of my wedding was the change in status that went with it. I had already been
assigned to the dominant Cobra group (the Sisa) before my wedding, but the
wedding confirmed my status. My partner was assigned to one of the affinal
groups resident in the village, the Tigers, the same group to which the wife of
my “elder brother,” in whose house I ate every day, belonged. I thus had “pa-
rents-in-law” in the neighborhood, and in accordance with the collective nature
of affinal relationships, all non-Cobras became my affines.
In March 2000 – when my life partner was already back in Germany, a fact
beyond the comprehension of anyone in the village – another young man, Manto
Pradhan, came from Sambalpur to join me as an assistant. This time I had better
luck, since he accustomed himself to the food, the Gadaba, and me, and re-
mained with me in Gudapada for almost the entire remaining time of my re-
search. In the meantime, I had lived among the Gadaba for seven months and
acquired enough knowledge of the language, good informants, and initial in-
sights into the society to change my working methods to some extent. We
began to conduct narrative interviews, which I organized around broad topics
and for which I prepared questions in order to give a loose structure to the con-
versations. We conducted a total of twenty-six interviews lasting from one to two
hours each. Some of them we translated together, if time was available. Manto
transcribed the others on the computer in the Latin alphabet after our research
stay was over. These documents, from which I have myself translated some pas-
sages included in the text, are an important basis for this study, along with my
descriptions of the rituals, my daily observations, and my notes of many
conversations.¹⁷ The emphasis of the study nonetheless remained on document-

 Of the 26 interviews, the majority (18 interviews) were conducted in the last four months of
the main research period (January to April 2001), and a total of 16 informants participated.
Along with male Gadaba of various ages, these included one Gadaba woman (the midwife), two
Dombo, and two Joria (all men).
16 1 Introduction

ing the different rituals in Gudapada and the neighboring villages. We regularly
obtained information at the weekly markets, where I gradually acquired many
acquaintances who informed me about upcoming events in their villages. The
collection of this kind of information was in fact a difficult task, since certain
rituals, such as the wedding ritual (biba) or gotr, are only performed on very
rare occasions. In addition, I drew maps of the fields and documented the land-
holding relationships and land transactions.
Following the first three research phases (twenty-one months in total), which
were spaced relatively closely together (four and two months between them), I
began in May 2001 to work up my data, in the course of which I became con-
scious of the full significance of the food complex, since almost every ritual
had something to do with this topic in one way or another. During an additional
three-week stay in Gudapada (December 2002 to January 2003), therefore, my
conversations were especially focused on this area, along with other unresolved
questions on which I was still trying to shed light. In the following section, I treat
some general theoretical contributions in the area of “culinary ethnology” and
then turn specifically to work done in the Indian context. Finally, I describe sig-
nificant aspects of food and eating among the Gadaba and explain to what ex-
tent the mentioned theoretical approaches have been useful for the interpreta-
tion of my data.

1.4 Food and Society

The Anthropological Study of Food

In anthropology – outside of interest in material culture or economics – food has

long played only a marginal role. Alongside scattered individual studies, consci-
entious ethnographers have generally not excluded this area from their attempts
at depicting the whole of a society; in the late colonial empires, there was a po-
litical and economic interest in obtaining accurate data on the production and
diet of indigenous populations.¹⁸ In no case, however, was food viewed as an au-
tonomous and theoretically relevant object of consideration.

 Early anthropological contributions include the papers by Firth (1934), Fortes and Fortes
(1936), Powdermaker (1932), and Stevenson (1937). The mentioned colonial interest was the
context for the origin of the extensive monograph by Richards (1939), who was a member of
several committees for nutritional issues in Africa (vii, viii) and who intended her work as a
model for similar studies (cf. ix, 2ff).
 1.4 Food and Society 17

With her dissertation, based on ethnographic research in the 1960s, Sherry

B. Ortner (1970) made one of the first extensive contributions to the meaning of
food in the widest possible range of contexts within a given society. She views
food as a “key symbol” (5ff) among the Sherpa of Nepal and devotes particular
attention to the guest-friendship complex, along with the general significance of
food and the importance of individual foodstuffs. In the last paragraph of her
work, the author turns to the question of an anthropology of food, writing
about her experience that her first letters from the field, in which she reported
on the Sherpa’s “food-syndrome” (499), were generally answered by other an-
thropologists to the effect that food has symbolic meaning in all cultures, includ-
ing the respondents’ “own” cultures of study. The implicit message, according to
Ortner, was that the symbolic importance of food was nothing special and there-
fore not of theoretical interest. She holds the contrary view and confirms the
shortage of cultural anthropological studies:

If the tendency to invest food with significance over and above simple alimentation is so
widespread, it would seem to merit more attention in the literature rather than less. We
have only a handful of works dealing directly with the subject – Hunger and Work in a Sav-
age Tribe [by A. Richards], The People of Alor [by C. DuBois], some portions of Lévi-Strauss
– are all that spring readily to mind. And none of those are really cultural studies – Hunger
and Work is strongly functionalistic, People of Alor is essentially psychological, Lévi-
Strauss is Lévi-Straussian. (1970, 499)

In fact, in my opinion, the mentioned “some portions” of Lévi-Strauss are re-

sponsible for food’s ability to carve out a place for itself within anthropology
since the 1960s and for the existence of a wide-ranging and highly varied liter-
ature in this area today.¹⁹ Lévi-Strauss did not concern himself extensively – in a

 Messer (1984), Mintz and Du Bois (2002), Murcott (1988), and Wood (1995, 1– 45) provide a
survey of the different emphases and approaches. Beardsworth and Keil (1997), Farb and Ar-
melagos (1980), Fenton and Owen (1981), Goody (1982), Harris and Ross (1987), Meiselman
(2000), Robson (1980), and Scapp and Seitz (1998) also address the topic of food and culture
from a variety of perspectives. The reader edited by Counihan and van Esterik (1997) includes
classic and more recent studies. The interdisciplinary journal Food and Foodways, devoted
exclusively to the topic of food, was founded in the 1980s, and the journal Social Science
Information also regularly contains relevant articles. Inspired by Mary Douglas’s lectures,
Uppsala University in Sweden started a research project in the 1980s on food in a wide variety of
societies (cf. Johnsson 1986, 11) and with a variety of emphases. The results of this project
include, among others, studies by Johnsson (1986) on the Aymara in Bolivia, Löwdin (1985) on
the Newar of Nepal, and Trankell (1995) on the Tai Yong in Thailand. A four-volume Ency-
clopedia of Food and Culture (Katz 2003) has also appeared, although it lacks theoretical entries,
18 1 Introduction

way comparable to his treatment of the topics of kinship or mythology,²⁰ for ex-
ample – with food. Nonetheless, his ability, in brief papers laden with weakness-
es in other regards, to free particular topics from a calcified theoretical perspec-
tive or a kind of “Sleeping Beauty” slumber (I am also thinking of his article on
“house societies”) was also demonstrated in relation to food. Just as much as
marriage rules or mortuary cults, food categories are a product of the human
mind and, as such, subject to its structuring activity. On one occasion, Lévi-
Strauss borrows from linguistics to call the constitutive units of food “gustemes”
(1963, 86), and in another brief paper (1997), he argues – against the backdrop of
the claim that cooking is as universal a human activity as language – that the
basic elements of the alimentary code must be differentiated through specific
(and universal) distinctive traits, like the phonemes of language. Drawing on Ja-
kobson’s analysis of consonants and vowels in terms of a triangle in which three
phonetic elements are differentiated by the traits of sound intensity (compact vs.
diffuse) and pitch (low vs. high), Lévi-Strauss (1997, 28 f) develops a “culinary tri-
angle” in which (in the first step) the elements of raw, cooked, and rotten are dif-
ferentiated through the oppositions nature vs. culture and unelaborated vs. ela-
borated. The rest of Lévi-Strauss’s argument is not relevant here,²¹ and very few
anthropologists have strictly followed the author’s method, but the decisive fac-
tor was that Lévi-Strauss made food an acceptable anthropological topic and
showed that categories related to eating are subject to a cultural ordering system
and related to other types of order.
The mentioned papers by Lévi-Strauss, which date originally from 1956 and
1965, must be viewed in connection with a witticism that came between the two
essays chronologically and has probably had more influence on the debate over
food than both essays put together. In the context of his deconstruction of “to-
temism,” the author remarked generally, with a view toward systems of symbolic
classification and against utilitarian interpretations, that “natural species are
chosen not because they are ‘good to eat’ but because they are ‘good to
think’” (1991, 89). The realm of symbolic classification, which had been largely
ignored since the pioneer work by Durkheim and Mauss (1969) in the early twen-
tieth century, now underwent a renaissance. Douglas (1969) analyzed the dietary
regulations in Leviticus, Leach (1979) the classification of animals in relation to
insults, and Tambiah (1985) a variety of analogous series of symbolic classifica-

and the German literature includes a volume on “religions and eating” (Schmidt-Leukel 2000),
as well as a “brief ethnology of eating and drinking” (Müller 2003), likewise purely descriptive.
 The “alimentary code” plays a well-known role in his analysis of myth.
 Lehrer (1972) has critiqued the “culinary triangle” from the perspective of the vocabulary of
cooking.
 1.4 Food and Society 19

tion (edibility of animals, kinship, spatial organization), to name only a few of

the scholars inspired by Lévi-Strauss. Among the mentioned authors, Douglas
since her work on “purity and danger” has concerned herself with the anthropol-
ogy of food to a degree matched by no other representative of the discipline, ex-
cept perhaps R. S. Khare (cf. Passariello 1990).
Behind the attempt at “deciphering a meal” – to quote the title of an impor-
tant paper by Douglas (1975) – stands the assumption that food categories and
their combinations contain a message that can be deciphered by outside observ-
ers and intuitively understood by the participants themselves. The multifarious
ways of handling food point to social relationships, social hierarchies, social ex-
periences, and social boundaries that are articulated through this medium. In
the first part of the article,²² Douglas concentrates on the meal’s syntagmatic
structure, that is, on the sequence of foods, and draws an analogy to linguistic
structures,²³ in which the different elements are hierarchically ordered and em-
bedded. In the same way that phonemes are combined into morphemes, mor-
phemes into words, and words into sentences, smaller alimentary units (mouth-
fuls) are combined into larger ones (helpings, courses, meals), and in this way a
meal structure can be deciphered, characterized by “repeated analogies” (258).
Even the smallest element contains the same structure as the entire meal and
is capable of transmitting the same message (260). A cocktail canapé, for exam-
ple, may demonstrate the same pattern in the combination of its elements as a
meal does, even if the constitutive units occupy a subordinate level. The theoret-
ical approach promoted by Douglas and others starts from the premise, in sum-
marized form, that the treatment of and concepts about food are part of the sys-
tem of a given society or culture, and that through this alimentary code,
messages are transmitted, meanings bundled, and hierarchies, values, and
boundaries articulated.
In contrast to these structural, semiotic, or symbolic approaches, Marvin
Harris has led the formulation of a vehement critique that has willingly taken
up the somewhat simplistic binary of good to think / good to eat. In his book
Good to Eat (1985), Harris summarizes the criticism of these interpretations of
food and analyzes the different alimentary “puzzles” – India’s “holy cows,” can-
nibalism, the Old Testament dietary laws, etc. – from the perspective of his “cul-
tural materialist” premises. At base, this approach sees utilitarian motives be-
hind all “food habits” (cf. Harris and Ross 1987), and the arguments in each

 The second part of the essay is concerned with a reinterpretation of the Old Testament
dietary laws.
 According to Douglas (1975, 260), language and cooking require the same “cognitive energy.”
20 1 Introduction

case are rooted in the “etic” parameters of scarce resources, adaptation, and
cost-benefit calculations. Harris (1980, 332) reproaches the “mentalists” with
mystification and concealment of the actual reasons for specific food behaviors.
Not Lévi-Strauss, but Sahlins has “lowered” himself to a direct exchange of
blows with Harris. One chapter of Sahlins’s Culture and Practical Reason (1976),
which deals explicitly with the analysis of dietary laws and implicitly with Har-
ris, is titled “La pensée bourgeoise” (166 f), presumably to highlight the social
background of the utilitarian theory’s postulates. He questions the ecological
or economic determination of cultural systems and proposes instead the contin-
gency of “cultural reason” (170), attempting to show that American dietary prac-
tices are also subject to a symbolic order that cannot be explained through forms
of “practical reason.” In another essay, with the likewise highly significant title
“Culture as Protein and Profit” (1978), he criticizes Harris’s analysis of Aztec can-
nibalism and accuses him of not actually practicing “cultural” materialism,
since culture as an analytical element is absent in his work, in Sahlins’s view,
and Harris himself, he claims, is a perfect example of the influence of (capitalist)
ideology. The two positions appear entirely irreconcilable, and Harris’s replies to
these invectives bring them no closer (cf. Harris 1980, 332ff, 254ff).
This emphasis on the difference between the “mentalist” and “materialist”
approaches erases the significant variations within these two perspectives.
Mary Douglas (1975), for example, criticizes Lévi-Strauss’s universalizing ap-
proach, even if she fundamentally develops his ideas and methods. In the
same way, Meigs (1997), who has studied the concepts of food and nutrition
among the Hua in Papua New Guinea, implicitly criticizes the rigidity of Dou-
glas’s theory, despite emphasizing the applicability of Douglas’s ideas to her ma-
terial. As a consequence of her ethnographic experience, Meigs focuses less on
the reflection of social categories in the food order than on the dynamic and
processual aspect of food and eating and the generation of social relationships
or ties. Food is not only material with signifying potential, but also – at least in
the eyes of the Hua – living matter, the effect and qualities of which are closely
intertwined with its conditions of production and transmission. Food can carry
contagion and transmit vitality, and it carries emotions and intentions in the
same way (104).
The Hua food complex revolves around the concept of nu, which can be
roughly translated as “vitality” and which circulates among all living beings
and many “things.” Human products in the broadest sense – sweat, footprints,
shadows, work products like arrows and food – contain nu, which is a limited
good. Food is “nutritious” because it contains nu, and moreover, food’s “nutri-
tional value” depends on the quality of the social relationships along which it
circulates. Foodstuffs thus have no inherent “calorie value.” Since nu is limited,
 1.4 Food and Society 21

its transmission must be strictly regulated and should follow specific routes. Pa-
rents give nu to their children and “age” as a consequence of this donation. This
direction for the transmission of nu should not be reversed – one should not eat
the pigs or garden products of the younger generation – and neither should one’s
own products be consumed, since nu has to circulate; exchange is consequently
inherent in the system. Outside of intentional processes of exchange, nu circu-
lates in an unmotivated way and is therefore an extremely flexible quality
(Meigs 1997, 96ff). This state of affairs has as its consequence a fluid and transi-
tory concept of individual identity:

The processes of nurture […] and contagion […] emphasize that the individual is caught up
in patterns of participation. Each individual is commingled with and is consubstantial with
others. The traits that make up individual identity come from a multiplicity of sources, and
the patchwork quilt that is the individual […] is always being changed by new contacts, new
relationships. Food is instrumental in these patterns of flow. (100)

In line with these representations of exchange, participation, and consubstan-

tiality, Meigs draws especially on the theoretical contributions of Mauss
(1990), who emphasizes participation in others through exchange, and Robert-
son Smith (1997), who demonstrates the alimentary constitution of kinship in Se-
mitic sacrifice and “first discussed this experience of physical communality and
mystical sharing” (Meigs 1997, 103).²⁴

Food in India

As the extensive literature²⁵ proves, the significance of food is evident through-

out the subcontinent and has probably never escaped any observer’s notice. The
elaborate development of the oppositions to which food orders are subject, sum-
marizable in the opposition between the curse of food and the blessing of food,

 The processes by which a person is constituted through food will be discussed in detail in
chapter 3 of this study, and I will address the significance of food for the generation of social ties
or “kinship” in the conclusion of chapter 2. In both cases, examples from Melanesian ethno-
graphy will be introduced in order to highlight similarities and differences. The concept of the
person described here by Meigs shares the aspects of relationality and constitution through
alimentary processes with Gadaba ideas. However, the extreme fluidity of the person described
in the Melanesian examples (cf. Iteanu 1990) or also found in the Hindu context (Marriott 1976)
is not present among the Gadaba.
 The two collections edited by Khare and Rao (1986) and Khare (1992) provide an overview
and extensive bibliographical indications. A more recent study by Elisabeth Conzelmann (2003)
addresses the neglected topic of taste, among other subjects.
22 1 Introduction

is especially striking and can be clearly seen in the examples of Jainism and
bhakti devotion to Krishna. For the devotees of the incarnate Krishna, the god
can be directly experienced through food and ritually manifests himself in the
“food mountain” (annakut) (Toomey 1992). Experiencing the love of the god –
who in turn experiences the love of his devotees (Toomey 1992; Fuller 1992,
157) – and dedicating oneself to him, including precisely through the sharing
of food (prasad), are the way to salvation for these believers. For Jains, in con-
trast, eating leads to the accumulation of karmic substance and hence to impris-
onment in the cycle of rebirth. With every bite, as it were, the individual moves
further from the goal of liberation, while the way to salvation consists in not eat-
ing, in hunger, and in fasting, hence in asceticism. Unlike Krishna, the holy be-
ings of the Jains – the ford makers – are not present and do not demand sacri-
ficial offerings; prasad plays no role among the Jains²⁶ (Jaini 2000). The
synthesis of these contradictions can be seen in the Aghori ascetic, who neither
eats with devotion nor with disgust, but rather eats what is disgusting, dissolving
with his alimentary code the order of time and the cosmos and thereby in fact
every form of differentiation (cf. Parry 1982, 100 f): “The ‘true’ Aghori is entirely
indifferent to what he consumes, drinks not only liquor but urine, and eats not
only meat but excrement, vomit and the putrid flesh of corpses” (89).
A survey of the literature further reveals a predominance of studies on the
Hindu food complexes and an almost complete lack of comparable work in tribal
contexts. Except for one essay on the dairy production system of the Toda of
South India²⁷ (Walker 1992), I am aware of only one study, an article by Eichinger
Ferro-Luzzi (1975) on “Food Avoidances of Indian Tribes.”²⁸ The author takes the
trouble to evaluate the remarks on food customs scattered in a variety of mono-
graphs. Nevertheless, the result is a schematic and encyclopedic list of negative,
positive, and ambivalent attitudes of different tribal groups toward different
foods, attitudes that are relatively meaningless when removed from context
and lined up next to one another.

 The insignificance of sacrificial meals and activities applies especially to ascetics and to a
lesser degree to laity, for whom the veneration of images is also certainly relevant (Cort 1992). In
Jain doctrine, only human beings are generally considered capable of salvation (because ca-
pable of asceticism). Due to their hedonism, the gods can attain this goal only by way of
incarnation as human beings (Andrea Luitle, personal communication).
 Unlike the Toda, most of the Central Indian tribal groups consume no milk products, but
rather the milk’s source, the opposite of Hindu practice (cf. Pfeffer 1993a, 221; 1993b, 31).
 Two studies (Rao and Rao 1977; Roy 1978) of alcohol consumption and its cultural and
alimentary significance in tribal contexts should nevertheless be mentioned.
 1.4 Food and Society 23

One reason for this academic “avoidance behavior” may be that the food of
the tribal groups is generally not remarkable for its culinary refinements, leading
observers to assume its relative insignificance. This deduction stands contrary to
Mary Douglas’s (1977, 1) recognition that “gastronomy flourishes best where food
carries the lightest load of spiritual meanings,” a supposition that would never-
theless be just as erroneous as its opposite were it elevated to a dogma. In addi-
tion, the lack of literature on this subject probably also has to be seen in connec-
tion with the devaluation of the diet of tribal societies within India. In my
experience, the inhabitants of the plains – without knowledge of the actual
menus – consider the foods of the tribes to be scarcely edible, and the possibility
of the consumption of beef, rats, and pork is presumably a disincentive for the
majority of Hindus and Muslims to take an interest in the tribes’ alimentary
codes and perhaps also makes it difficult for many of them to live among them.
Studies on food in India refer in their theoretical approach to the general de-
bates in the discipline, even if the specific social contexts lead to particular areas
of emphasis. In what follows I will briefly discuss three related areas that are rel-
evant to my work: a) food and social structure or status (caste), b) food and com-
munication, and c) ritual and food.

Food, Social Structure, and Status

The treatment of the topic of food in India, especially in the 1950s and 1960s, has
to be viewed in connection with the debate over caste and status. Eating and
food were studied in relation to social morphology, that is, in relation to the
caste system, understood as an order of institutionalized distinctions between
social groups and categories. Ritual dietary laws were understood as an expres-
sion of hierarchy, although some authors focused more attention on the analyt-
ical level of behavior, and others on that of norms and values (cf. Dumont 1980,
130 – 51).
In a study of the articulation of ritual status through food in the village con-
text, Adrian C. Mayer (1960, 33 – 60) saw commensality, which for him includes
both eating in company and the exchange of food, as the most important crite-
rion of caste status. Accepting food from a member of another status group im-
plies either equality or the subordinate status of the recipient. Non-acceptance or
the absence of commensality can signify equality or superior status. Independ-
ent of the facts of giving and receiving, the type of food is significant. Food
cooked in water – so-called kacca or “unripe” food – is considered highly sus-
ceptible to ritual pollution and consequently exchanged or shared only within
very narrow social boundaries. In contrast, food prepared with clarified butter
(ghi) – so-called pakka or “ripe” food – is less affected by the ritual qualities
24 1 Introduction

of the cook, less susceptible to ritual pollution, and can therefore be consumed
among wider circles. Mayer investigates concrete examples (e. g., festivals) of this
“commensal hierarchy” (33 f), in which all the castes present in a village are
asymmetrically ordered in accordance with this underlying principle of ritual pu-
rity. Over nearly forty years following his first research trip in 1954, the author
visited the same village or region multiple times in order to investigate both
the changes and the continuities in commensal structures (Mayer 1997).
While Mayer’s research primarily laid the ethnographic foundation for fur-
ther discussion, the influence of McKim Marriott’s works consists especially in
his methods and theoretical reflections. In an article from 1968, Marriott
seeks, as he describes it, to extract the local models of symbolic interaction
through a “matrix analysis” (1968, 133). Marriott’s “master conception” (145) is
the transaction. The inherent qualities of different foods and the distinction be-
tween kacca and pakka foods are secondary in his view, while the fact of the
transaction of substances in itself is central (145 f). The simple formula is that re-
ceiving signifies a lower status, giving a higher one. Those castes in a village that
give food to many castes and accept nothing occupy the highest position within
the hierarchical constellation. Food transactions are equivalent to a status game
in which the actors may win or lose. The sum of all observed and hypothetical
transactions among all castes (or members of different castes) in a particular vil-
lage produces a rank order that the author presents in a table or “matrix.”
Through a dizzying mathematical analysis, Marriott achieves ever more abstract
representations of the local caste hierarchy. He sees the “correctness” of his
transactional model as confirmed by the fact that the results of his analysis es-
sentially correspond to his informants’ opinions about the rank order of the
castes (169).

Food as Communication
Through the influence of Claude Lévi-Strauss and Mary Douglas and their struc-
tural and semiotic analyses of food, these approaches have also been applied to
the Indian context, beginning in the 1970s. Two authors who rely explicitly on
this theoretical background are Ravindra S. Khare (1976a, 1976b) and Gabriella
Eichinger Ferro-Luzzi (1977, 1978). I will first briefly discuss some of the basic
ideas of an article by Eichinger Ferro-Luzzi and then turn to the strategic use
of the communicative aspects of food as stressed by Arjun Appadurai (1981).
Food offerings (naivedya) to the gods, according to Eichinger Ferro-Luzzi
(1977, 507), are to be understood as acts of communication and function like lin-
guistic elements, that is, through opposition, combination, and redundancy.
Foodstuffs – like names – can designate particular gods or festivals. Further, bi-
 1.4 Food and Society 25

nary oppositions between food offerings have an ordering function in the “Hindu
religion.” For example, the contrast between pure and impure gods is based on
the differentiating trait of vegetarian or blood offerings. The author, who like Du-
mont and Fuller has conducted research in South India, argues that the distinc-
tions among the gods in terms of ritual purity are first created through food of-
ferings (509). Individual gods such as Siva and Vishnu are distinguished in ritual
contexts through the foods offered to them, for example through the oppositions
white rice / yellow rice and chili peppers / no chili peppers. Although the choice of
foods is in part connected to specific characteristics of the gods – the potentially
dangerous Siva eats “hot” chili peppers, the generally benevolent Vishnu does
not – food offerings frequently also manifest the arbitrariness of linguistic sys-
tems; in other words, the relationship between a food (signifier) and a god (sig-
nified) is arbitrary and does not correspond to any internal necessity.
Food offerings can additionally be deployed in the form of complementary
pairs or repetitions, like linguistic idioms. Complementary pairs indicate totali-
ties (in the same way that the linguistic expression “day and night” means
“all the time”). An example of this is the widespread use of coconuts and bana-
nas as complementary food offerings to the gods; they are meant to articulate the
totality of all possible offerings (Eichinger Ferro-Luzzi 1977, 511). The redundant
use of interchangeable or synonymous food offerings is intended, as in the case
of linguistic idioms, to reinforce the message. Although not used as food offer-
ings, the five holy products of the cow are all ritually purifying, and mixing
them merely underlines this function.
Appadurai (1981), who puts particular emphasis on the strategic use of food,
coining the term “gastro-politics,” is also concerned with the semiotic aspects of
food and eating. This author studies situations in which the participants make
use of ambiguities and room for maneuver in the dietary rules in order to pro-
mote their own interests and analyzes the resulting conflicts. Unsurprisingly,
he looks to Geertz in this regard. Appadurai concludes:

Gastro-politics for Hindus, then, is rather like what Clifford Geertz […] has argued about
cockfights for the Balinese: it is “deep play.” It is a species of competitive encounter within
a shared framework of rules and meanings in which what is risked are profound concep-
tions of self and other, high and low, inside and outside. (509)

Ritual and Food

In the context of Hindu worship (puja), food offerings play a major role (cf. Fuller
1992), and like the different “types” (castes) of human beings, the gods also dif-
26 1 Introduction

ferentiate themselves by their customary foods.²⁹ What is controversial is the ex-

tent to which the relationships within the divine pantheon and the relationships
between human beings and the gods reflect the structure of the caste system or
are based on the same principles. Among other authors, Babb (1970), Dumont
(1970), and Fuller (1979, 1988) have addressed these questions in dialogue
with one another. I begin with Dumont, since his contribution chronologically
precedes that of the other authors.
Dumont understands “caste” in the first instance as a system of ideas struc-
tured by the hierarchical opposition between ritual purity and pollution, and
this fundamental thesis also shapes his structural analysis of the local temple
pantheon of the Kallar subcaste, which first appeared in 1953. In this work, Du-
mont (1970, 27) argues that the opposition of vegetarian food offerings / non-veg-
etarian offerings to the gods is another way of expressing the ubiquitous caste
ideology. The hierarchical principles of the social order – purity/pollution – are
transferred to the pantheon in the idiom of food – vegetarian/non-vegetarian –
or in Dumont’s words, “the temple reflects the society in a simplified form, it
symbolizes it” (28).
Babb (1970) takes a similar position in an article on the fundamental struc-
tures of Hindu worship, placing the implications of the food transactions be-
tween human beings and gods at the forefront of attention. Like Dumont,
Babb starts from the assumption that these processes of gift exchange are to
be understood in terms of the purity/pollution opposition, and in his view,
they follow a general pattern. Believers offer gifts of food to a deity, and the
deity “eats” part of the offerings and “gives” the leftovers back to human beings.
This exchange acquires its meaning through the principles of caste organization.
Leftover food (jutha) is considered extremely ritually polluting, and acceptance
of such food expresses the highest degree of subordination. The acceptance of
divine leftovers (prasad ³⁰) by human beings expresses the maximal hierarchical
distance between them and the gods. Veneration of the gods is thus based on
asymmetrical food transactions in accordance with the axioms of the social sys-
tem (296 f). In contrast to the hierarchical opposition thus emphasized – human

 For Hindus, food is embedded in a ritual and religious context as a matter of principle, even
if it is not necessarily prepared and eaten within a ritual setting, since the eater’s ritual purity is
immediately dependent on it. As will be shown later, every act of cooking can also be interpreted
as a sacrificial act, as Malamoud (1996) suggests.
 Prasad (“grace”) not only refers to the food that comes from the gods, but depending on the
circumstances, may also designate other elements connected with puja, such as flowers or water
(Fuller 1992, 74).
 1.4 Food and Society 27

beings / gods – status differences among the various social groups are tempora-
rily cloaked by the commensality of prasad.

Commensality in ritual is not merely a matter of the group or the community sui generis
but, rather, of the definition of the group in relation to something else. In sharing the
jutha of the deity, the group mutes manifest differences within itself by reaching beyond
the world of men, and mundane relationships among men, for a point of reference against
which the group as a whole can be defined. (298)

Unlike Dumont and Babb, Fuller (1979) rejects a purely sociological interpreta-
tion of the pantheon – in his view, religion generally cannot be reduced to the
social order (473 f) – and he correspondingly criticizes Babb’s interpretation of
prasad in relation to caste principles. Since the gods cannot become polluted,
according to Fuller, the gods’ food also cannot be understood as leftovers
(jutha). If the transactions between human beings and gods were subject to
the laws of caste, how could humans offer cooked food to beings of infinitely
greater ritual purity? For Fuller, this shows that the religious realm is not merely
a reflection of the social structure (470). In another paper, Fuller (1988)³¹ argues
against the differentiation of the gods according to the criterion of vegetarian or
non-vegetarian food offerings, as Dumont proposes. In Fuller’s view, the differ-
entiating opposition is the one between the performance of ritual acts of worship
(puja) and blood sacrifices (bali). Vegetarian food offerings (naivedya) are made
in the context of puja, but bali is not primarily a food offering – although food
can be offered as part of the sacrifices – but rather the offering of the animal’s
life (23 f).³²
Parry (1985) and Malamoud (1996) are concerned less with food in relation to
caste status and the classification of human beings and gods than with processes
of transformation: feeding, digesting, and cooking. Their approach is thus simi-
lar to that of Meigs, while Dumont, Babb, and Fuller (as well as Eichinger Ferro-
Luzzi and Khare) are more inclined to interpret the Indian situation by way of the
postulates put forward by Lévi-Strauss and Douglas. Parry draws explicitly on

 In this article, Fuller (1988, 33) restricts the scope of his 1979 statements on the relationship
between “social structure” and “religion”: “with Dumont, we can legitimately see the village
deities as symbols of caste society, for their relational divinity does reflect the caste structure.”
 Fuller’s examples nevertheless demonstrate that the vegetarian/non-vegetarian distinction is
relevant for differentiating the gods. In an ethnographic example, the “high” form receives
vegetarian food offerings (naivedya), the “intermediate” form receives food offerings that include
meat (naivedya), and the “low” form receives sacrifices (bali) (Fuller 1988, 26). This means that
the differentiating trait of the high and middle forms is the vegetarian/non-vegetarian opposi-
tion, and both are contrasted to sacrifice.
28 1 Introduction

the linguistic analysis of daily metaphors as practiced by Lakoff and Johnson³³

(1980), and Malamoud (1996, 2) also understands cooking as a central metaphor
of the sacrificial ritual.
In his study of North Indian mortuary rituals, Parry (1985) shows how the
transformation of the deceased (pret) into an ancestor (pitr) is symbolized
through the processes of digestion and eating. In the first phase after death
and the cremation of the corpse, the deceased’s new body is constructed through
the offering of small balls of rice (pinda). The chief mourner (e. g., the son of the
deceased) is considered the “‘chief digester’” (619) during this period and eats
for the deceased (as well as eating the deceased himself), until the latter’s
body and digestive system has been constituted through the rituals. As soon
as this happens, the deceased individual feels “hunger” and receives additional
food. The third cycle of offerings is then considered to provide the deceased with
provisions for his lengthy journey to the realm of the ancestors, completed after
a year. The deceased’s intermingling with his ancestors is again symbolized
through small balls of rice. Rice molded into an oblong shape represents the de-
ceased and is cut into three pieces. These three pieces are mixed with three other
small balls of rice that symbolize the deceased’s agnatic linear forebears (F, FF,
FFF), and the whole is then consumed by the “‘chief digester’” (616ff).³⁴ Union
with the ancestors is expressively articulated through the digestive process.

The digestive process thus provides an analogy for what should happen at death. By eating
the deceased the impure waste – his sins – are expelled, while his pure essence is distilled
and in some sense perhaps retained by the social body. (627)

The digestive process is also conceived of as an internal process of cooking (614),

and it is on this process that Malamoud concentrates in his analysis of Vedic
texts.
For Parry, the Brahmanic “obsession” with processes of transformation and
circulation is not limited to the context of rituals for the dead; rather, the theme
of metamorphosis is a general characteristic of inner-worldly individuals, who
“refine” themselves through a series of rites of passage or samskara (Parry
1985, 614; cf. Malamoud 1996, 46). The world renouncer’s concern, on the

 A summary version of their thesis is that particularly concrete and daily aspects of human
experience, such as eating and digestion, offer themselves as metaphors for structuring more
abstract spheres of human existence, such as death.
 In fact, the “chief digester” merely smells the mixture, an act equivalent to consumption
(Parry 1985, 619, 623). Smelling can also substitute for eating in the context of Gadaba mortuary
rituals.
 1.4 Food and Society 29

other hand, is to withdraw himself from the processes of circulation and trans-
formation, something that he achieves, according to Malamoud, through an in-
ternalization of fire and cooking. In the life-cycle phase (ashrama) of the house-
holder, a man cooks and sacrifices – closely associated processes for Malamoud
– for others; the ascetic (sanyasin) transfers this process to his own body, inde-
pendent of the continuing processes of exchange in the surrounding world, and
so escapes the cycle of rebirth (cf. Parry 1985, 627; Malamoud 1996, 47 f).

Food among the Gadaba

For the Gadaba, food (kadi, kaibata, somsomkang*) is not only a product of the
efforts of particular individuals (Meigs 1997, 105) or houses, but also a conse-
quence of the successful influencing of social relationships in ritual. The growth
of grain, a staple food, is based on the exchange and circulation of life (jibon)
and food among human beings, gods, demons, and the dead. The quality of
these relationships nevertheless varies widely and determines whether feeding,
eating, or devouring stands at the forefront of the alimentary processes.
The Gadaba’s most important staple foods – rice and millet – make their way
from the fields to the house and back through the house again before they pass
through the body. From the big room of the house they move to the “inner
house” (gondi dien*), and from there to the loft, where grain is stored. It
would surely be simpler to get the harvest into the loft by way of an opening
from the big room, through which one enters the house, but the route that passes
the house deity, located in the inner room, is obligatory, and the loft itself is an
extension of this inner area. Rice acquired by purchase is also supposed to be
stored in the house for a period of time before consumption. These facts already
illustrate an aspect emphasized by Mary Douglas (1975), that food is to be under-
stood in correlation with spatial, ritual, and social relationships, creates borders
in relation to these parameters – differentiates what is inside from what is out-
side – and is subject to them.

Foodstuffs, Meals, and Cooking Vocabulary

The Gadaba are undoubtedly an example of a community in which the social sig-
nificance of eating is not to be discerned in the refinements of the “cuisine.”
Food is prepared in simple and stereotyped ways, variation and creativity are
not valued, and married women in particular are extremely suspicious of un-
known foodstuffs. Generally speaking, two main meals are prepared each day
by the woman of the house and consumed by the inhabitants. Children also
30 1 Introduction

eat leftover cold rice with some vegetable broth (jol), if at hand, at other times of
day, as often as they want.
A meal consists first of all – in the first course, as it were – of cooked rice
(bat, lai*) and an accompaniment (sag, ma*).³⁵ Such accompaniments may
only consist of a broth made from cooked tamarinds (tentuli, soso*), often³⁶
also used in place of cooking oil (tel, so’ol*), or various vegetables (dal potro,
sag) from the garden or the weekly market. Meat (manso, cheli*) is rarely pre-
pared outside of ritual contexts and is generally cooked only with salt (lun,
bitig*), chili (morij), turmeric (oldi, sangsang*), and occasionally tamarind.³⁷
The second course consists of a thick porridge or gruel (pej, ida*) made from
ground and boiled finger millet (mandia, sa’mel*). After the rice, adults consume
large amounts of this millet gruel, which can be thinned with the addition of veg-
etable broth.³⁸
The first meal is taken between nine and ten o’clock in the morning, after the
first phase of work (plowing, gathering wood), which begins around five o’clock
in the morning, with some seasonal variation. Nothing is eaten before this meal.
A lighter meal consisting only of millet gruel is consumed in the afternoon
(around two o’clock) – at the “gruel time” (pejbela) – at home or in the fields.
Only after darkness falls, around seven o’clock, is the second full meal, identical
to the first, eaten at home.
Generally speaking, the members of a house eat together in the big room of
the house, but this is not an absolute rule. Children often take their food into the
yard, and adults may also sit in the sun, for example, when it is still very cold in
the house in the morning. Elderly members of the house often eat in a different

 As a general principle, rice is first hulled and then cooked; the Gadaba do not prepare usuna
bat, that is, rice that is cooked unhulled. Rice is always prepared before whatever accompanies
it, and when rice is served, everything else must be removed from the fire, meaning that the
cooking process has ended.
 Only chicken is as a rule not prepared with tamarind.
 The mentioned spices are also usually the only ones used in preparing vegetables.
 Putting this millet gruel on to cook is the women’s first task early in the morning, after
lighting the fire. In the cold season, this gruel (like beer as well) is generally reheated for
consumption; in the warm season, it is also drunk or “eaten” cold. If rice is mixed into the gruel
(more often in the cold season), it is also called bedna, while gruel without rice is burubudi ida*.
Gruel made from ground mango pits, a food of scarcity consumed during the rainy season, only
rarely eaten today, is called taku pej.
 1.4 Food and Society 31

place and/or at a different time from the nuclear family, within which the wife
usually eats last, since she serves her husband and the children.³⁹
Rice and millet are thus the primary elements of each daily meal. They are
conceived of as opposites, as will become clear in the rituals of the annual cycle.
Rice is the most important and most highly esteemed food, especially rice grown
in the irrigated fields constructed directly in the riverbeds, which in contrast to
the rice of the dry fields (bata dan) is “sweet” or “tasty” (mita, subul*) and there-
fore not mixed with the other. Proso millet (suen, iri’*), cultivated on a much
smaller scale than rice and finger millet, is also eaten as “rice,” but this grain
has a lower status and is associated with situations of need and the shortage
of “true” rice. Although of “junior” status compared to irrigated rice, millet
gruel is considered by the Gadaba to be highly nutritious and strengthening
and to promote the production of blood (rokto, yam*). Someone who is pale
has too little (or white, watery) blood and should consume more millet gruel.
The ill and individuals who have lost consciousness have millet gruel adminis-
tered to them, in order to stimulate or reactivate the vital power (jibon) associat-
ed with blood.
Beef (bura manso, bandi cheli*) is also considered especially tasty and nour-
ishing, although many younger Gadaba have temporarily or permanently stop-
ped consuming this kind of meat, especially through the school’s influence.
Pigs (gusri, gibi’*), goats (cheli, gime*), sheep (menda), chickens (kukuda, gi’-
sing*), and water buffaloes (por, bongtel*), by contrast, are eaten by most Gada-
ba. The milk (kir, da’ktor*) and eggs (onda, utob sing*) of domesticated animals,
on the other hand, are not consumed, as a rule.⁴⁰ Some snakes are also consid-
ered edible, and field rats (karam musa) and large bats (badori) are happily
eaten. House rats and house bats, on the other hand, are not consumed.
Most foodstuffs are eaten (kaibar, som*) immediately after preparation; only
a few foods are preserved by drying, and even these are not stored for long pe-
riods. Surplus meat might be cut into strips and either hung up in the sun or
dried (sukaibar, sur*) over the hearth in the house. If one of the cattle dies,
for example, it is cut up into portions (bag, kundra) and distributed (bata korbar,

 Everyday meals today are eaten on dishes of inexpensive metal; in ritual contexts such as
festivals, leaf plates (dona) are most often used, and brass dishes are provided for important
individuals.
 Chicken and pigs are killed by having their throats cut (katbar, go’*) with a knife, while
goats, buffaloes, and sheep are beheaded (marbar, pujbar, seb*) with an ax (tangi) or a long
knife (gagra). Cattle are killed by several blows to the head (marbar, dor*) with the dull side of
the ax (tengia). The killing and butchering of animals is the men’s task.
32 1 Introduction

ter*) raw (koncha, buron kang*⁴¹) to different houses in return for a sum of
money. Small river fish (such as karandi, turinja, golsi) and crabs (kankara,
ungon*) are often roasted (poraibar, sir*) in the fire and directly consumed or
else cooked (randbar, doi*) as an accompaniment to rice (sometimes after
prior roasting). Vegetables and meat are occasionally seared (bajbar, gai*) briefly
in oil before water is added and the food is cooked until it is done (sijla, isin
kang*).
Most houses distill or “cook” (randbar) their own liquor (mod, ili*) from rice,
but also from a variety of other fruits (jackfruits, cashew apples). Beer (pendom)
is made from millet and rice and, like liquor, produced at home by women. With
the help of a starter (medicine, oso, sindrong*), the grain ferments (jomei) for
several days, and water is then poured over it, shortly after which it is ready
to drink. The Gadaba take in most of their liquids in the form of millet gruel
and beer, although millet gruel is considered a food and correspondingly
“eaten,” not “drunk” (piiba, i’*). In comparison to thirsty Europeans, who
drink water (pani, da’*) by the liter on hot days, Gadaba consume only small
amounts of this liquid.
The multifarious meanings of food and eating are made clear by the differ-
ent ritual processes that will be described in the following chapters. These in-
clude shared meals and reciprocal feeding, as well as the dangerous and preca-
rious side of consumption: devouring. Each house is a unit of production,
distribution, and consumption, and food is closely tied to a house’s identity.
Hospitality and the exchange of food between houses carry corresponding signif-
icance. A host “calls” (dakbar) guests to his house, and the rejection of an invi-
tation, like the refusal of at least the symbolic consumption of beer and rice – a
few drops or grains – is inevitably perceived as an insult by the host. Conflicts
are formulated with maximum explicitness in the realm of “gastro-politics” (Ap-
padurai 1981); women (i. e., the cooks) often leave home for a few days, so that
the “eaters” have to fend for themselves, or conversely, “eaters” refuse to take
meals at a given house and instead eat elsewhere. Both are highly effective, pub-
lic messages and sanctions, in the same way that breaking a pot in a dispute be-
tween members of different houses is a public declaration of the breaking off of
relations.
The significance of cooking for an autonomous house is also made clear by
the following incident. When my life partner not only came for a visit, but lived
in Gudapada for an extended period, Jomna, the woman at whose house I had

 Buron kang* means “raw” and “living” (cf. Rajan and Rajan 2001a, 61), while koncha also
means “unripe.”
 1.4 Food and Society 33

been eating every day up until then, remarked that we should now cook for our-
selves. When I asked her to continue to cook for us, on the grounds that doing
our own cooking would be too much trouble, she countered that we were a mar-
ried couple, had a house, performed the rituals – how could she then still cook
for us? However, she finally agreed to do so. Only later did I realize the signifi-
cance of her hesitation and her remark. As a general rule, a married couple es-
tablishes a house with the implications of cooking (sacrifice) and sexual inter-
course, processes that are associated on the conceptual and linguistic levels.
In this regard, it was possibly problematic for her, and at least noteworthy, to
take over the task of cooking for a married couple with their own house (and
their own sex life).

Food and Ritual

The Gadaba’s most significant ritual meal is known as tsoru ⁴² or go’yang* and is,
as a matter of principle, prepared in the context of a sacrifice (puja, biru, gelgel*).
In many cases, the head (mundo, bob*) of the sacrificial animal, together with
the blood and a piece of the liver (koloj, gire*), is cooked as tsoru, in which
case the cooking should be done in a new clay pot and – like the eating as
well – at the site of the sacrifice. A complementary and subordinate (“junior,”
sano) dish is prepared from the animal’s rump (gondi) and is called lakka’*. ⁴³
The latter is neither cooked in a clay pot nor subject to the injunctions that
apply to many forms of tsoru, according to which the partakers must be fasting
(upas) from food⁴⁴ and be ritually married. Tsoru is therefore always limited to a
tightly restricted set of individuals or groups and constitutes an inner circle,
while lakka’* is open to a wider, though not unbounded, social field. The com-
mensal boundaries erected by the tsoru/lakka’* hierarchical opposition are not
absolute, however, but change in accordance with the ritual context. On the col-
lective level of the village, for example, women are excluded from tsoru commen-
sality as a matter of principle, while on the level of the house, women not only

 In what follows, I use the Desia word, since it is the more common term even in Gutob
conversations; for the complementary, subordinate meal I know only the word lakka’*, which to
my knowledge is a Gutob word.
 If chickens are sacrificed, tsoru may be prepared from one chicken, and lakka’* from another.
 Fasting and the endurance of hunger (buk, kudu*) are not in themselves valued by or a ritual
practice for the Gadaba, and eating or feasting is in no way conceived of as “sinful.” Never-
theless, abstaining from food before a sacrifice and the consumption of tsoru is considered a
precondition for communication with the gods and therefore necessary for the success and
auspiciousness of a ritual.
34 1 Introduction

participate in tsoru but are also its cooks. For ritual and non-ritual food alike, the
rule is that women and girls cook inside the house, while men and boys act as
cooks outside.
Two forms of tsoru consumption can be distinguished: the sharing of tsoru
and the exchange of tsoru. The sharing of tsoru – a common meal or commensal-
ity in the strict sense – dominates in the rituals of the annual cycle, in which, for
example, the agnates of a village share tsoru at the shrine of the earth goddess.
Exchange is how I refer to cooking tsoru for others, which often also includes
feeding it to them. This reciprocal alimentary service is particularly significant
in the context of the life cycle. However, the two forms cannot be entirely sepa-
rated, and a shared meal often follows cooking for (and feeding) another person.
The meal structure in the case of tsoru commensality differs in some aspects
from the daily pattern of consumption. The second course of millet gruel is lack-
ing at the tsoru meal. In contrast, beer or liquor is consumed before the rice dish
in some contexts, occasionally together with a piece of meat (without rice) as an
“appetizer” or snack (chakana), while rice and meat are consumed only after-
ward. A further difference consists in the emphasis on eating together. In the
case of a house’s tsoru commensality, for example, all the members of the
house eat at the same time and in the same place, ideally in the small room
with the house deity. The pouring or transfer of beer and rice between the par-
ticipants’ vessels and plates is a sign of their ties and also their consubstantial-
ity. Between individuals of the same status, this giving of food is reciprocal; if the
individuals are of different status, it is usually the case that only the “senior”
(boro) gives to the “junior” (sano).
As the examples of ritual commensality will show, the order of eating is a
decisive mark of seniority, and correspondingly, the gods receive their food offer-
ings first, as a rule. After an animal is sacrificed, the head is placed directly on
the platform prepared for the sacrifice, so that the life (jibon) drains away at this
location and can be considered the first offering. Two food offerings follow; the
placement of food on the sacrificial pattern or on the platform is called betisong
or leno’bong* (“setting down an offering”). The first offering takes place immedi-
ately following the killing of the animal and is either raw – for example, un-
cooked rice mixed with blood, known as “blood rice” (rokto chaul) – or consists
of some rice and a small piece of meat from the gullet (sok), briefly heated
(“cooked,” randbar) in a folded leaf (purunge) over a small fire. Once this first
offering has been presented, the head is removed from the place of sacrifice
and cut up, and tsoru is prepared. As soon as it is ready, it is presented to the
gods as a second offering. The participants kneel and bow down (duli kori) before
the deity’s shrine and only then turn their attention to their own plates. It needs
to be emphasized that eating is part of the ritual and not a social appendix to it,
 1.4 Food and Society 35

as can be seen, for example, in the idiom with which this activity is described,
“eating the ritual” (biru kailuni).
Along with tsoru commensality, feeding (kuaibar, obsom*) with tsoru is, as
has been mentioned, a highly significant element of many rituals, especially
those of the life cycle. Social relationships are established and transformed
through feeding; that is, food has not only a symbolic function of manifesting
social boundaries and identities, but also an instrumental function in the man-
agement of social ties. Conversely, as I have also mentioned, refusing food and,
especially, breaking cooking pots (in a curse, during healing rituals, in the mor-
tuary ritual) can signify and bring about the non-recognition and breaking off of
social ties.
Another kind of ritual food, not part of a sacrifice, consists of bamboo shoots
(kori, ile*) and fish (macho, a’dong*) and is a sign of an auspicious (sub) transi-
tion, especially in life-cycle rituals. This dish, which I will usually refer to in the
text as “kordi rice” and which has different names according to context, does not
have tsoru’s capacity to actively form and renew relationships, but rather marks
the end of a liminal phase, such as the integration of a young woman into her
husband’s house after she has left that of her father.

Significance of Theoretical Approaches to Food

for the Interpretation of the Data
My analysis of the Gadaba’s ideas and ritual practice in relation to food is guided
by the theories of Lévi-Strauss and Douglas, to the extent that foodstuffs are un-
derstood as structured and structure-building carriers of meaning with correla-
tions to the social order and to temporal and spatial patterns, as can be dis-
cerned in the tsoru/lakka’* opposition, the apportionment of sacrificial
animals, and the temporal sequence of eating. The food offerings made to the
gods and their preference for specific sacrificial animals also lead to a classifica-
tion in which the association between signifier and signified is essentially arbi-
trary, as in language. The correlation of the rau demon with white chickens and
the soni demon with speckled ones serves to differentiate the two but does not
permit us to deduce any substantial similarities between the linked entities.
As I argue later, these oppositions and analogies do not give rise to rigid and
fully coherent classification systems, but rather to context-bound and potentially
multivalent patterns.
Appadurai (1981) has been especially concerned with the strategic use of ali-
mentary patterns of meaning, but although I have occasionally observed similar
situations and also describe them, “gastro-politics” do not dominate the sacrifi-
cial use of food among the Gadaba. While loud arguments often accompany the
36 1 Introduction

public distribution of meat, and the theft of meat is not uncommon in this con-
text, I failed to observe any conflicts or ambivalent situations accompanying
tsoru consumption. However, gastro-politics are endemic in the context of hospi-
tality.
“Point collecting” through giving food and avoiding its receipt, in a kind of
status game like that described by Marriott (1968), is also not to be found among
the Gadaba in this form. The status of the different groups is undisputed, and
mobility within the village hierarchy is not a matter of interest. Nevertheless,
the close connection between food and status, noted by all authors in Hindu
contexts, is also evident among the Gadaba, but is manifested in different ways.
Unlike the foods of the plains, the foods consumed by the Gadaba are not
structured by the opposition between those cooked in water (kacca) and those
cooked in ghi (pakka). Ideas about ritual purity do not dominate the alimentary
code. Milk and other products of the cow seen as especially ritually pure by Hin-
dus are not consumed, while beef is enthusiastically eaten by many Gadaba. Eat-
ing a Dombo’s food does make a Gadaba ritually polluted, but it is also, more
significantly, considered a transgression (dos) and therefore has exclusion
from the Gadaba community as its consequence. The consumption of leftovers
(ointa, tori’lai*) is also dos and may lead to misfortunes (bipod), but within
the Gadaba of one village, leftovers can certainly be consumed.
In the context of Gadaba rituals, the distinctions between vegetarian and
non-vegetarian offerings or between puja and bali are without significance. All
gods eat meat, only from different animals, and for a Gadaba, puja fundamen-
tally means a blood sacrifice. The Gadaba’s gods are not satisfied by coconuts,
as one informant said. The differentiation between white (sukol) and bloody
(rudi) sacrificial offerings, associated with the heaven/earth opposition, introdu-
ces a status distinction, but both categories refer to non-vegetarian offerings and
therefore do not fully correspond to the Hindu ritual opposition, although the as-
pect of ritual purity is not entirely absent either. Finally, fundamental differences
are also evident in the special food types of prasad and tsoru. Both meals acquire
their significance from the context of worship or sacrifice, but while prasad is
distributed outside the temple sanctuary and often taken by pilgrims back to
their home villages, tsoru is supposed to be consumed only at the place of sac-
rifice in the immediate vicinity of the gods. The locality is of great significance in
connection with tsoru commensality. Finally, I am not aware of a significance of
prasad in Hindu life-cycle rituals that is comparable to that of tsoru.
In Gadaba rituals, and correspondingly in my analysis, the generative and
transformative character of alimentary processes is especially prominent, along-
side food’s semiotic aspects and the reflection of the social structure in the food
order. Malamoud (1996) and Parry (1985) also concentrate in their analyses on
 1.4 Food and Society 37

ritual transformations and metamorphoses that are articulated through meta-

phors of cooking, eating, and digestion. For the Gadaba, however, as their ritual
practice makes clear, eating is not merely a metaphor for transformation, but an
instrument for shaping social relationships. Following in the footsteps of Robert-
son Smith (1997) and Meigs (1997), I consequently emphasize the analytical sig-
nificance of the activity of eating (cf. also Gibson 1985), which permits the forma-
tion of social relationships and constitutes “kinship.” As Meigs emphasizes, the
quality and efficacy of food – the sacrificial meal – as a locus of generative po-
tential depends on the people who participate in the process of cooking and
feeding. In the Gadaba case, it is perhaps possible to go still further with regard
to food’s ontological status. For example, the food that a mother’s brother pre-
pares and feeds to his sister’s son not only represents (cf. de Coppet 1981, 198)
an affinal tie, but “is” this relationship. The idea that a person could even be-
come a member of another group through inadvertent participation in that
group’s sacrificial meal and lose his or her previous status corresponds to this
estimation of food’s efficacy. Furthermore, exchange is often understood and car-
ried out, conceptually or in practice, as a relationship of feeding and eating, link-
ing together distinct elements (a “between relation” according to Sahlins 1965,
141), while the commensal sharing of food, especially “eating from the same
plate,” as one idiom has it, articulates and brings into being a relationship of
identity among the partakers (a “within relation”).
Finally, the analytical dichotomy good to think / good to eat must be over-
come if indigenous conceptions are not to be subordinated in advance to an ar-
tificial division.⁴⁵ Even Robertson Smith, who rightly emphasized the signifi-
cance of ritual practice and the physical act of eating in a time when
intellectualist interpretations were prominent, assumes an evolution from matter
to spirit.

In primitive ritual this conception [of sacramental communion] is grasped in a merely phys-
ical and mechanical shape, as indeed, in primitive life, all spiritual and ethical ideas are
still wrapped up in the husk of a material embodiment. (1997, 418)

Christian communion is hence considered to be the spiritual – and therefore

higher – version of the “primitive” sacrificial cult trapped in the physical (cf. De-
tienne 1989). However, such an opposition between matter and spirit can only be
defended when “spirit” is understood as an elaboration of explicit theories
(Lukes 1985) or a theoretical knowledge (Bourdieu 1990) of the kind that priests,

 Cf. the distinction between physical and metaphysical reproduction in the interpretations of
the life-cycle rituals.
38 1 Introduction

Brahmans, or outside observers may be able to develop, but that in many soci-
eties – including the Gadaba – is not to be found. Instead, physical processes,
significations, and “ethical ideas” are united in the practical logic or the implicit
theories of ritual actions. Like no other material – perhaps with the exception of
the body itself – food exemplifies the link between corporality and meaning. Pre-
cisely because of the correlation between sacrifice and food among the Gadaba,
their symbolic, but also their instrumental potential is, as Mary Douglas (1977, 1)
suggests, inexhaustible.

1.5 Some Theoretical Remarks

Structure

The concept of structure in anthropology is associated above all with Lévi-

Strauss. Unlike Radcliffe-Brown (1952, 190 f), Lévi-Strauss does not view struc-
ture as the sum of the social relationships observed in a given society, but rather
as an unconscious activity of the human mind that affects all realms of a society
and manifests itself in the most varied social states of affairs. In Gellner’s (1981,
xxxiii) words, French structuralism’s aim was “to seek structure in culture.” Lévi-
Strauss drew particular inspiration for his theoretical reflections from the struc-
tural linguistics of Jakobson and Saussure (among others), and in his inaugural
lecture at the Collège de France, he even described anthropology as a branch of
Saussurian “semiology,” the study of signs in general (Lévi-Strauss 1977, 9 – 10). I
would like here to briefly recapitulate some of the theses of this position, since
they were foundational for the idea of structure in ethnology and also the spark
for the most important controversies associated with it.
According to Saussure, language is to be understood first of all as a system
of classification, not as a nomenclature within which concepts are assigned to
individual sounds (Saussure 1983; cf. Culler 1986). If this were not the case,
learning foreign languages would require little effort, since it would merely be
a matter of the substitution of vocabulary. In actuality, every language has its
own pattern of relationships and presents a specific classification of the
world. An additional axiom with far-reaching consequences is the arbitrariness
of the sign, meaning the unmotivated nature of the relationship between signi-
fier (sound or representation of a sound) and signified (unit of thought). This link
is contingent and entirely conventional, with the consequence that language
(similar to Durkheim’s social facts) is transindividual and obligatory. Language
is not created by any single individual, is unalterable for the individual speaker,
and is nevertheless – through the sum of all speech acts – constantly changing.
 1.5 Some Theoretical Remarks 39

The signs from which language is constituted have no substantive character-

istics; rather, their being consists in relationality and differentiation (Saussure
1983, 118 f). That is, the differentiation of one sign from another is what enables
the articulation of meaning, even though the sign taken on its own (e. g., at the
phonemic level) need not have any meaning. For Saussure, it immediately fol-
lows that the synchronic perspective is the privileged one for the study of lan-
guage. If a sign acquires meaning only in contrast to other signs, on the basis
of its differential traits, the question of how it has become what it is (the dia-
chronic perspective) is irrelevant for its meaning (its value).
In the same way that Saussure gives priority in his semiology to the syn-
chronic perspective, he considers the subject of linguistics to be language (lan-
gue), meaning the abstract system of relational distinctions and rules, in contrast
to speech (parole), the realization of this system in concrete speech acts (Saus-
sure 1983, 13 f). This distinction between language and speech has been widely
adopted in the social sciences, where it is translated into oppositions such as
that between structure and behavior. Since Lévi-Strauss understands structure
not as an empirical reality, but as an a priori one, he like Saussure takes langue
as his field of study. To the extent that the relationship between language and
speech, structure and behavior, may appear to be a form of determinism, this op-
position has at times been severely criticized for making individuals into mere
executors of rules. Sahlins correctly points out, however, that the existence of
a system is not yet its realization or the condition for that realization.

Just because what is done is culturally logical does not mean the logic determined that it be
done – let alone by whom, when or why – any more than just because what I say is gram-
matical, grammar caused me to say it. (1999, 409)

As differential and relational units, linguistic signs are linked to one another in
two ways, as a connected sequence of signs in time (syntagmatic relationship) or
through the possibility of substitution by similar signs (paradigmatic or associa-
tive relationship) (Saussure 1983, 121 f). These two modes of linkage, the process-
es of the in presentia combination of elements and their in absentia selection, are
found at various levels of language (phoneme, morpheme, word), but also ap-
pear to be omnipresent beyond the linguistic sphere. Lévi-Strauss (1963) applied
this distinction in his analysis of the structure of myths, but Frazer’s differentia-
tion between magic based on contagion (syntagmatic) and on imitation (paradig-
matic) was already an expression of these modes of relationship, which Jakobson
(1977, 446) claims are manifest in every (psychological or social) symbolic proc-
ess.
40 1 Introduction

Lévi-Strauss’s great merit is to have shown, first, that apparently incompre-

hensible cultural articulations, such as tattoos, myths, or food, could have a
meaning (cf. Yalman 1967, 88) to be found in their structure, and second, that
these orders are linked to one another through analogies, transformations, or in-
versions, in the same way that aspects of the myths of a South American tribal
group can become comprehensible through consideration of the myths (or pos-
sibly the rituals) of a neighboring group. Despite these achievements, however,
not many scholars are prepared to follow his arguments to their ultimate conse-
quences.
In the context of a conference, Lévi-Strauss (1963, 71) formulated the view
that language and culture are “the products of activities which are basically sim-
ilar” and spoke in this connection about an “uninvited guest” at the meeting,
“the human mind.” For many of his colleagues, however, Lévi-Strauss’s universal-
ist version of the human mind is rather an unwelcome guest. Holy und Stuchlik
(1981) cite a well-known passage of Lévi-Strauss in which he asserts that anthro-
pology’s ultimate goal is the understanding of “objectified thought” (Lévi-
Strauss 1969b, 13) and claims that it makes no difference in the end whether
the thoughts of South American Indians end up being articulated through the
medium of his own thoughts or vice versa. This perspective, Holy and Stuchlik
confirm, has far-reaching consequences.

Thus, in the final analysis, structuralism does not conflate observable and non-observable
reality into one level, nor does it misunderstand the position of folk models in social life; it
uses a more drastic measure: it dissolves social life. (Holy and Stuchlik 1981, 14)

Bourdieu is one theoretician who wishes to counter this objectified thought, “ob-
jectivism” in his terminology, and bring structures back into social life and espe-
cially into agents’ bodies. For him, both Lévi-Strauss and Saussure are represen-
tatives of a line of thought that understands structures as “totalities already
constituted outside of individual history and group history” (Bourdieu 1977, 72)
and treats them as autonomous realities capable of acting as subjects. He him-
self, he says, was in his early structuralist work always searching for “perfect co-
herence in the system” (Bourdieu 1990, 10) and trying to solve the contradictions
that constantly arose out of his material, since for Lévi-Strauss, a model “should
be constituted so as to make immediately intelligible all the observed facts”
(Lévi-Strauss 1963, 280). Later, however, Bourdieu distanced himself from this
method and came up with his theory of practice, which aims to investigate the
reciprocal interaction between langue and parole and develops the habitus as
an analytical mediating element.
 1.5 Some Theoretical Remarks 41

In the first instance, this theory distinguishes ways of knowing, the scholar’s
theoretical knowledge and the practical knowledge of the agents implicated in
the action. Bourdieu has no doubt that an objective meaning tied to institutions
and structures exists, but his particular concern is with the question of how
structures can be generated, reproduced, and altered, something that is difficult
to imagine if structures are thought of as standing outside social life. It is in the
reciprocal interaction of internalized structures (the habitus, “objectification in
bodies”) and objective external structures (“objectification in institutions”)
that he sees dynamic potential (Bourdieu 1990, 53, 57).
Especially relevant – in relation to the understanding of ritual actions, for
example – are his concepts of practical logic and practical sense. Structures be-
come embodied in individuals and their bodies in the course of the process of
socialization, which signifies constant contact with the objectified logic of insti-
tutions; Bourdieu (1977, 87) speaks of a “[b]ody hexis.” The objectified logic of
institutions first takes on life through agents’ practical logic, inseparable from
their bodies, and these embodied structures include, among other things, cogni-
tive and emotional schemata (1977, 93 f; 1990, 52 f). In contrast to a logic of the
system (“logical logic”; 1990, 92), a logic within the framework of theoretical
knowledge, as Bourdieu would classify Lévi-Strauss’s models, to understand
agents’ practical perspective requires the acceptance of another form of logic,
an embodied logic of practice, “without conscious reflexion or logical control”
(1990, 92). Since this logic is adapted to the demands of practice and emerges
out of social life, the traits of coherence, comprehensiveness, and unambiguity
apply only within limits (1990, 86, 261, 267 f).⁴⁶
The concept of practical logic opens the possibility of grasping ritual actions
and associated alimentary processes, like those frequently described in this
study, as mental, material, and emotional states of affairs, thereby doing justice
to the agents’ perspective. In the context of a “common-sense world” (Bourdieu
1990, 58), it is possible in this way to allow subjects a form of implicit reflection
in the context of their actions, without making them into “primitive philoso-
phers” and thereby separating thought from action once again. Nevertheless,
it does not follow, in my view, that rituals manage to do without concepts,
due to the fact that they are part of a practical logic, and that it is therefore
vain to see analogies and homologies between them, as Bourdieu thinks. Ac-
cording to him, “it is simply a matter of practical transfers of incorporated,
quasi-postural schemes” (1990, 92). Bourdieu also writes:

 Evans-Pritchard (1976) had already said something similar about the Zande and their ideas
about magic, oracles, and witchcraft.
42 1 Introduction

Rites take place because, and only because, they find their raison d’être in the conditions of
existence and the dispositions of agents who cannot afford the luxury of logical specula-
tion, mystical effusions or metaphysical Angst. (1990, 96)

In my judgment, this evaluation is too limited and overlooks ritual’s intellectual

potential. The agents involved may have little interest in metaphysics, specula-
tive thinking, or mysticism, something that, as I have already pointed out, is
largely true of the Gadaba. Nevertheless, the rituals described in the following
chapters bear witness to the creative powers of collective life and a reflection
about society that cannot be explained by the practical necessities of the “con-
ditions of existence.” It would be erroneous to see in ritual exclusively an instru-
mental schema for action, “a performative practice that strives to bring about
what it acts or says” (Bourdieu 1990, 92).
A further development of the concept of structure has also been offered by
Marshall Sahlins, who attests to a “fear of structure” (Sahlins 1999, 406) in the
contemporary discipline of anthropology. In the introduction to his book Islands
of History, he develops his theory of the “‘cultural life of the elementary forms’”
(1985, xv); in other words, like Bourdieu, Sahlins views structure as embedded in
the process of social life, but while for his French colleague the meaningful and
generative reciprocal interaction takes place between habitus and structure, Sah-
lins considers the dialectic between culture (i. e., structure, “the symbolic rela-
tions of cultural order”; vii) and history central.⁴⁷ History takes place in the con-
text of patterns of meaning and structures these patterns in its turn. Sahlins thus
argues especially and explicitly against the theoretical primacy of the synchronic
view postulated by Saussure (cf. Sahlins 1985, 77). Such a focus on a synchronic
system of relations of opposition and analogy, according to Sahlins, leads to a
form of “yin-yang structuralism,” that is, to chains of analogies (man : woman
:: sun : moon) and moreover to contradictions or “‘logical instabilities’” that can-
not be resolved from within this perspective (xvi). Unlike Bourdieu and his theo-
ry of practical logic, Sahlins does not consider these ambivalences in symbolic
equations as immanent to the system (“the structure itself is not contradictory”;
xvi), but rather as capable of resolution once the structure’s diachronic dimen-
sion is taken into account.
A further parallel to Bourdieu, in my view, consists in the fact that Sahlins
allows room for the possibility that actions can influence structure. He therefore

 Sahlins’s closeness to Bourdieu in their notions of structure is also evident in the following
definition: “Built into perception, endemic in grammar, working in the habitus, structure is the
organization of conscious experience that is not itself consciously experienced” (Sahlins 1999,
413).
 1.5 Some Theoretical Remarks 43

coins the term “performative structure,” which he insists should be understood

as an ideal type. He contrasts this to the reverse and, as he says, more common,
case in which structures initiate actions, and he calls this type a “prescriptive
structure” (Sahlins 1985, xi).⁴⁸ Both types of structures are vividly summarized
in the sentence, “if friends make gifts [prescriptive], gifts make friends [perform-
ative]” (xi). However, this reciprocal influence can only take place in a shared
context of significance – in “communities of meaning” (xi). Action in a foreign
context of significance therefore has no structure-forming function.
As I have previously noted, Bourdieu also assumes the existence and mean-
ing of objectivized structures, and his practical logic must always remain partial
in comparison to these structures. In contrast to these partial perspectives,⁴⁹
however, Sahlins formulates more explicitly the significance of the “cultural to-
tality” (Sahlins 1985, xvi), a category to which Durkheim (1995, 442) had already
ascribed the greatest importance. According to Sahlins, the contradictions (or
“logical instabilities”) in the symbolic order just mentioned arise from partial
and context-bound points of view, the specific vantage from which a subject ob-
serves the “global order” (Sahlins 1985, xvi). Individual articulations of the sys-
tem are thus always linked to the supra-individual and non-subject-bound total-
ity – the “logic of the whole” (103) – and it is this structure of which the
categories and relations are transformed in their reciprocal interaction with his-
torical processes.
This emphasis on the whole, finally, leads to a third direction in which struc-
turalist theory has developed, that of Louis Dumont. Dumont investigates sys-
tems of ideas in specific cultures – “indigenous ideologies” (Dumont 1986,
206) – and their relationship to social morphology, making his approach a decid-
edly relativistic one (cf. Hardenberg 2000a). A society – or its system of represen-
tation, which the author calls its “ideology” – is considered holistic by Dumont if
it places the highest value not on the individual, but rather on society as a whole
(Dumont 1986, 207 and glossary). This definition itself makes clear that for Du-
mont, ideologies are structured on the basis of the principle of hierarchy, under-
stood as a relationship between the (conceptual) whole and one portion of it.
Within the framework of this emphasis on the hierarchical nature of category re-
lationships, Dumont speaks of values or “value-ideas” (252), using the right and

 Sahlins (1985, xii, xiii) goes so far as to view these prescriptive/performative structures as
“orders,” that is, as types of societies that tend more toward one of these structural forms and
therefore are relatively open or resistant to transformation and change, a classification that
recalls Lévi-Strauss’s distinction between “hot” and “cold” types of societies.
 Elsewhere, Sahlins (1985, ix) says that in actual contexts, “only part, some small fraction, of
the collective sense” is ever brought to bear.
44 1 Introduction

left hands as an illustration (248ff). In his view, this is not a case of symmetrical
opposition; instead, the right and left hands have different relationships to the
whole, that is, to the body.

Right and left, having a different relation to the body […] are different in themselves. […]
Being different parts of a whole, right and left differ in value as well as in nature, for
the relation between part and whole is hierarchical, and a different relation means here
a different place in the hierarchy. (248)

In an ideological system, certain value-ideas, due to their relationship to the

whole, have the ability to represent that whole and to include subordinate
ideas within themselves, a relationship that Dumont calls “encompassment”
(1986, 252; 1980, 239ff). The right hand can represent the whole (the body, the
person) and includes its opposite (the left hand). Movement and variability
come about in this model through the fact that, according to Dumont, every ideo-
logical system is structured according to a multiplicity of levels, on which the re-
lationships between values can change or be reversed. The left hand can thus, on
another, subordinate level of ideology, encompass the right hand, an inversion of
hierarchical oppositions that for Dumont is characteristic of value-ideas (1986,
252).
In view of Dumont’s lack of interest in the analytical level of behavior and
the agent’s perspective, Bourdieu would surely assign him to the category of
the “objectivists.” To the best of my knowledge, Dumont has also not turned
his attention to the reciprocal interaction of structure and contingent historical
events, in the way that Sahlins has demonstrated this interaction for the
South Seas. He has, however, devoted significant effort to the attempt to detail
the historical genesis of specific ideas, such as that of the economy or the indi-
vidual.
Various aspects of these reflections have had a direct or indirect influence on
the interpretation of my data and have surely also in part influenced the data col-
lection itself. The foreground of the analysis is occupied by Gadaba conceptions,
or in Dumont’s terms, an indigenous ideology, which has a structure and in
which hierarchical relationships play a significant role. While Lévi-Strauss
(1963, 282) looked on such “‘home-made’ models” with a degree of suspicion,
many anthropologists see understanding and transmitting such models as an es-
sential contribution of their discipline and describe indigenous ideologies as
worldviews (Hardenberg 2000a), implicit theories (Lukes 1985), local models
(Gudeman 1986), or “folk models” (Holy and Stuchlik 1981). In connection
with the Gadaba, it should be emphasized that their models are expressed not
 1.5 Some Theoretical Remarks 45

as orthodoxy but as orthopraxis, that is, essentially in the form of their ritual ac-
tions.
Since ritual practice is the primary foundation for my analysis, and the body
and the actions and manipulations linked to the body in social processes there-
fore play a central role, Bourdieu’s concept of practical logic can be helpful in
understanding how structure and meaning are accessible for agents who do
not occupy “high positions in the social structure” (Bourdieu 1990, 52). My inter-
pretations of the structure of the house and the classification of the gods show
that indigenous models can be understood as practical logics, linked to practical
sense, while a decontextualized listing of oppositions and analogies inevitably
leads to ambiguities and contradictions.
Although I consider Bourdieu’s contributions to and corrections of structural
anthropology to be an enrichment of its analytical possibilities, this study’s em-
phasis is on the understanding of the “collective sense” (Sahlins 1985, ix) or the
objectivized structures that can be deduced from agents’ actions and their inter-
pretations or normative descriptions. This focus is explained above all by the fact
that no extensive ethnographies of the Gadaba exist, and in my opinion, collec-
tive patterns of meaning must first be deciphered before it makes sense to turn
our attention to, for example, the strategic use of those patterns. The models con-
structed in the course of this effort are intended to provide heuristic assistance in
understanding Gadaba ideology but should not be taken as the only ones possi-
ble or as the “real” models of Gadaba thought. Following in Sahlins’s (1999, 413)
footsteps, I would argue that the structures that shape experience and percep-
tion, like grammar in language, are unconscious or only partly conscious, but
the concepts and value-ideas articulated in ritual, on the other hand, are very
much part of the experienced worldview.
The significance of the idea of the whole, articulated on various levels, is
evident in many Gadaba rituals. In the sequence of collective rituals that concern
the village as a whole (ga matam) and those that concern the totality of its con-
stitutive elements (gulai ga), their hierarchical relationship is also brought to the
fore. Further, the opposition between the two types of ritual meal – tsoru/lakka’*
– in itself points to the significance of hierarchical oppositions as defined by Du-
mont, in which the superior value includes the inferior one and represents the
whole.
The lack of documentation for the historical development of Gadaba society
forbids any conclusions about structural transformations within the ritual sys-
tem; the analysis therefore necessarily takes a synchronic perspective. Neverthe-
less, I consider it crucial to keep in mind that structures develop within process-
es of social life, and Sahlins’s “inner diachrony” can perhaps be adapted to
Gadaba ritual processes at the microlevel. As I will show in the following section,
46 1 Introduction

Gadaba rituals are essentially to be understood as processes of transformation,

exchange, and circulation.

Ritual

The structural perspective influences my analysis of Gadaba rituals insofar as I

start from the assumption that rituals and their constitutive elements (such as,
e. g., sacrificial animals, spaces, foodstuffs) are not substantial entities that
could be interpreted on their own, but rather that a society’s rituals form struc-
tures, that is, they refer to one another and are differentiated in relation to one
another.⁵⁰ This premise made it necessary to observe as complete a set of this
society’s rituals as possible. Further, I understand rituals as processes in the
course of which social ties are generated and transformed, in which agents,
foodstuffs, and other elements are in motion, and in which oppositions, bounda-
ries, and analogies are articulated in the context of these movements. Ritual
practice distinguishes a variety of contexts in which specific relationship types
and specific oppositions – and the values associated with them – dominate.
For example, I understand the April festival, chait porbo, as a context of this
kind, one which differentiates other contexts in its turn. While the village,
which is open in other contexts, closes itself off from the outside during this fes-
tival, relationships within the village community play a predominant role, espe-
cially the tsoru commensality of the “four brothers” (chari bai). A further shift is
consummated when the rituals of the village as a whole move to its constitutive
elements, the houses. In each of these contexts, delineated by the rituals them-
selves, specific relationships come to the fore.
The organization of this study into chapters on the rituals of the “life cycle”
(chapter 3), the “annual cycle” (chapter 4), and “healing” (chapter 5) is similarly
derived from the specific configurations of these contexts. Life-cycle rituals often
stress the relationships between villages, and certain affinal and agnatic rela-
tionships – for example, the agnatic panjabai – are relevant only within this
framework, while the rituals and festivals of the annual cycle are focused on
the village and its multifarious structured relationships – for example, between
the “earth people” and the “latecomers.” This context brings specific ritual ac-
tors to prominence, the village’s sacrificer and ritual cook. “Healing” rituals,
for their part, are concerned with particular types of relationships, such as the

 Of course, this assumption does not exclude the possibility that individual rituals can also
be meaningfully interpreted.
 1.5 Some Theoretical Remarks 47

control of demons, and once again, typical specialists, the healers, can be distin-
guished for these contexts. Despite their significant differences, however, these
different contexts are not closed entities, but rather intersect with one another,
and as I will demonstrate later, it is precisely the analogies and correlations be-
tween these ritual domains that are of special importance for understanding the
ritual structure as a whole.
These reflections are based on a variety of contributions to ritual theory,
some of which I will take up again later, in addition to the ideas about structure
already discussed. Especially important are the theses and methods of a group of
anthropologists in the French tradition represented by Louis Dumont. Their aim
is to develop interpretations out of the ethnographic material alone and to crit-
ically examine their analytical instruments so as to avoid as far as possible pre-
conceived notions resulting from their own ideology, thereby helping to articu-
late indigenous understandings.⁵¹
These authors start from the assumption that a society’s rituals must be seen
in relation to one another (de Coppet 1981, 176), in order, in a subsequent step,
“to distinguish […] the relationships emerging from the ritual acts, and to deter-
mine – as far as possible – their status within the overall system of ideas and
values” (Barraud and Platenkamp 1990, 106). They also ask in what contexts
these relationships change or are transformed and whether hierarchical relation-
ships that structure the society in question become visible in the context of these
processes (Barraud and Friedberg 1996, 358). The authors pay special attention to
the movement of elements along different social relationships – understood as
“life-giving relationships” (Barraud and Friedberg 1996, 358) that guarantee
the reproduction of life and of the socio-cosmic order – and the changes that
they consequently undergo in different contexts (Barraud et al. 1994). If in the
context of a process of exchange,⁵² subjects become objects, for example, this
points to a change of level within the ritual (cf. Iteanu 1990).

Tribal Society

The concept of a “tribal society” has long been a subject of anthropological de-
bate, at the same time that it is omnipresent in India, both in the realm of admin-

 Other schools within the discipline, such as the Oxford tradition of social anthropology or
proponents of cultural anthropology, also indisputably promote this ideal.
 “Exchange” is understood here not as a reciprocal relationship between two poles, but
rather as a general structure of circulation (Barraud et al. 1994).
48 1 Introduction

istrative classification and in ethnographic and anthropological publications.⁵³

In this study, I refer to the Desia as a tribal society and to the Gadaba as a seg-
ment of this society or as a tribal group. For these reasons, it is useful first to
briefly discuss the characteristics of tribal societies and the criticism to which
this concept has been subjected. Subsequently, I will indicate to what extent
this study can contribute to the understanding of tribal societies in Odisha.
Already in 1970, Southall subjected the concept of a “tribe” to thorough ex-
amination, with the result that he limits the use of the term to past societies, re-
ferring to contemporary societies that are their descendants as “ethnic groups”
(Southall 1970, 48). He favors this change in terminology because he considers
the definition of a “tribal society” problematic, and the criteria of statelessness
and independence, for example, can no longer be fulfilled in the strict sense by
any society today. In his view, in addition, tribal terminology has been applied to
artificial entities, and many tribes were invented by the colonial powers, since
most societies of this kind evade concrete definition and delimitation.

[The] insistence on defining some global discrete entity as a tribe may simply be a refusal to
recognise the fundamental characteristics of this kind of society. I have argued elsewhere
[…] that stateless societies have the combined characteristics of: multi-polities, ritual super-
integration, complementary opposition, intersecting kinship and distributive legitimacy.
The contingent nature of their structure, subdivisions and boundaries is of their essence,
not something to be swept away by penetrating analysis. The representation of adjacent
stateless societies as a neatly discrete series of named units is to misunderstand and mis-
interpret them. (41)

While it would presumably be a hopeless undertaking to attempt to draw up a

universally valid checklist of substantive traits for the definition of a tribal soci-
ety, Southall here provides a structural definition of societies of this kind: they
are “essentially relational” and are neither grouped around a center nor marked
out by sharply defined borders.
Sahlins (1968, 15) has also emphasized a structural characteristic of these so-
cieties in the context of his evolutionary schema: “[the] tribal structure is gener-
alized.” That is, economics, kinship, politics, and religion are not split among
distinct institutions, but are instead better understood as different functions of
the same institution, such as a house, a village, or a descent group. A center
(such as a political or religious authority) is lacking, and social units of the
same kind form the whole at different levels, with the highest level the weakest
link, neither precisely defined nor functionally relevant (16). The decisive factor

 Pfeffer and Behera (2002) review the various theoretical perspectives on tribal societies and
also make explicit reference to the Indian context.
 1.5 Some Theoretical Remarks 49

is that the segmentary model of social organization is found over and over in all
areas – domains not in fact differentiated by the society itself. In this connection,
Durkheim’s idea that the segments of these societies are entirely undifferentiated
was already relativized by his student Marcel Mauss, who demonstrated the in-
fluence of certain collective and non-contractual forms of “organic solidarity” in
“primitive” societies (cf. Allen 1995).
The anthropological research conducted in Odisha as part of the mentioned
DFG (German Research Foundation) project treats the concept of a tribal society
in relation to two different realms of knowledge, which can be called the “typo-
logical” and the “regional.” In several publications, Pfeffer (2000, 2002a) com-
pares the structures of Central Indian societies to other tribal structures, such
as the “Biblical” or “African” models. In another paper (Pfeffer 2002b), he con-
trasts the typology of tribal societies, without reference to a specific region, to
those of hunter-gatherer and peasant societies. In doing so, Pfeffer is less con-
cerned with the often-applied criterion of the mode of subsistence than with
ideological and morphological facts. Tribal societies conceive of themselves as
collective ideological totalities and not infrequently equate themselves with “hu-
manity” as a whole. Long-lasting, global structures of social organization that
encompass the entire society (often structures of affinity and descent) are just
as characteristic of these societies as relative autonomy and the absence of a mo-
nopoly on force. Hunter-gatherer societies, in contrast, deploy an individualistic
ideology, lack lasting and global social structures, and tend to conceive of them-
selves as part of their environment. Peasant societies are tied to a center and are
part of a larger society organized around this morphological and ideological
focus.
Various projects under the umbrella of the Orissa Research Project are con-
cerned with regional expressions of tribal structures, taking as a foundation
Pfeffer’s programmatic article (1997a) on the structures of Central Indian tribal
societies as contrasted to the society of the plains.⁵⁴ For individual ethnographic

 The Indian situation is distinctive in that the government, as already mentioned, explicitly
identifies a portion of the population as tribes, and these groups, which live primarily in the
highlands, have historically maintained contacts with the Hindus of the plains for many cen-
turies. Nevertheless, the scale of these interactions has varied and continues to vary widely
today from case to case (cf. Bailey 1961; Béteille 1977, 1991). Despite these historical ties, Pfeffer
(1997a) argues for the cultural distinctiveness of the tribal societies and rejects “Hinduization”
hypotheses that see a borrowing from the plains behind every phenomenologically similar
element, without taking the different cultural patterns into account. Pfeffer demonstrates the
mentioned morphological characteristics – holistic models of descent and affinity that en-
compass the different tribal groups – for the tribal societies of Central India and emphasizes
50 1 Introduction

studies, the question of a general typology of tribal societies or a definition of the

term is in the first instance a secondary one, since the ethnographic description
of specific social configurations must initially be the focus of attention, as South-
all (1970, 41) urges. This research is still unpublished and in part still ongoing,
but it is already clear that in the region of Odisha today, a range of social forma-
tions are to be found that can be understood from the perspective of the analyt-
ical concepts of tribal society and peasant society (or caste society) as a series of
transformations of these types and that demonstrate different degrees of com-
plexity in their structures. More important than the question of the extent to
which each of these societies taken individually meets the criteria for a defini-
tion of a tribal society is the comparison of these patterns within the region.⁵⁵
The Dongria Kond studied by Roland Hardenberg (2009) in the district of Raya-
gada live in steep, inaccessible mountains together with their Dombo clients and
have only occasional contact with the Desia Kond at the foot of their mountains.
The situation on the nine-hundred-meter plateau, where the Gutob Gadaba live,
is distinguished by its greater heterogeneity and complexity. In this area, differ-
ent tribal groups live as immediate neighbors, and a whole series of specialized
groups that immigrated at an undetermined period live as potters, smiths, or
liquor distillers in the Adivasi villages; together, they make up Desia society or
the “Koraput Complex” (Pfeffer 1997a, 16). Unlike the case of the Dongria
Kond, the longstanding interaction between the Gadaba and the other social cat-
egories within the segmentary order gave rise to structures of “organic” organi-
zation that nonetheless differ from those of the plains. In western Odisha, Uwe
Skoda (2001, 2007) has studied a social order that he describes as a “mixed tribal
and caste society” and in which the Aghria have established themselves as the
predominant landholders in a region dominated by tribal groups. A detailed
analysis of these ethnographic contexts, now in preparation, will compare
these social configurations on the morphological and ideological levels and
should thereby contribute to understanding the range of forms taken by tribal
societies in Odisha, including in relation to caste society. This study of the
Gutob Gadaba provides a foundation for this regional comparison.

fundamental ideological differences in relation to the ideas of karma (retribution for actions)
and varna (the four-level ideological status framework).
 Many of the mentioned characteristics of tribal societies apply to the Desia and the Gadaba:
the lack of central political authority, the generalized segmentary structure, the insignificance of
the tribal society’s empirical boundaries, global morphological structures, and the idea of the
social whole on different levels. I go into greater detail about some differences between the caste
system, which is organized around the idea of ritual purity, and the Gadaba system when I
discuss the “jajmani” system.
 1.6 Organization and Theses 51

1.6 Organization and Theses

Following this introduction, the study is divided into two parts: a first part con-
cerned with the Gadaba social order and a second part that deals with Gadaba
rituals and festivals. In each chapter, the ethnographic data are largely presented
separately from their interpretation and analysis. Each of the following chapters
ends with a conclusion in which the essential aspects of the chapter are summar-
ized and their relevance to general theoretical and regional questions is brought
out. None of the theoretical discussions, this introduction included, makes any
claims to comprehensiveness. The function of these discussions is to situate the
study in a larger context, to point out general questions and problems, and to
provide the background for my analysis. Interpreting the data and drawing con-
nections among the content of the individual chapters make up the primary
focus of the chapter conclusions.
Chapter 2 addresses the Gadaba social order and is intended, among other
things, to forestall the need for repeated explanations of indigenous and techni-
cal terms in the ethnography of the rituals. Consequently, the reader may begin
directly with the descriptions of the rituals and consult the relevant sections of
chapter 2 as needed. In addition, this chapter aims to provide a compressed pre-
sentation of the organization of a Central Indian highland society that can be of
interest even for those readers whose focus is not the study of ritual processes.
I use the term “social order” in a broad sense, one that includes this society’s
social practice, morphology, and ideology. Starting from the Gadaba’s smallest
social unit, the house, I take up each of the superordinate segments of the social
order in turn, in order to examine the significant categories, groups, and rela-
tionships. My description draws on Georg Pfeffer’s studies of Central Indian so-
cial structures, along with my own ethnographic data, and I also make reference
to other ethnographic studies of the region’s tribal groups. In the chapter conclu-
sion, I address indigenous distinctions between “genealogical” and “classificato-
ry” social relationships, with special attention to the significance of the closely
related aspects of descent, territoriality, and ritual commensality for the consti-
tution of consanguineal ties or “kinship.” I introduce the term “village clan” to
describe a specific variant of a general Central Indian pattern of social organiza-
tion.
The second part of the study begins with chapter 3, on life-cycle rituals. Here
I describe the ritual transformations that individuals undergo in the course of
and after their lives and in which alimentary processes of feeding and eating
play a central role. In the literature on the Gadaba, the last stage of the mortuary
ritual, gotr, has attracted the most attention, and I summarize the existing state
of research before presenting my own data on this ritual. The chapter conclusion
52 1 Introduction

first takes up the debate about “non-Western” concepts of the person, then turns
to the various stages of the ritual transformations that take place in the course of
the life cycle. In my analysis, I concentrate on the aspect of the circulation of
gifts in the context of the marriage and mortuary rituals and on the role of affinal
and agnatic relationships in these processes. On the one hand, the movement of
these gifts underlines fundamental differences between agnatic and affinal proc-
esses of exchange that could be described in terms of the opposition between
assimilation and reproduction; on the other hand, fundamental similarities are
apparent in the alternating movement of exchange components between villages
and across generations. The elementary problematic of the relationship between
self and other, which implicitly underlies all processes of exchange, since gifts
are transformed and change sides through these transactions, appears in an es-
pecially pointed form in the case of an affinal gift that is part of the gotr ritual.
Affinal relatives bring a buffalo – in principle, an agnatic gift – to the sponsor of
the ritual, a buffalo, moreover, that represents a deceased member of the spon-
sor’s family. As a product and gift of the affines, this resurrected agnate is from
the sponsor’s perspective – just as it is from that of the givers – at the same time
both a member of his own group and an other. In addition, a connection to mar-
riage is evident in this transaction, since the givers of brides and buffaloes are
identical, confirming and extending Pfeffer’s thesis of an analogy between mar-
riage and mortuary rites. The affinal gift of a buffalo does not lead to reproduc-
tion of the recipient’s group, but rather to reproduction of the plants of the dry
fields, and it is not directed to the ritual sponsor alone. This gift takes the form of
a generalized predation, as I describe it in allusion to Maurice Bloch’s terminol-
ogy: the buffalo is sliced open, and its innards are ripped out, potentially by any-
one (with a few exceptions), and buried in the earth, in order to make the earth
fertile. The processes of an individual’s transformation thus extend beyond the
borders of what is generally understood as the “life cycle” and are part of an en-
compassing transformative and reproductive structure that also includes the rit-
uals of the annual cycle.
While the transformation of individuals is brought about through processes
of alimentary exchange – reciprocal feeding and eating – the commensal sharing
of sacrificial food comes to the forefront in the seasonal rituals and festivals de-
scribed in chapter 4. The most important commensal unit, which represents the
village as a whole, is called the “Four Brothers,” and I consequently speak in this
context about the “table of the agnates.” The rituals of the annual cycle are con-
nected on the one hand to the structure of the village community, on the other to
agricultural activities and the relationship to the environment. The conceptuali-
zation of the environment is the first aspect I take up at the beginning of the
chapter conclusion, where I argue that a separate realm of economy or ecology
 1.6 Organization and Theses 53

cannot be assumed among the Gadaba. Rather, from their perspective, relation-
ships to the different categories of the landscape are subject to general social pa-
rameters, such as affinity and consanguinity, and are renewed and influenced
through ritual and exchange. My analysis then concentrates on the structured
processes and movements of these rituals, as well as the representations articu-
lated through this medium. I begin with the analysis of an individual ritual, then
interpret the structure and meaning of the roughly four-week April festival, and
attempt in a further step to elucidate the relationships of the various seasonal
festivals to one another. It becomes clear in the course of this analysis that
the two festivals of the dry season are contrasted to the most important festival
of the rainy season through a variety of distinctive traits, including the opposi-
tion between wet rice fields and dry fields. The implications of this opposition
are the final topic discussed. In various ways, the rituals of the annual cycle ar-
ticulate a consanguineal conception of the dry fields and an affinal conception
of the rice paddies, something that becomes particularly clear in two contexts in
which a connection to the life-cycle rituals is explicitly made, depicting the
plants of the dry fields as children of the village and the paddy rice harvest as
a bride. This classification also thereby contrasts two fundamentally opposed
forms of social relationships, those that are symmetrical and ideally based on
reciprocity (feeding/eating) and those that are unpredictable and one-sided (de-
vouring). In addition, I draw out the syntagmatic and paradigmatic correlations
between the different reproductive processes, that is, those in which affinal cat-
egories play a role. The ritual transformations and transactions involving brides
(marriage), rice brides (paddy rice harvest), and buffalo brides (gotr) make visi-
ble the ways in which the processes of the life cycle and the annual cycle are en-
meshed with one another.
Chapter 5 deals with rituals that seek to influence various forms of precari-
ous relationships; we can call these healing rituals. Precarious relationships are
characterized by one-sidedness and violence, expressed in the Gadaba’s fre-
quently used alimentary idiom of devouring, in contrast to reciprocal feeding
and eating or sharing food. In the first four sections of the chapter, I examine
the social meaning of illness and calamity and describe the indigenous under-
standings of their causes, the types of specialists and their methods, and the
means that healers use. Following this general portion of the discussion, case
studies of the different forms of precarious relationships are presented. They
are concerned with relationships broken off through curses, with the consequen-
ces and treatment of different forms of rituals of “destruction” (nosto), with the
practice of exorcism, and with the warding off of demons. In the chapter conclu-
sion, the essential characteristics of the rituals are summarized and compared
with the rituals of the life cycle and the annual cycle. The relationships of eat-
54 1 Introduction

ing/feeding and of sharing, as they come to the fore in the rituals of the life cycle
and the annual cycle, can be made precarious through transgressions of the
proper order, negligence, or unmotivated attacks from the outside (demons),
so that (prophylactic or therapeutic) healing rituals can play a role in all ritual
contexts. Nevertheless, healing rituals constitute an autonomous form of ritual
action, distinguished by the activities of particular specialists, a high degree
of prescribed improvisation, a negative alimentary mode, and a high degree of
physical violence. The specialists who perform healing rituals employ violence
as well as diplomatic and pacificatory means and threaten the attacking powers
with more than just verbal expressions such as “You are the goat, I am the tiger.”
Since the content of the individual chapters is summarized at the end of
each one, I have refrained from providing another summary in the conclusion
to the volume. This conclusion returns to the study’s central ideas and under-
lines the complementary potentials of alimentary rituals, the articulation of
ideas on the one hand and the transformation of and exercise of influence on
social life on the other. Finally, the different types of relationships that come
to the fore in the different ritual contexts are contrasted, making it clear that
feeding, sharing, and devouring signify actions, processes, and relationships
of social life that carry distinct values within a moral order.
Part One: The Social Order
2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups,
Relationships
Our aim is neither to separate social
morphology from social representations, nor to
view one as the reflection of the other, but to
order all social facts according to a society’s
values, to achieve an understanding of a
particular society and to compare it with others.
Cécile Barraud (1990, 216)

This chapter is intended to describe the Gadaba’s social order, that is, the social
relationships, groups, and categories on which this society is founded and in
which it is embedded. A separate morphological description of this kind may
give the impression that entities like the house or the lineage exist – perhaps
timelessly – on their own and can be isolated from the rest of the culture, as
mere social forms. The opposite is the case, since this morphology is continuous-
ly generated by means of social life and economic and ritual activities. Gadaba
rituals shape and make real the social order in an ongoing process and thereby
also alter that order.
To this extent, it would therefore be logical to let the description of the social
order follow that of the rituals, in order to articulate this fact through the organ-
ization of the text as well. This sequence would also correspond to the process by
which knowledge is acquired in the field. Although appropriate to the subject
matter, however, this approach creates great difficulties for the reader, since it
only gradually becomes possible to recognize the basic patterns of social organ-
ization. For this reason, this chapter will sketch the social context in which the
rituals take place, even though it is the rituals that first reveal the social relation-
ships, groups, and categories and lend them significance.
My description of the Gadaba social order moves from the microlevel, the
smallest social units, to the macrolevel, the more encompassing configurations.
This egocentric perspective comes closest to the Gadaba’s indigenous viewpoint,
since “society” for them is not a sociocentric unit with sharply defined borders;
rather, each village is situated at the center of a network of relationships, the pe-
ripheries of which are not clearly delimited.¹ As Sahlins (1968) describes in ref-

 Sahlins (1968) contrasts this perspective, a series of concentric circles that indicate the dif-
ferent sectors of social or kinship ties (from the “household” to the “tribe”), to the sociocentric
and non-specific perspective that views the segmentary structure as a family tree of branching,
subordinate units (from the “tribe” to the “household”). The author calls the latter “levels of
58 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

erence to tribal societies in general, the smallest social units show the greatest
cohesion and the highest degree of cooperation, while higher-level organization-
al units are characterized by increasing vagueness and have decreasing function-
al relevance. From the indigenous perspective, the “tribe” is often nearly mean-
ingless (16), and among the Desia, membership in a specific tribal group is often
less important for ritual relationships than membership in a particular descent
category or local group.
As explained in the introduction, tribal societies are distinguished by a gen-
eralized structure in which a single institution – a dance or a ritual – touches on
a variety of political, economic, or religious themes. In the same way, the rela-
tionships and social units described in this chapter affect the most varied realms
of social life. A “house” is a work unit, a commensal group, and a ritual com-
munity; it has a spatial organization and a particular manner of construction,
one that articulates fundamental values in its turn. All relevant aspects will be
discussed with the necessary brevity in connection with the relevant social
units. Separate chapters on, for example, “the economy” or “the pantheon”
will be omitted, since the economy, spatial structure, and relationship to the
gods are parts of a single social order.
Social relationships and units are described both on the level of indigenous
conceptualizations of society (cf. Pfeffer 1991, 1997a) and on that of observed
practice, since only by taking both levels into account can something close to
social reality be depicted. The corresponding frame of reference is made clear
in the text in each case.²

2.1 The House

Greetings, Great God
The earth below, the heavens (sun/moon) above
See, Great God!
We/One should become like washed rice and opening flowers³

sociocultural integration” (16), to which specific functional aspects are assigned, since each level
organizes certain tasks (defense, work organization, ritual). The former “sectors of sociocultural
relations” are fields that determine group membership and establish the conditions for inter-
action (peaceful interaction, various forms of conflict).
 Qualifications such as “in principle,” “generally,” or “ideally” indicate the normative level.
 Cf. Elwin (1950, 147), who cites the identical line in a Bondo invocation in the context of the
pat kanda sacrifice: “Let us be like the washed rice and the blossoming flower.” (Elwin does not
give the Desia or Remo.)
 2.1 The House 59

Today we eat our festival (…)⁴

Today we obey the festival
Full moon or new moon
See, Great God
One half to the hearth, [the other to] doron deli
A post and a bundle of grass
We/One should become like washed rice and opening flowers
Full moon or new moon
As the dissari has said, so we do
See [protect] the children, the daughters
The cattle, the sons, the agriculture, the harvest⁵
[We] hurry to bow down
[Protect us] where [we] walk, where we go
Maintain [it] good [and] even
Today we eat, irrespective of whether it is tasteless or bitter
Vomiting and diarrhea should not come near us
Watch over the sons, the daughters, the grandchildren, the house and the yard
Watch over us with benevolence⁶

An invocation of this kind, rapidly spoken,⁷ is addressed by a householder to the

house god (doron deli), represented by the central post, prior to a sacrifice in the
context of a village festival.⁸ Essential aspects of the house, which will be fleshed
out in the course of this chapter, are expressed in this invocation.
A house (gor, dien*) consists primarily of the red, laterite-bearing earth, that
is, of a substance viewed by the Gadaba as living, since it contains jibon. ⁹ Like

 The word sondki – cf. the Desia transcription – is unclear; it may mean “carefulness.”
 Literally in each case, “protect the ‘place of the children,’ the ‘place of the daughters’” etc.
 Juar maphru, tole je bosmoti upore dorom, dek maphru, doila chaul phutla phul para hei kori.
Aji ame porob ke sondki kailuni. Aji porob manluni, puni ki uas ki. Dek maphru, gore nela goro puja
– oda tsuli, doron deli – ek deli motek piri – doila chaul phutla phul para hei kori, puni ki uas ki.
Dissari koila boila ame korluni. Dek tui pila tane – jila tane, gou loge –puo loge, tas loge – besia
loge, udolboi loi kori, buliba tane, chaliba loge tume bol soman roki kori roibar. Aji kosa ki pita ki
kailuni, ebe bati ki bondar ki lagbar nai. Pila tane – jila tane, nati loge – nuti loge, gor tane – duar
tane jogi kori. Tume bol babre amke dekbar ache.
 The invocations are spoken in a wide variety of ways. Some men speak loudly and clearly,
while others just murmur the words, and only the address to the god (dek maphru) can be heard
clearly.
 Invocations in other ritual contexts are similar in content.
 Much of what will be said about the house in this chapter also applies to the houses of the
other Desia (I was able to acquire some experience of the houses of the Dombo, Rona, Goudo,
and Joria), including, for example, the division of the house into two parts and the re-
presentation of the house deity by the central wooden post with the name of doron deli. In the
60 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

the body, a house offers protection and is threatened from the outside. An old
house is torn down, the lumps of mud are mixed with water and stamped
down, and a new house is erected from the same material. The reddish-brown
walls appear to grow out of the earth like termite mounds. On the occasion of
the ritual erection of doron deli in the course of the housebuilding process,
kordi rice is cooked, as it is for human rites of passage. A round house is referred
to as a “hair house” (chendi dien*), because the round thatched roof resembles
human hair.¹⁰ A house’s entire harvest is stored under its roof, and in the two
rooms beneath, human beings live, sacrifice, eat, are born, and die.

Construction and Furnishing

Until a few years ago, Gadaba houses were roofed exclusively with various kinds
of dried grasses (piri, ulong*), which need to be replaced roughly every three
years. Today, those who can afford it purchase clay tiles (tail, from English
“tile”). The exact size of the houses varies, but as a rule, a house with the
usual rectangular floorplan is no longer than six meters and no wider than
four meters. From the exterior, a visitor immediately notices the painting: ab-
stract, geometrical forms such as rectangles and straight lines. Not counting
the more rarely employed industrially-produced colors (mostly blue), four colors
are used: red (rong, rong kang*), white (dobla, pile kang*), black (kala, ide
kang*), and ocher yellow (oldi rong). The women make black by mixing soot
with water, while the other three colors are derived from different-colored
types of earth (mati, tubo’*). Collecting the earth and painting the houses are
tasks performed by women only and are always done in advance of festivals.
A house’s single entrance is found in the middle of one of the two long walls
and is flanked to the left and right by two verandas (pinda) protected from the
sun and rain by the overhanging roof. The roof is held up on this side by four
posts erected in the verandas. To enter a house, it is necessary to first bend
slightly in order to duck under the roof and then stand in front of the entrance
door and between the two verandas. Entering the house proper requires bending
again, since the doors are too low to pass through in an upright position. Hence,
a house is always entered or exited in a stooped posture.

details, significant differences presumably exist, which can only be properly addressed in a
systematic comparison that is beyond the scope of this study.
 With this exception, no other analogies to the human body are made.
 2.1 The House 61

The entrance leads into the house’s larger room, the “cooking house” (doi-
doinu dien*) or “big room” (boro bakra). The entrant first has to let his eyes ad-
just to the relative darkness, since the houses have no windows, only a few small
openings in the walls to allow air to circulate. The light cast by the small oil lamp
(boti) lit in the evenings illuminates only a small part of the room. While the Ga-
daba are able to stand up straight after entering a house, the ceilings of split
bamboo or wooden planks are too low to allow most Europeans the same com-
fort.
In this room, all the activities of daily life take place: cooking, sleeping, eat-
ing, sex. The furnishings of the houses are almost identical; relative wealth is
more often discernible in the size of the stable and, related to it, the number
of fields. The cooking hearth (tsuli, tiri’song*) is often found in the corner of
the room farthest from the door, so that women have their backs to the door
while cooking. The wooden framework (turjula, ondrei’so*) over the hearth
serves to dry fish, meat, or grain, especially during the rainy season, when the
periods of sunshine are insufficient. The hearth itself is made from earth and
has one or two places for setting down pots. A small ledge (the “small veranda,”
pindoli) runs along one wall, offering a place to sit, while round metal and clay
pots are piled along another. A clothesline runs along a third wall and holds
blankets and garments. When a house is built, short pieces of wood are inserted
into the mud walls before they harden to serve as hooks, and small niches for oil
lamps are sometimes also hollowed out. The mud floor, regularly painted with a
mixture of manure and water (goboro pani, i’tang da*), like the yard, has a pit
(kutni, sa’al*) in one corner for pounding rice and millet. The grinding stone
(jata) is found, for example, behind the entrance door. Smaller items such as
money, tobacco, knives, sickles, or arrows are kept between the crossbeams
(dulom) and the ceiling or under the roof over the veranda. Other than low wood-
en benches (pida, pitom*), which serve as both seats (especially for guests) and
headrests for sleeping, and bamboo mats (tati, senla*) for sitting and sleeping, a
house does not contain any “furniture.”¹¹ The walls and timbers of the big room
are often painted even more elaborately than the exterior walls, and as in the
case of the latter, certain patterns are preferred, but not required. It is left to
the women to choose how they adorn their houses with color, but once a pattern
is chosen, it remains the same until the house is torn down.

 In rare cases, wooden beds are found in the houses, in which case they take up much of the
space.
62 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Photo 1: Front view of a house (mur dien*)

The house in the photo is occupied by its third generation of inhabitants. The black color used
for the veranda is unusual. In the background, a large tamarind tree is visible, which marks the
assembly plaza for the lower half of the village. A gotr megalithic monument (ga munda)
belonging to the Sisa is also located there.

The second room of the house is not open to a free choice of colors, but is
always painted with the red earth pigment¹² – something that can be done only
on festival days – and is also subject to special treatment in other ways. This
“inner room” or “inner house” (bitor bakra, gondi dien*, alung dien*) is found
next to the big room on the left or right side and is generally no wider than
about 120 centimeters. The entrance to the inner room from the big room is
most often open; less commonly, it is protected by an additional door. In a
few cases, the floor of the inner room is slightly higher than that of the big
room (see figure 2).
The inner room is the place of the house deity and of the sacrificial meal.
Except for the occasional storage of items there, this room is defined solely by
ritual activities related to sacrifice, cooking, and harvest. The cooking hearth
for the sacrificial meal – sometimes a fixed installation as in the big room, oth-

 “Because the god (maphru) does not live there otherwise,” an informant said. In fact, I have
never observed an exception to this rule.
 2.1 The House 63

Photo 2: The inner room (gondi dien*)

As part of the April festival (chait porbo), the inner room of the house has been freshly painted
with red-brown earth pigment. The house’s central post, doron deli, the house deity, is on the
left. Like the new cooking pot, in which water is being heated for tsoru rice, the post has been
decorated with garlands made from leaves of the mango tree.
64 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

erwise just three loose stones – is located in the corner furthest from the en-
trance to the inner house. This room is visually dominated by a post (doron
deli) that supports the central rooftree (mul patia) and represents the house
deity of the same name. This post is also in principle painted with red earth pig-
ment.
The loft (raso), which is not further divided, is accessible only from the inner
room, by way of a ladder made of split bamboo and leading to an opening in the
ceiling. Rice and millet are stored here, brought from the fields to the threshing
floor after the harvest, and then to the loft only by way of the inner room, of
which the loft is to a certain extent a vertical extension. Like the inner room,
the loft is not open to strangers (who take their place only on the veranda in
the first instance) or to married sisters or daughters of the house (and affines
in general, although this is not always strictly enforced).¹³ In this upper portion
of the house, the central post is not painted, and the same applies to the walls, if
there are any, something that depends on the type of roof.
The form of the roof – to a lesser extent, the choice between thatch and tiles
– determines the type of house. A round roof has a round floorplan as a conse-
quence, and as mentioned, houses of this kind are called hair houses. I know of
only one house of this type in the entire region, and I was unfortunately unable
to go in, but was only allowed to look in from the outside. From the comments of
older Gadaba, it can be deduced that round houses were still common around
thirty years ago, but that houses with a rectangular floorplan also already exist-
ed at that time. Round houses had and have three rooms but nevertheless exhibit
a binary basic structure. A wall divides the house into two halves, where the half
with the entrance is the big room and the other is the inner house, in which
doron deli stands. The inner half is again divided by a lower and shorter wall.
Doron deli may be located in either the middle room or the rearmost one, but
tsoru should be cooked only in the room furthest within. In the round house I
saw, the floor of the rear half is raised about ten centimeters, indicated in figure
2 by gray shading.
The division of the inner room by means of an additional wall is also occa-
sionally found in houses with a rectangular floorplan, of which there are two

 Even the shadows of affines should not fall on the inner room, since misfortune (bipod) may
otherwise ensue. A man reported to me how, while he was far from home for wage labor, his
head was suddenly turned to the side, and he could no longer close his mouth. Later, after his
return home, he discovered the cause. A woman pregnant with an out-of-wedlock child (upka
pila) had entered his house, and her shadow had fallen into the inner room. He had felt the
effect of this transgression at a great distance. Since then, he has set up a bamboo mat in front of
the entrance in order to protect the inner room.
 2.1 The House 65

types. Houses with two-sided roofs are called dandual dien*, and houses with
four-sided roofs are called mur dien*. They are distinguished only by the form
of the roof and the number of sides (two or four).
The two-room house is the most common form, as it is among other tribal
groups in the region as well. Variations of this basic type include, for example,
building several houses contiguous to one another or erecting a wall in front of
the veranda and stretching along one side of the house to the rear yard. An addi-
tional room is also occasionally added on. A final variant is found four times in
Gudapada, the village where my research took place. Two of the houses were
built during my time there, and their predecessors consisted of the usual two
rooms. In this case, the “kitchen” becomes a separate room, and tellingly, some-
one sitting in the “kitchen” will speak of the “house” (gor) when referring to the
other big room and the inner room off of it. The idea of the house thus refers to
the basic unit of two rooms, independent of how many annexes or extensions
exist.
A yard (duar, dand), a stable (goru sal), and a garden (bogicha, aro*) belong
to a house. The yard is often surrounded by stone walls, and the closely spaced
houses of a group of brothers sometimes form a single yard with only one en-
trance. The yards are locations for household work and for conversation.
Women from the neighborhood pound rice together here, each house has its
own private stock of firewood that is chopped into smaller pieces here, and
men sharpen axes or make fishing nets here. Especially in the cold season
from November to February, fires around which the inhabitants sit and warm
themselves burn in each yard morning and evening. The yards are usually
large enough for around twenty people to be able to sit on the ground. Guests
are hosted here, if they are too numerous to be able to sit in the house, and as-
semblies that concern only the house (e. g., in the case of a dispute) are held
here.
The stable for cattle, water buffaloes, sheep, and goats is found in the yard,
possibly along with a separate enclosure for pigs. Chickens are kept in the house
at night, as are newborn calves and kids. Although each house generally has its
own stable, several houses may share one. Cattle, buffaloes, goats, and sheep are
driven out of the village to pasture in the morning and return to the village in the
late afternoon, at the “time when the cattle churn up dust” (goru duli bela). Pigs
and chickens wander freely between the houses all day. Working animals are lent
to other houses, but ownership is always unambiguous, even among brothers,
who as a rule have separate stables.
Various types of beans, squashes, and other vegetables are grown during the
rainy season (June to September) in small gardens (around fifty square meters on
average), located behind the houses or at least nearby, but little labor is invested
66 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Figure 1: Floorplan of a house (mur or dandual dien*)

into these gardens in comparison to the rice and millet fields. Wooden fences
separate one garden from another and prevent goats and pigs from eating the
plants. However, they are no protection against bears, who are lured into the vil-
lage by the ripe breadfruits (ponos). Since the gardens are not watered, they dis-
appear completely in the dry season, the fences are torn down, and the resulting
open spaces are used as a playground for the children and as festival plazas.

The House as a Social Group

As the smallest segment of the social order, the house¹⁴ – the “house people”
(gor lok) – consists most often of an adult man (munus, ondra, remol*), his
wife (maiji, maikina, kimboy*), and their unmarried children (pila, o’on*). Less
often, a son lives with his wife in the same house as his parents. When this hap-
pens, there is often an additional, smaller house, with or without doron deli, in
which the parents sleep. The daughter-in-law takes over cooking in this case, and
there is only one cooking hearth. At the time when a young man “fetches”
(anbar, ring*) a wife (dangri, onop*), a house of their own should nevertheless
be built – or an available one occupied – something that takes place in the im-

 I also speak of the “house,” and not of the “hearth” or “household,” when the social unit
and its members are meant.
 2.1 The House 67

Figure 2: Floorplan of a round house (chendi dien*)

mediate vicinity of the houses of the parents and older brothers. In principle,
therefore, neighbors are brothers.
The continuity of a house as a social group is ensured by its sons, who divide
their father’s land in equal shares.¹⁵ Male descendants are important in order
that others (brothers of the local line with male descendants) do not “eat”

 In the early 1960s, the land was surveyed and title deeds (pata) were distributed to the
Gadaba. The names in the tahsildar’s records are those of the grandfathers of the young men
living today, not those of the current possessors. Independent of the official documents, fields
are often subleased.
68 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

(kai debar) the land, that is, take it over.¹⁶ Rights to land are passed down pat-
rilineally, but the house is not significant in the context of a patrilineal geneal-
ogy. The names of patrilineal ancestors are quickly forgotten, and often, not even
the great-grandfathers are remembered. In part, names are maintained as labels
for groups (not for individual houses, but rather on the level of the local line)
without the genealogical ties being known. Likewise, the houses as buildings
do not represent linear ancestors, and there are no ancestral houses that persist
across generations, like those known from Southeast Asia, for example.¹⁷ The
houses of one’s fathers continue in use or are torn down, and old objects,
such as ritual swords, are not venerated for their ancestral connections. As on
the other levels of the social structure, the system is oppositional and local,
not genealogical (cf. Pfeffer 1997a).
Sons are also desirable in order that they will hold the mortuary rituals for
their parents. A father is responsible for his son’s wedding, and a son for his pa-
rents’ mortuary rituals. Childless men fear that their brothers’ sons might neglect
their ritual duties due to the expense involved. This suspicion, which is also ex-
pressed during the individual’s lifetime and may lead to conflict, is one reason
that – in rare cases – the elderly may provide for their own rites and go through
the final, very expensive rituals before death.
In Gudapada at the time I was there, several houses in my immediate neigh-
borhood had the worry of having had “only” daughters or of having lost their
sons early. Although daughters contribute to a house’s prosperity under certain
circumstances through their bridewealth, a house gradually loses its entire labor
force without a daughter-in-law to serve as a replacement. A seldom-practiced
possibility for dealing with this problem consists in bringing a son-in-law into
the house. It is feared, however, that this “son-in-law in the house” (goro juai)
will lead to conflict and harmful magic within the group of brothers, and this al-
ternative is therefore highly unpopular.¹⁸
A woman changes the house to which she belongs upon marriage, when she
moves to her husband’s village. She becomes part of her husband’s household
from a ritual and commensal perspective and adopts his name, but not his de-

 McDougal (1963, 102) writes about the Juang, “The worst curse is, ‘may you die without
sons’!”
 Houses may nonetheless grow relatively old. An old woman in Gudapada affirmed that her
house had been built not by her parents-in-law, but by their parents. If so, the house would be
more than sixty years (three generations) old.
 Over generations, the individual “son-in-law in the house” may give rise to an internal
affinal group that may preserve the memory of its village of origin, maintain multifarious links to
it, and be named after it.
 2.1 The House 69

scent category (bonso). Even when her husband dies, a woman generally remains
in his village, but conflict can motivate her to return to her brothers.
Women carry a large part of the house’s moveable wealth on their bodies in
the form of jewelry (necklaces, nose rings, and earrings, preferably of gold).
Money acquired by wage labor is preferentially invested in gold jewelry, which
in case of need – in the event of sickness, poor harvests, or expensive rituals
– is taken to the pawnbroker in Jeypore or sold. A house’s wealth – gold, fields,
and livestock – is thus clearly visible and a matter of public knowledge. Gold
jewelry that a woman takes with her to her husband’s house is demanded
back by the descendants of her brother (the mother’s brother’s group, from
the perspective of the husband’s children) at the time of her death. Whether
and how much jewelry is actually returned, however, depends on negotiations
and on whether the gold was used (“eaten”) in the woman’s lifetime. In the latter
case, the bride-giver’s house is without recourse, but it is generally said that the
mother’s brother or his local group (kutum) will be content with little, if he has a
heart (“life,” jibon), although the initial demand is always for everything. A
house’s moveable wealth in the form of jewelry therefore only theoretically re-
turns in full to the house of the bride-giver, to be passed on to daughters and
wives.
As long as an elderly couple (dokra dokri, kuni’ undam*) live together, they
run a shared household, cook for themselves, and collect their own firewood. If
one partner dies, the remaining individual eats in the house of one (or several) of
the sons, for whom he or she must also work. There is no one who does not work,
and just as children slowly learn the different activities corresponding to their
gender, the elderly carry out various tasks as they are able. Even an almost en-
tirely blind woman can protect millet drying in the sun from chickens and pigs,
sweep the yard, or collect dung and bring it to the manure heap. Widowed indi-
viduals (widower, randa; widow, randi) also have the possibility of marrying
again, but without going through the complex ritual process prescribed for
young people. Remarriage by widows is not stigmatized, and a widow can
seek a new spouse among her late husband’s “brothers,” among other possibil-
ities.
As long as the elderly continue to live in their house, which contains a cen-
tral post as house god (doron deli), the regular sacrifices must also be performed.
In the case of a widow, her sons can perform this task. I am also aware of one
case in which a widow carried out the sacrifices herself, although women as a
rule do not act as sacrificers. One possibility for avoiding the obligatory sacrifices
is to move into a small house (kuti) or annex without doron deli. Another possi-
bility is to tear down the inner house. The middle wall then becomes an exterior
70 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Photo 3: Doing housework

The fruits of the tamarind tree are peeled on the house’s veranda. The household implements
(plow, spade) in the background are still wrapped in mango garlands, indicating that the April
festival is not long past and the rainy season has not yet begun.
 2.1 The House 71

wall, doron deli stands outside the walls – is thus redefined – and the roof is cor-
respondingly shortened. I did not observe this measure in the case of widowers.
Young girls (budi, onu’on*) and boys (pila, odu’on*) sleep with their parents
in the big room of the house. Care is generally taken to see that the sleepers’ feet
do not point toward doron deli, since feet are a low-status body part. Equally, the
head should not point toward the door, since this corresponds to the position in
which the dead are carried from the house.
Older girls (dangri, onop*) and boys (dangra, orup*) often do not sleep in
their parents’ houses, but in small single-sex groups in other houses where
space happens to be available. These houses are then called “boys’ house” (dan-
grabasa) and “girls’ house” (dangribasa). Among the Gadaba living today – in
contrast to other tribal groups¹⁹ – this structure is neither permanent nor a
vital institution, in either location or composition. Some of the boys and girls
who attend school also sleep and eat there. Other boys amuse themselves by
building their own temporary shelters next to their parents’ houses, sometimes
only for a few nights. Generally, it can be said that the elderly and the older chil-
dren sleep in various and in some cases frequently changing locations (in part
also in groups), while the parents’ generation and the younger children normally
stay in their houses.
Although the makeup of the house community is constant in principle,
short-term and even long-term ruptures may occur. Marriage relationships are
notably less stable before the birth of the first child and can be brought to an
end by either side, with the corresponding compensation payments. A married
couple may also separate at a later stage, in which case the children, especially
the sons, remain with the father, who looks for a new wife. As a rule, however, a
married woman expresses her displeasure and her annoyance about an unac-
ceptable situation at home by means of a temporary departure. If a wife is beaten
“too much” – physical conflict between married couples is a relatively common
occurrence – or if her husband drinks “too much,” so that work goes undone,
she decamps to her brothers’ house and stays there until her husband comes
to get her. The men are quickly overwhelmed by the work that needs to be
done in the house and turn up at their in-laws’ house within a few days, present-
ing a mildly submissive attitude. They sometimes have to go several times to
plead for the return of their wives, if the women initially refuse. It also happens,
however, that no one comes to get a woman, and her brothers go to the hus-

 Various ethnographies describe the youth houses of the Juang (McDougal 1963), Dongria
Kond (Jena et al. 2002), Bondo (Elwin 1950), and Muria (Gell 1992), among others; cf. also Pfeffer
(1996).
72 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

band’s village to ask why he has stayed away and to encourage him to come for
his wife. They fear that their brother-in-law is planning to bring a new wife home
and finds his current wife’s voluntary flight a convenient way to avoid having to
pay compensation.
The elderly also leave home in order to withdraw from situations of conflict,
thereby publicly expressing their disapproval at the same time. An elderly widow
who lived with her second husband’s adult children refused for many days to re-
turn home or to eat or sleep there. She had observed that the young wife of the
house was having an affair, or at least so she claimed, and she slept and ate in
different houses (in the other half of the village, her first husband’s group) as a
protest, to the great discomfort of the woman she aimed to punish. Questions
about the reason for the departure were probably asked in every house, and
the young woman undertook (through intermediaries) multiple failed attempts
to convince the older woman to return, before she finally agreed to do so.
In several other cases, fathers left the houses of their married sons. I was fre-
quently able to observe physically violent confrontations between adult sons and
their fathers; in one case, things went so far as to result in the father’s death.²⁰ In
the house in which I ate during my research, physical violence in disputes be-
tween the widowed grandfather and his son was far from rare. The violence
was always initiated by the son. The old man provoked him only when he was
drunk, but he harassed his daughter-in-law when his son was away for wage
labor, giving occasion for new conflict when the son returned. “The son is the
king (raja),” the old man’s son commented, since it is the adult married men
who lead the rituals within the house and make the decisions, in his view. An-
other elderly married couple in the village had left their son’s compound and
built a small house in another location in order to escape the daily conflict. Dur-
ing my last visit, the old Goudo (from the group of the herders) was also no lon-
ger living in his son’s house, but among the Gadaba, where he looked after him-
self, since Goudo do not accept cooked food from the Gadaba. The village pujari
(sacrificer) and his wife also lived for many months in a small annex to another
house of the same group (kutum), in order to escape a conflict with their son and
daughter-in-law. The pujari’s wife, for her part, left the village entirely for an ex-

 McDougal reports something similar for father/son relationships among the Juang, which
shift from a very warm, intimate relationship when the sons are small to one characterized by
lack of respect and inclination to violence on the part of adult sons. “Although respect is
formally due [to] their fathers, in practice sons are generally lacking in respect toward them […].
Sons often make fun of their fathers when the latter are intoxicated, and if creating a di-
sturbance while in this state, the father may be insulted or struck by the son” (McDougal 1963,
102 f).
 2.1 The House 73

tended period to live with her brothers. It is consequently not uncommon for
conflicts, rooted in most cases in reciprocal accusations of laziness and excessive
alcohol consumption, to lead to the temporary or even permanent breakup of a
house. Tensions arise especially between young parents and family elders who
live in the same house.

Building a House

The favorable time for building a house begins after the harvest season ends in
January, and the work should be completed before the festival season in March/
April, since a house of one’s own is indispensable for the performance of the rit-
uals. Along with a house’s dilapidated state, recurring illness and misfortune
that befall its inhabitants and their livestock are possible grounds for building
a new house. A ritual specialist (dissari) determines the cause of the illness
through divination and suggests rebuilding, for example, because the front of
the house is facing in the “wrong” direction. Gadaba houses are not aligned
in accordance with the compass directions, and when a new house is built, its
alignment is determined in the first instance by practical considerations such
as its orientation to the surrounding houses. Nevertheless, the auspiciousness
of the alignment is confirmed with the help of a rice oracle²¹ at the start of con-
struction, and the side where the entrance is located is changed if necessary.
The first phase of house construction is carried out by the inhabitants alone.
They mix the clumps of earth from the old house – or new earth – with water
and laboriously tread it into a smooth mass. The first course of the exterior
walls is laid directly at ground level; the houses have no other foundation and
are only slightly raised above the surrounding area. The walls are raised in
stages, roughly forty centimeters high and thick, after each previous course
has dried. Inside the house, a wall separating the inner house from the big
room is built in the same way.
The erection of the central post (doron deli) is an important stage in the con-
struction process.²² The suitable day for setting up doron deli is determined by

 Grains of rice are placed under overturned pots at the four corners of the house and left there
overnight. The correctness of the alignment can be discerned from their position and condition.
 The posts of old houses are reused as long as they are in good condition; if not, new logs are
brought from the forest. Suitable trees are not easy to find these days, and resort is often had to
the government’s tree plantations, that is, to acacia and eucalyptus trees. The trees from which
doron deli is made should stand in a hollow, but not in a visibly obvious row (dar) of trees, and
should not be covered with vines (malo).
74 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

the dissari with the help of his astrological almanac (panji) or through a rice ora-
cle. All the houses under construction in the village set up their posts at the time
he specifies, most often at night or early in the morning, even if they are in var-
ious phases of construction. As soon as the post has been set into the hole in the
earth (or shortly before), the householder ties a bundle of straw over the fork at
the top of doron deli and places a crossbeam (dulom) in front. The woman of the
house cooks kordi rice (bamboo shoots and fish) – a food typical of rites of pas-
sage such as birth, marriage, and death – in the inner house, and all inhabitants
of the house take part in the meal. The pot with the remaining food is tied to
doron deli.
The house’s fundamental structure has now been determined, all essential
spaces and relationships are present, and from a ritual perspective, the house
is complete. The house has an entrance and hence a directional alignment, its
two rooms can be discerned in the floorplan, and the vertical order is also sug-
gested, since doron deli is supplemented by a crossbeam that indicates the level
of the loft. The bundle of straw represents the roof.
Building the wooden frame and covering the roof (chauni, bilei*) is a collec-
tive task. Only men work on the roof itself (I have not seen Dombo help), while
women and children assist from the ground by bringing the grass or tiles. After
the wood and bamboo roof frame has been completed, it is covered with grass or
tiles, normally starting over the entrance. A pig sacrifice for the earth goddess is
obligatory only when tiles are used, “since tiles are made from earth,” as is said.
After the work, all helpers are served beer (pendom) and a snack (chakana), fol-
lowed by rice.²³ The men eat and drink inside the house, while the women and
children sit outside.
With the determination of the house’s directional alignment, the setting up
of doron deli, and finally the completion of the roof, the house has passed
through several important stages and is now ready for occupancy.²⁴ In the period
after the house is completed, a watch is kept for inauspicious signs, however,
and any sickness that strikes the inhabitants is associated with the construction
process. If the house – that is, the people living in it – becomes sick, a dissari is
engaged to carry out a ritual by the name of goro ora (house fever), in order to
combat attacks of all kinds (by demons or sorcerers). The ritual begins with sac-
rifices inside the house and ends at a crossroads or the place where two rivers
come together, so that the sickness is carried away from the house. If no im-

 If a pig is sacrificed, the men eat the cooked head as chakana, and men, women, and
children eat the meat from the body along with rice. However, cooking meat is not obligatory.
 During the construction phase, the inhabitants have been living in a temporary shelter or in
the houses of the householder’s brothers.
 2.1 The House 75

provement in the situation takes place over an extended period, tearing down
the house may become necessary.
In order to keep sickness away from the house to start with, the householder
should carry out a ritual, immediately after the house is complete, in which he
promises a pig sacrifice in the coming year if the house and its inhabitants re-
main unharmed.²⁵ The fulfillment of the vow (mansik) is a ritual called jobor
debar, in which jobor refers to different kinds of wood²⁶ that are buried or offered
(debar) in front of the central post. The pig is sacrificed in the inner part of the
house, for and in front of doron deli, and the head is prepared as tsoru and con-
sumed by the house’s inhabitants. With this sacrifice, the construction process is
complete.
The building phase is clearly similar to the birth and development of a new-
born child, although the Gadaba themselves do not talk about a birth, and no
period of ritual pollution (sutok) follows. Nevertheless, certain parallels appear
between the two processes. Fish and bamboo shoots are cooked and consumed
by the inhabitants of the house when doron deli is set up. This is not tsoru, but
rather signifies the auspiciousness of the transition, as in the case of birth, mar-
riage, or the third day of the mortuary rituals. Other than when doron deli is
erected, this dish is served only in rituals of the life cycle and of the harvest.
In addition, the initial period following construction is evidently viewed as dan-
gerous; the house and its inhabitants are in a vulnerable condition, leading to
ritual precautions that are similar to those of the postnatal stage. The precarious
phase ends with the fulfillment of the vow and the consumption of tsoru, al-
though the house, like the body or the village, potentially remains under threat.

Structure of the House

When parallels were drawn in the last section between the house and the life
cycle, this highlights only one aspect of the house. In fact, the house is a
point of intersection for all conceivable relationships, and there is consequently
almost no ritual context in which the house is not concerned, no ritual process
that does not begin at the house or end there. The house’s full significance will
only become clear after the description of the different rituals and festivals, and
the homology between the house and the village will be taken up later in this

 The ritual in which the vow is made is called “breaking (out) the lower jaw” (banga tora).
The lower jaws (also the beaks) of sacrificial animals are presented as separate offerings in
various ritual contexts.
 Wood from sal or sorgi and mandoi trees.
76 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

chapter. In what follows, I intend to summarize the pivotal relationships within

the house.
The opposition between the two rooms dominates the horizontal level and
articulates seniority in the alimentary and spatial idioms. The relationship of
the “house people” (gor lok) to their god dominates the inner house, which
serves only for ritual, that is, for communication and commensality with the
god, unlike the big room, which is dedicated to daily life. The inner room repre-
sents consanguineal²⁷ relationships; out-married women (ji bouni) have no ac-
cess to this location and no right to the tsoru cooked there. What they are entitled
to is lakka’*, the ritual food prepared at the cooking hearth in the big room. The
phrase of the invocation given above, “one half to the hearth, [the other to] doron
deli” (oda tsuli, doron deli), draws an explicit connection between the cooking
hearth in the big room and the inner room and in my view articulates the hier-
archical opposition and complementary relationship of the two rooms, also ex-
pressed in the sacrificial meals of tsoru and lakka’*. The hearth in the big room is
in no way a profane place, however; tsoru is generally laid out here for the gods,
and when the house is built, a stone is sometimes placed at this location in order
to ensure its auspiciousness (sub). The big room is open to consanguines and af-
fines (bai bondu), and recently deceased members of the house (duma) also
share ritual meals here in their family circle.
Taken together, both rooms become the inside when compared to the exte-
rior of the house. The veranda is the house’s periphery – no longer within the
house but still under its roof – where strangers and individuals of lower status
are received and given hospitality. The eaves in front of the veranda (osona)
are the location where offerings for the dead (duma) are generally made and
tsoru is cooked for the recently deceased. The thresholds (runuk) of the entrance
to the house and to the inner room are considered locations and seats of the
gods, and food is placed there in ritual contexts.
Doron deli supports the ridgepole (mul patia), on which the roof rests, and in
the invocation to the house deity, this vertical relationship is described as “a post
and a bundle of grass” (ek deli motek piri). This refers to the grass (piri) that is

 In what follows, I refer to consanguines when the women of a local group – independent of
their membership in a particular descent category – are included. Unmarried daughters and in-
married wives thus belong to a house’s consanguineal group that eats tsoru together. I refer to
agnates when speaking about the bonso descent categories: all members of the Cobra category,
for example, are agnates and stand as affines in opposition to the groups belonging to the other
descent categories. I also refer to agnates when I need to refer to a group of men of the same
descent category who represent a local group; for example, the “four brothers” are an agnatic
group.
 2.1 The House 77

tied to the upper fork of doron deli at its ritual erection, when no rooftree has yet
been placed there. The grass stands in a metonymic relationship to the roof as a
whole, and the crossbeam – unmentioned in the invocation – immediately laid
in place next to doron deli points to the loft floor where the harvest will later be
stored. The opposition between post and roof can also, however, be understood
as at base an analogy to the opposition between earth and sun/moon, the en-
compassing poles of the cosmos, which are called upon in the first lines of
the invocation: “the earth below, the heavens (sun/moon) above.” On the level
of the house, doron deli represents the earth and stands in opposition to the
roof (grass), the representation of sun/moon. Looking ahead, it can be noted
here that the same analogy reappears on the village level between the shrine
of the village deity hundi (the earth) and a shrine named pat kanda (the sun/
moon).
Alongside the homology between doron deli and the earth, an additional ho-
mology exists between doron deli and the category of man, more precisely the
phallus. “In the way that a man is in a woman, doron deli is in the house,”
was how a male informant explained the house god’s position. It is also said
(by female informants as well) that doron deli is the husband (remol*) and the
rooftree is the wife (kimboy*). It could be said that in the same way that the
house as a social unit is based on the married couple, the house as a building
is held up by the basic structure of these two unlike but complementary wooden
elements.
Doron deli – and perhaps by implication the rooftree as well – is also refer-
red to as mata pita, as “mother-father.” The relationship to the god is thereby
characterized in terms of both seniority and consanguinity. As husband and
wife, doron deli (and the rooftree) represent the procreating generation and
thereby mirror the position of the human couple, the procreators of the youngest
generation; however, all inhabitants of the house are “children” in relation to the
house deity. Doron deli is nearer to human beings than any other deity and
grants them protection, so long as human beings are also attentive to the
god’s wishes and hunger.
This description of the house’s relational aspects has made the multivocality
of its relationships evident. The structure of the house points toward various
analogies (man/woman, earth/sun, hundi/pat kanda) without giving rise to a
fixed and entirely consistent classification. Doron deli stands in opposition to
the rooftree, to the roof (or grass), and to the cooking hearth. This last relation
implies the relationship between the two rooms and their associated ritual
foods. The relative “outside” of the big room becomes an “inside” when seen
from the perspective of the house and its surroundings. The house is then
78 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

once again opposed to the village, a hierarchical and syntagmatic relationship to

which I will return in the section on the village.

2.2 The Local Sub-Line

A local, patrilineal descent group is known as a kutum or gor (house). The houses
of a group of “own brothers” (nijoro bai) compose this unit, for which purpose
the exact genealogical relationships do not necessarily have to be known. “Own
brothers” do not include only the sons of the same man; rather, the male de-
scendants of a paternal grandfather (FF) also understand themselves in this
way. In general, brotherhood can refer to various local segmentary levels and
is used as a classificatory term indicating membership in the same descent cat-
egory (bonso). Likewise, the term kutum – like the term “house” as well – can be
used in a broader sense to mean a family, in which case it indicates inclusivity or
exclusivity vis-à-vis a person or group.
The individual kutum have names that may be of various origins. Some are
derived from ancestors, others from village names or particular activities. The
group with which I lived called itself Chamru Gor (“Chamru’s House”), although
no one could tell me anything about the identity of someone named Chamru. An-
other group is called Kukuda Kato (“sacrificing chickens”), because members of
this group are supposed to have performed this activity in the past.²⁸ Bilaputia
(“people from Bilaput”) is the name of the members of another kutum, because
they are said to have migrated to a village of this name during a drought and re-
ceived this designation after their return.
The meaning of the names is relatively unimportant for the Gadaba; they can
possibly offer a story to explain them, but for them, the names serve merely to
distinguish the groups. Both the term kutum and in some cases the names of
these units are applied to different segmentary levels under certain circumstan-
ces; these are thus not necessarily absolute units, but rather relative and context-
dependent ones. A larger local group (kutum) called Bilaputia is divided into fur-
ther kutum, one of which is again called Bilaputia. After introducing the next-
largest social unit (kuda), I will clarify the structure of the village with a diagram
(see figure 3). As local groups, kutum are relevant for issues of land ownership,
labor cooperation, ritual, and commensality, and in the event of conflicts be-
tween kutum, solidarity within the group can be observed.

 The sacrificers for the village as a whole (matam) nevertheless generally come from the
Chamru Gor group.
 2.2 The Local Sub-Line 79

Claims to land within the kutum and the possible conflicts that go with them
have already been noted previously. In the Naik Gor – the kutum that provides
the naik – there were tensions during the period of my stay resulting from “suc-
cessor shortage” and fear of land takeover within the kutum, as well as from so-
cial and ritual obligations, among other reasons. I will briefly describe the situa-
tion.
The elderly Guru Sisa and his wife Budei were childless (niputri), and the
wife regularly complained to me about who would get her gold jewelry and
who would work their land when they died. The situation became more acute
when Guru’s brother Aita, the naik of the village, met a violent death at the
hands of his son Bishnu, and Aita’s duma caused Guru’s death immediately
thereafter. Budei was now a widow and wanted to prevent Bishnu from taking
over her house’s land. She accused him of not doing anything for her (in the
house, in the fields) and planned to bring in the village council to oblige Bishnu
to provide for her. In January 2003, I witnessed a scene in which she publicly
demanded of him that he perform gotr (the last phase of the mortuary rituals)
for his “fathers” (Aita and Guru), his mother (who had meanwhile poisoned her-
self), and Budei herself,²⁹ a demand to which Bishnu responded with outbursts
of fury. If Budei had had her way, she would have granted the land to Guru’s sis-
ter’s son (HZS), her immediate neighbor. This man, Laxman Sundi,³⁰ was already
working Budei’s fields, and they shared the yield. He was beaten up by Bishnu to
warn him against appropriating any fields for himself. Officially, since Laxman is
not a member of the kutum, he has no claim on the fields.³¹ Another young man
from the same kutum as Bishnu likewise has no claim, since he descends from
another line. Conversely, this man has to fear that Bishnu will “eat” (kai
debar) his land as well, since up to now, his line has had only daughters. It is
likely that the situation will escalate further and lead to a village assembly at
which the topic will be discussed. It is conceivable that Bishnu will be required
to cede a piece of land to Laxman because Laxman has looked after Budei, which
should have been Bishnu’s responsibility. The livestock was already taken over
by Bishnu immediately after Guru’s death.

 In rare cases, this ritual is also conducted for very elderly individuals prior to death.
 His father belonged to the group of the liquor distillers (Sundi) and married (like his son
after him) a Gadaba woman, Guru’s sister.
 During her husband’s lifetime, Budei’s house could theoretically have sold the land to
Laxman Sundi on favorable terms, but it is difficult for her to do this as a widow, since such
transactions are conducted by men, as a rule. Since land transfers are a matter for the village,
Guru’s attempt to sell the entire property outside the kutum would have led to protest and
conflict in any case.
80 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

In general, a claim to land does not lapse even when a group has moved to
another village.³² In one case, an ancestor of Mukund Sisa moved to an affinal
village as goro juai and leased (banda) his land for a small sum. Mukund
Sisa, who was a member of the second generation born in the affinal village, de-
cided to return to his village of origin and redeem the land, which he did. His
brothers were afraid to do so, out of fear of conflict and harmful magic, and
still live in the affinal village today. He has “eaten” their land as well.
As a ritual and commensal unit, the kutum takes concrete form at festivals.
Before the “great hunt” (boro bet) in April (chait), the men of the kutum assemble
in one of their houses in order to cross the boundaries of the village together. On
the chief day of the festival, each house cooks its own tsoru, but commensality
within the kutum is possible on this occasion as well. In either case, cooked rice
(bulani bat) is distributed among the houses of the kutum after the tsoru has
been eaten. From the individual’s perspective, the kutum offers the first opportu-
nity for tsoru commensality, on the day a child is given a name.
In daily life, brothers of a kutum work together in the fields and share their
draft animals, especially at times of intensive plowing and when rice is being
planted. Likewise, women do their work communally in the yards or when col-
lecting wood. It must be stressed, however, that cooperation does not take place
only within the bounds of the kutum; rather, proximity of residence is an impor-
tant criterion for labor help and ritual gift exchange.³³ Nonetheless, neighborli-
ness does not exist as an independent concept or value, since neighbors are ide-
ally members of the same kutum.
The houses of a kutum are tightly interlinked by shared land rights and ritual
commensality, and I was also able to observe how in conflicts between two men
from different kutum, sides were taken along kutum boundaries. As a matter of
principle, however, these close ties contain within themselves the potential for
conflicts between brothers, often pursued by violent means until public opinion
intervenes, or left to fester unspoken in the form of suspicions of harmful magic.

 Similarly, the Gadaba who live and work on the tea plantations of Northeastern India on a
long-term basis also retain land claims. If they do not support their brothers and parents in their
home villages, however, and evade their ritual duties, they will have difficulty enforcing their
claims against the village council after returning to the village. For this reason, the Gadaba living
in North Bengal (which they still refer to as “Assam”) make an effort to be present at least for the
gotr of their group and thereby also give notice of their land rights.
 House tsoru does not cross kutum boundaries, however.
 2.3 Local Lines, Status Categories, and Dignitaries 81

2.3 Local Lines, Status Categories, and Dignitaries

Varying numbers of local kutum segments make up larger local units, the kuda,
or better, the kuda units are divided into various kutum segments, since the vil-
lage is a segmented whole, not a random assemblage of different groups.
Members of a kuda – like members of a kutum – are linked to one another by
consanguineal ties as “brothers” (bai), but genealogical relationships are unim-
portant. Also like the kutum groups, the local kuda units are relevant collective
actors. Unlike the kutum, on the other hand, there are only four of these local
segments, the names of which are always the same and have no connection to
villages or ancestors. The four kuda categories are sisa, kirsani, munduli, and bor-
onaik. As local groups in a village, they make up the “four brothers”³⁴ (chari bai)
or “four people” (chari jono; Pfeffer 1991, 70), a category that designates the vil-
lage as a whole and is equivalent in scope to the “earth people” (matia). The
Four Brothers take concrete form at assemblies and as a commensal tsoru com-
munity. As Pfeffer (1997a, 19 f) has stressed, each village is thus ideally com-
posed of the same kuda groups, such that Sisa, Kirsani, Munduli, and Boronaik
would be present in every village.
The term kuda correspondingly refers to both empirical local groups (Sisa,
Kirsani, etc.) and general social categories (sisa, kirsani, etc.). It is important
to distinguish the local groups from the kuda categories, since kuda status –
membership in a specific kuda category – is irrelevant for interactions and ritual
relationships between villages, while kuda groups are generally important for rit-
ual processes of exchange between villages. Since the kutum and kuda units – as
groups – are defined equally by descent and territoriality, we can describe them
as local lines at different segmentary levels, following Leach (1977, 57) and Pfeff-
er (e. g., 2000, 339).³⁵ The kuda categories appear as titles in the names of indi-
viduals, and these titles are associated with a specific status and function, as I
will explain in the next section. The kuda titles distinguish the Adivasi from
other Desia segments, such as the Goudo and Dombo, who do not bear these ti-
tles, but instead have their bonso (descent category) in their names.
Members of the same kuda category from different villages are thus not
bound to each other in any way beyond the title and its associated status. In

 From now on, I will refer to the Four Brothers as an established term without quotation
marks.
 Leach (1977, 56 f) introduces the term “local line” in the context of affinal exchange, and in
his work, it refers to the diagrammatic representation of “local descent groups.” The term “local
line” is deliberately distinguished from the “African” term “lineage” and emphasizes both
descent and territoriality, in contrast to the genealogical perspective of the “lineage.”
82 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

other words, the Sisa of one village do not act together with those of another vil-
lage on the basis of their sisa status, nor do they feel themselves to be linked to
other Sisa, as Pfeffer emphasizes:

“the” Sisa or “the” Munduli never assemble as a corporate group or conceive themselves in
any sort of interaction. […] Thus kuda is the patrilineally inherited local lineage group with-
out any interactional reference to groups of the same name outside the village or clan
(bonso). (1997a, 20 f)

Kuda status is correspondingly unimportant for marriage alliances among the

Gadaba, and a woman’s group may consequently have either the same title as
that of her future husband or a different one. At marriage, she acquires her hus-
band’s title. Since kuda status is significant only at the local, village level, mem-
bers of groups that have settled in other villages as affines often no longer use
their kuda title in their names. The members of an affinal group in Gudapada go
by the name of their descent category (killo, Tiger), the only category that is sig-
nificant in their affines’ village. Their kuda membership as sisa is meaningful
only in their home village, where they are sacrificers and eat the tsoru from
which their affines exclude them.

Ritual and Secular Functions: Seniority

As “collective persons” (“brothers,” bai, or “people,” jono), the kuda groups un-
dertake various tasks for the village. According to Pfeffer (1991, 68ff; 1997a, 21),
they are structured by means of the opposition between sacred and secular dig-
nitaries. The Sisa are the sacrificers for the village, while the Kirsani are the ritual
cooks and prepare the tsoru. The Boronaik handle conflicts within the village, the
Munduli external ones. In other words, function and status are ascribed to the
group and not to specific individuals, even though individuals carry out these
tasks in the group’s name.
A village’s various dignitaries (or functionaries) need not necessarily be from
the corresponding status categories, among other reasons because in practice,
all four groups are not to be found in every village. Even in villages where
this is the case, the dignitaries cannot be immediately assumed to be from the
designated kuda groups. The empirical agreement between kuda group and func-
tion is highest for the ritual functions of sacrificer and cook. The sacrificer of a
village is himself called sisa or pujari and is in most cases recruited from the Sisa
group; the ritual cook is called randari or kirsani and as a rule comes from the
 2.3 Local Lines, Status Categories, and Dignitaries 83

Kirsani group.³⁶ A village’s “secular” leaders are called naik, and each kuda
group in a village provides one of these leaders, not just the Boronaik group,
as might be supposed. The seniority criterion structures the relationships be-
tween the naik, with the leaders from the kuda with ritual functions having
the higher status. In addition, the Sisa naik is “senior” (boro, moro kang*) to
the leader of the Kirsani group, to whom a “junior” (sano, me’en kang*) status
is ascribed. The functionaries are correspondingly called “senior leader” (boro
naik) and “junior leader” (sano naik). The leader from the Boronaik group is
thus under no circumstances the boro naik. The same hierarchy of seniority
that applies within the naik also applies to the ritual dignitaries. The sacrificer
or pujari is the “most senior” (sobu tu boro) person in the village and metonymi-
cally represents the village as a whole in ritual contexts. His junior partner is the
ritual cook (randari). The randari of Gudapada³⁷ described himself and the sac-
rificer as a wife and husband (maiji munus), a pair within which he undertook
the “female” function of cooking. We see here the analogy between the house
and the village, since ritual functions within the house are likewise divided be-
tween sacrificer (husband) and cook (wife).
These three functions – pujari, randari, naik – are found in all Gadaba
villages³⁸ and can be performed only by Gadaba. I did not encounter in any vil-
lage the function of the munduli as a leader in external affairs, as described by
Pfeffer, nor was I able to obtain a clear picture of such a function in my conver-
sations. According to Pfeffer (1997a, 21), the munduli is responsible for tasks such
as bribing the police or representing the village with regard to compensation
payments. As an alternative term for munduli Pfeffer gives the name challan;
this function is performed by Gadaba in a few villages, and in those cases, it
does include the mentioned activities. To my knowledge, however, there is
only a challan where there is no barik. The function of barik is found in almost
all Desia villages and is generally performed by members of the Dombo social
category, about which I will have more to say later. The barik is the junior partner
of the naik and handles together with him (or them) all the village’s affairs, with-
out a separation between internal and external matters. The naik and barik are

 In the village of Tikrapada at the time of my research, however, the Munduli (the group of
the village founders, matia) were the sacrificers and were therefore also referred to as sisa.
 The predecessor of the predecessor of the current randari was recruited from the kuda of the
Munduli, but the task was subsequently transferred by the boro dissari to the Kirsani.
 Several small villages – which in some cases were one village in the past – often form a
ritual unit, and in that case, these dignitaries are not found in all the subordinate villages, the
names of which usually end in “-put” (for example, Muliaput), indicating a hamlet.
84 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

important actors in marriage negotiations, village assemblies, and negotiations

of all kinds.
These dignitaries do not differ from the rest of the village inhabitants in their
lifestyle, occupations, wealth, or influence. They engage in agriculture, and their
houses are no different from those of their neighbors. In other words, they do not
hold offices in the sense of devoting themselves to their positions on a “full-
time” basis. They are not distinguished by any special capabilities; the pujari,
for example, has no special ritual knowledge, even though he communicates
with the village’s gods in dreams. Likewise, the naik is not distinguished by spe-
cial oratorical skills, for instance, and has no actual power beyond his formal
authority. In this regard, Sahlins’s characterization of the “petty chieftain” ap-
plies:

The chieftain is usually a spokesman of his group and master of its ceremonies, with oth-
erwise little influence, few functions, and no privileges. One word from him and everybody
does as he pleases. (1968, 21)

In reference to the Gadaba naik, this definition must be corrected or weakened in

two aspects. First, he is not the “master of ceremonies,” since this task is per-
formed by the sacrificer and cook; second, the naik does have certain privileges,
if not as a matter of principle, at least in specific villages. In Gudapada, the
kutum of the boro naik received long ago – perhaps from representatives of
the king – a rice paddy (bera), the “naik bera.” No other dignitary receives sim-
ilar advantages, but the naik also has certain obligations in return, especially at
hundi sitlani, the sacrifice for the village goddess in November (diali).³⁹
The dignitaries’ positions are handed down to their sons, meaning the
“sons” of the kutum, not necessarily a dignitary’s own son, although the latter
has a certain priority. In Gudapada, as already mentioned, the pujari are recruit-
ed from the kutum named Chamru Gor, but in the appropriate circumstances, all
married Sisa men would be eligible for the position. The final authority for des-
ignating the dignitaries is the village’s boro dissari (“great” astrologer).⁴⁰ When
needed, new dignitaries are designated in the month of diali (November), as part
of the hundi sitlani just mentioned. During my time in Gudapada, the boro naik
and the barik died and were succeeded by their own sons. The pujari was almost

 The Koraput District Gazetteer mentions in this context that village lands were set aside for
the naik. The lands were called “Naik’s land” (Senapati and Sahu 1966, 282) and were presu-
mably identical with the naik bera mentioned here.
 The Gudapada boro dissari has been recruited for several generations from a Rona family in
a neighboring village.
 2.3 Local Lines, Status Categories, and Dignitaries 85

constantly criticized by the village for drinking too much, eating leftovers (ointa),
and not being up to his ritual responsibilities. A delegation from the village vis-
ited the boro dissari to inquire about the suitability of the pujari’s son. Since the
son is not yet ritually married, however, no change was made, and the old pujari
remained in his position. Criticism of the dignitaries is not an isolated case, but
rather something of an ongoing phenomenon. The barik and the naik were also
the target of regular complaints, publicly in assemblies and in private conversa-
tions or arguments, and only after their deaths did people find good things to say
about them. At least in Gudapada, the efforts to replace them were fainthearted,
and the general attitude was one of making do with the status quo.
In my view, this behavior shows that although formal respect is paid to the
position, it transmits no authority. During his lifetime, a dignitary receives no
special treatment in ordinary situations.⁴¹ Charisma is of secondary importance
for carrying out the duties of the pujari or naik. In addition, it is clear that the
dignitaries play no special role in the village’s daily life; for example, conflict
management and the organization of collective work are more matters for com-
munal action than for individual leadership.⁴² Village life manages without lead-
ers, and charismatic or respected individuals without official position are often
more influential than the dignitaries present.⁴³
An official position in which acquired status plays a major role is the modern
political institution of the “ward member,” called memor from the English. Ward
members are elected for five-year terms and represent the village in the assembly
of multiple villages in the area, the panchayat, presided over by the likewise
elected sarpanch. The rules that reserve a percentage of positions in the public
political arena to members of disadvantaged communities apply to the post of
ward member, and during my time in Gudapada, the position was occupied

 This view is contrary to Parkin’s (1992, 70) evaluation, “their [naik] status depending pri-
marily on their influence as individuals.” Achieved status characterizes the position of the
memor (see below).
 At village assemblies, when a house is being roofed, or when a wall is being built, it is
notable that the course of events is not led by any one individual, but emerges from the
situation. Everyone is familiar with the processes and work techniques, and it is only occasio-
nally and briefly that any one individual takes a more prominent role in the group by giving
instructions. The authority of elder brothers is generally accepted without contradiction, but not
their tutelage. At assemblies, everyone has the right to speak and also the right to lose his
composure in a dispute.
 McDougal (1963, 63) has similar things to say about Juang dignitaries: “responsibility was
divorced from authority. […] If a leader, the office increased his prestige; if he lacked the
personality characteristics required for leadership, the position of podhan [village officer] did
not make him one.”
86 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

by a Dombo woman (as a representative of a Scheduled Caste). Important for vil-

lage organization is the fact that individuals holding the post of memor have the
possibility of presenting themselves as “big men.” In a number of villages, re-
spected and influential men of the village who had held the post previously con-
tinued to be considered and addressed as memor after their terms ended. I am
not aware of any woman who remained a memor in this sense after serving as
ward member. The woman elected as ward member in Gudapada played no
role in village life, while the charismatic former ward member and ongoing
memor occupies the position of a “big man” (bor lok), and his opinion is sought
in all collective affairs. I am also familiar with similar situations in other villages.
Independent of who holds the office of ward member at any given time, the po-
sition of memor has thus become an additional function within the village organ-
ization, alongside that of the naik, and it is therefore unsurprising that a woman
can indeed be a ward member, but not a memor. The memor are often more char-
ismatic than the naik and have substantial influence in decisions concerning the
village, but they do not play a formal role in ritual contexts (cf. McDougal 1963,
64).

Distribution of the kuda Groups

In practice, all four kuda groups are to be found in very few villages; in most
cases, two or three are present, along with less common supplementary titles.
Challan, dongoromaji, and pujari are among these other kuda categories. The fol-
lowing table of the kuda composition of various villages shows the quantitative
dominance of the four kuda groups: Sisa, Kirsani, Munduli, and Boronaik. The
table includes only the village agnates, that is, those groups that eat tsoru at
the shrines and are counted among the Four Brothers, not any affinal groups,
which can be quite significant in numerical terms.⁴⁴ A comparison with several
neighboring Parenga and Ollar Gadaba villages shows that the same kuda
groups as among the Gutob Gadaba are also dominant there.

 In Soilpada, for example, there are around sixty houses of an affinal kuda group, the
Dongoromaji.
 2.3 Local Lines, Status Categories, and Dignitaries 87

Table 1: Kuda Groups in Gutob Gadaba Villages

Kuda Groups Sisa Kirsani Munduli Boronaik Maji Pujari Challan

Village, bonso

 Alangpada, hantal +
 Auripada, hantal + +
 Bayaput, hantal +
 Chandalamanda, killo + +
 Cheliamenda, killo + + +
 Choktoput, hantal +
 Chongripada, hantal +
 Ponosguda, killo + +
 Deulpada, hantal + + + +
 Donaguda, hantal +
 Dudipodor, hantal +
 Gelaguda, kora + + +
 Gorihanjar, golori + + +
 Gudapada, hantal + + +
 Guneipada, hantal + + (?)
 Gutalpada, hantal +
 Jalahanjar, kora + + +
 Kamarguda, hantal + + +
 Kojriput, kora +
 Komel, hantal +
 Kujam, killo +
 Matamput, hantal +
 Mukiput, hantal +
 Orna, hantal + +
 Petpada, killo + +
 Pipalput, killo + + +
 Raipada, golori + +
 Ridal, killo +
 Soilpada, hantal
– (girem) +
– (not girem) + + (?) +
 Sorgiguda, hantal + + +
 Tikrapada, killo + + + +
 Totapada, hantal +
 Tukum, killo + + + +
Total       
88 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Table 2: Kuda Groups in Parenga Villages

Kuda Groups Sisa Kirsani Munduli Boronaik Dongoromaji Pujari Challan Podua
Village, bonso

 Komra, killo + + + +
 Barengput, + +
hantal
 Malenga, hantal + + +
 Konchona, killo + +
 Kisop, golori + + + +
 Budliput, hantal +
(?)
 Chiliba, golori +
Total        

Table 3: Kuda Groups in Ollar Gadaba Villages

Kuda Groups Sisa Kirsani Munduli Boronaik Dongoromaji Pujari Challan

Village, bonso

Mundagor:
(four hamlets)
. Urdiguda,
– hantal + + +
– macho + +
– pangi +
. Mundagor,
– macho +
. Ponosput,
– macho + +
. Dorput,
– macho +
Barengput, hantal + +
Pami, hantal + + + +
Sonkai, kora + + +
Saraguda, killo + +
Total       

Information about the kuda distribution among the Bondo comes from Elwin,
who asked three hundred people (150 men and 150 women) in various Bondo
villages about their kuda status. He lists the following results, according to
which the Boronaik, Challan, Kirsani, Munduli, and Sisa groups are most
often represented.
 2.3 Local Lines, Status Categories, and Dignitaries 89

Table 4: Kuda Membership of 300 Bondo Men and Women (cf. Elwin 1950, 31)

Kuda Men Women Total

Kirsani   
Sisa   
Mundli [Munduli]   
Bodnaik [Boronaik]   
Challan   
Dangara-Manjhi [Dongoromaji]   
Mandhara   
Jigri   
Dorat   

Elwin attributes titles such as Dora⁴⁵ and Jigri to the integration of individuals
from neighboring groups, and he reports local stories that recount how individ-
uals from other tribal groups, such as the Gadaba and the Didayi, were integrat-
ed and what functions are assigned to the individual dignitaries. In general, the
author considers kuda organization “a comparatively modern borrowing, dating
from the time of the first Dom settlements in Bondo villages” (Elwin 1950, 25).
Originally, in his view, every sisa (sacrificer) should have come from the Sisa
group, every naik (secular leader) should have been a Munduli, and so on. At
the same time, the kirsani (ritual cooks) should have come from the village Kir-
sanipada, in principle, the naik from Mundlipada, and the challan from Salanpa-
da. Economic and demographic pressures, according to Elwin, led the kuda
groups to scatter, so that they are now distributed across all villages (28).
These claims are questionable, however. If all dignitaries came only from specif-
ic villages, there would have originally been a village of secular leaders, a village
of ritual cooks, and a village of sacrificers. There is no evidence of this, and such
a monopolization of each function by a single village makes no sense in terms of
the ideal division of labor among the dignitaries.
Elwin subsequently makes passing mention of some important ethnographic
information: solidarity in feuds is oriented around kuda membership, kuda
groups occupy separate quarters in some villages, representatives of the kuda
groups take on ritual functions at major village festivals, and finally, Elwin
notes, the members of a kuda have shared megalithic monuments separate
from those of other groups. Nevertheless, Elwin explains the great significance
of kuda organization in terms of his view that this social order was taken over
from the society of the plains or – as mentioned – imported by the Dombo.

 This title is widespread among the Rona.

90 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Since the Bondo put a high value on “civilization,” they also ascribed high value
to its institutions and attempted in this way to come into contact with the “mod-
ern world” (28). Elwin thereby overlooks the significance of his own data. The
diffusion thesis, a simplification at best, has already been criticized by Pfeffer
(1982, 60 f).
The origin of the kuda, about which Elwin claims such certainty, is undoubt-
edly difficult to determine. What does seem to be clear is that Elwin’s supposition
that the Dombo brought them to the Bondo is incorrect, since the Dombo them-
selves do not use such titles. Groups such as the Dongoromaji and the Challan
among the Gutob Gadaba are possibly to be explained by the integration of in-
dividuals from other tribal groups⁴⁶ (the Bondo or the Ollar Gadaba), as Elwin
suggests. The Jigri⁴⁷ and Mandhara groups listed by Elwin appear to belong
rather on the segmentary level of the kutum; in other words, they are kuda sub-
groups provided with descriptive names. Jigri and Mandhara are not found
among any of the neighboring tribes. The terms kuda and kutum are also not al-
ways used consistently by the Gadaba, and Elwin’s (cf. 1950, 29, 31) question-
naires apparently did not differentiate them clearly enough or did not pay atten-
tion to the context of the group names and titles.
That a village has the name of Kirsanipada is not to be ascribed to its being
the place from which all Kirsani are recruited, but rather points instead to the
fission of a village at some point in the past. A hamlet of the village of Gudapada
in which two Sisa families live is called Sisaput, for example. In three cases, I
was able to obtain information about village fissions in the distant past demon-
strating that such processes often take place along kuda boundaries.
The villages of Gorihanjar and Raipada, which still today form a unit in ritual
matters and can eat one another’s tsoru, were previously a single village.⁴⁸ The
Kirsani of the main village of Gorihanjar split off and founded their own village,
while the other “three brothers” remained behind. In light of the old megalithic
monuments in the village of Raipada, it is clear that this migration must have
taken place a very long time ago.

 As the tables indicate, the Parenga, Ollar, and Gutob Gadaba, as well as the Bondo, have
similar kuda categories. The categories among the Didayi differ considerably (although the
familiar dongoromaji, munduli, and pujari are found there; Guha et al. 1970, 56ff), as is also the
case for the Joria and Rona. The Joria distinguish between boi, maji, sisa, jani, munduli, chinderi,
boronaik, and kirsani, among others. In Rona villages I encountered the following kuda cate-
gories, among others: pujari, paral, patro, dolpoti, dora, and maji (cf. Berger 2002).
 Jigria refers to a person who has the right to collect (jikbar, “pull, take to oneself”) the
fermented sap (salap) from the crown of a palm tree.
 McDougal (1963, 64) calls such villages among the Juang “paired-villages.”
 2.3 Local Lines, Status Categories, and Dignitaries 91

Another example is the village of Guneipada. At a time that no one any lon-
ger remembers, the village is said to have been plagued by tigers, so that people
gave up the old location on the hillside and founded nine different villages⁴⁹ at
the foot of the hill. The shrine of the village goddess and the assembly platform
are still in the old location today, and the goddess receives regular sacrifices
there. The kuda distribution of the present villages clearly shows the structure
of the fission. Today’s Guneipada is primarily – as far as the agnates are con-
cerned – occupied by the Sisa, Choktoput by the Munduli, Bayaput by the Bor-
onaik, and Matamput by the Kirsani. In other cases, the split along kuda lines is
less evident.
Several groups split off from the main village of Deulpada and founded new
settlements in the immediate vicinity (including Kamarguda, Dudipodor, Dona-
guda, and Sorgiguda [see table 1]). In this case as well, the original village unit
continues as a sacrificial community. More important than speculation about the
region’s history, about which almost nothing is known, therefore, is an examina-
tion of the current ritual relationships between villages and kuda groups, reveal-
ing that agnatic elements have segmented, but continue to regard themselves as
belonging together – as one village – after the split as before. Fissions by indi-
viduals who move to live with their affines are more often observed, in contrast
to the agnatic segmentation and foundation of new settlements described here.
In Gudapada, three different kuda groups are present as agnates and broth-
ers (bai): Sisa, Kirsani, and Munduli, the last of which is represented by only
three houses and does not provide a naik. ⁵⁰ The structure of the kuda and
kutum segments of the “earth people,” known in Gudapada as the Gangre, is
laid out in the following figure.
On formal occasions, people in Gudapada often speak of “three brothers”
(tini bai), sometimes also of the Four Brothers, overlooking the fact that one seg-
ment is missing (the Boronaik). Although local stories say that some groups were
temporarily driven out of the village by a drought, no fission of the village along
the lines previously described is known; according to the inhabitants, there have
never been Boronaik in Gudapada.
The two numerically dominant groups, the Sisa and Kirsani, are clearly sep-
arated from one another in spatial terms. The Sisa live on the lower part of the
gently sloping hill and therefore make up the “lower part of the village” (tole

 These villages were probably not all founded at once. There are nine of them today.
 The Kirsani, on the other hand, are so numerous that they provide two naik, one from each
of their superordinate kutum (Kodomguria and Bilaputia). The so-called Kodomguria naik does
not act in formal situations, however, but only the boro naik of the Sisa and the sano naik of the
(Bilaputia) Kirsani.
92 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Figure 3: Kuda and kutum Segments in Gudapada

 2.3 Local Lines, Status Categories, and Dignitaries 93

sai), while the Kirsani compose the “upper part of the village” (upor sai).⁵¹ The
houses of the Munduli are also found in the upper part of the village. The divi-
sion into sai is relative, that is, dependent on the observer’s perspective. A Sisa
from the lower part means all the houses beyond the Sisa area when he refers to
the upor sai; a Kirsani uses upor sai to mean a part of the village higher up the
hill than his own. In some circumstances, further sai are differentiated within
the sai. The “inner” area of a sai, for example, is called gondoli sai. The term
sai – like kuda and kutum – is thus used in the segmentary mode, can refer to
various levels, and designates groups as well, since the spatial order is insepa-
rable from the social one. People may speak of the Sisa sai, referring to the kuda
level (possibly including resident affines), or of the Barna sai, referring to the
kutum level.
The kuda groups of the village act as visible units on a variety of occasions.
Members of a kuda provide one another with reciprocal labor help, and in dis-
putes at village assemblies or conflicts over land leases, solidarity with members
of one’s own kuda vis-à-vis the others can be observed. Confrontations between
kuda groups at village assemblies at the central stone platform (sadar) often con-
cern the obligations that the individual kuda have in relation to the village as a
whole, meaning especially obligations to provide ritual offerings. The individual
groups are also clearly distinguishable in the collective rituals themselves (or the
boundaries are consciously covered over by commensality), as the seasonal fes-
tivals show. Although the Sisa are in principle the sacrificers for the village, the
Kirsani in Gudapada lead the rituals at two village shrines, a division of labor
that I was also able to observe in other villages. The separate kuda megalithic
monuments (munda) noted by Elwin among the Bondo are likewise found
with the same type of differentiation in the Gadaba villages, both inside the vil-
lages (sometimes also at the level of the kutum) and with regard to the external
monuments. Reciprocal services and ritual relationships, such as the gift of
“mourning gruel” (duk pej) after a death and other ritual “brotherhoods” that
will be described later, also demonstrate the significance of the kuda groups
both within a single village and as exchange partners between villages.

 The division into upper and lower takes concrete form in the rainy season, when all the
runoff from the upper half of the village flows through the lower half.
94 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

2.4 The Village

Appearance of the Villages

From a distance, the villages (ga, ungom*)⁵² appear to the eye merely as a cluster
of trees,⁵³ standing out against the often relatively bare hills, especially in the dry
season. In the village itself, this density of trees is not so obvious, and there are
sufficient open areas to dry grain in the sun or warm oneself in winter. The vil-
lages lie along rivers in which paddy rice is cultivated, in broad valleys, or on
more or less steep hillsides. West of Lamtaput, the hills become increasingly
steeper and the ground more rocky, and boulders that offer welcome seats are
regularly found in the villages.
A gravel road (now paved, since 2002) usable by commercial trucks runs
through Gudapada, but leads only to the neighboring villages. Traffic is corre-
spondingly light, with only the vehicles of the government Soil Conservation De-
partment (soilkarni) and Forest Department (foresti) usually on the road. Similar
roads only run past other villages, and yet other villages are located further in
the interior amid steeper hills or on roads that become impassable to heavy ve-
hicles in the rainy season due to erosion.
Thanks to the roads, the government has also had the opportunity to install
well pumps (boring), of which the larger villages have several. Electricity, retail
shops, and tea stalls are not found in the villages.⁵⁴ The one public location in
the villages is the assembly platform (sadar), located near the shrine of the vil-
lage deity (hundi). Dances are held here during festival seasons, and village af-
fairs are discussed. Footpaths lead to the different kutum areas, the houses,

 The age of the villages is difficult to determine. In contrast to the villages of the Dongria
Kond, which are frequently abandoned and reestablished in new locations (Roland Hardenberg,
personal communication), Gadaba villages are permanent, as is also visible in the central
megalithic monuments (sadar). Parkin (1992, 87 f) estimates, “Gadaba and Remo [Bondo] vil-
lages seem to be several hundred years old.” This presumably applies especially to the major
villages, which have Gutob names.
 The trees (gocho, sulop*) of the village include mango (ambo, aer/bulu*), breadfruit (ponos),
tamarind (tentuli, soso*), silk cotton (simli), sago palm (salap), jamkoli, and pipal. In ritual
contexts, jamkoli and ponos are contrasted to one another. The Gadaba use the leaves of the
former tree for offerings to the gods and those of the latter tree for offerings to the dead. The
trunk of the jamkoli tree is suitable for use as the central post of a house (doron deli), while
ponos is out of the question due to its association with the dead.
 In the villages that lie directly on the paved road from Onukadilli to Lamtaput, some of the
houses tie into the electric lines, and some villages have small shops. In Gudapada, a Dombo
family opened such a shop in 2002, selling matches, local cigarettes (bidi), and the like.
 2.4 The Village 95

yards, and gardens of which are often separated by stone walls, creating small
plazas where fires burn in the winter. The various sai also have local assembly
plazas; the open area under an old tamarind tree offers the Sisa a place for
both daily communication and formal meetings. The places where such meetings
are held – a yard, a local assembly plaza, or the sadar – are also an indication of
the magnitude of the issue at hand.
As a rule, a village also has several hamlets, recognizable by the “-put” suf-
fix on their names and of widely varying size. Often, the different “latecomer”
groups (upria) live in these hamlets and give them their names, as in the case
of Maliput (“hamlet of the Mali”), for example. This is in no way a rule, however,
and the various resident affinal groups and Dombo often live in the main village,
just as members of the group of the first settlers live in the hamlets. In Gudapa-
da, the Dombo live in the village center, and no spatial separation beyond the
usual one that separates the Gadaba houses from one another is discernible.
The herders (Goudo) and the smith (Kamar) live together with one house of Ga-
daba affines (Messing) in a hamlet on the other side of the river, across from the
main village, as seen in the photo below. The second hamlet (Sisaput), which has
its own shrine (hundi), consists of two Sisa houses and is located comparatively
far away on the other (south) side of Mount Kuku; its inhabitants are relatively
rarely seen in the main village.
In many villages, a school (iskul) is located outside the village boundary and
offers the first few grades to children from the surrounding villages as well. The
teachers are often immigrants from the plains and see their task primarily as dis-
ciplining the children and attempting to influence the lifestyle of the adults, es-
pecially with regard to alcohol consumption⁵⁵ and the eating of beef.⁵⁶ In Guda-
pada, the school was established back in the early 1960s and was expanded
about seven years prior to my research to include a “hostel”; about thirty boys
and girls from different villages sleep and eat there. In other villages, the schools
are not as well organized, but even in Gudapada, many Gadaba see little reason
to send their children to school, although it is said that willingness to attend
school has increased in recent years. Parents are especially inclined to keep
girls at home, since they start to help in the household earlier than boys.
Among the adults, I know of five men in Gudapada who can read and write
(the majority of them Sisa, who are more open to “modern” influences, including

 The motto in this regard is pat poro, mod charo, which means more or less “study and
abstain from liquor.”
 All children who enroll in school give up eating beef, and violations are even subject to
corporal punishment, as the children reported to me. After leaving school, some adults have
begun to consume beef again.
96 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Photo 4: Landscape around Lamtaput

Unlike the area further west around Machkund, the hills of the high plateau are gentle and only
lightly forested in the Lamtaput area; nevertheless, the thorny scrub is relatively tall and dense
after the rainy season. When this photo was taken in November 2000, the dry fields had already
been harvested (except for the rapeseed, glinting gold), and the millet lay stacked on the
storage platforms at the edge of the threshing floors. The river, in which the rice paddies are
embedded, runs through the middle of the village, invisible behind the trees. Only the village
school can be glimpsed. Relatively newly established cashew plantations can be seen on the hill
on the right of the image.

tourists, for example), and no women. Two young Gadaba attend secondary
school in Jeypore. Literacy among the Dombo is higher.
The school conducts the Hindu rituals usual across India – the veneration of
Saraswati and Ganesh – with mandatory participation by the children. The adult
Gadaba are relatively indifferent in this matter; those are the gods for the chil-
dren, they say, and only a few objected when the Ganesh puja was moved to
the village itself for the first time in September 1999, near the shrine of the vil-
lage goddess. The following village plan shows the village layout and its ritual
sites.
 2.4 The Village 97

Significance of the Village: Descent, Territoriality, and Commensality

From the Gadaba perspective, the village (ga, ungom*) is a community of the
Four Brothers, who as “earth people” (matia) share sacrificial meals with the
gods whose shrines their fathers established when they founded the village,⁵⁷
in the time after the Gadaba came from the Godavari River to the area around
Nandapur. So long as humans maintain their commensal relationship to the
gods, the gods are willing to make the land fertile and protect the village’s boun-
daries. These boundaries are not always clearly visible, although they are
marked by stone walls in some places. The importance of these boundaries, es-
pecially at certain times, is evident in the rituals, when the village is closed to all
outsiders in the month of April, for example, or medicines are buried at the
boundaries in order to prevent the entrance of demons and spirits of the dead.
At the center of the village are the assembly platform of the Four Brothers,
the sadar, and the shrine of the village deity, hundi or nisani, across from it. This
is where the pujari sacrifices for hundi, who is identical with the earth or repre-
sents the earth in this specific territory. The ritual cook (randari) prepares the
tsoru, in which the Four Brothers share after the deity’s hunger and thirst
have been quenched.
All people leave the village in which they were born. Women, that is, “daugh-
ters and sisters” (ji bouni), leave the village at marriage and go to another, the
inhabitants of which belong to a different bonso than the people of their
home villages. Marrying within the same bonso is considered a transgression
(dos). Women leave their villages during their lifetimes and bear children for
their brothers’ affines (bondu). Men leave the village only as duma after their
deaths and are eaten as buffaloes by members of other villages who belong to
the same bonso as they do and so are their brothers (bai).

Bonso Descent Category

The opposition between bai and bondu is a global, non-genealogical⁵⁸ principle

of classification that contrasts totemic descent categories to one another and in
this way divides the social universe into self and other, agnates and affines.

 Literally, “when the village sat down” (ga bosila bele).

 Pfeffer (1982, 43) notes “the Adivasi’s general disinterest in genealogical reckonings” and
mentions a number of ethnographers who have found the same. In two more recent articles, the
same author (Pfeffer 2000, 2002a) extensively discusses the similarities and differences among
the social structures of the “African,” “Biblical,” and “Central Indian” systems.
98 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Map 4: Gudapada Village Plan

Among the Gutob Gadaba, there are four bonso categories: cobra/snake (hantal),
tiger (killo), monkey (golori), and sun (kora) (cf. Parkin 1992, 69 f; Pfeffer 1982,
 2.4 The Village 99

77 f; 1991; 1997a; 2000).⁵⁹ Other indigenous groups, such as the Dombo and the
Ollar Gadaba, have four additional bonso, alongside the categories already men-
tioned: cattle (goru), hawk or falcon (pangi, gid), fish (macho), and bear (kimdu).
The Bondo and Didayi, in contrast, restrict themselves exclusively to the Tiger
and Cobra categories (cf. Elwin 1950; Guha et al. 1970). The bonso categories
cut across the kuda categories described above; in other words, every possible
combination of bonso and kuda categories exists (cf. Fürer-Haimendorf 1945,
330 f; Pfeffer 1982, 95; 1991, 68 f).⁶⁰
The use of natural categories to designate the bonso raises the question of
the “totemic” features of this system. In the wake of Lévi-Strauss’s decisive inter-
vention in the debate on “totemism,” we can begin, following this author, with
the presumption that this phenomenon is a specific form of the general human
capacity for classification and that the commonalities between nature (the series
of natural categories) and culture (the series of social groups and categories) are
to be found in the distinctions drawn. What this means is that the differences
between the natural categories are used to express differences between social
categories (cf. Lévi-Strauss 1966, 224 f).
Totemic categories are widespread throughout Central India and take a vari-
ety of forms. Pfeffer (2002a, 221) considers that in all these forms, the criteria of

 The bonso categories are also designated using other names for the sun and the animals: for
example, suryo (sun); bag, druka (tiger); nang, nag (cobra/snake); mankor, onu (from “Hanu-
man”), gusa (monkey). The terms “Gili” (for sun) and “Bulebu” given by Parkin (1992, 69) are
unknown to me in this context. Gili’ is the hare, and “Bulebu,” used as a synonym for “Onthal
(snake)” according to Parkin, is presumably burubui*, the snake. However, the titles listed above
are those most often used.
 In his critique of Elwin’s Bondo Highlander, Fernandez (1969) reanalyzes the relationship
between bonso and kuda among the Bondo and interprets kuda as a kind of sub-clan: “Our data
indicate a definite, if vague, tie-in between certain kuda and certain bonso, with no kuda
belonging to more than one bonso” (36). This interpretation is in harmony with his attempt to
redefine the Bondo “moieties” as “phratries,” in which, according to Murdock’s postulates
(which the author follows strictly), there must be a unilineal relationship between “sibs,” and
they may be present in only one “phratry.” For support in this endeavor, Fernandez looks to
Fürer-Haimendorf, who in one article (Fürer-Haimendorf 1943a) refers to the bonso as “phra-
tries,” although without stating anything about their correlation. Elsewhere, the same author is
more explicit in this regard and counters Fernandez’s thesis: “The kuda cut across the bonso
system,” and “branches of the same kuda may belong to different bonso and the two units of
bonso and kuda can thus be compared to intersecting circles” (Fürer-Haimendorf 1945, 331, 330).
It is astonishing that Fernandez in his own research apparently found the same nine kuda listed
by Elwin, although the “Jigri” and “Dora” groups had only a handful of representatives in
Elwin’s survey (see above). Fernandez neither comments on the sharp numerical difference nor
gives other figures from his own data. Pfeffer (1997a, 17) and Parkin (1992, 68) are likewise
critical of Fernandez’s theses and his use of Murdock’s theory.
100 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

time and space are the distinguishing characteristics. On the one hand, accord-
ing to Pfeffer, relative seniority or temporal sequence structures the bonso cate-
gories. This foundation is often laid in myths, in which the bonso’s order of origin
is an indication of their relative status. On the other hand, the assignment of spa-
tial traits differentiates the bonso categories from one another. Sky, earth, land,
and water are the elements grouped in opposing pairs, with a higher status as-
cribed to water categories than to land ones (226). Pfeffer has discussed the to-
temic classifications of a variety of tribes in detail (Pfeffer 1982, 78 f; 1984b;
1993a), but has only made isolated remarks on the Gadaba order, describing it
as likewise governed by the criteria just given: “Indigenous ideas assume that
each clan has its own appropriate place to live, just as each of the mentioned
animals is found at a specific ‘altitude’” (Pfeffer 1991, 68). In a myth recorded
by Pfeffer and others, the primordial sibling pair is described as belonging to
the Tiger bonso, and Pfeffer correspondingly ascribes senior status to this cate-
gory (2000, 340; 2002a, 222). According to Parkin (1992, 69) as well, the Gadaba
bonso are ordered by seniority. The Cobra category, he says, is senior to the Tiger
bonso, and both are senior to the Sun and Monkey categories.
In my experience, the different bonso are not ordered according to the prin-
ciple of seniority, in contrast to the “brother” tribal groups, such as the Gutob
and the Ollar, and to the relative difference in seniority between pujari and ran-
dari. My informants view the bonso as equal in status. Likewise, there is no hi-
erarchy established among the village clans that I will discuss shortly, although
both topographical markers and animal categories are used for differentiation in
that case as well. The Gutal are divided into “hill” Gutal and “valley” Gutal, and
cats, pigs, and birds designate different village clans (see below). Although the
Gadaba do not set up an explicit seniority ranking among the bonso categories, a
myth given in full below does suggest an implicit hierarchy between the Gada-
ba’s two most common bonso. First, the snake originates from the earth, and
the landscape originates from its mouth and is initially soft (damp), as snakes
prefer it, indicating that the snake has the senior status. Subsequently, the
tiger appears, and the earth becomes hard, that is, becomes the type of land-
scape that this animal needs.⁶¹
The emblems of the bonso categories do not receive any particular venera-
tion or ritual recognition as such, and there are no rituals directed toward in-
creasing the species. The sun is a divine being for all Gadaba, and similarly,

 I was unable to confirm that the village clans occupy particular geographical elevations in
accordance with the topographical orientation of their bonso categories – Cobras in the low-
lands, Suns in the hills – as Pfeffer (1982, 78 f) suggests as a hypothesis, including in the passage
quoted above.
 2.4 The Village 101

no Gadaba intentionally kills cobras, tigers, or bears, unless in a case of neces-

sity, when these animals have invaded their villages or houses or they encounter
them in the forest. Tigers and cobras are generally not eaten (although this is not
true of all snakes), and as far as I know, the same is true of monkeys. A myth
(katani) that I will give in full later, explaining the origin of a moitr relationship,
vaguely indicates that the Sisa in Gudapada (of the Cobra bonso) were snakes
once upon a time, and their moitr from Tukum (of the Tiger bonso) were tigers.
However, there are no myths recounting how they became human beings; the
chain of descent is passed over in silence, and only the opposition is empha-
sized. In Gadaba myths about the origin of human beings, a snake and a tiger
do appear, but they are again not the “ancestors” of the primordial sibling
pair. In the village of Tukum, the shrine called the Great House is located in a
hollow associated with tigers and with the inhabitants of the village. The tigers
who live there have the ability to turn into human beings for brief periods, ac-
cording to local stories, and “in the past” they gave their moitr in Gudapada a
leg of each prey animal they caught. When the Sisa on one occasion received
a human leg, they did not actually refuse it, which would be impossible in a
moitr relationship, but they threw it away, and they never received anything
from the tigers’ prey again. These narratives demonstrate a certain correlation
between the animals of the bonso categories and the human beings, but no ex-
plicit veneration or particular prescriptions or prohibitions.⁶²
The bonso categories are particularly relevant at the level of the village, as I
will discuss in detail in the next section. A village of the Tiger bonso views all
villages of other descent categories, whatever their tribal group, as bondu. This
term signifies that affinal relationships are possible in principle, but does not
designate actual marriage alliances, which are called somdi. From a ritual per-
spective, tribal status is secondary to membership in a village and hence in a de-
scent category. A Bondo, Dombo, or Parenga thus counts as bai as long as he
belongs to the same bonso and is considered bondu if his bonso is different. If
a Gadaba marries a Dombo woman from a different bonso, as occasionally hap-
pens, he loses his status as Gadaba, since the Dombo have a lower status and are
“junior” (sano). If a Gadaba marries a Gadaba woman from the same bonso, that
is, a “sister,” no case of which is known to me, he is certain to suffer misfortune
(bipod), because he has violated the proper order (niam) in the most serious of
ways.

 Elwin (1950, 29 f) mentions a ban on killing one’s “totem animal”; members of the Cobra
bonso could not even look at such an animal, let alone kill it, “‘for it is our brother’” (30). He
also reports two myths that treat the origin of the Tiger and Cobra bonso (cf. also Parkin 1992,
72 f).
102 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

The Village Clan

In principle, the bonso descent categories take concrete shape in the form of vil-
lages. The descent categories cut across different tribal groups, and all Cobra
(hantal), for example, classify one another as non-marriageable and hence as ag-
nates (bai). However, the members of the Cobra category never act together as a
unit or social group. In contrast, the villages as units of action represent empiri-
cal and named segments of the general bonso categories, and in view of the cor-
relation between territoriality and descent, we can speak of “village clans.”
Among the Gutob Gadaba – as also among the Ollar Gadaba, the Parenga,
and the Pengo (see below) – village clans of this kind are found in every
bonso, and the group name is often derived from that of the village. For some
villages, I am aware of additional Gutob names, but for others, only Desia
names are used.⁶³
The village of Gudapada is called Gangreungom – “village of the Gangre” –
in Gutob, and Gangre⁶⁴ designates the group of the village founders or “earth
people” (matia). All Gangre, whatever village they live in, belong to the Cobra
bonso and are identified with their village of origin, the only one in which
they have the right to eat tsoru as members of the Four Brothers. The founders
of the village of Ridal or Ruda’el are called Ruda’i and belong to the Tiger
bonso. In these two examples, the meaning of the names Gangre and Ruda’i is
unclear, but in other cases, the names of the village clans are derived from
the names of animals. For instance, the “earth people” of the village of Soilpada
are called cats (girem*), and those of Kalapada are called birds (guga*). Like the
Gangre, the Girem and the Guga belong to the Cobra bonso. Gibir – from gibi’*,
pig – is the name of the founders of the village of Kujam, who are from the Tiger
bonso, and their village is called Gibirungom in Gutob. In other cases, no agree-
ment between the name of the village and that of the village clan can be iden-
tified. The village of Cheliamenda – where the matia are from the Tiger bonso – is
called Gisemunda in Gutob, but the people are known as Messing. Often, the
name of the village clan is simply derived from that of the village by adding

 Fürer-Haimendorf (1943b, 163n2) mentions that the Bondo have Remo names for their vil-
lages, alongside the Desia names, and in view of the significance of tsoru commensality for the
village, it can be presumed that the concept of the “village of origin” or “village clan” also exists
there.
 These village groups are often referred to using the suffixes “-mon” (plural), “-nen*”
(people), or “-lok” (people); so for example as Gangremon (Gangrenen or Gangrelok): the
Gangre.
 2.4 The Village 103

the suffix “-ia”; the “earth people” of Totapada are called Totapadia, for
example.⁶⁵
Members of these village clans are also found in other villages, usually as
internal affines of the local matia, not just in their villages of origin. For in-
stance, the Ruda’i are to be found both in Gudapada and in Orna, where the
matia belong to the Cobra bonso in each case. In the village of Raipada,
where the “earth people” belong to the Monkey bonso, there are some houses
of Gangre.⁶⁶ The Durlia, originally from the village of Drueil and members of
the Sun bonso (kora), have settled as affines in Totapada (Cobra bonso) and Gor-
ihanjar (Monkey bonso), among other places, but also among their brothers in
Kojriput, the so-called Suklital Gutal. Although there are some villages in
which the matia can be identified only with difficulty, since they do not make
up the majority of the village,⁶⁷ many different groups are found in one village,⁶⁸
or one group claims to be the matia group in two villages,⁶⁹ for example, the
overall picture of this village clan organization is clear. The decisive question,
as a matter of principle, is who has the right to eat tsoru at the village shrines.
Without question, there are more villages than village clans today, since new
villages have been established and older ones have split, as described above. All
the villages founded by the matia of the old Guneipada are considered a single
village for ritual purposes, now as before. Overall, it can be seen that the village
clans of the Tiger and Cobra categories are far more numerous than those of the
Sun and the Monkey. Since Gorihanjar and Raipada were previously a single vil-
lage – Osorungom, as Gorihanjar is still called today – and I know of no other
village in which the “earth people” belong to the golori clan, there appears to

 Many village names in Desia end in “-pada,” meaning “land,” while “-padia” means the
“people of the land”; thus Gudapadia means the “people of the Guda land,” that is, the Gangre.
In Gutob, the ending “–tal*” presumably has a territorial meaning similar to that of “-pada.” The
Endak’tal Gutal are the Gutal of the plains, while the Suklital Gutal are the Gutal of the hills. The
corresponding ending in Ollari is “–til” (Thusu and Jha 1972, 53).
 As part of a buffalo sacrifice for the deity boirobi in Raipada, the resident Gangre sacrificed a
pig at a subsidiary shrine and cooked its head for themselves as Gangre tsoru.
 In Soilpada, the affinal group of the Dongoromaji is so numerous that at first glance, they
could be confused with the matia (the Girem).
 Durlia (from Drueil), Totapadia (from Totapada), Osag (from Gonel), and Girem (from Soil-
pada) live in Montriput, along with Dombo, Rona, and Mali, so that this is presumably not a
village of origin for any of these groups, but rather an offshoot of another village, as the suffix
“–put” itself suggests.
 The Gumal (Tiger) claim to be the matia both in the village of Ponosguda and in Kalapada.
Conversely, the Tarob (Tiger) appear to be always affines, in the villages known to me, and
nowhere the matia.
104 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

be only one village clan among the Gutob Gadaba with this bonso. The following
table lists the village clans of the Gutob Gadaba and their villages of origin, but
makes no claim to be exhaustive.

Table 5: Gutob Gadaba Village Clans

Village Name bonso Village Clan Presence in Other Villages

Desia, Gutob (bonso of the matia)

Alangpada, Alungom Cobra Alangpadia, Alungnen Ponosguda (Tiger)

(hantal)
Auripada, Kalungom Cobra Auripadia, Kalnen Ponosguda (Tiger)
Bondpada Cobra Bondpadia
Deulpada, Aiungom Cobra Deulpadia, Ainen Ponosguda (Tiger)
Gudapada, Cobra Gudapadia, Raipada (Monkey)
Gangreungom Gangre Gorihanjar (Monkey)
Montriput (?)
Guneipada, Inde’el Cobra Guneipadia
Gutalpada Cobra Gutal
Kalapada Cobra Guga (Bird)
Oleibir Cobra Oleibir Sogor (Parenga, Tiger)
Onmail ? Onmalia
Orna, Osolungom Cobra Osol
Poibada Cobra Poibadia
Ponjol Cobra Kupa
Potenda Cobra Patik Chandalamanda (Tiger)
Komel (Tiger?)
Soilpada, Cobra Soilpadia, Girem (Cat) Montriput (?)
Giremungom
Tentulipada Cobra Tentulipadia
Totapada Cobra Totapadia Chandalamanda (Tiger)
Ponosguda (Tiger)

Chandalamanda Tiger (killo) Sirme, Sirmlia Tikrapada (Tiger)

Soilpada (Cobra)
Cheliamenda, Tiger Messing Gudapada (Cobra)
Gisemunda Orna (Cobra)
Ponosguda Tiger Gumal
Gonel Tiger Osag Montriput (?)
Kujam, Tiger Gibir (Pig) Jointgiri (Tiger?)
Gibirungom Totapada (Cobra)
Petpada, Tiger Petpadia
Go’enungom (?)
Ridal, Ruda’el Tiger Ruda’i Gudapada (Cobra)
Orna (Cobra)
 2.4 The Village 105

Village Name bonso Village Clan Presence in Other Villages

Desia, Gutob (bonso of the matia)

Tikrapada (?) Tiger Tarob Orna (Cobra)

Kamarguda (Cobra)
Tikrapada Tiger Endaktal Gutal⁷⁰
Tukum, Orleungom Tiger Tukmia, Orlenen

Drueil Sun (kora) Durlia Gorihanjar (Monkey)

Poibada (Cobra)
Gelaguda Sun ?
Jalahanjar Sun Honjria
Kojriput Sun Suklital Gutal Poibada (Cobra)

Gorihanjar, Monkey Osornen Jalahanjar (Sun)

Osorungom (golori)

The village clans acquire their identity through three interconnected characteris-
tics: descent, territoriality, and commensality. The members of a village clan be-
long to the same bonso, although genealogical ties are significant only at the
level of the kutum and even at that level are no longer remembered when they
lie more than three or four generations back. Within the village, kutum and
kuda groups are contrasted to one another, and the village as a descent group
is likewise contrasted to other villages that are either bai or bondu. The signifi-
cance of territoriality is evident in the term matia (“earth people”), which ex-
cludes all those who arrived “later,” no matter how long they have lived in the
village. These latter are known as “latecomers” or upria.
Territoriality is thus not identical with residence. In whatever village a Gan-
gre may settle, he remains linked to the territory of his village of origin, which
defines his identity as a Gangre. This status is articulated and perpetuated
through the Four Brothers’ tsoru commensality at the village shrines.⁷¹ Each

 Various stories recount how the Endaktal Gutal (Tiger) and the Suklital Gutal (Sun) were
previously brothers, but were separated by a rising river or other obstacles and became affines.
The names refer to the location of the villages. Tikrapada is located in the low-lying area near the
Goradi River, and endak* (or enda’*) is the hollow in the clay floor of the house in which pots are
set. Kojriput, in contrast, is located in the hills, where a variety of thorn or burdock (sukli) is
omnipresent, and so Suklital* indicates the hills.
 Fürer-Haimendorf (1945, 331) writes about the Bondo in this regard, “Every village is a ritual
unit whose members partake of the same sacrificial food and do not intermarry; new settlers are
not automatically accepted into the unit, but remain for ceremonial purposes and in regard to
marriage regulation members of their paternal village.” We can presume that second-generation
immigrants are also not integrated into the tsoru group, although Fürer-Haimendorf does not
106 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

year at the April festival (chait porbo), the pujari and randari host the boys of the
village at the village goddess’s shrine, mediating the children’s status as “earth
people” by alimentary means even at their young age. Among adult men, those
who have “fetched” a bride, only those who are ritually married are permitted to
eat tsoru at the village’s most important shrines.
Ritual relationships between village clans are found not only within the
Gutob Gadaba, but also between tribal groups. I was only able to confirm mar-
riage alliances between the Gutob and the Ollar Gadaba, but other ritual rela-
tionships link Gutob Gadaba village clans to those of the Parenga. I am unaware
of such relationships between the Gutob Gadaba and the Joria in the east or be-
tween the Gadaba and the Bondo or Didayi in the west; however, Elwin (1950, 2)
mentions a moitr relationship between Gadaba and Bondo in the latter area.
This aspect of the village as village clan, as I have called it here, has either
gone unnoticed in previous studies or been briefly mentioned and then ignored,
apparently because its significance has not been fully grasped. In an early study,
Pfeffer (1982) mentions that the Tigers and Cobras are each divided into two sub-
groups, which we can recognize without difficulty as village clans in my termi-
nology:

The overwhelming cobra and tiger groups among the Boro Gadaba (great or “senior” Gada-
ba) are again subdivided into ollerbiri and oiyal (cobra) and gutal and gumal (tiger) which
are both expressions of the eternal juxtaposition [i. e., seniority]. On the basis of locality
[i. e., villages], 12 tiger clans further oppose 13 cobra clans with whom they intermarry. (48)

Ollerbiri, Oiyal, Gutal, and Gumal appear to be understood here as subcategories

of the bonso without territorial reference, and Pfeffer does not draw a connection
to the Cobra and Tiger villages mentioned immediately following.⁷² In his later
work, no further indications of this kind are to be found, but he assigns the vil-
lage a central position in what he calls the Koraput Complex, as both an analyt-
ical and a social unit, and he sees the village (along with the “sublineage”
[kutum] and the “local lineage” [kuda]) as one of the three segments of the social
order relevant for group interaction (Pfeffer 1997a, 17, 21, 24). The members of a
village ideally belong to the same descent category and act as a unit in relation

state this explicitly. Even taking into account the same author’s remark elsewhere that “full
membership [in a Bondo village] can be acquired only by birth” (Fürer-Haimendorf 1954, 178), it
is unclear whether the individual has to be born within a local descent group (as among the
Gadaba) or merely within the village in order to qualify for tsoru commensality.
 The twelve or thirteen villages of the Tigers and Cobras suggest the ideal and ritual village
federations that will be described below.
 2.4 The Village 107

to the outside world and to the earth goddess, according to Pfeffer (1997a, 20),
who also ascribes importance to the aspect of tsoru commensality. However,
these traits are not brought together in a way that does justice to the significance
of villages of origin as named segments of the social order, as cultural ideas and
categories of reference, and as empirical units that combine descent, territorial-
ity, and commensality.
In his analysis of the relationship between territoriality and descent among
the different “Munda” tribes, Parkin stresses the importance of the agnatic vil-
lage founders and mentions various ways in which the village’s agnatic identity
is ritually articulated (including tsoru commensality), but he does not go beyond
this. Moreover, Parkin (1992, 90) criticizes the “ethnocentric picture of the Munda
village as primarily a territorial unit” and considers the agnatic group to be the
only determining focus. My thesis, in contrast, presumes a considerable signifi-
cance for the aspect of territoriality, in connection with the other criteria men-
tioned.
Mohanty (1973 – 74) recognizes the villages as named segments of the over-
arching bonso category, but limits himself to the following brief remark:

Each Gadaba clan [i. e., bonso] is further divided into a number of divisions which take their
names after particular villages in which the clan was originally distributed. Such divisions
may be called sub-clans, consisting of few lineages. (133)

Mohanty does not pursue the “sub-clans” further. In his tables presenting ritual
relationships, the village clans or “sub-clans” do not appear.
In contrast, Thusu and Jha (1972, 53) give rather more detail about what they
call “brother-clans” among the Ollar Gadaba east of Nandapur, in the Pottangi
area. The descent categories (“Bonsh” or “Kulam”), which they call “phratries,”
are divided into various “brother-clans,” they report:

the members affiliated to these clans believe that theyare [sic!] bound together exclusively
by consanguineal ties (Saru Bhai) [and] […] they had a vague belief that some of these clans
were once associated with the village names. It is quite possible that these clans were pre-
viously localized, for example Gugaguda village (as mentioned earlier) is named aftar [sic!]
the Guga clan, whose (male) members still dominate it, though not in size, but by exercis-
ing important socio-political and religious offices in the village. (53 f)

This is apparently the same system that I have described for the Gutob Gadaba,
here including the neighboring Ollar villages as well. Thusu and Jha mention
tsoru commensality and the privileged status of the “brother-clans,” a status
that – as the authors mention elsewhere (57) – results from their role as village
108 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

founders and qualifies them for the village’s ritual and political functions.⁷³ They
also note the association of these “brother-clans” with their villages of origin
and the derivation of their names from those villages.⁷⁴ Their table of the social
groups of the village of Gugaguda shows that some of the groups have villages of
origin located in the Lamtaput area. The Ollar village clans of the Murjia (Tiger),
Mundagoria (Fish), and Kodria (Fish), mentioned by Thusu and Jha, will be seen
again in the description of the Gangre’s network of ritual relationships. Other vil-
lage clans that the authors encounter in the Pottangi area but cannot place (55)
are Gutob and Ollar Gadaba from the region around Machkund and Lamtaput.⁷⁵

Village Ritual Sites

Like the house, the village is simultaneously and inseparably a spatial, social,
and ritual unit. Even more than the kutum and kuda segments, the house and
the village are the axes around which almost all ritual contexts revolve, a fact
probably to be ascribed to their clear boundaries, the consequent opposition be-

 The “village priest” is called “Palas,” and the “Naiko” is the “secular headman” (Thusu and
Jha 1972, 57).
 One of the same authors (Thusu 1977, 20 – 37) encounters a comparable situation (correlation
between territoriality and descent category) among the Pengo in northern Koraput and the
neighboring districts, where in the plains villages various bonso (“bonsh,” “phratry”) are known,
and a variety of subordinate units (“clans”) exist, the names of which have various meanings
(e. g., the names of birds), but the meanings in most cases are unknown. The majority of these
“clans” are assigned to the Tiger and Cobra “phratries” (32). In the mountainous eastern part of
the Pengo area, considered “traditional” (“Pengo-Pati,” 8, 10), however, the informants were
unfamiliar with the term bonso (20, 22).
“In fact, whenever they talk among themselves with a view to know their group-affiliations,
they would make an inquiry in these words: “Ina kar manaeti”, i. e. what people are you? This
query, according to our informants, would refer to the villages inhabited by them or their
ancestors.” (20)
In the village of Chikir, for example, nineteen “householders” (23) were asked about their
group membership, to which thirteen answered that they were “Chikria,” that is, people from
Chikir, while the remaining six came from other “villages of their origin,” not all of which they
were able to name, but which they assumed to be indicated by their title in each case. The
picture was the same in other villages, and in view of the lack of a bonso tie, the author chose to
call these units “non-totemic clans.” Nevertheless, some of these villages of origin are appa-
rently linked to bonso categories (24). The author does not comment on the similarity to the
“brother-clans” of the Ollar.
 These include the Tarob (“Tharub”), Sakia (from Sonkai), Tentulipadia (“Tentalparia”),
Ambapadia (“Amaparia”), and Tukmia (“Thukum”) (Thusu and Jha 1972, 55). “Pombia” (54)
likely refers to the Pambia (from Pambi), the panjabai of the Sisa in Gudapada.
 2.4 The Village 109

tween inner and outer, and their direct relationship with the local representation
of the earth goddess (and the sky gods). At the annual festivals, the house and
the village are mandatory tsoru units, while tsoru commensality at the kutum and
kuda levels is optional in these contexts. In the following section, I will introduce
the village’s most important ritual sites and the relationships associated with
them. The spatial dynamic of ritual movements from one to another will become
evident in the descriptions of the rituals.

Places of the Dead and the Ancestors

The cremation site (mosani, rai’sang*) outside the village boundaries is the place
of the “recently” deceased (duma); the stone platform in the center of the village
(sadar) is the seat of the ancestors (anibai, ani puni, agtu lok). Both places are
equally collective, and no individual notice is taken of particular persons. As
part of the collective mortuary rites (gotr), stones are brought to the sadar to sym-
bolize the ancestors of an entire generation. The sadar is the assembly place of
the Four Brothers, opposite the village deity’s shrine, and while it does not re-
ceive sacrificial offerings itself, it participates in the blood for the village god-
dess. The more or less round construction is made up of vertical (sil) and hori-
zontal (sadar) stones and is slightly higher in the middle in some villages.
Outside the village, there is another stone platform, known among other
names as poda munda due to its location in the dry fields (poda, langbo*).
Like the sadar, this platform is associated with the ancestors, but it is significant
only in the mortuary ritual (gotr) already mentioned, when the dead depart from
the village in the form of buffaloes.
The cremation sites of the different groups in the village are spatially sepa-
rated from one another to varying degrees. The Gangre and their resident affines
cremate their dead immediately next to one another, but at distinct locations.
The Dombo groups also bury their dead at the same place, but separated from
the Gadaba by a low stone wall. The Goudo and Kamar, who live in one of the
hamlets, cremate their dead on the other side of the river. The Gadaba do not
set up stones at the cremation site,⁷⁶ although stones ritually substitute in crema-
tion for the corpses of those who die far from the village and whose bodies are
not brought back. These stones are not given any special treatment later. As well
as at the cremation site and in the abstract location of the underworld (patalpur),
the dead also linger at a ritual – and invisible – village boundary, called bejorna,

 A Gadaba who is a member of the Olek (Mahima Dharma) religious movement set up a
memorial made out of rocks and cement for his father, so far the only memorial of this kind.
110 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

where they are offered rice and beer (pendom), as at the cremation site. Although
the duma are associated with the places mentioned, their inconstancy and move-
ment is a primary character trait. In this, they are similar to the demons (rakias,
but). The wind is considered a vehicle for duma and demons; rustling in the trees
(outside the village) is a sign of their presence. Ritual techniques therefore at-
tempt in various ways to take away freedom of movement from the dead and
the demons by shutting them in or out or banishing them from specific places.

Crossroads
Besides the fixed shrines, footpaths and rivers outside the village have ritual im-
portance, especially the locations where paths and rivers meet. The gods meet at
these places, and one informant described them as their assembly platform
(sadar). Things are cast away at crossroads (chokto rasta, dela kurung*) and pla-
ces where rivers meet (sangom), sent away from the village and its inhabitants; to
this extent, these actions can be understood as healing rituals in a broad sense.
Illnesses and those who cause them (the demons soni and rau) are combatted at
these sites, and promised vows are carried out, by the dissari for his individual
clients and by the pujari for the village as a whole. Due to this association with
illnesses and bad luck, crossroads are also considered dangerous places, to
which the illnesses that have been left behind at them become attached.

Local Representations of the Gods

Gods (maphru ⁷⁷) have houses, distinguishing them from demons (rakias) and the
spirits of the dead (duma), who wander around outside.⁷⁸ Each village has var-
ious places at which the gods are invoked and sacrificially fed with blood,
food, and liquor at designated times. Individual ritual ways of proceeding may
vary from village to village. My informants stressed each village’s ritual autono-
my, commenting, for example, that “what’s done in other villages doesn’t have
anything to do with us; maybe they do things differently there, who knows?”⁷⁹

 The common short form of mahaprabu, used by many Koraput tribes. Elwin (1950, 133) traces
the term back to the fourteenth-century founder of a Vaishnava order, Chaitanya, who was
known as “Mahaprabhu” and identified with Jagannath.
 An informant described the difference between gods and the dead in this way. In the
underworld (patalpur), the dead also live in houses, but not in the “middle world” (mojapur) of
human beings.
 Cf. the remarks of two Kuttia “priests,” reported by Niggemeyer (1964, 147).
 2.4 The Village 111

Nevertheless, my observations and inquiries in different villages produced a rel-

atively unified pattern. This includes the tsoru commensality of the agnatic vil-
lage founders, to the exclusion of resident affinal groups, the kinds of animals
sacrificed to specific gods, and the time of year of the sacrifices. The following
descriptions apply to many Gadaba villages, and only unusual gods and ritual
practices are noted as such. Most villages have a similar pantheon. Along with
hundi, found in all villages, these gods are named pat kanda, jakor, bag puja,
and karandi. In a number of villages, there are also shrines for boiro or boirobi.
Notwithstanding the basic similarities among the shrines and rituals, each vil-
lage forms a ritual whole that has to be analyzed as such.
The fundamental distinction among the gods in most Central Indian tribal
societies, seen in countless myths (cf. Elwin 1949, 1954), is that between the
earth deity and the sun/moon: “The earth is the mother; the father Dorom,
sun/moon, looks down from above,”⁸⁰ is how an informant described it. Earth
and sky (sun/moon) are considered a married couple, but ideas about this are
generally vague, as McDougal (1963, 328) has also found to be the case among
the Juang. The Gadaba generally begin invocations of the gods with “Greetings,
Great God,⁸¹ bosmoti (the earth) below, dorom above.”⁸² Dorom is a general term
for the good and honorable, but refers here to the sibling pair of sun (si*) and
moon (arke*); the moon, which rises in the west, is male, and the sun, which
rises in the east, is female.⁸³ The Bondo also refer to the sun/moon god as
“Singi-Arke,” “Sih-Arke,” or “Dharam-Deota” and identify him with the creator
god “Mahaprabhu” (Elwin 1950, 134 f).⁸⁴ According to Elwin, the Bondo regularly
sacrifice for “Singi-Arke,” something he considers unusual, since “[t]he Supreme
Being in tribal India is commonly regarded as neutral, and it is not considered
necessary to offer him sacrifice” (144). The sun and moon have a great deal of
influence on the rituals of the Gadaba, whose festival calendar is oriented to
the moon (a month is a “moon,” arke*) and whose rituals are timed according
to the height of the sun, that is, the length of shadows. Nevertheless, the sun
and moon appear to be far away, in contrast to the immediacy of the earth. Sac-

 Bosmoti bele ma mata, upre ochi dorom pita chandra surjo dekuchonti.
 The common short form of mahaprabu, “great god,” is maphru.
 Juar maphru, tole je bosmoti, upore dorom.
 The new moon is first visible in the west, so the Gadaba say that the moon rises in the west,
in contrast to the sun.
 Elwin (1950, 150ff) describes the “demigods,” as he calls the maphru, as scourges of hu-
manity, according to the myths he collected, ruthless, greedy, irresponsible, and cruel. As far as
the Gadaba are concerned, this picture is inaccurate and applies rather to the demons soni and
rau. Gods are potentially dangerous, but their behavior is predictable, if the reciprocity between
human beings and gods is ensured by sacrifices.
112 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

rifices are correspondingly more often directed to the earth’s local manifesta-
tions. As abstractions, bosmoti and si arke* appear only in invocations and
myths, in which mahaprabu or maphru appears as the single superordinate
deity. In ritual practice, however, only the local representations are relevant in
relation to the corresponding social units, and there are many earth gods, sun
gods, and maphru in general. Like the spirits of the dead (duma), the gods are
ordered in accordance with the general segmentary model, or as Sahlins
(1968) formulates it, the generalized structure. They exist in relation to the
house, kutum, kuda, or village; the abstract category sun/moon is distant and
relatively meaningless in ritual.

Food of the Gods

The opposition between sun/moon and earth is expressed in Gadaba ritual prac-
tice through the choice of sacrificial animals; a particular diet is generally the
gods’ most distinctive trait. As a pujari explained, “the gods are what they
eat,” and descriptions such as “buffalo-eating god” (por kaila maphru) are com-
mon. The menu thus gives rise to a classification of the gods, not a rigid pan-
theon, but fundamental oppositions that structure the local divine world.
Gods are distinguished from one another by the type of sacrificial animals
they accept and the time of year sacrifices are made. A god may receive different
sacrificial animals as offerings at different times of the year, but certain combi-
nations of sacrificial animals are excluded – both simultaneously and at differ-
ent times – and their combination is perceived as a transgression (dos), even if
exceptions to these rules can usually be found. The clearest opposition, which
has no exceptions to my knowledge, is that between cattle and buffaloes; a
deity accepts either the one or the other as an offering. Cattle-eating gods
often also receive pig sacrifices; buffalo-eating gods also accept sheep sacrifices.
The combinations of buffaloes with pigs and sheep with cattle are not found. In
the example of a buffalo sacrifice for boiro described in chapter 4, a pig is sac-
rificed outside the shrine for a different goddess, not for boiro himself. In addi-
tion, some gods accept neither cattle, pigs, sheep, nor buffaloes, but exclusively
goats; pat kanda belongs to this group.
In this connection, the distinction between “white” sacrifices and “red” sac-
rifices is relevant. White (sukol) sacrificial offerings are made to sun/moon (the
“above,” upore), red (“bloody,” rudi) sacrifices to the earth. Goats (and potential-
ly sheep) are considered “white” sacrificial animals; cattle, buffaloes, and pigs
are considered “bloody.” Correspondingly, the local representations of sun/
moon receive goat sacrifices, while the earth gods receive the “bloody” offerings
as well. Pat kanda receives his sacrificial offerings as part of the April festival
 2.4 The Village 113

(chait porbo), and during this period, the sacrifice of cattle in general – for pat
kanda regardless – is considered a transgression, since at this time, only white
“work” (sukol kam), that is, rituals, should be performed. However, not all gods
associated with the sun/moon receive exclusively white offerings. Although buf-
faloes are not white sacrificial animals, they are sacrificed for boiro or boirobi in
the context of the rituals of the annual cycle. This deity receives sacrificial offer-
ings at the same time as pat kanda (April and November), is in some places con-
sidered a Great House like pat kanda, and is therefore associated with dorom
(sun/moon).
The meat of chickens is consumed by all categories of beings – gods, de-
mons, the dead, and the living – and eggs are sacrificed in most rituals for
the river gods (kamni). Flowers and fruit, which are also part of the offerings,
are for “persons [gods] who do not eat [meat]” (no kaila lok). All village gods
eat blood and meat, but it is supposed that there are some among them who
are vegetarians, as in the case of human beings.⁸⁵
The gods demand not only blood, rice, and meat, but also liquor (mod, ili*).
Libations (tipali) are therefore part of many sacrificial activities. Ideally, the
liquor should be made from the flowers of the mohua tree. Since these trees
are not often found in the area, however, the liquor distillers’ villages are
some distance away, and many Dombo no longer distill this liquor, at least at
the present time, what is most often used in Gudapada is rice liquor, which is
“cooked” (randbar) in almost every house. An important difference between
the gods and the dead (duma) is that the gods do not drink beer, at least the col-
lective gods of the village.
Quenching the gods’ hunger and thirst is humans’ responsibility. In addi-
tion, the Gadaba assume that like human beings, gods react with pleasure or
rage according to whether they are well or poorly provisioned, as Buda Sisa
describes.⁸⁶

They have entirely stopped [performing these sacrifices] – stopped. On this account, the
earth goddess (dorti mata) has become somewhat angry, become angry, and for this reason,
illnesses are now breaking out all over the world, you know? For her, blood is not enough
[…]. Listen, [whispering] in Nandapur they’ve sacrificed a buffalo, sacrificed a sheep, sac-
rificed a human being, in Nandapur, in October (dosra). In Jeypore they’ve sacrificed a
sheep, sacrificed a buffalo, sacrificed a human being. But now they don’t sacrifice any

 For example, the Olek (or Alekh), members of an ascetic religious community, do not eat
meat. On this religious movement see Guzy (2002).
 The starting point for his commentary is his unhappiness with the alleged omission of
sacrifices in Gudapada, at the beginning of the rainy season, for example, when the village
should sacrifice (as joni biru) a head of cattle for the earth goddess.
114 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

more human beings, don’t sacrifice any buffaloes, and don’t sacrifice any sheep: what are
[they] doing? They do coconuts, this and that. [louder again] This is the reason for the many
new illnesses now, for this and that […], the earth goddess is sad, blood is not enough for
her; for this reason, all the illnesses break out. She causes them to break out all over, on
this account. When you don’t give her any food, she becomes angry, no? So, I drink liquor,
I eat meat: good. If someone calls [invites] me and only gives me liquor and no meat, will I
be a little sad then, or not? – somewhat angry […]. I won’t say it to you, but I’ll be somewhat
angry, no?⁸⁷

The gods are also in constant conversation with one another and can league to-
gether against human beings in their rage, as the same informant went on to ex-
plain.

All the gods are angry now, no? Listen. What I’ve just said, this one [god] is in a rather bad
(“heavy,” korap) mood (mon), that one is also feeling bad. They [the gods] mingle, mingle
[…], here [is one], and here there will be another two people [gods], they say, “Why have
you become somewhat sad? Is your body feeling somewhat bad?” They say that. – “No,
no, we’re in a very bad mood on account of someone. Such and such offerings (debaku)
were given to us, [now] the sons-of-bitches don’t give anything, the motherfuckers […]
they take everything [inaudible].” – “Ha! Things are going badly for me, too, I’ll also
join [you],” you know? Four, five people [gods] get together with them, no? They all mingle,
big, little, they all mingle.⁸⁸

Hundi or nisani
Hundi or nisani ⁸⁹ refers to the deity of a village (people often speak of “village”
hundi, ga hundi) and the local representation of the earth (bosmoti, dortoni, dorti

 Setamon ebe sobu chari dele, chari dele. Seta (jor?) dorti mata tike ragi helani, ragi helani se
pai ebe dunia dunia rogo bharlani, bujilo ki? Aku rokto seti sete nai. […] Suno, [whispering]
Nandpure poro marutile, menda marutile, gote loko marutile, Nandpure, dosra mase. Jeypure
menda marutile, poro marutile, loko marutile. Ebe to loko maru nai, ki poro maru nai, ki menda
maru nai, kis kis kori, noria eta seta korlani. [louder again] Seta pai ebe besi besi nua nua rogo eta
seta…, dorti mata taku mono duk lagigola, taku rokto kete nai, se pai sobu bemar bahar korlani. E
sobu jako bahar koruchi, se pai. Je kaibata taku no dele, risa ki nai? Ebe mu mod piuchi, manso
kauchi, bes. Ke dakibe kali mod dele, manso nai mote kono mon duk hebo ki nai, risa tike…, tote
mu koibi nai je mote tike risa lagibo, ki nai?
 Sobu [maphrumon] ragi ebe, ki nai, suno. Ebe mu koili aku tike mon ta korap lagla, taku mise
mon ta korap lagla. Se au, se misiba aka, misibe […], e pake ki e pake au gote dui lok tibu, semon
koibe: “Tumo kai tike mon duk para heucho? Tumo tike korap korap para tumor deho emti
laguchi.” Emti semon koibe. “Nai, nai palna palnata amku tike mono besi korap laguchi. Emti emti
amor debaku tila, gialpo dela nai, magia [nei kori?, inaudible].” – “Ha! Mote moidyo korap
laguchi, mui moidyo sangre michibi,” bujilo? Tar sangre char panch lok michi jibe, ki nai? […] Sobu
michibe sano, boro sobu michibe.
 The terms hundi and nisani are used synonymously and also often as a pair, hundi nisani.
 2.4 The Village 115

mata). On the occasion of ritual activities at hundi, plowing and wounding the
earth’s surface in general are forbidden, and once a year, the layers of earth
within the shrine are renewed, after the rain has washed them away during
the monsoon months. The earth and hundi as the earth’s local representation
are conceived of as female, as was evident in Buda Sisa’s remarks; the term
ga mata pita (“mother-father of the village”) is likewise common. In general,
the ascription of gender to deities is variable and context-dependent, as other
examples will also show.
Hundi is distinguished from all other village shrines by its position in the vil-
lage, its construction, and the frequency of sacrifices. Hundi is located in the cen-
ter of the village; all other shrines are found outside the village boundaries. The
shrine consists of a mound of stones surrounding a hollow space closed with
stone slabs. One or more stones protruding out of the earth are found within.⁹⁰
This construction is surrounded by a stone wall, and this inner area is entered
only by the pujari and randari at sacrifices, so long as the tsoru is being cooked.
Once it is ready, all other members of the Four Brothers take their places within
this wall to eat tsoru; women are not permitted to enter. The other shrines most
often consist only of an open surrounding wall with a megalithic monument and
associated trees within.⁹¹ Three times a year, the pujari opens the hundi shrine,
chickens and pigs are sacrificed, and tsoru is eaten at the shrine; hundi is thus
venerated more often than any other deity.⁹²
Hundi’s significance for the village consists in making the earth fertile and
granting protection. Without this deity, no village can exist, it was often said; hu-
mans and animals would all die of illness, and nothing would grow in the fields.
Hundi represents the territory, is oriented inward, and protects the village boun-

 In Gudapada, there are two stones rising about fifteen centimeters out of the earth inside the
shrine. In another village, I saw in the opened shrine an upside-down clay pot, which possibly
covered the stones.
 These formations can be quite impressive. In some cases, multiple concentric stone walls
separate relatively inner from outer areas, and giant banyan trees overshadow the entire site, or
dense mats of vines (siardi, lando*) encompass stones and walls.
 When a settlement is abandoned, as previously mentioned in the case of the village of
Guneipada, the inhabitants have the option to continue the sacrifices for hundi or to ritually
close the shrine in what is known as tapni. If the location is abandoned without subsequent
presentation of sacrificial offerings, the deity begins to devour (kai debar) human beings, that is,
humans grow sick and die, it was said. In this ritual, which I was unable to observe, all animals
eligible to serve as food for hundi (goat, sheep, rooster) must be sacrificed under the direction of
the village’s boro dissari. The rooster is to be buried alive, and it is considered inauspicious if
noises are heard from it afterward. When a house is torn down, no comparable rituals are
needed.
116 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

daries. This shrine is therefore also referred to as a house (gor), in contrast to the
yard (dand), that is, to the deity pat kanda outside the village boundaries.

Photo 5: The shrine of the village deity hundi

After the sacrifice for the village deity (on the “festival day” of the April festival), the shrine has
again been closed. (The “door” is adorned with mango garlands.) The village sacrificer and the
cook drink liquor together inside the wall that surrounds the shrine, largely undisturbed by the
attention of the village’s remaining inhabitants.

Pat kanda, gumang*, or the Great House

Pat kanda accepts only “white” offerings. He is a goat-eating deity, and offering
pigs or cattle at his shrine – or at the time of his sacrifices in April – is consid-
ered a transgression. This deity is also known as gumang* and as the “Great
House” or the “Senior House”⁹³ (boro gor, moro dien*) and is with hundi the
most important deity in a village. In Gudapada, hundi and pat kanda are descri-
bed as “two persons” (dui lok) or as siblings (bai bouni), with pat kanda the older
brother of his sister (hundi). While hundi represents the earth deity and the inside

 In two cases, the gods bardani (in Tukum) and boirobi (in Deulpada) are considered the Great
House.
 2.4 The Village 117

Photo 6: The opened hundi shrine

The village deity’s shrine is opened three times a year; this photo was taken during the August
festival (bandapan porbo). The pujari drew a white pattern (bana) around the two upright stones
inside the shrine and another one immediately in front of the shrine.
118 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

on the local level, pat kanda is associated with the sun and the outside. In Gu-
dapada – and in no other village, as far as I know – the Great House in fact has
the form of a house and is located at the foot of a hill, at the edge of the rice
paddies. Pat kanda receives his most important sacrifice each year in April
(chait). In November, when the pujari renews the earth in the hundi shrine, the
roof of the pat kanda shrine is ritually replaced. This emphasis on the earth
on the one hand and the roof on the other can be considered a further indication
of the earth/sky opposition, and the thatching of the roof recalls the sequence in
the invocation to doron deli that draws out precisely this contrast: “a post and a
bundle of grass.” The opposition between earth and sun/moon is expressed at
the level of the village shrines in both the vertical (earth/roof) and the horizontal
(inside/outside) dimensions.
Along with pat kanda’s identification as a brother in contrast to hundi and
the Gadaba’s statements that he is the most senior (sobu tu boro) deity, various
ritual details also speak in favor of the high status of the Great House and its op-
position to the other shrines, that is, to the earth. In the festivals in November
(diali) and April (chait), pat kanda is venerated first, then hundi. If men leave
the village for an extended period – for example, when they go in search of
wage work – they first make a vow (mansik, titi leno’*) in which they promise sac-
rifices to pat kanda if they return to the village safe and sound. The implication is
that pat kanda has influence over the outside world and can protect the inhab-
itants of the village even at a great distance, while hundi is concerned only with
the village. This stress on external relationships is also clear in the local out-
marof pat kanda’s “seven sisters” (see below).
In all collective sacrifices, including those to hundi, the pujari in Gudapada
prepares a separate sacrificial site in the direction of the Great House and sep-
arately sacrifices roosters there. Pat kanda is thus always part of the sacrificial
actions – even if at a distance – and no other village deity receives this mark
of reverence. Above and beyond the fact of reverence, this is also an expression
of the opposition between pat kanda and the other shrines. Pat kanda is con-
trasted to all other shrines, and when the ritual actors move back and forth be-
tween these sacrificial sites, they oscillate, as it were, between sky and earth.⁹⁴
The name pat kanda alludes to a sword (“khanda”; Elwin 1950, 145); al-
though the Gadaba occasionally venerate their sacrificial axes before the ritual
killing, however, swords are not to be found in these places, and a royal symbol

 Two sacrificial sites or ritual patterns in the context of a puja often point to a contrast,
between consanguineal and affinal duma, senior and junior gods, or the earth and the sun/
moon, for example, as in the context of hundi puja.
 2.4 The Village 119

of this kind is not a focus of the cult. This is or was different among the Bondo.
Elwin (1950, 145 f) recounts that in Mundlipada, the village of the Bondo’s most
senior naik, a sword plays the central role in the sacrifice at the shrine of “Pat
Khanda Mahaprabhu” or represents the deity. The shrine – a large banyan
tree, in which the sword is hidden – is located outside the village, and here
as well, pat kanda receives goats as a sacrifice. It is not clear from Elwin’s de-
scription, however, whether pat kanda is identified with the sun, although
there is some indication of this in a myth that Elwin reports in this context, in
which pat kanda’s sister appears to be the moon.⁹⁵

Jakor and bag puja

Not only do the gods have specific food preferences, they also accept the sacri-
fices addressed to them only at specific times. The major sacrifice for pat kanda
takes place in April (chait), that for hundi in November (diali), and that for jakor
and bag puja in the rainy season, in August (bandapan). Bag puja receives the
sacrifice of a head of cattle each year; jakor receives cattle and pig sacrifices
in alternate years.
In Gudapada, both shrines are located on the same hill, with which the gods
are associated. While jakor’s shrine consists of the usual stone wall surrounding
an assemblage of stones and a tree, bag puja is represented only by a single
stone, which protrudes about half a meter from the hillside and is not visibly dif-
ferent from any other stone.⁹⁶ Both gods have protective functions; bag puja
(“tiger sacrifice”) is supposed especially to prevent incursions by wild animals
into the village. Thurston (1909, 250) writes about jakor, “Jhankara is the god
of land, rainfall and crops, and a cow is sacrificed to him.” As at the shrine
for the karandi deity, described next, the Kirsani provide the sacrificer for the
jakor puja in Gudapada, not the customary Sisa.

 In this myth, the sister of pat kanda ignores all her brother’s warnings and appears before
him naked, after which she loses her hair and becomes a stone. Pat kanda turns into the sword
(Elwin 1950, 145 f). The pair of siblings in this myth are probably to be identified with the sun/
moon sibling pair, since the moon is associated with the hairless head shape of Bondo women.
Other frequently told variations of this myth, including among the Gadaba, tell how the Bondo
women (just like the sister of pat kanda here) lost their hair through a transgression and have
been bald since then (cf. Pfeffer 1997b).
 The upper part of the stone has the form of a triangle. In Soilpada, this deity is represented
by a stone-filled pit in an open field.
120 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Karandi
Karandi is a deity associated with the hunt, whose shrines are likewise found in
most villages (always outside the village boundaries), and to whom white chick-
ens (roosters or sexually immature chicks) are generally sacrificed in April, on
the day of the “great hunt” (boro bet). Karandi calls the game and lures it within
range of the hunters, if the inhabitants of the village have met their ritual obli-
gations. If not, the deity weeps (kandbar), foretelling misfortune for the village.
Karandi’s hill shrine in Gudapada consists of a stone circle surrounding an as-
semblage of stones, the number of which is said to change, with an increase
in the number of stones viewed as auspicious (sub).
Individual houses may also shelter karandi deities. In the houses as well,
this deity consists of stones, which are kept in a bamboo basket. Every other
year in April, a kutum in Gudapada sacrifices a goat for karandi, who resides
in one of the houses. The stones come to people, it is said, reveal themselves
as gods, and receive sacrificial offerings from then on.⁹⁷

Boiro or boirobi
Boirobi or boiro – both names literally mean “fear-inducing” and are used inter-
changeably by the Gadaba – are the gods to whom various villages present buf-
falo sacrifices at shrines outside the village. In the Hindu context, Bhoirobo
(Bhairava) is a fierce form of Shiva, and Bhoirobi (Bhairavi) refers to forms of
the Devi, for example the Hindu warrior goddess Durga. It is unclear, however,
to what extent this origin of the name is meaningful for the Gadaba; a link to the
king is possible, since the names of other local gods also match titles of the “Sun
Kings.”⁹⁸ The gods of these shrines are sometimes ascribed male or female gen-
der, and it is not the representation of the deity in the shrine, but the iron sac-
rificial ax (tangi) or the curved machete (gagra) that is referred to as Durga and
venerated before the buffalo is sacrificed.
The distribution of sacrificial duties among a village’s kuda has already been
illustrated in other examples, and in this case as well, the sacrificers for boiro are
often different from the “pujari of the village” (ga pujari), who leads the rituals
for pat kanda and hundi. For boiro, a buffalo is sacrificed every other year (“once
in three years,” tini borso tore); in the “unstressed” years, either the sacrifice is
omitted entirely, or a rooster or a sheep is ritually killed. The buffalo sacrifices

 Elwin (1950, 156) records a myth in which a Bondo sisa (sacrificer) kills a stag and finds
karandi gods – in the form of stones – in the animal’s belly.
 Bhairava Deo ruled in Nandapur from 1510 to 1527. Several individuals with the name Vikram
Deo (local Desia gods have the name Birkom) ruled at various times (Schnepel 2002, 301).
 2.4 The Village 121

fall predominantly in November (diali), although some villages sacrifice buffa-

loes in April (chait). During the rainy season (June to September), no buffalo sac-
rifices should take place, since during that period, cattle are sacrificed for jakor
and bag puja, as well as other gods.⁹⁹

The Gods’ Relationships to One Another

Both relationships within the pantheon and those between gods and humans are
conceived of in terms of affinal (bondu) and agnatic (bai) kinship. Sukro Challan,
a member of an affinal group in Gudapada, explained this to me as follows: if
people or villages have an affinal or agnatic tie, the same is true of their gods
and vice versa.

Pat kanda and hundi, they’re like bai [they have an agnatic relationship]. So, like our Sisa
[to one another], exactly like that. We [Mundagoria] are bondu somdi [affines of the Sisa]. In
exactly the same way, the goddesses and gods are bondu somdi. So, [the people of the vil-
lages of] Gudapada, Deulpada, are of course bai, Kamarguda are also bai. Tukum, Petpada,
they’re somdi. In exactly the same way, [their] gods are also of course somdi. As the one is,
so is the other. Your house god [“house mother-father”] and our house god [are] somdi. But
yours and Ori’s¹⁰⁰ [are] bai. That’s how it is.¹⁰¹

It is also said that the gods of different villages visit one another as guests (gotia)
or settle in other villages as affines. In Gudapada, three sacrificial sites are pre-
pared at the shrine for pat kanda. Two brothers, each represented by a stone, are
found respectively inside (the elder brother) and outside (the younger brother)
the house. Their “seven sisters” (sat bouni) are not (permanently) present at
the shrine, since they have gone as brides to the neighboring village of Komel,
where there is a shrine of the seven sisters, for whom goats are sacrificed at
the same times as for pat kanda. In reference to the buffalo-eating boiro deities

 Most of my informants, from different villages, were vehement in stating this position. This
was the proper order of things (niam), in their view, and to contravene this order was dos. Even
here, however, an exception can be found. In the village of Cheliamenda, buffaloes are said to
be sacrificed for boirobi in August (bandapan). When I reported this to my informants, their
answer once again demonstrated the ritual autonomy of the different villages: “They may do it
that way; for us, it would be out of the question.”
 Ori Sisa, my “brother” and neighbor.
 Pat kanda au ga hundi semane bai isapre ochonti. Bele, amor Sisa bai mon kemti ochi, semti.
Ame bondu somdi isapre. Semti ki devi depta bondu somdi ochi. Ebe amor Gudapada, Deulpada
bai aka, Kamarguda bi bai hebo. Hele, Tukum, Petpada seman somdi hebe. Semti maphrumon bi
somdi aka hei jibe. Kon isabre se isap aka. Tomor gor mata pita amor gor mata pita somdi. Hele
tomor ki Orimonor bai. Semti aka isab.
122 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

of the neighboring villages, on the other hand – in Gudapada there is no boiro

shrine – pat kanda in Gudapada is described as their sister.¹⁰² Pat kanda’s gender
is consequently not fixed, but varies depending on which other deity the Great
House is contrasted to.¹⁰³

Doron deli and hundi, House and Village

After this description of the primary village shrines, the food preferences of their
gods, and the ritual specialists, it is also possible to delineate more clearly the
similarities between the house god (doron deli) and village deity (hundi), already
suggested above. Both gods are found in the center of a bordered space, within
which they primarily act, and are contrasted to the outside, where other powers
exercise influence. Doron deli and hundi have identical food habits, in terms of
both the types of animals and their color.¹⁰⁴ Both deities represent the earth in
relation to a specific territory – house or village – at the same time that they des-
ignate a precisely defined social realm, within which the members share tsoru
with one another.
The hierarchical opposition between sacrificer and cook exists both at the
level of the village (pujari/randari) and at that of the house (husband/wife),
and between these two levels themselves, there exists a hierarchical relationship
of whole and part that is expressed in the sequence of sacrifices in village festi-
vals. The linguistic distinction between completeness and wholeness is also sig-
nificant. If the reference is to the village as an assemblage of individual houses,
people speak of gulai ga (all houses of the village), with regard to a collection of
money to pay for a sacrificial animal, for example. However, it is the ga matam
(village as a whole) that sacrifices the animal, and the individual houses are dis-
solved into the superordinate unit of the village in this case.

 In Deulpada and Guneipada, the boirobi shrines are considered Great Houses. In the latter
village, boirobi is described as the elder sister of her brother pat kanda.
 In many villages, the boiro shrines are not considered Great Houses, while the pat kanda
shrines are, but this does not necessarily entail that the latter have the most senior status. The
description of boiro as the brother of pat kanda (his sister) implies boiro’s senior status, and the
relationships within the villages themselves partially confirm this. In Gorihanjar, I was told that
pat kanda is boiro’s son, although pat kanda is considered the Great House there. The ways in
which the relationships between the gods are explained vary considerably.
 Both gods receive he-goats (red or black) – hundi only under exceptional circumstances —,
pigs, and chickens (red or black) as sacrificial animals.
 2.5 The “Latecomers” 123

2.5 The “Latecomers”

The fact that the Gadaba do not form a homogeneous tribal group occupying a
similarly homogenous tribal territory, but instead share their territory with other
Desia, has already been emphasized in the introduction. It appears beyond
doubt that the Gadaba, Bondo, Parenga, and other Adivasi of the region occu-
pied this part of the Eastern Ghats at an earlier period than the Goudo or the
Mali, but historical documentation of the migrations from the plains is lacking,
and speculation about the process can add little to our knowledge (cf. Pfeffer
1997a, 7). Except for the workers who have been drawn to the highlands by gov-
ernment industrial projects over the last sixty years (cf. Strümpell 2001, 2007), it
can be assumed that the different Desia groups found in Gadaba villages today
have lived in the highlands long enough to form an autonomous cultural constel-
lation (cf. Pfeffer 1997a). This applies especially to the Dombo, who in some
areas are more or less the only settlers among the Adivasi and who have devel-
oped very specific forms of interdependence with the “earth people” in each lo-
cation. In what follows, I will examine these forms of social relationship with
special reference to the village of Gudapada, although I will also bring in data
from other villages. It will become clear that the relationship between the village
founders and the earth also structures their relationship to other groups and em-
beds their “economic” transactions in a ritual context. The different affinal
groups of the Gudapada village founders are “latecomers” (upria) just like the
other Desia and are contrasted as such to the “earth people” (matia). A story
told by the Sisa (Chamru Gor) recounts the village’s development.

When the Gadaba came from the Godabir [Godavari], an old married couple (Kukudi Dokra
and Kukudi Dokri) were the first to settle here, and the hill still bears their name today,
Mount Kuku. Two sons were born to them and were nursed by a tiger. They were named
Kalu and Kelu, and the older one founded Gudapada, the younger one Sisaput [a hamlet
of Gudapada]; at each of these places, they initiated a hundi. Back then, there were no fields
of any kind, just forest, no Rona, no Mali, and no Dombo.
Later, there was a drought (mordi), and many people left the village. The ancestors of
the Garsa Gor kutum went to Lenjiguda, others to Bilaput, to Polkaput, or to Kodomguda.
Only the Chamru Gor people (Sisa) stayed: “We’re not afraid, it’s our land, where should we
go?” they said to themselves. They were plowing right when a man from Odrugor, on the
other side of the Machkund, passed by. He was Dombo, he said, and was not headed any-
where in particular. Actually, he was a Rona who had married a Dombo woman and been
expelled from his community. Since they didn’t have any Dombo or any barik yet, they said
that he should stay in the village. They found a wife for him [his first wife had apparently
not come with him?], gave him something to eat, and wanted to give him land also. But he
preferred to get a share of the harvest for his work. The Sisa fed him tsoru, and so they be-
came tsorubai.
124 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Little by little, the other Gadaba came back, and their fields were also given back to
them, although there weren’t many back then. The Mundagoria (from Mundagor) were
called in as witnesses (sakibai) to the land distribution, to avoid disputes. Later, the Mess-
ing (from Cheliamenda) and the Ruda’i (from Ridal) came as well. We’re just wanderers (bu-
liba lok), and people don’t send them away, but instead give them some land.¹⁰⁵

The story describes the immigration of the Dombo. However, the “calling” (dak-
bar) of the affinal groups leaves others, such as the Goudo, Kamar, and Rona,¹⁰⁶
unmentioned. I will first briefly introduce the affinal groups, then the Dombo,
the Goudo, and the Kamar.

The Gangre’s Local Affines

The affinal groups resident in Gudapada are primarily from the three neighbor-
ing villages of Cheliamenda, Ridal, and Mundagor. The matia groups of these vil-
lages are called Messing, Ruda’i, and Mundagoria, and the representatives of
these villages in Gudapada are called by the same names. When these groups
came to Gudapada could not be learned; the fathers of the oldest residents
were already born in Gudapada, so that the groups have been in the village
for at least four generations. Independent of their length of residence, they retain
the status of upria.
The Ruda’i are represented by five houses and belong to the Tiger bonso
(killo), like the Messing (three houses). The Mundagoria are also represented
by five houses and are from the Fish bonso (macho), something that in itself
identifies them as Ollar Gadaba, since this descent category is not found
among the Gutob Gadaba. They have forgotten the language of the Ollar, Ollari,
in favor of Gutob, which they speak fluently and have presumably spoken for
generations. Their Ollar status is irrelevant, and nothing (other than bonso

 This story is also told by the other groups in the village (Kirsani, Dombo), although with
slight variations. In a version told by the affinal Mundagoria in Gudapada, a new hundi shrine
was established after the various groups returned (according to this version, the Mundagoria
remained in the village with the Sisa during the drought). Blood from the sacrificial animals is in
fact still sprinkled today at the location where the old shrine once stood.
 In the past, there were also a larger number of Sundi (liquor distillers) in Gudapada. At the
time I resided there, there was one young Sundi widow still living in Gudapada, where she sold
liquor that her brothers distilled in her home village. Since then, she has moved to the city. In
addition, one other Sundi family lives in the village and has now married Gadaba women for two
generations, so that they are rather considered affines of the village founders.
 2.5 The “Latecomers” 125

and kuda status) distinguishes the Mundagoria in Gudapada from the Ruda’i or
Messing.
These groups define themselves as affines and upria vis-à-vis the “earth peo-
ple,” and in comparison to this dominant opposition, their kuda status is secon-
dary. The affines’ kuda status serves only for differentiation within these groups,
and the “earth people” are often ignorant of their internal affines’ kuda member-
ship. The Ruda’i in Gudapada belong to the category of the sisa, the Messing to
the sisa and munduli, and the Mundagoria to the challan and kirsani. Personal
names include either the village group (e. g., Messing Somra) or the bonso
(e. g., Mukund Killo), and only among the Mundagoria are the kuda names some-
times used (e. g., Sukro Challan). The differences in kuda status take on rele-
vance in accordance with the level of the group relationships. Within the Mun-
dagoria, the Challan are distinguished from the Kirsani, and on the basis of
this difference, a tsorubai relationship exists between these groups, just as
one also exists between the different kuda segments of the Messing (Sisa and
Munduli). For the other affinal groups in each case, however, these internal dis-
tinctions are without significance, and the Ruda’i and Messing are tsorubai for
each other without reference to the differentiation within the Messing.
Despite their partially different bonso, the affinal groups view themselves as
quasi-brothers in opposition to the Gangre, since they give their “daughters and
sisters” (ji bouni) to the Gangre and marry the Gangre’s ji bouni. ¹⁰⁷ The Gangre’s
internal affines are thus often in a relationship of saru (WZH) to one another. The
children of saru are “milk siblings” (dud bai bouni), since they have drunk the
milk of “one mother” (gotero ma, i. e., two sisters) or of one mother’s brother,
and marriages between them are therefore forbidden. Since the affinal groups
give ji bouni to the Gangre and take them from them in each generation, the
men and women of each generation view themselves as classificatory “milk sib-
lings” and the offspring of saru, so that marriage alliances between the groups
generally do not take place. The Gangre are contrasted as affines to all the affinal
groups; there are no singular marriage alliances between the Messing and the
Sisa (of the Gangre) and the Mundagoria and Kirsani (of the Gangre), for exam-
ple, as the following diagram makes clear. The Messing are used here as an ex-
ample, but the same is true of the other groups, the Ruda’i and the Mundagoria.
In formal situations like marriage negotiations, mortuary rituals (cf. Pfeffer
1991), or the harvest, the affinal groups perform the functions of witness and of-
ficial recorder for the Gangre. According to the story of the founding of the set-

 The terms “quasi-brothers” and “quasi-consanguineal tie” go back to Vatuk (1969), who
refers in this way to the extension of the terms for B and Z to EssGE.
126 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

tlement, they were originally invited for this purpose, to legitimate the land dis-
tribution and act as observers. Ritually speaking, the affines are subordinate to
the Gangre, since like all other external groups, they are upria (“latecomers”),
and the “earth people” do not share tsoru with them at the hundi shrine. The rit-
ual status difference is also articulated in the context of the April festival by the
fact that the Gangre dignitaries are carried into the village on the shoulders of
the affines after the sacrifice at the pat kanda shrine.
When it happens that a marriage between the Gangre and a group from the
village of origin of one of their internal affinal groups is in preparation, the in-
ternal affines join with the wife-givers or wife-takers from their home village. A
young Sisa woman was given to the village of Ridal (Ruda’el), the village of ori-
gin of the Ruda’i, and at each visit by the suitors, the Ruda’i of Gudapada joined
their brothers as bride-takers. A week after the bride was brought to her hus-
band’s village for the first time, a previously promised ritual (mansik) took
place in Gudapada, for which the Ruda’i gave a he-goat. The feast was hosted
by the Ruda’i in Gudapada, with a seating order that contrasted the bride-takers
(all Ruda’i) to the bride-givers (Sisa, including the bride).
The narrative reported above mentions that the Sisa gave the immigrant af-
fines land. Like all upria groups, however, the affines have no claim to land. Nev-
ertheless, each house of the affinal groups cultivates its own fields, and their rel-
ative “landlessness” does not lead them to pursue trade, as the Dombo do. Like
all other Gadaba, they take occasional day-labor jobs in the area, in road con-
struction, for example, and travel to look for work at a certain season of the
year. A Ruda’i man has a post with the Forest Department and is supposed to
watch over the government forests around Gudapada.¹⁰⁸

Dombo

The Dombo are called Goren by the Gadaba (in Gutob). In Gudapada, they are
the most numerous group after the village founders, with twenty-seven

 Such government jobs (chakri) are sought after, and three other Gadaba in Gudapada
pursue activities of this kind alongside their agricultural labors. One man works in the school
hostel, a woman – who has not been back to Gudapada in years – works in a factory in the
lowlands, and another man is employed as an assistant on the Kolab dike project. The Dombo,
especially the Upper Dombo, are more frequently to be found in such jobs. For example, the
barik also works on the Kolab project.
 2.5 The “Latecomers” 127

Messing (Sisa) Gangre

A Kirsani (?)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

B Sisa (Naik Gor)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sisa (Naik Gor)
C
Kirsani (Kodomguria)

Messing (Munduli) Gangre

A Sisa (Purnamundia)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kirsani (Kukuda Kato)
Kirsani (?)
B Sisa (Purnamundia)

Sisa (Naik Gor)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
C Kirsani (Kodomguria)

Figure 4: Marriage Alliances between Messing (in Gudapada) and Gangre (kutum). An arrow
stands for the gift of a classificatory sister. The dashed lines separate the generations. The
affinal groups in Gudapada do not marry only Gangre women, but also women from outside the
village.

houses.¹⁰⁹ They are divided into two groups (kutum), the “lower” (tole) and the
“upper” (upore) Dombo, in reference to their location on the hillside,¹¹⁰ and they
belong to the Bear (kimdu) descent category. They assume themselves to be de-
scended from a common ancestor, and some of them can still name the pair of
brothers who founded the present kutum. As a matter of principle, their member-
ship in the Bear bonso designates them as bondu of the Gangre, who are Cobras.
Nevertheless, the Dombo describe only the Kirsani as such; they consider the
Sisa their tsorubai.

 Including fourteen houses of the Upper Dombo and thirteen houses of the Lower Dombo.
The Dombo also have a group of internal affines, who belong to the Tiger bonso and are currently
represented by one house in the Lower Dombo sai.
 The Upper Dombo are also called Muchem.
128 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Dombo and Sisa as tsorubai

All Dombo and Gadaba in Gudapada assume that their relationship was estab-
lished through tsoru commensality, as reported in the narrative given above: “we
became their tsoru Dom,”¹¹¹ a Dombo explained. In general, the tsorubai rela-
tionship is found only between Gadaba segments and does not imply a hierarchy
(as in the Dombo-Gadaba relationship), but instead reciprocal ritual services,
primarily involving the preparation and consumption of tsoru. The Gadaba do
not share tsoru with the Dombo today; this was done only once, people say,
when the Dombo’s ancestors settled here. Nevertheless, the Dombo and Sisa
take their tsorubai relationship seriously, and beyond the usual patronage rela-
tionship between “earth people” (matia) or landholders (roit) and their Dombo,
this relationship has significance.¹¹²
Every important Dombo undertaking (“work,” kam) is supported and legiti-
mated by the Gadaba through their presence. For example, the Dombo invite the
Gadaba to an expensive mortuary ritual (bur) and provide them hospitality with
liquor. A Dombo explained that where the Kirsani were concerned, the presence
of one person was sufficient, but with regard to the Sisa – the tsorubai – it
should be a person from each house. Without Gadaba participation, he said,
the ritual would be without effect. When the Upper Dombo in Gudapada were
negotiating with their affines over bridewealth for a girl who had already
come to Gudapada a week before, a senior Sisa sat with them in the place of
honor (the bamboo mat) and fought for his Dombo and tsorubai. In mortuary rit-
uals as well, the Dombo and Sisa help one another. When an elderly Dombo man
died, the Sisa dug the grave;¹¹³ conversely, the Dombo bring wood to the crema-
tion site when a Sisa dies, and the mourning group in each case receives money
for liquor from the other. Ritual services in the mortuary context are a primary
component of the tsorubai relationship, and within the framework imposed by
the commensality rules, both groups carry out their duties as tsorubai. At the
time of the April festival, the Sisa invite their Dombo tsorubai, offer them hospi-
tality, and eat together with them in front of their houses.¹¹⁴

 Tsoru Dom boili ame heigolu ankor.

 In some villages, the Dombo and Gadaba are also linked by a panjabai relationship, in
which the reciprocal eating of the “dead” (i. e., buffaloes) is the primary focus.
 The Lower Dombo are the only group known to me in the area who bury their dead.
 The tsorubai relationships are between the Garsa Gor and the Upper Dombo and the
Chamru Gor and the Lower Dombo.
 2.5 The “Latecomers” 129

Dombo Activities
The Dombo are distinguished by their versatility, and trade, weaving, and music
are among their traditional occupations. Like most Dombo in the area, the
Dombo in Gudapada are traders (bepari), and as such, they are especially active
on the days when the weekly market (hat) is held. They buy the harvest surpluses
of the Gadaba and the other Adivasi of the area and sell their consolidated pur-
chases at the end of the day to the wholesalers from the lowlands. Kilometers
before the market, the Dombo set up their large scales and try to persuade the
Gadaba thronging to market to sell their grain, since the competition is greater
at the market itself. The Gadaba’s only “cash crop” is rapeseed or Niger seed
(olsi), and after the harvest, the Dombo buy the yield from their fellow villagers
right in the village itself, since this trade is very profitable.
The Dombo trade not only in grain, but in the widest possible variety of
goods, and they travel to distant weekly markets to buy livestock at favorable pri-
ces, for example, if the animals will bring in more at their local markets. They
sell the Gadaba’s livestock when necessary and try in that case to get a higher
price than the one agreed in advance, in order to be able to retain the difference
as profit. Some Dombo insert themselves as go-betweens (jaleri) into livestock
transactions already under negotiation at the weekly market and try to influence
the price in one direction or the other. If they succeed, they receive a commis-
sion.
Alongside their position as traders mediating between village and market or
between the Gadaba and wholesalers, which Pfeffer (1997a) stresses, the Dombo
produce a variety of goods, which they sell within the village and at the weekly
market. Gudapada is one of the few villages in the area in which the Dombo –
only the lower group – are still active as weavers. All Desia – men and
women¹¹⁵ – previously wore Dombo cloth, while the Gadaba women wove
their own kisalo’* or kereng, still worn today only in the area around Onukadilli.
Over the last few decades, manufactured textiles have driven out the local prod-
ucts almost entirely. Only a very few are still prepared today to pay twice the
price for the Dombo’s blankets (mat luga), a traditional part of Gadaba bride-
wealth, instead of the machine-made products on the market, even if they are
convinced of the better quality of the Dombo wares.
Conversely, the Gadaba in Gudapada buy the liquor distilled by the Dombo,
even though it has a poor reputation. When Sundi still lived in Gudapada, they
distilled mohua liquor (mul mod) together with the Dombo, until the police pro-

 The men wore a loincloth (lengti), and the women wore a white cloth around the hips and
another around the shoulders.
130 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

hibited this activity. Today, the Dombo produce liquor from molasses (gur) and
sell it to the villagers. The Gadaba distill rice liquor – and liquor from each sea-
son’s fruits – in their own houses, but in “emergencies,” they will fall back on
the Dombo’s supplies.
Indispensable for the Gadaba’s brewing of beer (pendom) is a fermentation
starter, known as oso (medicine), that only the Dombo produce. Many Dombo
houses have a shed containing a large mortar (kutni) in which the roots and
twigs are crushed.¹¹⁶ While only a few people in Gudapada buy the Dombo’s
liquor, everyone needs oso, especially for rituals and festivals.
Also very important for rituals are the Dombo musicians, whose help ena-
bles successful communication with the gods. Without music, the gods do not
listen, it is said. A group of musicians consists of four players, three drummers
and one who plays a wind instrument called moiri. ¹¹⁷ Moira is both the player of
this instrument and the group as a whole. A round drum (tamok) marks the
rhythm, but the moiri is considered the leader of the ensemble, and its superior
status is especially visible in the rituals in which the musicians play for the gods,
as in bato biba. For the Gadaba’s circle dance (demsa) as well, however, which is
danced by men and women, Gadaba and Dombo, on all celebratory occasions,
the Dombo’s music is required, and the steps follow the shifting rhythms of
the drums. In Gudapada, no Dombo currently plays the moiri, so the village or
individual houses must invite musicians from the neighboring villages for spe-
cial occasions and pay them for their services. For the April festival, the musi-
cians came to the village for several days each year.
The Dombo in Gudapada participate in all collective festivals and consider
the gods of the village just as much their gods as the Gadaba’s. Only the Gangre
may sacrifice at the village shrines; if they did it themselves, a Dombo said, it
would not be auspicious (sub), and if they ate the Gadaba’s tsoru there, it
would be a transgression (dos) that would bring misfortune (gat kaibar ¹¹⁸). Nev-
ertheless, they have sacrifices made by the pujari in fulfillment of individual
vows (mansik) to pat kanda, for example, and receive a share of lakka’* food

 A paste is made from a root (chitromul), a shrub (kuroi), and broken rice, then cut into dice
and dried.
 A large cylindrical drum is called dol, and a large round drum is tamok. Both are played
with flexible drumsticks made from rubber or latex and have a deep sound. The small round
drum (kirdi) is played with rigid drumsticks and has a high sound. The mouthpiece of the moiri
consists of a paper membrane.
 Gat refers to the fate that is determined at birth and that an individual “eats” (kaibar) if he
or she does not behave in accordance with the established rules.
 2.5 The “Latecomers” 131

at communal sacrifices. The inner area of the shrines, such as the space within
the surrounding wall at hundi, is forbidden to the Dombo, however.
Like some Gadaba groups in the village, the two Dombo kutum separately
venerate their kutum gods as part of the April festival each year. The Lower
Dombo sacrifice a goat for their house god, represented by a sword, on a path
outside the entrance to the village. The Upper Dombo sacrifice goats and
sheep at a different location on Mount Kisor, marked only by a tree. Unlike
the Gadaba, the Dombo do not conduct any sacrifices in the inner rooms of
their houses, where they exclusively light incense (dup). Nevertheless, they con-
secrate the animals for the kutum sacrifices at doron deli in the house of the
group’s most senior brother.

Barik
In each village, there is only one public function that is not performed by the
Gadaba, the position of the barik. ¹¹⁹ Formally speaking, the barik is a respected
person in the village, but his status is ambivalent, since his identity as Dombo
runs counter to his prestige as barik. He is the only Dombo to eat with the Gada-
ba at pat kanda’s shrine. More precisely, he eats with the village’s affinal Gadaba
groups, not with the “earth people” who eat the tsoru. While eating, he sits en-
tirely outside, far removed from the shrine, and in the triumphal entry into the
village after the sacrifice at the Great House, he is the only village dignitary not
carried on the affines’ shoulders.
I have already introduced the ritual dignitaries – pujari and randari – and
the function of the naik, and the barik is closely associated with the last of
these. Like the naik, the barik does not perform sacrifices, but instead is respon-
sible for the “logistics” of the festivals. In all collective matters, the barik repre-
sents the village, together with the naik. The barik’s tasks are oriented both
within and outside the village; mortuary rituals and weddings are just as
much part of his responsibilities as negotiations for compensation payments
in other villages.
His most visible role is that of herald. Before village assemblies, the barik
goes through the entire village and summons each kuda and kutum individually
to come to the sadar. Once the amount of the required contribution for a festival
(or another collective engagement) has been decided, he collects the money

 In Gudapada, this function was also performed for many years by Gadaba from a variety of
kutum, in which case it is called challan. Nevertheless, I always encountered barik in the villages
I visited during my research.
132 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

(chanda) and is responsible for acquiring the sacrificial animals at the weekly
market. A few days before a collective sacrifice, the barik again goes from
house to house to collect a handful of hulled rice (potri chaul) for the tsoru at
the shrine. Conversely, he is present at the distribution of meat portions after
the sacrifice and monitors the shares. The barik’s function – like that of the
Dombo in general – thus has a mediating aspect: he mediates between the
parts of the village and the village as a whole, brings the parts (people, rice,
money) together into a whole, and distributes the segments of the whole (the
sacrificial animal).

Seniority
For the Gadaba, it is a transgression (dos) to enter into marriage alliances with
Dombo or accept food from them. The Dombo are of clearly lower status than
the Gadaba, and transgressions of the matrimonial and commensal prohibitions
lead to exclusion from the Gadaba community (jati). In these cases, those ex-
cluded must “buy” their status back (jati kiniba) with a feast, and feeding
with tsoru plays a decisive role in their reintegration. In Gudapada, I know of
two cases in which a Gadaba woman married a Dombo or went to live with
him; in one of the two, the Dombo is a respected young man of the village.
His wife became a Dombo, and he had to finance a feast so that her family
could buy back their status. The commensality rules are also strictly observed,
and I did not observe any violations of them. The Gadaba can accept liquor
and uncooked food from the Dombo; beer and cooked food are not even offered.
When the Gadaba are guests of the Dombo, they receive liquor and raw food-
stuffs, which they prepare themselves. These raw foodstuffs are called batia,
which suggests cooked rice (bat) and obscures the gift’s raw condition.
Along with marriages and commensal relationships between Gadaba and
Dombo, it is dos for a Gadaba to be struck by a Dombo, to play the moiri, to
weave, or to produce oso (fermentation starter); in these cases as well, loss of
status (jati) threatens in the event of transgression. Trade is not a transgression
of niam for the Gadaba, and although I do not know any Gadaba for whom trad-
ing is his primary occupation, as in the case of the Dombo, some do pursue side
businesses, selling tobacco at the weekly market, for example, without damage
to their reputation or status. In contrast, no Gadaba works as a middleman, as I
have described for the Dombo above, although this is not explicitly considered
dos.
Gadaba and Dombo justify these rules of behavior on the grounds of the jun-
ior status of the latter, considered a san jati (more junior community). When peo-
ple talk about the hierarchical relationships of the different jati, they fundamen-
 2.5 The “Latecomers” 133

tally talk about seniority, not about purity or pollution. In a myth told by a
Dombo, the incestuous relationship between a sibling pair made unrecognizable
by pox resulted in twelve brothers: Gadaba, Rona, Dombo, Gorua, etc. God
(maphru, bagwan) assigned them their communities (jati), and they spread out
across the whole world. This story of a common origin with the Dombo is not dis-
puted by the Gadaba; they themselves say that the gods established the order of
things (niam) at the beginning of the world, how many bonso and jati there are,
and which rules apply to the individual groups. This includes the Gadaba’s
senior status vis-à-vis the Dombo and the latter’s activities as weavers, musi-
cians, and traders.
The two groups live both in close proximity to one another and in relative
separation, something that could also be said of the Sisa and Kirsani. As a
rule, a Gadaba does not enter a Dombo house and vice versa; they sit on the ve-
randa. Touching a Dombo or drinking liquor with him are ordinary occurrences
for the Gadaba. Gadaba and Dombo help one another with larger tasks,¹²⁰ but
joint projects like leasing a cashew plantation are more likely to take place
within the Gadaba and within one sai. ¹²¹
The Gadaba and Dombo do not differ in their diet; both groups eat beef, at
least, which distinguishes them from many other Desia, such as the Rona and
the Mali. The Gadaba also eat the carcasses of their own cattle, and the
Dombo are not needed to dispose of dead livestock. Cattle hides are often sold
to the Dombo, but if an acceptable price is not offered, they are also passed
on within the Gadaba.

Goudo

There are currently four houses of the herders or Goudo (from the Sun bonso,
kora) in Gudapada, but only one or two of them – together with their children
– actually work as herders for the village. They herd cattle, buffaloes, goats,
and sheep together in the village in the morning, in order to pasture them on
the fallow fields and hills. Since there are too many animals in Gudapada for
the two houses, these Goudo work for only part of the village, and the remainder
of the work is taken over by Gadaba who work as “Goudo,” something that can
be observed in other villages as well. Which Goudo are responsible for which

 Labor help is either reciprocal (badul) or compensated (buti, cooked or raw food or money).
 In tasks that concerned the lower sai, no Dombo were usually involved, but more likely the
Goudo and the Kamar, who also belong to this side of the village. In the upper sai, collaboration
between Dombo and Kirsani on the basis of neighborhood residence may have been closer.
134 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

houses varies from year to year, and many Gadaba pasture their animals them-
selves, especially older people on behalf of their kutum. The Goudo cease work
after the harvest in January, when the fields no longer need to be protected
from the animals, and the Gadaba have to look after their animals themselves
until April. An older Goudo man is a dissari, and in his role as astrologer, he de-
termines auspicious days for the villagers, when doron deli is to be set up in the
course of building a house, for example. At the collective offerings that take
place on paths near his house, he leads the rituals together with the pujari
and randari. His son, like his father, does not work as a herder, but exclusively
cultivates his fields.
“Goudo” is associated with what protects and watches over, for which rea-
son the term is also found in other contexts. At marriage – in which the gift of
a calf substitutes for the girl as part of the bridewealth – the bride-takers are in-
structed to watch over the girl “like Goudo.” Also, the lord and protector of the
forest – the “forest” Goudo (bon goudo) – watches over the wild animals, and
only with his consent can the Gadaba succeed in killing animals in the hunt.
In the Desia’s overall status hierarchy, the Goudo occupy a relatively senior
position compared to the Gadaba and do not accept cooked food from the latter;
marriages with Gadaba lead to excommunication (jati), as described above. Like
the Rona, Mali, Kumar, and other high-status groups, they wear the Hindu sa-
cred thread (pointa) and do not eat beef. Like the Dombo, the Goudo also partic-
ipate in the collective sacrificial rituals, and they conduct a sacrifice for bon
goudo in April on behalf of the entire village, so that the subsequent hunt will
be successful. They do not contribute financially to the sacrifices for jakor and
bag puja, however, since they do not eat the meat that will be distributed.
Their generally higher status does not give the Goudo the right to share in the
tsoru of the “earth people,” and they are just as much excluded from it as the
Dombo are.

Kamar

Since the Gadaba can meet their needs for plowshares, arrowheads, spearheads,
axes, knives, and sickles only with the help of the blacksmiths (Kamar), Kamar
are to be found in almost every Gadaba village, like Dombo, although nowhere in
so great a number as the latter. The Gadaba do not produce any ironwares them-
selves and also do not rework them. Iron (luar) is a substance to which the Ga-
daba ascribe preservative and apotropaic powers, and iron objects are used at
harvest, for example, to prevent the decimation of the yield. In the context of
birth, iron is used in order to prevent unconsciousness induced by the sun. At
 2.6 The Land 135

the same time, iron is associated with the goddess Durga, and “iron gods” (luar
maphru) are found in many houses, where they protect the inhabitants. Iron nails
(luar kuti) are used in healing rituals to ward off harmful magic and other neg-
ative influences, and one of the dissari’s most important weapons – the jupan –
is made of iron. The production of ritual items of this kind requires special peri-
ods of fasting by the Kamar, as well as sacrifices to enable the blood to breathe
life (jibon) into the iron. Despite the ritual importance of the items produced by
the Kamar (especially for healing rituals), the Kamar as a person does not take
on any ritual functions.
The Kamar in Gudapada (like the Goudo of the Sun bonso) does not work
exclusively for the inhabitants of the village, but also for neighboring villages
that lack a Kamar. Besides an annual share of the harvest (pholoi), the Kamar
is paid for special commissions separately in cash (possibly also liquor or
rice), as is the potter (Kumar), who produces many items for wedding rituals.
The Kamar married a Gadaba woman from Gudapada, earning him the reproach-
es of his widowed mother, who lives in the neighboring house. She and her other
son bought back their status after the marriage in the usual way; to my knowl-
edge, this procedure did not take place among the Gadaba, indicating that the
Kamar have a higher status.¹²² Nevertheless, the Dombo say that the Gadaba
are more senior, for example, and although Gadaba men generally eat in
Kamar houses, Gadaba women do not. As upria, the Kamar is excluded from
the Gangre’s tsoru.

2.6 The Land

As the basis of subsistence in an agricultural society, the land unsurprisingly

plays a central role not only in the economy, but also in ritual and ideology.
As will become especially clear in the conclusion of chapter 4, the economy, so-
cial relationships, and ritual are tightly interwoven. The different categories of
land and the landscape are reflected in ritual processes pertaining to all domains
– the life cycle, the annual cycle, and healing – since rituals generally include
movement in space and so mark boundaries and transitions between different
categories of the landscape. Moreover, the different groups in a village are linked
to each other in specific ways by their relationship to the land, something that is
again articulated in ritual and gift exchange.

 The Kamar do not eat beef (although they do eat pork), a further sign of higher status.
136 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

In this section, I will discuss the different aspects of the land. I will first
briefly introduce the different categories within the landscape and the relation-
ships associated with them, then turn to the broader historical context of the re-
lationship between the king and the tribal population, drawing out both the idea
of the king as the ultimate “earth being” and the likely slightness of his actual
influence on Gadaba life. The administrative order, designed primarily for taxa-
tion purposes, and the Dasara festival are at the center of my discussion. Finally,
I will describe the concrete situation in Gudapada, the distribution of land, the
“leasing” of land, the exchange of services by various upria groups for a share of
the “fruits” (pholoi) of the matia’s land, and the ritual relationship to the earth
thereby revealed.

Categories of the Landscape

The Gadaba conceptualize their villages within a landscape that is subdivided

into various categories of fields, rivers, and hills. Categories like “hill” and
“rice paddy” are understood by the Gadaba not only as ecological categories,
but also as relationships that are part of the social cosmos and within which
human beings seek to establish reciprocity through ritual. As soon as the village
boundary has been crossed, a potentially dangerous area begins; newborns (be-
fore the tying of the birth string) should not leave the village, but the space be-
yond is less safe for adults as well. Scattering rice for the general category of evil
spirits (duma daini) upon leaving the village is a way of forestalling their attacks
on the path. Paths (rasta, bat, kurung*) are precarious intermediate spaces that
link villages and cross through all categories of the landscape. Illnesses and the
spirits of the dead (duma) lurk along them. Dying on the path is considered a
bad death, since the path is a liminal place.
The village (ga, ungom*), which primarily consists of houses and (during the
rainy season) gardens grouped around the ideal center of hundi and sadar, is sur-
rounded by more or less flat dry fields, the general term for which is poda or
langbo*. Rice, millet, and rapeseed are grown in these fields, and the type of
field is further distinguished according to location. Fields right next to the village
boundary (podor, birsing langbo*) are viewed as very fertile, and the village’s
gardens (bogicha, aro*) are extended into these fields in the rainy season. During
this period, the rivers (nodi, kinda’*) run high and occasionally flood bordering
dry fields, called atal poda. The relatively flat dry fields are associated with var-
ious dangerous beings that move with or in the form of the wind, such as the rau
demon.
 2.6 The Land 137

All the villages are located amid hills or mountains that were once covered
with subtropical forest, but that have long held only secondary forest,¹²³ includ-
ing government reforestation projects. The hills are associated with the villages
that they surround, and each village has specific relationships to these hills and
to the deities that generally reside in shrines on the hills or represent them. Only
with regard to their own hills do the village inhabitants – the sacrificers for the
hills and the gods – possess intimate knowledge; not only does the hill as a
whole have a name, but each hollow and promontory has its own name that
serves for orientation on the hill.¹²⁴ The special ties between a village and the
surrounding hills are also made clear in the April festival (chait porbo), when
the ritual hunt must begin in the village’s own hills and is only later expanded
to more distant areas. Hunting and the gathering of tubers and leaves is not lim-
ited to the village’s hills, however, and they are also not seen as the village’s
“property” (officially, they belong to the state in any case).
For the Gadaba, “hill” or “mountain” is synonymous with “forest,” and in
Gutob, I know only a single word that refers to both, birong*. The Desia dongor
(mountain) likewise has the connotation of forest, although there is a separate
term for the latter (bon). The feared beings of the forest include a category of
the spirits of the dead, the bag duma (“tiger” duma) or bon duma (“forest”
duma), consisting of persons who met a violent death in the forest and now
do harm to the living. The hills are also the place of wild animals, and although
red deer and leopards are now rare, wild pigs and bears are relatively numerous.
In the ritual hunt in April, this category of land is systematically exploited, and
before the hunt, a sacrifice is made for the Herder of the Forest, bon goudo. ¹²⁵
Only with his permission can the Gadaba be successful in the hunt, and if his

 Elwin cites the Koraput District Gazetteer as evidence that deforestation is not a new
phenomenon of the most recent past: “Early reports show that when Koraput was chosen in 1870
as headquarters the country round it was completely bare of tree growth as it is now. It seems
likely that the transition from evergreen jungle to the bare hill slopes that are now to be seen
was spread over centuries rather than decades” (Bell in Elwin 1950, 45n1).
 For example, parts of Mount Kisor in Gudapada are named Cheliaki, Gojia Kupli (big hill),
Bag Puja, Jakor Korok, Ponoskanda, Arenga Kolka (kolka means ravine, hollow), Boro Kolka,
Lenji (tail), and Sindrong Kolka. In other words, parts of the mountain are differentiated in
accordance with the shrines of the gods (bag puja and jakor), topographical landmarks (ravine,
hill, “like a tail”), and the special presence of trees (ponos) or plants used as “medicine”
(sindrong*).
 The same concept is also found among other tribal groups in Orissa. For example, Elwin
(1950, 184) mentions “Bangaur the grazier of wild animals” among the Bondo, and Niggemeyer
(1964, 151) the “god Gaudia, who watches over and leads the tigers and the other wild animals.”
138 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

offerings are omitted, he can take back the killed game. The following story ex-
plains why the Gadaba began to sacrifice for bon goudo. ¹²⁶

Men from the villages of Gudapada, Gorihanjar, and Deulpada go hunting in the woods
around the Duduma waterfall at chait porbo. After several days, they have killed a great
deal of game and start to head home, but they are surprised by the approach of darkness
and make camp for the night in the forest. The slaughtered animals are placed in the mid-
dle of the camp, and the men lie down around them to sleep. During the night, bon goudo
appears in their midst, and one of the Gadaba wakes up, but is unable to speak or move.
The Lord of the Forest touches the animals several times with his staff, upon which they
come back to life, stand up, and are finally led by him back into the forest. When the
other Gadaba wake up early the next morning and see that the animals have disappeared,
the witness reports what happened. The men take counsel and come to the conclusion that
they will sacrifice to bon goudo before the next hunt. Since then, the Gadaba sacrifice be-
fore a hunt, and they cut the tendons of the animals they kill, so that bon goudo cannot
lead them away.

The Gadaba use the forest to collect wood, fruit, and various roots and for hunt-
ing. They do not practice shifting cultivation (podu) in the strict sense. Fields are
sometimes also cultivated on the steeper slopes, and entire hillsides are set on
fire in order to fertilize the ground by burning the vegetation. However, the forest
for shifting cultivation is lacking, on the one hand, and at least in the area
around Lamtaput, enough dry fields are available in flatter terrain that the hill
fields do not play a major role, on the other.
The most important fields are the rice paddies (bera, liong*), which are locat-
ed deep in the riverbeds not far from the villages and are also topographically
conceived of by the Gadaba as “below” (tole), in contrast to the dry fields and
the hills. They produce the best yields and are used only to grow rice. The
bera fields are a “place of water” (pani jaga), as one informant put it, and the
harvest is dependent on the water deities jal kamni, patal kamni. ¹²⁷ The river
is their house, and the rice is considered their daughter, whom the Gadaba
bring into the village once a year, after the usual negotiations and bridewealth.
The bera fields are thus conceived of in affinal terms, and the harvest itself is
celebrated as a wedding. The harvest of the other types of grain receives consid-
erably less ritual attention. Like the relationship to bon goudo, the relationship to
kamni is based on reciprocity. In the event of ritual omissions, however, kamni
not only take away food or cooperation, like the Lord of the Forest, but also at-

 The narrative was recorded by M. D. Hussain.

 Often referred to simply as kamni. Jal and patal designate their two aspects, water and
earth.
 2.6 The Land 139

tack humans directly. If kamni are neglected, they can possess people, a charac-
ter trait unknown to me in the case of hundi and pat kanda. Kamni appear to be
more impatient, unpredictable, and aggressive than the other representatives of
the category of maphru (deities) and have some of the attributes of soni rau (de-
mons) and the duma (dead).

King, Land, and roit

The political history of Odisha has been in large part determined by the rivalries
of different princes or kings (raja, zamindar), who on the one hand were con-
stantly engaged in strategic or armed conflict with one another and on the
other had to deal with various outside conquerors – the Moguls, Marathas,
and British – whether by forming alliances with one another or with the invaders
(cf. Berkemer 1993; Kulke 1979; Schnepel 2002). The primary interest of all parties
was the peace and security of their own domains and the regular receipt of rents,
taxes, or tributes, with which they could maintain and extend their rule. Lesser
kings were obligated to render tribute and military assistance to the “great
kings” (maharaja). In this way, the king of Jeypore was obligated to the Gajapati
king in Kurdha, the first devotee of the god Jagannath in Puri (cf. Eschmann et
al. 1986; Hardenberg 2000b, 2000c, 2001, 2011). Conversely, other petty kings
were dependent on Jeypore’s prince, such as the rebellious thatraja ¹²⁸ in Bissam-
cuttack northeast of Jeypore (Schnepel 2002, 171ff). While the British subjected
the more accessible coastal areas to their direct administration,¹²⁹ the “princely
states” or “Garjat states” of the hinterland were under the system of indirect rule
and maintained a large degree of autonomy, as long as they paid tribute and
submitted to other British demands. In this way, the British made use of the
already-existing administrative system of tax collection; presumably, they
would not have been in a position to collect taxes everywhere with their own of-
ficials and soldiers without becoming entangled in numerous conflicts.
King Vikram Deo I of Jeypore participated in military uprisings against the
British, leading to the destruction of his fortress in 1775 and his son and succes-
sor’s cooperation with the new outside power (Schnepel 2002, 267 f). In 1795, the
latter signed a treaty put before him by the East India Company’s representa-
tives, in which he pledged an annual payment of 25,000 rupees, as well as gen-

 That refers to a battalion of five thousand soldiers (paik) (Nayak 1989, 180).
 This type of administration is called Moghulbandi. The distinction goes back as far as the
Islamic Mogul rulers (cf. Jena 1968, 96ff; 1985, 28ff).
140 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

eral loyalty.¹³⁰ On the basis of this cooperation with the British, the subsequent
kings of Jeypore succeeded in maintaining their lordship over their realm and the
right to collect taxes, and only in 1952 – after India’s independence – did their
successors lose these rights with the transfer of the zamindari to the Koraput dis-
trict administration. The office was initially located in Pottangi, where the tahsil-
dar as a representative of the Indian state took over the tasks of land adminis-
tration from the zamindar’s representatives. The measurement and mapping or
“settlement” of the large Koraput district as a basis for land taxation was con-
ducted between 1938 and 1964 and is documented in detail in Behuria’s (1965)
report.
In this perspective of great historical events, the tribal population – except
for the Kond (cf. Padel 1995) – generally does not appear, and indications of the
concrete relationships between the petty kings (raja) and their subjects (porja)
are rare. We can assume that the tribes’ perspective on their relationship to
the king differs from the historian’s “bird’s-eye view.” The king was officially
considered the landholder, who permitted the tribes to work the land as tenants
(ryot or roit) on the condition that they accepted his rule, paid tribute, provided
labor service when needed, and demonstrated their respect with a visit at the
time of the Dasara festival. The tribal population presumably did not consider
themselves as tenants, but rather as “earth people,” as can be seen in the indi-
vidual tribes’ names for themselves and in the title of matia.
The degree of influence exercised by the king and his administration on the
tribes’ social order as a whole is not easy to determine. The titles of the dignita-
ries and kuda categories previously described, such as naik and boronaik, un-
doubtedly appear to have been influenced by the administrative system, but it
is open to debate whether the tribes gradually adopted new names for indige-
nous institutions, or these institutions originated in contact with the royal ad-
ministration. Some authors consider the influence of royal officialdom superfi-
cial and something that can be left out of consideration. For example, Behuria
(in reference to Koraput) and McDougal (in reference to Keonjhar) write:

Strictly speaking the relation between the landholder who was the Maharaja of Jeypore and
his tenants may be said to have been non-existent as the ordinary ryot in the district seldom
came into contact with even the higher estate officials and never with the Maharaja. Diffi-
culty of communication is no doubt one reason for this. Another reason seems to be the
considerable indifference of the estate to the welfare of the ryots. (Behuria 1965, 78)

The Juang were for the most part ignored and allowed to conduct their affairs without in-
terference during State rule. (McDougal 1963, 9)

 The text of the agreement is printed in Behuria (1965, 223).

 2.6 The Land 141

In his discussion of what he calls the “village federations” of the “Munda,”

which will be treated later, Parkin (1992, 95) assumes the indigenous origin of
these institutions, notwithstanding their exploitation for administrative purpos-
es, and argues that the king would have been uninterested in the tribes’ marriage
arrangements, the regulation of which is at the heart of these federations’ func-
tion, in his view. In contrast, Nayak ascribes to the royal administration a fun-
damental influence over the tribal institutions of the Dongria Kond.

[T]he control exercised by the king and the kings’ men over many aspects of their [the Don-
gria Kond’s] socio-cultural, religious and economic life, was remarkable. And on the basis
of a further detailed study, it could be safely said that the retention of a number of tradi-
tional customs, practices, beliefs, ideas and activities of the Dongria Kondh was partly but
significantly the contribution of the king of Bissamcuttack and his administration. (Nayak
1989, 182)

The question of the degree of influence and impact of the royal administration
on tribal institutions cannot be definitively answered, not least because the spe-
cific historical and geographical circumstances have to be taken into account in
each individual case, so that it is impossible to make general statements about
the relationship between “the king” and “the tribes.”
Even if the king’s effective control over the tribes may have been scant, the
idea of the king and the correlation between gods (of the earth) and kings in
tribal ideology are nonetheless still significant even today. The king’s role as a
patron of various sacrificial rituals for local and Hindu gods, as described by
Schnepel (1993, 2002), served to legitimate his rule in the eyes of the tribal pop-
ulation, who saw in the sacrifices a relationship between the king and the earth
goddess.

The patronage of local goddesses promised the most direct and lasting access to the trust
and loyalty of tribal subjects. By patronizing indigenous goddesses, the little kings created
a direct connection with the newly colonized earth and with the population integrally tied
to it. Underlying this were not just the earthy, material and territorial traits in the character
of these goddesses. There was also the notion of the king as lord or husband of the earth
[…] which must have had an impact when jungle king and goddess […] entered into a rela-
tionship with one another. (Schnepel 2002, 252 f)

The first king of the “Sun Dynasty” (Suryavamshi), who ascended the throne in
Nandapur in 1443,¹³¹ some two hundred years before the royal house transferred
its seat to Jeypore, had the corresponding title of Bhupati, “Lord of the Earth”

 Cf. the genealogy of the royal house in Schnepel (2002, 301).
142 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

(Schnepel 2002, 253n45). For the Gadaba, Nandapur is of great significance as

the place where the king (raja maphru) sprang forth or was born from the
earth, for which reason Nandapur is also considered a navel (bumli). Even
today, then, the king’s association with the earth is still alive, as is also clear
in the remarks of a Gadaba quoted above, who ascribes the appearance of
new illnesses to the earth goddess’s wrath about the absent sacrifices in Nanda-
pur and Jeypore. While the king sacrificed human beings, buffaloes, and sheep
in the past in order to quench the earth goddess’s thirst for blood, thereby ensur-
ing human well-being, people today neglect these duties, with the corresponding
consequences. The coconuts sacrificed today are in any case not enough for the
goddess, and the informant implicitly blames the current government (sorkar),
the successor of the kings, for this negligence.¹³²

Administrative Structure of Land Taxation and Dasara

The different pre-British rulers introduced a variety of tax systems and modified
or took over the situations they found, so that this topic is distinguished by
great complexity, and an extremely wide range of terminology exists
simultaneously.¹³³ My intention here is to briefly describe the administrative
structure as it existed under British rule, but probably in similar form for
much longer, serving primarily to collect taxes or rents. A focus of special inter-
est is the Dasara festival, which was one of the few occasions for ritual interac-
tion between the tribal population and the king and which gave its name to the
corresponding month in Desia: dosra.
Along with soldiers (sepoi, paik), the petty kings had in their service a series
of officials (e. g., omin, tahsildar, mutadar) who were charged with collecting
taxes or rents in specified areas. The terms used for these royal representatives
differed by region, and their powers varied widely. For northern Odisha, the for-
mer kingdom of Keonjhar, McDougal (1963) describes the following situation,
similar in many ways to that in Koraput. Multiple villages of the mountain-dwel-
Juang tribe were joined into an administrative unit, the pirh, and a total of four of
these pirh, occupied chiefly by the Juang, were designated as “Juang pirh” (58).

 As is the case elsewhere – even in the Jagannath temple at night (cf. Hardenberg 2000b,
265) – it is very likely that goats are sacrificed at Dasara in Jeypore as well, so that the informant
is exaggerating in this regard, but the statement is nevertheless significant.
 On the different systems of land ownership and taxation in Odisha and in Koraput in
particular, see Baden-Powell (1972, 473 f), Behuria (1965), Jena (1968, 1985), Senapati and Sahu
(1966, 278ff), and Thusu and Jha (1972, 20ff).
 2.6 The Land 143

Each of these pirh was headed by an elected representative, who bore the title of
sardar and was a Juang. McDougal stresses that these intermediaries between
pirh and king were neither invested with authority nor relevant to the Juang so-
cial order, but merely had the function of tax collectors. Between the sardar and
the king in the hierarchy were additional government officials, who also visited
the Juang villages directly. In every village, there was also a formal representative
who was responsible for outside contacts and for looking after the servants of
the state on their official visits and who worked together with the sardar on im-
portant matters. This position of podhan was in principle filled by the second-
ranking of the village’s ritual elders, but he was not an authoritarian village
chief, according to McDougal (60ff).
In the past, the Juang traveled to the royal palace on two occasions during
the year. As in other kingdoms, Dasara was the king’s most important prestige
festival in Keonjhar as well, on the occasion of which his subjects visited his
court to pay their respects. McDougal recounts that each village sent representa-
tives – sardar, podhan, and family heads – to the king with two goats each,
which they turned over to the king’s representatives. The king gave the biggest
goat back to the Juang as a whole, and in a ceremony in which the most senior
elders of each village participated, the goat was sacrificed in the king’s name
and for his well-being. In no other context, the author stresses, did representa-
tives of all the Juang villages act as a ritual community, and in his view, this oc-
casion was the formal expression of Juang identity in this regional context (364–
68). Besides the goat, the king¹³⁴ gave each sardar the carcass of a previously
sacrificed buffalo, which was eaten in a festival meal by the representatives of
the villages of the corresponding pirh. The second occasion for visiting the
king was the obligatory labor service (betia) that all Juang men had to perform
during the rainy season (365). The taxes in kind (9) were likely collected by the
sardar immediately following the mountain rice harvest in November.
The relationship between the Dongria Kond – in what is now Rayagada dis-
trict – and the thatraja of Bissamcuttack was very similar to the situation in
Keonjhar, as were the tax-collection institutions. The king designated individuals
among the Dongria Kond to fill the post of mondal and serve as representatives
of a number of villages, which together formed a muta (Nayak 1989, 180ff). The
representatives at the village level were called saanta, ¹³⁵ according to Nayak, and

 It is not entirely clear from the text whether the buffalo is given by the king. More generally,
it is unclear whether McDougal was still able to observe these ceremonies at the time of his
research (1960 – 62) or reconstructed them on the basis of his informants’ narratives.
 The term is still used today in the plains in the contrast between master (saanta) and
worker (seboko) (cf. Lerche 1993, 249; see below).
144 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

were designated by the mondal (181). In other words, the mondal roughly corre-
sponded to the sardar (representatives of multiple villages) in Keonjhar, the muta
to the pirh (group of villages), and the saanta to the podhan (village chief). Like
the Juang, the Dongria traveled from their Niam Mountains (Niamgiri) to the king
at Dasara, and as in Keonjhar, prestations and sacrifices played a central role.
The king gave each of the Dongria’s five territorial clans a buffalo, which the sac-
rificers (jani) of the corresponding groups ritually killed at different temples in
the city. The mondal and the jani were given red headcloths as a mark of
honor and also received gifts of land (Nayak 1989, 180 f; Schnepel 2002, 285ff).
Unfortunately, no comparable information is available about the relation-
ship between the Gadaba or other Desia from the Koraput high plateau and
the king of Jeypore. Even in Schnepel’s (2002) study of the Jeypore “jungle king-
dom,” there are only a few indications to be found in this regard. The author
cites a witness to the Dasara festival in Jeypore in 1941 who explicitly mentions
Gadaba women as part of the festival procession and otherwise expresses his
amazement at the dances of the “aboriginals” (Sahu in Schnepel 2002, 275).
Otherwise, the descriptions remain very general. The king was at the center of
a redistributive process, according to Schnepel, but the prestations are described
only briefly in a footnote. In the formal exchange of gifts at the royal assembly
(darbar), the “tribal chiefs” gave “jungle products” and received cloth in ex-
change. Leaving aside the ritual transactions, however, rents and taxes were
also due on this occasion (Schnepel 2002, 285n47). Nothing is known about sac-
rifices by the tribal delegations comparable to those of the Juang or Dongria
Kond. In early mentions, the Gadaba are often described as palanquin bearers
(Carmichael 1869, 87; Thurston 1909, 243), so it is possible that they performed
this function at Dasara as well.
All Gadaba are conscious of the former significance of Dasara in Jeypore.
Some very old men still remember having been in Jeypore at Dasara and bringing
gifts to the king, including goats, but I was unable to learn details.¹³⁶ Likewise
remembered are the labor services (raja beti ¹³⁷) to which the king’s representa-
tives summoned them when needed, to build roads or houses, for example.
These representatives were called mutadar and were responsible for administra-
tion in a muta, which – as among the Dongria Kond – consisted of multiple vil-
lages. These royal representatives were often Rona and bore titles such as patro,
pointing to their function as tax collectors. Some of these families are supposed

 The Gadaba play no role in the Dasara festivities celebrated in Jeypore and Nandapur
today, and as a rule, they do not attend them.
 The obligatory attendance on the king at Dasara is also known as raja beti.
 2.6 The Land 145

to have been very influential, and in the Machkund region, people still recall in
particular a certain Kesebo Patro from the village of Badigor, who is said to have
collected taxes as mutadar in forty-eight villages, especially in the Bondo Hills.
According to widespread reports, this man is supposed to have been rich in
wives, rice, and land, the last of which he presumably received from the king
for his services. In October 1999 – in the month of dosra – I was able to docu-
ment in his village a buffalo sacrifice for the deity boirobi sponsored by his direct
descendants, who provided the buffalo. Gadaba came from a neighboring village
as sacrificers, and they also cooked and ate the buffalo’s head the next day. Meat
from the rump was supposed to be distributed later, in raw or dried form, to over
ten neighboring Gadaba and Dombo villages; the Rona do not eat buffalo meat.
In the procession through the village and to the boirobi shrine, old banners on
long bamboo poles were carried in front as insignia of the king. The shrine itself
– like many others in the area – is overshadowed by a giant banyan tree and con-
sists of two concentric stone circles. Within the inner circle is a low shrine, closed
by a stone slab. A clay pot and an iron chain are said to be found inside. The
chain’s former function is unclear but probably had to do with the king. Behind
the shrine stands a Siva trident.¹³⁸
These few remarks about the former mutadar’s buffalo sacrifice already sug-
gest parallels to the royal Dasara ceremonies, as described by Schnepel, Nayak,
and McDougal. This village’s Rona still today display their (past) power over the
area committed to them by the king, carrying royal symbols in a procession to
the boirobi shrine.¹³⁹ Like the kings, they give a buffalo as sacrificial patrons,
while it is the Gadaba – the “tenants” of the land – who ritually kill the animal
as sacrificers. The distribution of the buffalo meat to numerous neighboring vil-
lages points to the ritual’s regional significance, beyond the village boundaries.
What form of land taxation predominated in the Gadaba region cannot be
said for certain, since various models existed alongside one another (cf. Senapati
and Sahu 1966, 283ff). In general, the ryotwari system, in which each tenant paid
taxes for the land he worked, is distinguished from the mustajari system, based
on the taxation of villages. There are some indications, however, that the village-
based system was dominant.¹⁴⁰ The naik of the various villages presumably

 The Gadaba celebrate boirobi or boiro puja in diali (one village in chait) and likewise
sacrifice buffaloes. They give the name of Durga to the ax with which the buffalo is killed, not to
the deity in the shrine, where symbols of Siva are absent.
 Among the Dongria Kond as well, one of the shrines at which the Dongria sacrificed
buffaloes at Dasara was dedicated to this deity (cf. Nayak 1989, 180).
 According to Behuria (1965, 78), the mustajari system was abolished in Koraput in 1955,
except in the inaccessible Bondo villages, where it initially continued to exist. If my informants
146 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

played a role in collecting the taxes and delivered the money¹⁴¹ to the mutadar or
to the omin (or amin), another representative of the king. The naik in Gudapada
still possesses today a so-called naik bera, a rice paddy probably granted him as
a consequence of this function.
Gudapada was likewise part of a muta, the mutadar of which is said to have
been a Rona from Bondpada. However, the village’s taxes went to a Brahman
from Jeypore, whose family had been granted the land by the king. Such gifts
of rights to land and taxes, called inam, were often made by the kings to their
followers and servants, priests, officials, and soldiers (cf. Senapati and Sahu
1966, 283 f; Schnepel 2002, 216ff). At the beginning of the twentieth century,
there were in the kingdom of Jeypore 272 such inam, in which entire villages
were granted; the inamdar who received them often had to pay only nominal
taxes to the king (Schnepel 2002, 216n79, 217). In this way, Gudapada was incor-
porated into the gift-exchange system of the king of Jeypore. The inam were abol-
ished in the 1950s; in the tahsildar’s documents (in Machkund) on the tenants of
Gudapada, which I was permitted to examine, the Brahman appears as the first
landholder (patadar). The following diagram is intended to provide a rough over-
view of the levels of the administrative structure (cf. also Nayak 1989, 179). None-
theless, such a presentation implies an unambiguousness to the relationships
and an administrative penetration that almost certainly never corresponded to
reality.

Land Distribution in Gudapada

The measurement and registration or “settlement” of land ended in Gudapada¹⁴²

in 1961.¹⁴³ Before this time,¹⁴⁴ the landholding Gadaba – the roit ¹⁴⁵ – had no writ-

are correct, the mutadar (I have never heard the word mustajar in the area) from Badigor was
responsible for these villages, making it likely that the Gadaba villages in that neighborhood
were also subject to the mustajari system.
 On the high plateau, taxes were mostly paid in cash and not in kind, according to Senapati
and Sahu (1966, 286) and Behuria (1965, 74). The trade conducted by the Dombo probably played
an important role in obtaining cash.
 A complete presentation and evaluation of the data on landholding and land transfers in
Gudapada is beyond the scope of this study and will be pursued elsewhere. I would like to thank
the tahsildar in Machkund at the time and, in particular, the employees of the revenue in-
spector’s office for access to the documents and for their cooperation.
 Since then, officials from the tahsildar’s office collect the taxes (sistu) once a year. In
January 2000, a representative of the tahsildar installed himself in front of the memor’s house,
and all tenants made their payments, which ranged between Rs. 2.50 and Rs. 30.00. A heated
 2.6 The Land 147

Figure 5: Levels of Royal Administration

discussion also arose about the fields of the Rona previously resident in Gudapada, which the
Gangre – according to their version – had given them and which were registered in the names of
the Rona. Relatives (banja, ZS) of the Rona of that time cultivate these fields today.
 Before the documents existed, there is supposed to have been a great deal of conflict about
land distribution, and kutum with many sons are said to have tried to take over the land of other
kutum. The revenue inspectors made multiple visits in the course of the settlement proceedings
in order to scrutinize the allotment of the fields, with the result that it ended up relatively fair,
according to the Gadaba today. Behuria’s (1965, 146 f) report indicates that for thirty days or three
months after the allocation was determined, “objection hearing camps” were set up, where
complaints and disputes could be presented.
 Roit is used in the research area to designate the landholders of a village, but it is also often
used synonymously with Adivasi and may refer either to the Gadaba exclusively (including
landless affines) or to all Desia.
148 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

ten titles to their land, and the worked fields (jumi) were inherited within the
kutum, as is also the case today.¹⁴⁶ When the Indian officials registered the
land, they registered as landowners whomever happened to be cultivating a
field at that time or claimed to be the field’s owner (saukar), and the documents
indicate that out of a total of 551¹⁴⁷ acres of agricultural land and house sites,
more than 500 acres (over 90%) were assigned to the Gangre; the undeveloped
hill areas were declared government land.¹⁴⁸ The other upria groups taken to-
gether thus worked only about ten percent of the total fields. Most of the fields
included in this ten percent were dry fields; the upria groups worked a total of
only four rice paddies. On the official maps drawn at the time of the settlement,
just under five hundred (492) fields (bera and poda) were numbered and matched
with the owners in the tahsildar’s records. The following table shows the distribu-
tion of land among the upria groups in 1961.

Table 6: Land Held by the “Latecomers” (upria) according to the 1961 Settlement (in acres)

Name of the upria Group bera poda

Messing – .
Mundagoria – .
Ruda’i – –
Upper Dombo (Muchem) . .
Lower Dombo – –
Goudo – .
Rona¹⁴⁹ . .
Kamar – .
Unclear (Rona or Sundi) . –
Total . .

 Land is normally divided equally among sons. If a man has no sons, he can adopt a son
(posua puo, adoptive son) from his brothers or leave his land to a son-in-law who moves to his
village (goro juai). Otherwise, his brothers’ descendants “eat” (kaibar) – that is, take over – the
land.
 This figure is the result of adding up the total of the registered fields and house sites; the
official figure in the documents is slightly different (583.63 acres).
 The individual fields are provided with descriptive names that serve to distinguish them
and that presumably already did so before the settlement, such as, for example, polka bera
(irregularly shaped rice paddy).
 There were no Rona still living in Gudapada at the time of my research, but the fields were
successfully claimed by Rona from a neighboring village.
 2.6 The Land 149

Lease: banda
Alongside title registration (pata) in the tahsildar’s office, land has been and is
leased by the matia to the upria – and also within the matia or upria – a proce-
dure known as banda. It is telling that people do not speak about selling in this
context, but about holding or keeping (rokbar), since as a matter of principle,
only matia have a claim to the land, although others may work it for a limited
period of time. In banda transactions, a determined sum of money is handed
over publicly, in the presence of the assembled villagers, to someone who in ex-
change permits the giver of the money to work a field.¹⁵⁰ The original owner (sau-
kar) can return the money at any time and so recover his field. The amount of
money remains constant over the years, although the saukar can demand
more money from the lessee in the meantime, which is then added to the original
sum.¹⁵¹ Such transfers are purely a village matter and are not reported to the tah-
sildar, in whose documents the names of the current landholders’ grandfathers
and great-grandfathers are still found and changes are only rarely made.¹⁵² The
official settlement in the early 1960s likewise probably did not take this form of
leasing into account.
Along with leased fields, the upria also work fields that are considered their
“own” (nijoro) and were presumably placed at their disposal by the matia long
ago. The time of these transactions is no longer part of public memory, and
the upria are viewed as the owners of these fields; others can lease them from
them. In my field survey, my informants distinguished 220 rice paddies and
967 dry fields; the doubling in the number of the fields since the 1961 settlement

 Property relations and banda transactions are correspondingly a matter of public know-
ledge; the men have an amazing memory for transactions and knowledge of the current si-
tuation. Disputes are publicly debated. In one case, a repurchase sparked an entire series of
transactions. A Sisa redeemed the land (bera) that his ancestors had given to a Kirsani house.
The Kirsani then also wanted a field back from the Sisa. The money changed kutum within the
Kirsani, and a Sisa field was redeemed. That man then reclaimed a field that he had given to a
Dombo. (The Dombo man immediately made inquiries as to who wanted to lease another field.)
For each transaction, the men assembled in front of the corresponding house, and the money
was publicly counted out and handed over.
 The most common reasons for sale or lease, that is, for a need for cash, are expensive
rituals (in the case of sickness, marriage, or gotr) or bribes. Three men in the village have sold
almost all their fields and “eaten” the proceeds, as people say, meaning in this case primarily
alcohol consumption.
 Forty original landholders were registered with title. In the decades since, a great many title
deeds have been drawn up for house sites, and the government has given some landless in-
dividuals small parcels of government land (mostly hill land) for cultivation.
150 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

is to be explained by division among sons.¹⁵³ The following two tables show the
distribution of fields for the different upria groups.

Table 7: Rice Paddies (bera) of the upria Groups in 2000/2001

upria Group “Own” (nijoro) Leased (banda) Fields Purchased with Title (pata)
Fields

Messing –  –
Mundagoria –  –
Ruda’i –  –
(arguably an “own”
field)
Upper Dombo   
(Muchem) (including one in Deul- (including one in Deulpada)
pada)
Lower Dombo –  –
(including one in Deul-
pada)
Goudo –  –
Kamar –  –
Sundi – – –
Total Fields   

Table 8: Dry Fields (poda) of the upria Groups in 2000/2001

upria Group “Own” (nijoro) Fields Leased (banda) Fields Purchased with Title (pata)

Messing   –
Mundagoria   –
Ruda’i   –
Upper Dombo   
(Muchem) (including  disputed)
Lower Dombo –  –
Goudo   –

 I cannot state anything about the size of the individual fields, which varies considerably. I
was unable to take into account the dry fields of the hamlet of Sisaput (twenty fields in 1961).
The fields of the Rona previously resident in Gudapada have likewise not been included in this
discussion. Further, I restrict myself here to poda and bera fields, leaving the hill fields (dongor,
anabadi) out of consideration. These latter are cultivated by those who clear them. Since they
are usually found on government land, the tahsildar’s officials sometimes demand “encroach-
ment fees.”
 2.6 The Land 151

upria Group “Own” (nijoro) Fields Leased (banda) Fields Purchased with Title (pata)

Kamar – – –
Sundi –  –
Total Fields   

The distribution of the groups’ own fields largely agrees with the information
from 1961. Except for the Upper Dombo (one field), no upria group has its
own rice paddies, but most of the “latecomers” possess some dry fields. Excep-
tions to this rule are the Lower Dombo, who now as previously live primarily
from weaving and trade, and the Sundi. The Mundagoria group has the most
poda fields of its own. Differences in the distribution of dry fields in 1961 and
2001 exist with regard to the Ruda’i, who own no fields of any kind according
to the original settlement documents but have twelve fields of their own accord-
ing to my inquiries. Conversely, the Kamar appears in 1961 as the owner of a
small dry field, while he owns no fields of his own according to my informants.
Overall, it can be said that all groups in the village work the land – even if
only to a small extent, as in the case of the Lower Dombo – and therefore live at
least in part from agriculture. Only 1.8% of the rice paddies are not the matia’s
own (a total of four fields), while 15% of all bera (thirty-three fields) are in upria
hands as banda. Of the dry fields, 9.5% (92 fields) do not belong to the “earth
people,” who have also leased another 10.2% (99 fields) to the “latecomers.”
In addition, the Upper Dombo are the group most eager to lease bera and
poda fields and also the only group to have acquired formal title to land.¹⁵⁴

The Fruits of the Land and the Veneration of the Earth

Independent of how many of the upria groups have legal title to land or are tem-
porarily leasing it, the Gangre are considered the “earth people” in Gudapada,
and it is only through their relationship to the village gods, and especially to
the earth, that the land is fertile and the village inhabitable at all. Those individ-
uals who perform services for the village or for individual houses have a right to
a share of the harvest, called pholoi ¹⁵⁵ (from “fruit,” phol) and distributed in
November or December, after the harvest. Each house that makes use of these
services, not only the Gangre, has to make the corresponding prestations.

 Purchasing a parcel of land with written title is roughly twice as expensive as leasing it in a
banda transaction.
 Another term is birti.
152 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Since the barik acts on behalf of every house, for example, he receives pholoi
from all of them.¹⁵⁶
In Gudapada, the barik, the herders, and the smith have a right to pholoi,
along with a potter (Kumar) from a neighboring village, whose family provides
the village as a whole (matam) with the clay pots for tsoru. ¹⁵⁷ As “earth people,”
the Gangre’s dignitaries – pujari, randari, and naik – are not among the pholoi
recipients and possess merely ritual privileges. In the past, the smith and the
herders¹⁵⁸ each received 15 man ¹⁵⁹ of unhulled rice (dan, kerong*) from each
kutum, and the houses of “own” brothers still often join together for this purpose
today. Many houses also give pholoi individually, however, in which case they
give significantly less than 15 man; the exact amount generally depends on
the size of the harvest. The barik receives a winnowing fan (kulek, 4– 5 man)
from each house, as does the outside potter, except that the village as a whole
(matam) also gives the latter an additional basket (dalek). Ideally, all the village’s
pholoi recipients – Kamar, barik, and Goudo – should receive an additional win-

 The Goudo and the Kamar of the village receive compensation for their work on an annual
basis. The term of service (palli) begins and ends in pus (January). New village dignitaries, such
as the barik or naik, are officially installed during diali porbo, if needed.
 In other villages, the Dombo musicians (moira) and the ferryman (gatual) are also included
among the pholoi recipients. In Gorihanjar, the ferryman receives five bastar (5 x 100 kg) of
unhulled rice from the village as a whole, in exchange for which the inhabitants can cross the
Machkund River without charge. In the same village, the Dombo musicians receive a winnowing
fan (kulek) from each house, three-quarters of which is retained by the moira and one-quarter of
which is shared by the three drummers. In Soilpada, the situation is as follows: the work of the
Goudo is taken over by three relatively landless Kirsani houses (Gadaba); each of these “Goudo”
works for about thirty other houses. The “Goudo” receive from these houses cooked food daily
and a large basket (dalek) of unhulled rice after the harvest for the year’s work. Of the eight
houses of potters (Kumar) in the village, only two work for their own village, the other six for
neighboring villages. The two Kumar houses provide the pots for all collective sacrifices and
prepare the goboro sara (ground of dung and water) at the sacrificial sites on these occasions.
They receive a winnowing fan of rice from each house. Services for wedding rituals are com-
pensated separately. The smith (Kamar) is supposed to receive a large basket (dalek) of rice from
each house for his work, but this amount varies in accordance with the individual quantity of
services rendered.
 Throughout the year, while the herders are performing their work, they receive batia daily
from the individual houses, that is, a small amount (a podi, ca. 150 g) of hulled rice (chaul),
which they collect in the evenings.
 A man is a dry measure containing roughly 2.5 kg of rice, a “winnowing fan” (kulek) is
about 4– 5 man, and a large basket (dala) is about 15 man. Two of these baskets, the amount that
a man can carry, are called phuti or phutek (“one phuti”) and equal roughly 60 – 75 kg. All dry
measures may vary considerably in volume.
 2.6 The Land 153

nowing fan, or at least a man, from each house, “in order to eat rice” (bat kaiba
pai), as people say.
The pholoi takers often seek out the Gadaba – and the other landholding
upria – directly at their threshing floors, where a portion is always set aside as
pholoi. It was notable that not only did the official pholoi recipients who provide
services to the village receive rice, but so did other landless individuals who vis-
ited the threshing floors. The Sundi widow and Dombo women and children
came to the Gadaba’s threshing floors just like the barik, the herders, and the
smith. They placed their gifts – liquor, chili peppers, tobacco – on the threshing
floor and held out their sacks and baskets to the landholders to be filled.
Directly or indirectly, all inhabitants of the village live from the earth, and
the Gadaba probably reject no one who comes to their threshing floors to receive
rice, provided that he lives in their village.¹⁶⁰ Conversely, all the houses of the
village (gulai ga) participate in the veneration of the village gods and give rice
that the Gangre eat with their gods as tsoru. It has already been mentioned
that the barik collects a handful of rice (potri chaul) from each house before sac-
rifices. Once a year, before the paddy rice harvest, when the great sacrifice for the
village goddess takes place – the “cooling of the goddess” (hundi sitlani) – all the
pholoi recipients participate in a special way and present manti. Manti refers to
the respectful gift¹⁶¹ that the Kamar, the barik, and the Goudo make to the earth
goddess and the “earth people.” The gift is the condition for receiving pholoi
after the harvest; the sacrifice is the condition for the harvest itself. The
smith¹⁶² gives the pig needed for the sacrifice, the Goudo¹⁶³ provide the rooster,
and the barik brings the necessary liquor.¹⁶⁴

 I have not seen landless Gadaba at the threshing floors; it is possible that they would also
receive a share of the harvest.
 Gustafsson (cf. 1987, 132; 1989, 421) translates manti as “respect” and “reverence.” Manbar
means “to obey.”
 After his father’s death, he came into conflict with various houses in the village, which now
seek out smiths in neighboring villages. As a consequence, the Kamar in Gudapada refuses to
provide the pig for hundi sitlani every year and now alternates the expense with the Sisa and
Kirsani. At the village meetings (niai, miting) in advance of the rituals, conflicts regularly occur
between the different groups, especially in diali. The issues include unfair distribution of the
donor responsibilities, unfulfilled obligations, and unsatisfactory donations (when the sa-
crificial animals are of poor quality). The village dignitaries – such as the barik and the pujari –
and their work also often come in for criticism on these occasions.
 The Goudo also give the village two large pots of beer, but only two months later, as part of
a different village festival (pus porbo).
 In the village of Gorihanjar, already mentioned, the manti gifts are as follows: the herders
give a pig, four pots of beer, and four bottles of liquor at hundi sitlani; the barik gives a rooster
154 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

The village’s affinal groups do not participate in these manti gifts at hundi
sitlani any more than the Gangre do. The outside potter also does not present
manti, although he receives pholoi from the village. Among the village dignita-
ries, only the naik gives manti: five man of hulled rice.¹⁶⁵ This is his duty accord-
ing to niam even as matia, it was said, because he has received the naik bera
from the village. In the time of the raja beti at Dasara, people said, the naik
led the delegation to Jeypore and provided for the expenses of the journey.
Since people no longer visit the princely seat at Dasara, it was explained, he
is now obligated to make this gift at hundi sitlani. If Gadaba act as “Goudo” in
the village, they must also present manti on this occasion.
All groups participate in the sacrificial meal at hundi sitlani, as in other con-
texts as well; the hierarchy between matia and upria is articulated through the
way the sacrificial animal is divided up and through the place and sequence
of eating. The Gangre eat the pig’s head as tsoru directly next to the goddess’s
shrine. The Dombo, the affinal groups, and the Kamar receive meat from the an-
imal’s rump, which they prepare in different places. The barik eats together with
the affinal groups, not with the Dombo. Finally, the Goudo – since they do not
eat pork – receive meat from the rooster, which they cook and eat among
themselves.¹⁶⁶
Besides his manti gift, the barik has the duty and the right not only to obtain
the head of cattle for a sacrifice during the rainy season, as usual, but also to
finance it by himself; in other words, no chanda money is collected. As a
counter-gift, the barik receives from the village¹⁶⁷ a certain amount of unhulled
rice as sari kadi after the harvest.¹⁶⁸ How much he receives is determined at the
village meeting in November (diali) each year and depends on the quality of the
ox he gave and on the harvest. In 2000, the barik received eleven phuti of rice (1
phuti is 60 – 75 kg).

for the same ritual. The smith provides the pig sacrificed for boirobi (likewise during diali porbo);
the moira gives a rooster for this ritual.
 The two naik share this obligation.
 On the two occasions I observed, the Goudo were not present and correspondingly did not
receive any meat.
 Goudo, who do not eat beef, do not participate.
 Kadi means “food”; the meaning of sari is unclear. According to Kornel (1999, 91), hill fields
are referred to as “Saria” (“upland (Saria) paddy”). This could mean that the gift to the barik
explicitly consists of only rice from the dry fields. However, the word could also be related to the
Hindi word saavRi, which Raheja (1990, 83) uses in describing jajmani relationships. In that
context, it refers to a Brahman’s share of the harvest, and she translates it as “‘of the grain
pile.’”
 2.6 The Land 155

The village’s clients not only have the right to receive pholoi and the duty to
give manti, but are also permitted as part of the seasonal festivals to demand
(mangbar) gifts called piai or sir sera. During the village festival in January
(pus porbo) in particular, they go from house to house and receive rice, small
sums of money, or cloth. The barik’s son told me that he would not participate
out of shame (laj), implying that in his view, begging meant a humiliation.

Status, Specialization, and Gift Exchange: pholoi in Comparison

to jajmani Relationships

Status, gift exchange, and specialization, discussed in the preceding sections,

can hardly be treated in connection with one another in the Indian context with-
out raising the specter of the “jajmani system.” Like “totemism” in general an-
thropological theory, the jajmani system is a case of the construction of a general
type out of scattered empirical phenomena, one that has long been a topic of
controversy in Indian anthropology and has proven itself relatively resistant to
attempts at its deconstruction.¹⁶⁹ In what follows, I will draw on selected ethno-
graphic examples to describe the various types of relationships between domi-
nant castes and their clients, the types of services and prestations provided,
and the context of the transactions and services, comparing them to the situation
in Gudapada. I will not summarize the genesis of the jajmani debate here.¹⁷⁰
First, I will sketch the idea of the jajmani system as Dumont understands it.

Dumont’s Model
Dumont (1980, 97) defines the jajmani system as “the system corresponding to
the prestations and counter-prestations by which the castes as a whole are
bound together in the village, and which is more or less universal in India.”
By pointing to the etymology of the word jajman, Dumont on the one hand high-
lights the fundamentally religious significance of jajmani relationships and on
the other hand introduces the central opposition of functions between – in
the varna model – Kshatriya and Brahman. The word jajman is derived from San-
skrit and refers to the sacrifier or sacrificial patron, the one who commissions a

 Pocock (1962) already expressed reservations about the use of the term and tried to restrict
its application. However, the critiques by Fuller (1989) and Lerche (1993) aimed more funda-
mentally at deconstructing the doctrine as a whole.
 The course of the debate and its central arguments are summarized by Dumont (1980, 92–
108), Fuller (1989), Lerche (1993), Parry (1979, 74– 83), and Raheja (1988), among others.
156 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

sacrifice and profits from its effects (the Kshatriya), in contrast to the priest (the
Brahman) who performs it (cf. Hubert and Mauss 1964). The Kshatriya’s function
is carried out by the king at the level of his kingdom and by the dominant caste
at the level of the village (Dumont 1980, 160). Dumont assigns this function to
the domain of “power,”¹⁷¹ a “non-ideological aspect,” as he writes, in contrast
to the Brahmans’ religious function. According to Srinivas’s (1959) definition,
a village’s dominant caste is distinguished by relative demographic strength
and political and economic power and does not possess an excessively low ritual
status. Economic power is demonstrated by landholding; the dominant caste is
in possession of the land, and the other castes are dependent on it. Dumont
(1980, 157) himself does not consider landholding relevant, since in his view,
land rights are not one-dimensional, but rather fragmentary and complementary.
All castes have a claim to the land in their own way, a claim expressed in each
caste’s share of the harvest. The image of the threshing floor allows the author to
clarify this point.¹⁷²

Were we to travel in our imagination to a threshing floor in traditional India, we would see
there the farmer measuring one after the other the King’s share, that of the person who is
found to have a superior right over the land, then the shares of the Brahman who serves as
domestic priest, the barber, and so on, until perhaps he reaches the untouchable plough-
man. […] What is effectively measured here is, so to speak, interdependence. (104, 105)

This “orientation towards the whole” (105) is Dumont’s central thesis, from which
the other parameters can be derived. The emphasis on the whole, in which all
individual ties are embedded and to which they refer, shows the system’s reli-
gious nature, that “the language of religion is the language of hierarchy, and
that the hierarchy is necessarily […] a matter of pure and impure” (108). Purity
and impurity as “ultimate values” (106) pervade this system, in which the Brah-
mans guarantee the jajman’s purity and the service castes keep impurity away
from him. The following summary of the data reported by Parry (1979) and Ler-
che (1993) is intended to provide examples of jajmani relationships in concrete
ethnographic contexts.

 That is, the so-called political and economic sphere, expressed in the concept of artha. In
Dumont’s (1980, 165) view, the political sphere encompasses the economic one.
 Fuller’s (1989) criticism was sparked particularly by this image of the “grain heap.”
 2.6 The Land 157

Types of jajmani Relationships and Prestations

For the Kangra district in North India, Parry (1979) has described the jajmani re-
lationships in which the dominant caste of the Rajputs are involved. The relation-
ships between the Rajputs and the sixteen other castes in the village¹⁷³ of Chad-
hiar are divided into three types in local linguistic usage: 1. jajman (Rajputs) –
purohit (priests), 2. zamindar (landholders) – kamin (craftspeople), 3. jajman –
beggars (“magne-wallahs”; Parry 1979, 59).
These three types of relationships have very different characteristics. Ideally,
Rajput and Brahman clan groups are bound to one another over generations; de
facto, the ties are at the level of “sub-clans” or households. The priests officiate
at their patrons’ household and life-cycle rituals and receive gifts, called dan, in
exchange on various occasions. These prestations (e. g., rice, money, or clothing)
have the character “of a charitable donation humbly offered to somebody of su-
perior status, whose condescension in accepting the gift allows the donor to ac-
quire merit” (Parry 1979, 65 f) and are entirely different from a commercial pay-
ment. In particular, a dan gift cannot be reciprocated, since in that case the
giver’s spiritual merit would be taken away, and the amount of the prestation
cannot be the subject of negotiations. The purohit does not receive a share of
the harvest, but rather dan gifts in the context of various festivals. He also has
the right to go from house to house at certain times to collect small amounts
of grain, called nasran. If a Brahman eats in a non-Brahman household, this
honor is requited with dakshina (a small sum of money). Finally, dharmarth re-
fers to the gift of the yield of a particular field, assigned to a Brahman household
on a permanent basis (66).
The relationship between zamindar and different castes of kamin service
providers (e. g., smiths, carpenters, weavers) is more oriented toward need,
and in exchange for their services, required both in life-cycle rituals and in
daily life, the kamin receive from their patrons a share of the harvest (gadi kalo-
thi) – which is also haggled over – along with direct payments for individual
services. Unlike dan, this prestation is explicitly understood as payment, and
the zamindar has a superior status position, in the reverse of the jajman/purohit
relationship; for example, the relationship with a kamin can be broken off in the
event of dissatisfaction with his services.
Beggars, such as jogi ascetics, for example, have an even less binding rela-
tionship to the Rajputs than the kamin. They have the right to beg for alms (bit-
sha) at certain times, and they sing or make music in return (59 – 70).

 A village or “mauza” is made up of several hamlets (“tika”; cf. Parry 1979, 18ff).
158 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

The relationships and prestations that Lerche (1993) describes for coastal
Odisha are similar to Parry’s data in many ways. Lerche distinguishes three re-
lationships between the dominant caste, the Khandayat, and their clients, as
well as the prestations belonging to each: 1. sponsor of the sacrifice (jajman)
and priest (purohit), 2. master (saanta) and servant (sevaka), 3. Khandayat and
agricultural laborer (halia).
The Khandayat and the Brahmans are linked at the household level; the pur-
ohit performs the same tasks listed by Parry and receives three types of presta-
tions. It is the purohit’s obligation – not his right – to receive prestations as
dana (dan in Parry: land, livestock, money, food) from the jajman and thereby
take over the negative and dangerous qualities that adhere to the gift (cf. Raheja
1990). This “religious” service is fundamentally part of a ritual (Lerche 1993,
244 f). In addition, the purohit has the right to receive money, clothing, or food
as dakshina (“‘gift to a guru,’” 245) after carrying out specific ritual services.
This prestation is not itself part of the ritual, and it also lacks the “side effects”
of dana. For carrying out the jajman’s daily morning rituals – today performed by
most Khandayat for themselves – the purohit receives a share of the annual har-
vest or money. This prestation is called bartana or barshika (246).
The master-servant relationship links the Khandayat with a series of service
castes (washermen, barbers, herders, smiths, etc.). Households on both sides
either are permanently bound to one another (including across generations) or
enter into temporary relationships in specific contexts, such as life-cycle rituals.
Alongside these ritual tasks – which according to Lerche form the “ideological
core” (Lerche 1993, 252) of this relationship – these castes also provide services
in the course of daily life. The members of these castes with a permanent tie to
the Khandayat receive an annual share of the harvest (bartana), the typical form
of their compensation, which is considered a payment (251). The service provid-
ers have the right (pauna) to a fixed share, which they collect after the harvest
from the threshing floor or the house, in a non-ritual context. In addition, the
permanent service providers can demand vegetables and other items, but not
as pauna; rather, these prestations depend on the master’s “‘sweet will.’” This
is thus a gift that implies subordination, leading better-off or more educated
service providers to abstain from it. After rituals, both temporary and permanent
service providers are given uncooked rice, vegetables, and cloth, a prestation
that has no specific name, as well as occasional gifts through which the masters
show respect for their service providers’ crafts, including at festival times
(254n15).
In the third relationship type, an agricultural laborer – most often an Un-
touchable – is bound to a Khandayat for a year as halia and performs all possible
types of work for him as needed, in the house and in the fields, without any con-
 2.6 The Land 159

nection to ritual contexts. Halia may also work for a Khandayat family for a life-
time, however, and are often compensated with a piece of land that they can cul-
tivate as long as the relationship continues (254 f). The following table is intend-
ed to provide an overview of Parry’s and Lerche’s detailed examples.

Table 9: Relationship Types and Prestations in Kangra and Coastal Odisha

Dominant to to to to
Caste purohit/priests service castes laborers ascetics/beggars

Kangra
(Parry )
Description jajman/purohit zamindar/kamin – jajman/magne-
of the Rela- (boti) (landowner/craftsman) wallahs (beggar)
tionship (sacrificial pa-
tron/sacrificer)
Type of puja/cooking in various crafts, in part – singing, playing
Service household and ritual functions (bar- music
life-cycle rituals bers)
Type of Re- ideally collective between households, – no personal relation-
lationship (“sub-clans”) and less permanent, con- ship, begging in the
permanent; tractual character neighborhood
purohit has
hereditary right
(jaddi) to exercise
the function
Type of Pre- dan annual share of the – alms (bitsha)
station (nasran) harvest (gadi kalothi)
(dakshina) and individual pay-
(dharmarth) ment (money)
Context of part of festivals non-ritual, daily life – ?
Prestation

Coastal Odi-
sha (Lerche
)
Description jajman/purohit saanta/sevaka farmer/field –
of the Rela- (master/servant) laborer
tionship (halia)
Type of household and tasks in life-cycle rit- work in the –
Service life-cycle rituals uals and in daily life house and in
the fields
Type of Re- ritual ritual non-ritual, for –
lationship one or more
years
160 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Dominant to to to to
Caste purohit/priests service castes laborers ascetics/beggars

Type of Pre- dan (obligation to bartana (payment) land for culti- –

station receive) prestation of “sweet vation (tem-
dakshina (right to will” porary)
receive) prestation of respect
barshika/bartana prestation for specific
ritual services
Context of part of a ritual non-ritual non-ritual –
Prestation

Patron/Client Relationships in Comparison

First of all, it is important to ask to what extent “earth people” (matia) like the
Gangre can be described as a “dominant caste.” They are far more numerous
than all other groups, hold the largest share of the fields, and have an intermedi-
ate status between the herders and potters on the one hand and the Dombo on
the other. They do not have a monopoly on political power, however; at village
assemblies, all groups have the opportunity to articulate their views, even if the
matia’s numerical dominance is important in the furtherance of their interests.
Due to their education and external contacts, the Dombo – or some of them –
are rather more appropriately considered politically influential. For the present,
it can be said that the Gangre and the matia of other villages fulfill most of Sri-
nivas’s criteria.
The terms jajman, kamin, saanta, sevaka, and the rest are either unknown to
the Desia or not used in this context. The dominant group is most often called
roit; I am unaware of any term for the clients as a whole. The number of client
groups in the Gadaba villages is far smaller than in the cases described above
and in most others familiar to me from the literature.¹⁷⁴ The Gadaba make
most of the items used in daily life themselves, from wood or bamboo, and
carry out most tasks themselves or with labor help from Gadaba neighbors.
Nonetheless, they rely on the pots produced by the Kumar, the ironwares pro-
duced by the smiths, and the music produced by the Dombo. The functions of
the herders are often assumed by individual Gadaba houses when no or too
few Goudo live in the village. Except for the Goudo, all other clients provide
goods and services that are ritually significant, among other things. Clay pots
are a prerequisite for preparing tsoru, iron is needed to banish malicious spirits

 Cf. for example the studies in Marriott (1955).

 2.6 The Land 161

(duma daini), the barik acquires the sacrificial animals and collects money and
rice, and the moira attract the gods’ attention with their music. None of the client
groups serve the Gadaba as sacrificers, however, as the purohit serve their pa-
trons in Kangra and coastal Odisha.¹⁷⁵ The village sacrificers – the pujari and
randari – are recruited from the dominant group and are not clients. Other ritual
specialists (dissari, gunia) called on to determine auspicious times, for healing,
or for life-cycle rituals do not receive pholoi, as a general rule, and may belong to
a wide variety of jati. Nonetheless, I have not observed Dombo specialists being
called on for these services. This is also true of the one permanent relationship of
this kind, between Gudapada and the “great” astrologer (boro dissari), a Rona
from a neighboring village.¹⁷⁶ He determines the times for and in part the actors
in the village festivals, and in times of danger (bipod), he also functions as a sac-
rificer, together with the pujari. Once a year, the Gangre hold a feast for him in his
village, and he receives twenty rupees from the barik (i. e., from the village) for
his services. The other ritual specialists (Gadaba and other Desia) are summoned
on an individual basis; no permanent relationships exist, and they are compen-
sated by those who hire them with raw or cooked food, liquor, and money. In the
context of the life-cycle rituals, these prestations, which the midwife also re-
ceives, are called dokino (Desia of dakshina). The distinction between temporary
and permanent, individual and collective relationships points the way to the
central characteristics of the patron/client relationships and the types of presta-
tions.
The relationships between Rajputs and Brahmans are ideally located at the
clan level; in practice, “sub-clans” or households are permanently linked to one
another. This collective and permanent relationship is a manifestation of the sig-
nificance of the jajman/purohit relationship and is in contrast to the other rela-
tionships with the lower-status service castes, which are easier to dissolve and
exist in any case between households. Among the Gadaba, relationships exist
between households on the one hand, as in the cases of the herders and smiths,
and between the village and its clients on the other. The potter (Kumar) serves
the village as a whole, including the Dombo, the Goudo, and the smith, and
he receives pholoi from the village as a whole (matam). The barik receives pholoi
from every house (gulai ga) and sari kadi from the village as a whole (matam). In

 The old Goudo, who participates in some village sacrifices (the bolani jatra), is an ex-
ception. His involvement in this ritual, which is considered a mansik (vow) for the village, is
probably the consequence of his activity as an astrologer (dissari).
 As a rule, the boro dissari are recruited from other villages and other jati, but not always
from a higher-status group, as in the case of the Rona. The boro dissari of the Gadaba village of
Gorihanjar, for example, is a Joria, with junior status relative to the Gadaba.
162 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

general, all clients ideally serve the village, independent of whether particular
houses currently require their services or not.¹⁷⁷ With regard to the duration of
patron/client relationships, no clear distinctions can be drawn among the Gada-
ba’s various clients, and although all service relationships are hereditary as a
matter of principle, they can be easily dissolved. The relationships with the herd-
ers, the potter, and the smith are established for a year, and the barik can be re-
placed in November if necessary. It is generally also conceivable that the smith or
the Goudo could leave the village in the event of an extended dispute and settle
elsewhere. If we consider the groups as a whole, the relationship between matia
and Dombo appears as the most stable and enduring, as can also be seen in the
narrative about the settling of the village recounted above. The Dombo were the
first “latecomers,” and tsorubai relationships exist with no other client groups.
The clients of the Gadaba villages are contrasted to the “earth people” as a
block, and status differences among the clients are irrelevant at the village level
against the background of the dominant opposition of matia vs. upria, especially
evident in ritual contexts like hundi sitlani, as briefly sketched above. Herders
possess a clearly higher general or regional status than the Dombo, but at the
sacrifices at the shrines, both are set on the same level from the Gadaba perspec-
tive, and both receive meat from the rump of the sacrificial animals and are ex-
cluded from the matia’s tsoru, as is also true of the matia’s affines. The patron/
client relationships are thus not hierarchically structured in the same way as in
the examples from Kangra and coastal Odisha. Structurally, the matia’s position
in the village is similar to the ritual centrality of the Gujar in Uttar Pradesh, as
described by Raheja (1990). Unlike the Khandayat and the Rajputs, this domi-
nant caste gives dan gifts to all its clients, not just the Brahmans, and thereby
distributes their inauspiciousness to all castes (and bride-takers) conceived of
as “other.” From the perspective of dan transactions, Brahmans and Dom are
placed in the same position vis-à-vis the givers, despite the difference in their de-
gree of ritual purity.
If we turn our attention to the prestations, it is notable first of all that all cli-
ents of the Gadaba villages except for the boro dissari receive a share of the har-
vest as pholoi, not just some groups. Pholoi is comparable to the gadi kalothi in
Kangra and the barshika/bartana in coastal Odisha, and these prestations are
described by both authors as “payment.” Dan gifts are entirely absent in the Ga-
daba villages, on the other hand, and the idea of transferring inauspiciousness
to other groups with a gift is non-existent there. The comparison between Gujar

 This kind of a bond between clients and the village as a whole can be found in various
parts of India and is known in the literature as the baluta system (Fuller 1989, 36 f).
 2.6 The Land 163

and Gadaba is thus based only on both groups’ structural position within their
villages, not on the type of prestations and their implications. The only client of
the village who does not receive pholoi, as mentioned, is the boro dissari, who is
given a feast and money each year. Individual relationships with dissari, gunia,
or gurumai do not pertain to the context of village relationships discussed here.
Alongside the pholoi for the clients, all people resident within the village territo-
ry – whether they explicitly provide services to the village or not – can visit the
threshing floors and receive a basket of grain in exchange for nominal counter-
gifts.
A clear difference between the Gadaba situation and the ethnographic data
presented by Lerche (1993) and Parry (1979), and by Raheja (1990) as well, lies in
the role of the clients as givers of gifts. In the villages of the Khandayat, Rajputs,
and Gujar, the jajman appear to receive no gifts, and the clients alone have the
right or the obligation to receive. Among the Gadaba, in contrast, all pholoi re-
cipients who live in the village have the obligation to show respect (manti) to
the “earth people” and the earth goddess by contributing sacrificial animals
or other gifts to the sacrifice for the village goddess. In this context, it is not
the entire village – all the houses in equal shares – that finances the sacrifice,
but rather the village’s service providers who supply the means. This includes
the naik, even though he does not receive pholoi. However, the fact that the ani-
mals are financed by the clients does not change anything about the manner in
which the meat is distributed or the unambiguous hierarchy between matia and
upria.
The giving of pholoi, manti, and piai – and sari kadi as well – are not part of
a ritual, but they are part of the festivals (porbo) and related to the sacrifices for
the village gods, since these sacrifices are the prerequisite for the harvest and so
for pholoi. The system of gift exchange within the village can be understood only
in relation to the ritual context and the Gadaba’s status as “earth people” and
sacrificers. Having thus considered the individual aspects of the relationships
and prestations and compared them to other ethnographic examples, I now
turn to this central aspect of the village rituals and take up again Dumont’s the-
sis, with the consequence that the level of ideas and of the whole now comes to
the forefront.
The value-idea of ritual purity, which according to Dumont (1980) structures
the ideology of the varna and the caste system, is not relevant among the Gadaba
(cf. Pfeffer 1997a). It is precisely the “poles” of the caste system, which in Du-
mont’s view most clearly articulate the ideology of purity – the Brahmans and
the Untouchables – that are absent in the highland system. Taking this into ac-
count, the Gadaba cannot be seen as a dominant caste, since they need neither
the services of the Brahmans to maintain or bring about ritual purity, nor those
164 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

of the lower castes to remove ritual impurity. The “earth people” themselves have
the highest or most senior ritual status, and the fact that they themselves butcher
and eat their dead cattle is not in contradiction to this, since suddha (ritual pu-
rity) and asuddha (ritual impurity) are not categories of reference. Likewise ab-
sent is the separation between the values of status (ritual purity) and power that
Dumont finds in the caste system, expressed in the opposition between Brah-
mans and Kshatriya – or purohit and jajman, dharma and artha. If Pocock
(1962) is correct that this relationship is at the heart of jajmani relationships,
this term cannot be used to describe the relations between the “earth people”
and their clients.
However, it is worthwhile to return to Dumont’s definition in order to char-
acterize these relationships between the village and its clients more precisely,
since the system of prestations and counter-prestations manifests an “orientation
towards the whole” and is both “religious” and “hierarchical.” The relationships
between the different groups are crystallized in the collective sacrifices, which
are equally an expression and a cause of the village hierarchy. Pholoi and
manti gifts are oriented toward the sacrifices, at the center of which stand the
“earth people” in their relationship to the village goddess, maintained through
tsoru commensality. The position of the “earth people” in the whole (the village)
as sacrificers and consanguines of the gods constitutes their superior or senior
status vis-à-vis all others. This hierarchy is articulated in multiple ways through
food (tsoru/lakka’*, head/rump), distance from the shrine (near/far), and order of
eating (first/after).
Political (legitimate) violence, the equivalent of the kingly quality of artha,
has no place in the institutions of the Gadaba; they manage without a monopoly
of force.¹⁷⁸ No wielder of power – no jajman or sacrificial patron – is contrasted
to the sacrificer’s ritual status: “No estate of intellectual ritualists is opposed to
the holders of secular power or segregated from the general peasant community”
(Pfeffer 1997a, 11). The “earth people” are the sacrificers, and the village as a
whole profits from their relationship to the earth. Within the group of dignitaries,
the ritual functions of the sacrificer (pujari/sisa) and cook (randari/kirsani) are
contrasted to the non-ritual, secular functions of the naik (and the barik), but
this opposition does not correspond to the priest/king relationship, since the
group of the sacrificers (Sisa) simultaneously provides the most senior secular
leader.

 The absence of a monopoly on violence is considered a characteristic of tribal organization

(cf. Pfeffer 2000, 2002a, 2002b; Sahlins 1968).
 2.6 The Land 165

The naik is no more a king of the village than the “earth people” are kings of
the village as a group. He plays a complementary role to the pujari/randari in
ritual and otherwise represents the village to the outside world, probably more
so in the days of the raja than today. The clients pay respect to the earth goddess
and her sacrificers with their manti gifts, but not to the “earth people” as a cen-
tral political power. This power is located outside Gadaba society, in the raja
(king) or the sorkar (government) and their institutions, like the military and
the police. From the Gadaba perspective, however, even the raja in Nandapur
or Jeypore is less a potentate than a sacrificial patron who guarantees the
earth goddess’s benevolence (something neglected by the modern government,
according to my previously mentioned informant), and the Gadaba therefore
paid respect to the king with their visits at Dasara, although whether in the
same form as the Juang or the Dongria Kond must remain an open question.
Through their relationships to the king and his representatives, the Gadaba
are – if only marginally – part of a larger political and administrative domain;
the clients’ specialization and division of labor link the Gadaba economically
to the region beyond the village. They sell the excess produce of their land to
the Dombo, and the latter sell it at the weekly markets to traders from the
urban centers. Conversely, the barik brings the necessary sacrificial animals
into the village. This function is especially visible in his duty to provide the
head of cattle for a certain ritual (bag puja) in the rainy season and to be com-
pensated by the whole village in return. Pfeffer (1997a, 9ff) has stressed this role
of the Dombo as middlemen: “Without their clients, the economy as well as the
philosophy of the tribals would collapse” (10). His thesis that all types of exter-
nal contact, trade, and work for others are seen by the Adivasi as polluting and
that the Dombo’s impure status derives precisely from this activity as middlemen
and boundary crossers cannot be confirmed for the Gadaba. It is true that very
few Gadaba engage in trade and that they are dependent on the Dombo in this
regard, but those few who do trade – for example, a Gadaba from Gudapada reg-
ularly sells tobacco at the weekly market – do not become polluted as a result.¹⁷⁹
The Gadaba who have worked for decades in the tea gardens of Assam also do
not become ritually impure by doing so, and the groups of men who set out in
search of wage labor in February or March each year do not perform any purifi-
cation rituals upon their return. The Dombo and in particular the barik are the
important middlemen, as I have also described with regard to the transformation

 Unlike the Hindu immigrants from the plains, the Gadaba do not view a visit to the market
as at all polluting, any more than a drinking bout (cf. Strümpell 2001, 2007). The word for ritual
impurity (sutok) and the corresponding rituals are significant only in the context of life-cycle
rituals and the harvest.
166 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

or oscillation between part and whole within the village: the barik summons all
the kutum and houses (gulai ga) and so brings the assembly of the whole
(matam) into being. Pollution does not result from these crossings of internal
and external boundaries.
A decisive difference from the jajmani relationships between castes ultimate-
ly consists in the fact that the cohesion of a local caste system is based on the
interdependence of elements engaged in the division of labor, their organic sol-
idarity in Durkheim’s sense. Parry (1979) describes the permanent asymmetrical
relationships between Rajputs and Brahmans, which link clan groups over gen-
erations, as well as the ongoing unequal exchange between zamindar and kamin.
Asymmetrical structures oriented to a center guarantee stability in peasant soci-
eties (Pfeffer 2002b). The Gadaba social order, in contrast, is based primarily on
symmetrical exchange between segments that are in principle of equal status (if
we leave exchange with the gods aside for the moment), and it is in this reci-
procity – ideally endless and perhaps also timeless – that the society’s stability
and continuity consist.
Having focused in this section on the organic ties among the groups within a
single village, I will discuss these symmetrical and “horizontal” relationships be-
tween agnatic and affinal groups from different villages in the following section.

2.7 Relationships between Villages

Certain types of relationships are ideally localized within the village; others are
typical “inter-village” relationships. The relationship of the Four Brothers and
their tsoru commensality belongs to the first category, since the Four Brothers
are nearly equivalent to the village’s ritual definition, as it were. I would also as-
sign the village/client relationships to the “intra-village” domain.¹⁸⁰ Affinal rela-
tionships, on the other hand, are characteristic “inter-village” relationships, and
the same applies to various agnatic relationship types that I will discuss in this
section.
The extent to which these relationships actually exist between villages or be-
tween segments of a single village largely depends on the size of the village in

 The description of the pholoi relationships has shown that the Kumar, for example, has
relationships with multiple villages. In Gudapada, he does not give manti to the earth goddess,
but he probably does do so in the village of Tukum, of which his own village is a hamlet.
Likewise, the Kamar in Gudapada has various clients in other villages, but he presents manti
only in Gudapada. The relationship to one’s own village thus takes precedence over other pholoi
relationships.
 2.7 Relationships between Villages 167

question. Small villages with only one kuda group, for example, inevitably have
the most relationships with other villages. If a village splits, as I have described
above, tsoru commensality may exist between the former segments that have
now become separate villages. In large villages, relationships that in principle
are conceptualized as external relationships are often found between different
groups within the village. The affinal relationships already described between
the Gangre and various upria groups in Gudapada are examples of this. In gen-
eral, it can be asked at which level of the social order affinal exchange and agn-
atic ritual relationships are situated: that of the kutum, the kuda, or the village?

Affinal Relationships

In many Central Indian tribal societies, affinal relationships are characterized by

symmetry and take the form of restricted exchange, in which brides are given
and reciprocated between two groups or categories. In addition, the diachronic
aspect is often articulated through the repetition of the marriage relationships in
alternate generations; the repetition of the relationship in the adjacent genera-
tion, in contrast, is prohibited (Pfeffer 1982; Parkin 1992). The Gadaba’s Gutob
kinship terminology, described by Pfeffer as “a closed and unified system of
symmetric affinal prescription” (1999, 29), likewise equates some terms (FF =
eB, FM = eBW, MF = eZH, MM = eZ) in alternate generations (28).
At the analytical level of marriage rules, Pfeffer finds varying interpretations
of fundamentally symmetrical marriage alliances in different subregions of the
Gadaba area. In the region around Lamtaput – to which Gudapada belongs –
the rule calls for an interval of a generation before a marriage can be repeated.
In this case, the rules thus match the terminology. In the region around Onuka-
dilli, however, the alternation rule is not found, and marriages are immediately
repeated in the adjacent generation, as in the “Dravidian” model. In this case,
then, there is a discrepancy between the terminology and the rules (35).¹⁸¹ Ac-
cording to Pfeffer, Gadaba villages are exogamous units in which the “sublineage
level” – that is, the kutum – is the relevant one for marriage arrangements, so
that marriage alliances do not link villages as monolithic blocks.

 Pfeffer (1999, 36) sees contradictions in the Gadaba terminology and rules. The termino-
logical identification of FZ = WM and MB = HF points toward “bilateral cross-cousin marriage,”
while the use of the same terms for MM = eZ and MF = eZH indicates alternate generations. As
far as the rules are concerned, he sees differences among the subregions according to the
predominance of delayed or immediate reciprocity.
168 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

In what follows, I would like to summarize what I have been able to learn
about the concepts, rules, and practice of marriage. Although my examples of
empirical marriage ties have little statistical weight, they will nonetheless
make clear that exchange without delay also dominates in practice in the Lam-
taput area, not alternating patterns.

Ideal Village Exogamy

In marriage negotiations, the spokesmen for the bride-takers’ side (raibadia,
oibo*) take walking sticks (or staffs for defense) for the journey to the other vil-
lage, even when their affines’ houses are in the immediate neighborhood. Upon
arrival, the representatives of both groups take their seats, and the guests are
asked about the trip, whether any birds flew up unexpectedly or any animals
crossed their path, no matter how long or short the trip was. A man who was
considered the oldest in the village could no longer remember the names of
his nieces and daughters-in-law, but he knew the villages to which they had
gone and from which they came. These examples show that ideally, “daughters
and sisters” (ji bouni) leave their fathers’ villages upon marriage and are re-
placed by daughters-in-law (buari) from outside.¹⁸² As the rituals for marriage
and compensation payments also demonstrate, therefore, the village is an impor-
tant actor in marriage alliances.

Marriage Practice
If we look at marriage alliances in practice, the relevant units of exchange are
not obvious at first glance. From the egocentric perspective of a kutum, affinal

 Elwin (1950), Fürer-Haimendorf (1943a), and Pfeffer (1999) mention the Bondo’s strict
village exogamy: “the village is the only unit decisive in the regulations of marriage relation-
ships,” Fürer-Haimendorf (1943a, 168) writes. Pfeffer (1999, 36), in contrast, assigns supple-
mentary importance to the “sublineage,” as in the Gadaba case. Elwin and Fürer-Haimendorf
also emphasize the link to the village group’s tsoru (tsoru in Fürer-Haimendorf, soru in Elwin),
and Elwin (1950, 25) goes so far as to speak of “soru-exogamy.” Marriage between tsoru com-
mensals is strictly forbidden and empirically very rare, while marriage relationships within the
bonso are not particularly uncommon and are even frequent, according to these authors (Fürer-
Haimendorf 1943a, 169; Elwin 1950, 25, 32 f). Elwin’s comment deserves special attention: “A
woman enters her husband’s soru-group and if she is widowed, she can re-marry someone from
her original village” (25). This rule does not apply to the Gadaba, and a widow is more likely to
look for a new partner among her deceased husband’s village brothers. In addition, bonso
exogamy is strictly observed among the Gadaba, with similar consequences for exogamy among
tsoru commensals, since they are always agnates on the village level.
 2.7 Relationships between Villages 169

ties exist with numerous villages and groups, as the following table shows. The
first column distinguishes the generations, the second lists the villages to which
daughters and sisters were given, and the third lists the villages from which
daughters-in-law came. The group of the village of origin, the bonso, and – if
not Gutob Gadaba – the jati are given in parentheses. The Chamru Gor kutum
is divided into two lines – houses (gor) or parts (bag) – distinguished in the
table by underlining. Question marks in parentheses indicate that only the cor-
responding village is known.

Table 10: Affinal Ties of the Chamru Gor (Sisa) over Four Generations

Generation ji bouni given to buari received from

(village clan, bonso, jati) (village clan, bonso, jati)

A – Kotigor (Mundagoria, macho, Ollar)

B Tukum (Mundagoria, macho, Ollar)
Mundagor (macho, Ollar)
C Tikrapada (Endaktal Gutal, killo)
Gudapada (Mundagoria)
Saraguda (pangi, Ollar)
Orna (Ruda’i, killo)
Burdiput (kora)
Gudapada (Ruda’i, killo)
Kujam (Gibir, killo)
Joridara (Endaktal Gutal, killo)
Kujam (Gibir, killo)
D Lamtaput (?)
Muchemput (killo)
Songeipada (?)
Tokal (killo, Ollar)
Kojriput (Suklital Gutal, kora)
Soilpada (killo)
Cheliamenda (Messing, killo)
Sonkai (Sakia, kora, Ollar)
Guneipada (?)
Tikrapada (Endaktal Gutal, killo)
Gudapada (Mundagoria)
Saraguda (pangi, Ollar)
Tikrapada (Endaktal Gutal, killo)
Tukum (Mundagoria, macho, Ollar)
Mardingpada (?, Ollar)
Sonkai (Sakia, kora, Ollar)
Bilaiput (killo)
Gudapada (Ruda’i, killo)
Jalahanjar (kora)
Kujam (Gibir, killo)

Of the thirty-two marriages listed here, twelve were concluded with Ollar Gadaba
groups, the remainder within the Gutob Gadaba. A total of twenty-two villages
170 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

are involved, all of which, with one exception,¹⁸³ are located within a radius of
about fifteen kilometers; the majority are significantly closer. If we look at the
villages of origin to which the different affinal groups belong, the initial multi-
plicity starts to resolve into a clearer pattern. Mundagoria, Ruda’i, and Endaktal
Gutal are found in various villages and are considered eligible marriage partners,
as a matter of principle, independent of the villages in which their “offshoots”
reside; this trait will also be seen in agnatic relationships. In addition, direct ex-
changes between some villages can be demonstrated. Over two generations, that
is, with a delay, ji bouni were exchanged with the Gibir (in Kujam), the Ruda’i (in
Gudapada), and the Mundagoria (in Tukum).¹⁸⁴ Within the same generation, sis-
ters were given to the Endaktal Gutal (in Tikrapada), the Mundagoria (in Guda-
pada), and the Ollar (in Saraguda), and daughters-in-law were brought home
from the same groups. In one case (buari from Sonkai), we see a repetition of
the gift of a bride in the alternate generation.¹⁸⁵ In the majority of affinal relation-
ships, reciprocity between villages is not present within the relevant timespan –
that is, the timespan remembered by the participants.
If we leave behind the perspective of an individual kutum and consider the
marriage alliances between all (matia) groups in two villages, the picture ex-
pands. Over three generations, eleven marriages took place between the Gangre
in Gudapada and the Ollar Gadaba in Saraguda. If we take the different kutum
into account, it becomes clear that reciprocity is not limited to these units;
rather, the gift of a bride can be reciprocated within the kuda and within the vil-
lage as well (see figure 6). In the C generation, the Munduli from Saraguda gave a
sister to the Garsa Gor kutum in Gudapada and took a bride from another Sisa
kutum (Naik Gor). Likewise, the Pendom Gor in Saraguda received two sisters
from the Purnamundia in Gudapada, but gave their own sisters to the Kirsani
(Gendor and Kodomguria). Direct reciprocity (within the same generation) be-
tween kutum occurs only once, between Chamru Gor and Dona Gor. In all
other cases, the relationship between giving and taking is unbalanced. If we
look at the kuda segmentary level and ignore the different kutum, the picture
is no more balanced (see figure 7).
Over three generations, the Kirsani in Gudapada took three daughters-in-law
from the Sisa in Saraguda without reciprocating a bride; they have no affinal ties
of any kind with the Munduli. The Sisa in Gudapada have given six sisters and
received a total of only two. They maintain somdi relationships with both kuda

 Joridara is located near Boipariguda, in the lowlands (tolrasi). Gadaba from Tikrapada,
among others, settled there after their land was flooded by the Kolab hydroelectric project.
 In all three cases, this was marriage with the “genealogical” FZD.
 The daughters-in-law from Sonkai married into different lines within the Chamru Gor.
 2.7 Relationships between Villages 171

Saraguda Gudapada

A Lengti Gor (Sisa) Gendor (Kirsani)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Donga Gor (Sisa) Garsa Gor (Sisa)
Matu Gor (Sisa) Garsa Gor
Pendom Gor (Sisa) Purnamundia (Sisa)
B Pendom Gor Purnamundia
Donga Gor Chamru Gor (Sisa)

Pendom Gor Gendor

Donga Gor Chamru Gor
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pendom Gor Kodomguria (Kirsani)
Munduli Garsa Gor
C
Munduli Naik Gor (Sisa)

Figure 6: Marriage Alliances between Gudapada (Gangre) and Saraguda (Ollar Gadaba): kutum
Level

Figure 7: Marriage Alliances between Gudapada (Gangre) and Saraguda (Ollar Gadaba): kuda
Level

groups in Saraguda. Immediate reciprocity (within the same generation) occurs

twice (Sisa [G] : Sisa [S], Sisa [G] : Munduli [S]). In this example, balance can be
found neither on the kutum level nor on that of the kuda. On the village level, in
contrast, the relationships are relatively balanced (5:6). This relative balance in
172 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

the transfers at the village level is astonishing when the demographic circum-
stances are taken into account. Saraguda is a considerably smaller village
than Gudapada and consists of two kuda groups, one of which, the Munduli,
is represented by only one house, a fact that could explain the absence of
somdi relationships with the Kirsani (and Munduli) of Gudapada.
A village of comparable size is Tikrapada, with which all the Gangre groups
maintain affinal ties. Over three generations, twenty-six marriages were identi-
fied between the villages.¹⁸⁶ The distribution of the exchange relationships
over the different kuda is shown in figure 8.
Again, the affinal exchange relationships in this example are relatively bal-
anced only on the village level (15:11), not when the kuda groups are considered
on their own.¹⁸⁷ Reciprocal relationships involving multiple kuda groups are
clearly evident both within the same generation and across generations. Alter-
nating relationships cannot be discerned as such, since transactions are also re-
peated in the intervening generation. Reciprocal exchanges between the Kirsani
of Gudapada and the Munduli of Tikrapada occur in almost every generation;
only in the A generation is the gift of ji bouni not reciprocated by the Munduli,
although the Kirsani do receive two ji bouni from the Boronaik. The Kirsani, and
the Munduli as well – despite their small number of houses – maintain somdi
relationships with multiple kuda groups in Tikrapada, while the Sisa limit
their affinal relationships to the Boronaik.
Various aspects become clear in these examples. Regular and reciprocal af-
final alliances exist between Gutob and Ollar Gadaba, at least in the eastern
Lamtaput area of the Gutob Gadaba. It is therefore not possible to speak of a
“prohibition of intermarriage” (Pfeffer 2001a, 104) that is broken only occasion-
ally. Nevertheless, the tribal groups (jati) are ideally endogamous, and marriages
with Parenga or Joria do not occur in these examples. It also becomes clear that
both the kutum and the kuda group can be and often are relevant units of ex-
change for affinal relationships, but the relationships as a whole are located
at the village level. Gadaba say that the people of this or that village are “our
affines” (somdi); the kutum and kuda groups are not relevant points of reference.
Membership in a village clan is especially important, less so the actual place of
residence. Affinal relationships exist between Gangre and Ruda’i, Mundagoria,
Gibir, and Endaktal Gutal, although the affinal groups live in different villages.
The affinal relationships within Gudapada also indicate that the village is a rel-

 More precisely, twenty-four marriages were named by the (female) informants, one was
supplied by me (on the basis of genealogies), and one is now in preparation.
 The Kirsani give nine ji bouni and receive four, the Sisa give three and receive six, and the
Munduli give three sisters and receive one daughter-in-law.
 2.7 Relationships between Villages 173

Figure 8: Marriage Alliances between Gudapada (Gangre) and Tikrapada (Endaktal Gutal): kuda
Level

evant unit. The Messing, previously introduced as an example, maintain affinal

relationships with all the village’s kutum and kuda groups, not just selected seg-
ments, and the Ruda’i and Mundagoria do likewise. When the Ruda’i in Gudapa-
da receive a buari from the Kirsani and give a ji bouni to the Sisa, is the first gift
then considered reciprocated? The general question thus arises of whether reci-
procity – the necessity of repaying the gift of a bride – is understood as a norm at
all.
174 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Exchange of Milk
It has already been briefly mentioned that the gift of a bride is also conceived of
as the gift of “milk” (kir, dud, da’ktor*), and these transactions are understood as
reciprocal, as a matter of principle: “We eat their milk, they eat our milk,” people
say. The mother’s brother¹⁸⁸ (mamu, mama) is considered in this context the giver
of milk, granting him – or his kutum – ritual rights at all life-cycle rituals of his
sister’s children, including the final mortuary rituals.¹⁸⁹ Milk does not refer to an
affinal relationship alone, but rather also implies a kind of uterine consanguinity
that forbids marriage between the children of two sisters. The MZD is a “milk sis-
ter” (dud bouni) and therefore not marriageable: “They ate the milk of one
mother; marriage is out of the question.”¹⁹⁰ From this perspective, the sisters’
mother’s brother (ego’s MMB), because he gave the milk, is a kind of “affinal cog-
nate” (in addition to his function as bride-giver). This form of “milk descent”
ends after a generation, however, and the exogamy rule no longer applies to
the children of milk siblings, unlike in the case of the agnatic bonso.
Agnatic descent is vaguely associated with a shared corporeality that is ex-
pressed especially in mortuary rituals, when agnates eat one another’s dead,
who have taken on the form of water buffaloes. Agnatic relationships are asso-
ciated with buffaloes, affinal ones with cattle, especially in the life-cycle domain.
The eating of consanguineal buffaloes – the bodies of the group’s mothers and
fathers – is forbidden to affines, and vomiting in the event of a violation of this
prohibition is a sign of this “upside-down” form of consumption. Milk and cattle,
on the other hand, circulate as alimentary gifts along the pathways of affinal
ties; they represent affinal corporeality and reproduction.
In the ritual process of marriage, the gift of a bride is directly balanced by
the bridewealth (jola). Part of the bridewealth is a calf (bachuri) that is given
“in order to eat milk” (kir kaiba pai) and explicitly not for sacrifice or meat,
since it is associated with the girl. The milk that has been taken is thus immedi-
ately reciprocated. The milk transaction is therefore at base reciprocal without

 The FZH is not terminologically distinguished from the MB, nor are their children. Both are
called menabai (male) or menabouni (female) from ego’s perspective and are considered po-
tential marriage partners, in a bilateral system. Mamu also refers to the WF/HF, although (in
Desia) a separate term (satra) also exists. In the wedding rituals, the mama and satra are
distinguished (if they are not the same person). The status of milk-giver, in contrast, belongs
only to the MB, who has the most ritual rights and duties.
 These special ritual rights and duties that arise from the mother’s brother’s function as
milk-giver also demonstrate the significance of the kutum in the context of affinal ties. In
addition, the mother’s brother is considered a person deserving of respect, and making jokes
(kiali) about him is a transgression of niam.
 “Gotero ma kir kaila, biba cholbo nai.”
 2.7 Relationships between Villages 175

delay; the “real” bride can be reciprocated at a later time. This idea is operative
even though bridewealth is not given in every case, but only when demanded by
the bride-givers. This aspect of demand was also emphasized by my informants
in the context of the gift of the bride herself. Only when a mamu (MB) demands
his banji (ZD) for his own son must she be given to him, they said, not otherwise.
Even then, however, there would be ways and excuses to deny one’s daughter, if
there was reason to do so. The autonomy of the decision is emphasized as a mat-
ter of principle, including the will of the young men and women concerned. The
daughter’s unwillingness is therefore an accepted argument that can be put for-
ward in order not to give a daughter. In general, male and female “cross-cousins”
(menabai, menabouni) are considered good choices, since their house and yard
(gor duar) are already known.
In summary, it can be said that reciprocal affinal relationships ideally exist
between villages or village clans. The marriage rituals underline the significance
of the village, and the gift of bridewealth – the milk exchange – shows that the
relationships are conceived of as immediately reciprocal. The symmetry of affinal
exchange is likewise evident in the Gutob terminology (Pfeffer 1999, 25), and af-
final terms are identical to those for “cross-cousins,” just as they are clearly dif-
ferentiated from those for parallel kin. Corresponding equivalences in the kin-
ship terminology are found in the G+1 and G0 generations (MB = FZH, FZ =
MBW, eZ = WeBW, etc.).¹⁹¹ On the normative level, the Gadaba articulate a pref-
erence for classificatory “cross-cousins,” that is, for marriages between menabai
(PosGS) and menabouni (PosGD) – subsumed under the category of “maranger”
(PosGC) in the Gutob terminology (Pfeffer 1999, 24) – but this is not explicitly for-
mulated as a positive rule. The reciprocation of a bride is not procured, nor are
the brides given reckoned off against one another. That a balance in affinal trans-
actions between local groups is not normative is reflected in practice. The affinal
transactions between the kutum and kuda groups are reciprocal (immediately or
with a delay), but not balanced, and the transactions extend beyond the boun-
daries of these units. Actual practice reveals that the village is the primary ex-
change unit for marriage alliances, and only on this level are the transactions
relatively balanced, without this being an explicit focus of attention for the Ga-
daba.
The Gadaba do not formulate rules about a delay in the repetition of affinal
relationships, and there is no prohibition on or avoidance of marriage with a fe-
male first cousin, as Parkin (1992, 176 f, 185) states for the “Munda” in general

 The same equivalences are found in the Desia terminology: MB/FZH = mamu, FZ/MBW =
ata, eZ/WeBW = nani.
176 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

and for the Gadaba in particular. Marriage practice demonstrates the regular rep-
etition of marriages in adjacent generations, and alternating patterns can only
rarely be discerned in this regard.¹⁹² In general, the significance of generations
for marriage rules among the Gadaba is not comparable to that in other tribal
communities, such as the Juang. The Gadaba’s bonso categories, unlike those
McDougal (1963, 155 f) describes among the Juang, are not divided into opposed
halves, thereby opposing even and odd generations at the category level. Corre-
spondingly, no prohibition on marriage between individuals of opposed genera-
tions is articulated. The only explicit prohibition concerns marriage between
members of the same bonso; no positive rules can be determined.
The tsoru commensality in the wedding rituals (biba) highlights the different
relationships that are relevant for the regulation of affinal relationships. The
mothers’ brothers of both members of the bridal couple are supposed to feed
the bride and groom tsoru, thereby acknowledging their genealogical tie to the
affinal categories of the +1 generation, by way of which the menabai and mena-
bouni are defined. Moreover, the fathers of the bridal couple feed them tsoru. In
practice, a father-in-law is referred to as mamu (MB) or satra (WF, HF), and the
bride’s father – if he is not identical to the groom’s mother’s brother – is differ-
entiated in the wedding ritual by the fact that he likewise prepares tsoru for the
bridal couple.¹⁹³ The groom’s father feeds the couple tsoru only indirectly, insofar
as he is part of the agnatic collective – the Four Brothers – that serves the newly-
weds a sacrificial meal. The significance of the village for affinal alliances is once
again evident here. The most important alimentary act of the wedding rituals
consists in the bridal couple’s tsoru commensality with the Twelve Brothers.
They represent the Gadaba’s superordinate agnatic community, within which
the tsorubai of the sponsors of a given ritual (wedding, mortuary ritual) are
often the ones who prepare the sacrificial meal.

 Alternating patterns are nevertheless evident in many other contexts: in the ritual exchange
of gifts (of buffaloes and brides), reincarnation (also discussed by Parkin [1992, 203ff]), Gutob
kinship terminology (FF = eB, FM = eBW, MF = eZH, MM = eZ; Pfeffer 1999, 28), and the rhythm
of certain sacrifices in the annual cycle that take place “once in three years” (tini borso tore),
thereby contrasting the year of the sacrifice with the years on either side.
 The differentiation of the ritual roles of MB and WF is also mentioned by Parkin (1992, 183).
 2.7 Relationships between Villages 177

Agnatic Relationships

Tsorubai
Groups from the same bonso (that is, agnates or bai) that cook sacrificial meals
(tsoru) for each other refer to themselves as tsorubai. ¹⁹⁴ Tsorubai relationships
can exist between groups at different segmentary levels (kutum, kuda, ga), but
in principle, collectives are permanently bound to each other in this way. Most
often, groups from different villages act as tsorubai for each other; in large vil-
lages, this type of relationship is also found between segments within the vil-
lage. In Gudapada, for instance, the Sisa and Kirsani are tsorubai for each
other, but each of these groups also maintains relationships of this kind with ex-
ternal groups. In such cases, the internal tsorubai are classified as “junior”
(sano), the external ones as “senior” (boro). Alongside the Sisa in their own vil-
lage, the Girem in Soilpada are the tsorubai of the Kirsani in Gudapada, and the
Sisa can call on their senior tsorubai – the Patik – in Potenda when necessary.
Tsorubai are the protectors of the social order (niam), which they restore or
generate (niam korbar) by their activities. Tsorubai are called to cook and feed
tsoru when the relationships between houses have been broken off by means
of curses, or a house has lost its status due to a transgression (e. g., marriage out-
side the jati) and needs to be reintegrated.¹⁹⁵ The tsoru commensality in these
cases restores order and social relationships. The tsorubai play a central role
in life-cycle rituals, in which they feed tsoru to the living and the dead, thereby
transforming their status and generating or dissolving relationships.

Panjabai
This type of relationship has many of the same characteristics as the tsorubai re-
lationship – it is collective, agnatic, permanent, and as a rule, between villages –
but it has the opposite function: tsorubai are cooks and feed food to others, while

 Tsorubai in this sense (an exchange relationship between villages) are distinguished from
“soru-bhai” as the agnates of a village who share tsoru at its shrines, as described by Elwin
(1950, 24) among the Bondo and by Pfeffer (1997a, 21) with reference to the Koraput Complex in
general. Tsorubai act as “others” in feeding tsoru to others, while the Four Brothers share tsoru
with one another as members of the same “own” group. The fact that this classification is
relative and context-dependent is shown by the situation in Gudapada. All the agnates as a unit
eat the tsoru at the shrines, while the Kirsani as “others” feed tsoru to the Sisa and vice versa. In
Sahlins’s (1965, 141) terms, the tsoru commensality of the Four Brothers can be described as a
“within relation,” and the reciprocal feeding of the tsorubai as a “between relation.”
 Thusu and Jha (1972, 67) mention the “Saru Bhai” in this context among the Ollar Gadaba
in the area around Pottangi.
178 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

panjabai are eaters and might also be described in certain contexts as “glutton-
izers.” They eat the dead of their external brothers, who have taken on the bodies
of water buffaloes in the gotr ritual (cf. Pfeffer 1991, 2001a) and left their home
villages for the last time.¹⁹⁶ The exchange and consumption of the dead is the
sole but important service that panjabai perform for one another, and since
this ritual is rare, panjabai become active far less often than tsorubai.
In the context of gotr, the panjabai are considered greedy and gluttonous; as
a matter of principle, they demand more buffaloes from the sponsors and rip
away from the row of animals the rice and beer that their relatives are trying
to give them, in order to quench their own hunger and thirst. This conventional
greed and gluttony are strictly reciprocal, however, and today’s sponsors will be-
have in exactly the same way when they are the ones to take the buffaloes in the
future. Nonetheless, an immediate reciprocity also exists, since the buffalo-tak-
ers invite the sponsors of the gotr to their village a few weeks after the ritual in
order to offer them hospitality, or more precisely, to “eat” panji (panji kaiba). The
meal offered consists of the usual festival dishes – beer, rice, beef, and goat –
and no tsoru is prepared. The guests are sent home with a front leg of beef
and one of goat, likewise as at other festivals.
The meaning of the word panjabai is unclear. I was unable to find out what
exactly panji refers to outside the general context of this festival and the associ-
ation with food and eating. Gustafsson’s dictionary lists the adjective eka panjia
(or “eka panzia,” i. e., “one” panzia), meaning “equal”: “said of people or ani-
mals of similar size and age” (Gustafsson 1987, 51). Since panjabai eat one an-
other reciprocally and thus are “equal,” this etymology may make sense. Pfeffer
(2001a, 112) derives the word from the thorax (panjra) and translates “panjiab-
hai” as “‘chestbone-brothers.’”¹⁹⁷ Like the first exegesis mentioned, this interpre-
tation is foreign to the Gadaba themselves. When raw meat is distributed, the
thorax (buk) is given to moitr, not to the panjabai.

 As the description of the rituals will make clear, panjabai are not the only “brothers” who
receive and consume the buffaloes, but they are the ones who are identified with this res-
ponsibility in the first instance and who in principle take the most buffaloes.
 Izikowitz derives the term panjabai from “panchyat,” a type of village council, about which
he himself says, “The Gadaba have no such group” (1969, 132).
 2.7 Relationships between Villages 179

Moitr or dissel*

The Gadaba distinguish three different moitr relationships: 1. “simple” (sada) or

“fun” (sarda) moitr, 2. “brother” moitr (bai moitr), and 3. “liver” moitr (koloj
moitr).¹⁹⁸
Simple moitr relationships exist between different Desia segments. In the vil-
lage of Gorihanjar, each of the three Gadaba kuda groups maintains a moitr re-
lationship of this kind with a house of the Mali (gardeners) in Lenjiguda.¹⁹⁹ Sim-
ilarly, sada moitr relationships exist between several Sisa kutum in Gudapada
and Mali houses in different neighboring villages. Once a year, the Mali from Ka-
kalpada visit the houses of the Chamru Gor (Sisa).²⁰⁰ They bring vegetables from
their gardens and distribute them among the houses of their Gadaba moitr, but
also among the immediate neighbors, who are not included in the moitr relation-
ship. They initially receive from the Gadaba hulled rice and vegetables, which the
Mali women cook in front of one of the houses.²⁰¹ During the cooking, the
women of the Gadaba moitr bring the Mali unhulled rice and millet, which
they stow away in their baskets. In some cases, the hosts offer the Mali palm
wine, since they are unable to fulfill their duties of hospitality in the usual
way, as many Mali drink neither beer nor liquor. After the meal, in the early after-
noon, the Mali depart. This relationship between the Chamru Gor in Gudapada
and the Mali in Kakalpada was supposed to have existed for about twenty
years at the time of my research, and the Gadaba say that it is “about the vege-
tables” (dal sag isap). The Mali are not guests at Gadaba rituals, nor vice versa.

 Mohanty (1973 – 74) has carried out a detailed analysis of different forms of this relationship
among the Gutob Gadaba. By his own account, his data are based on a “rapid survey of some
villages” (131), and some of the information in his tables is incorrect. Nevertheless, the article
offers a good overview of the different relationship types and unambiguously distinguishes
between collective and individual forms of “bond friendship,” his overall term for these ties. For
the Gadaba, see also Pfeffer (1991, 73; 2001a, 113 f) and Berger (2000). Thusu and Jha (1972, 56)
also mention the “moitor” (or “perkil”) in their study on the Ollar Gadaba. Elwin (1950, 37)
mentions the “Moitur” among the Bondo, and Guha et al. (1970, 66ff) mention them among the
Didayi.
 Guha et al. (1970, 66ff) mention the “Bispat Masat” relationship (probably from “trust,”
biswas, and maphsat or mahaprasad) among the Didayi, a relationship maintained between
individuals from different tribal groups, in contrast to the “Tulsi Masat” relationship, limited to
the Didayi.
 They see one another regularly at the weekly market, where the Mali in question sells
tobacco, which he often gives to his moitr as a gift.
 Since Mali are of higher status, they only accept batia, that is, raw foodstuffs, from the
Gadaba, and they prepare the food themselves – and not at the Gadaba’s cooking hearths.
180 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

The relationship is limited to these occasional visits and characterized by the ex-
change of grain for vegetables.
Bai moitr belong to the same descent category and are therefore brothers
(bai), as the name itself suggests. This type of moitr is found only between seg-
ments of the Gutob Gadaba, Parenga, and Ollar Gadaba and is especially linked
to the exchange of buffaloes in the last phase of the mortuary rituals (gotr). As a
matter of principle, the bai moitr receive only a few buffaloes at gotr, and in the
example from Ponosguda described later, they were left empty-handed.²⁰²
The liver moitr relationship²⁰³ is considered to have been established by the
gods, which is why these relationships are also called mahaprasad moitr (the
short form is maphsad) or takurani moitr. Other terms are the “senior” (boro)
moitr or dissel*. A glance at the names already betrays the fundamentally greater
significance of this moitr in comparison both to the other two types of moitr and
to the agnatic modes of relationship. These divine moitr are “the most senior”
(sobu tu boro), and the reference to the liver, an organ that is closely linked to
a living creature’s vital energy (jibon) and an essential part of tsoru, underlines
this superior status (cf. Mohanty 1973 – 74, 141; Pfeffer 2001a, 114). In addition, I
am unaware of Gutob terms for the other relationships mentioned here.
In light of this fundamental significance ascribed by the Gadaba to the liver
moitr, an equally fundamental ritual role for this category would be expected at
marriages and funerals, but this is not the case.²⁰⁴ Their presence and commen-
sal participation, like that of the gods themselves, is expected at rituals, but liver
moitr carry out no ritual tasks.²⁰⁵ Unlike the gods, to whom humans address re-
quests and pleas of all kinds (and whose expectations human beings must con-

 The relationships described by Pfeffer (1991, 73; 2001a, 113) in his analysis of gotr may have
been cases of bai moitr. Bai moitr also deal politely with one another, but the characteristics
identified by Pfeffer – including the prohibition on saying the name of one’s moitr, the complete
identification with one another, and the reciprocal devotion – fit better with the “liver” or
mahaprasad moitr described below, to whom, however, it is forbidden to consume the buffaloes
of their moitr. There is thus a contradiction between the receipt of the buffaloes and the con-
ventional behavior typical of mahaprasad moitr. A remark by Mohanty (1973 – 74, 145) is possibly
relevant here, that the mahaprasad moitr also receive buffaloes but are not permitted to eat
them, instead giving them away to other groups.
 When I refer in the following chapters to moitr without additional specification, I am
referring to this most important form of the moitr relationship.
 For this reason, the moitr are mentioned in this study relatively rarely, despite their im-
portance.
 A reciprocal ritual bath is sometimes noted in the literature, especially in the context of gotr
(Guha et al. 1970, 69; Mohanty 1973 – 74, 144 f; Pfeffer 2001a, 113). Other ritual functions are not
mentioned.
 2.7 Relationships between Villages 181

versely fulfill), liver moitr may come “empty-handed” (kali hate, dio titi*) to a fes-
tival (as part of the marriage or mortuary rituals), and the sponsor will expect no
gifts from his moitr and ask for nothing.²⁰⁶ Instead, he sends portions of meat
from the slaughtered cattle home with them and carries them for them “half
way” (oda rasta) (cf. Mohanty 1973 – 74, 145). The type of meat portions also dis-
tinguishes the moitr; they receive the thorax (buk) or the neck (gala), not the legs.
If the moitr do not appear for a ritual, their share is sent to them in their village
as china manso, to “remember” the relationship.²⁰⁷
The two segments connected as liver moitr usually belong to different de-
scent categories;²⁰⁸ for example, the moitr of the Sisa (Cobra) from Gudapada
are the Challan (Tiger) from Tukum. Marriage alliances between moitr are consid-
ered a transgression, and the usual punishments for incest (especially pox) are
the consequence. Just as it is forbidden to eat one another’s milk, it is also pro-
hibited to exchange buffaloes with one another as part of gotr or to consume
them. Eating the buffaloes would result in vomiting blood (rokto banti), it is
said. This is an intensification and dramatization of the usual claim that affines
would have to vomit if they ate each other’s buffaloes. Since the exchange of buf-
faloes (the dead) in gotr and the gift of brides (milk) in marriage characterize
agnatic and affinal relationships, moitr cannot be classified as either agnates
or affines in terms of exchange processes. In a social order in which (almost)
all social relationships are structured by means of the opposition between bai
and bondu, this intermediate status is notable and presumably significant.
Like other relationship types, then, the moitr relationship is defined by the
alimentary mode, and alongside the negative rules that apply to the consump-
tion of the dead and of milk, there are also positive rules concerning commen-
sality between moitr. ²⁰⁹ “We eat from one plate” is generally the first thing men-
tioned when a moitr relationship is described, and the speaker is likely to add

 This is an expression of the formally or jurally (cf. Pitt-Rivers 1973, 99) voluntary nature of
the gift. In practice, gifts to the moitr flow with particular abundance. In this regard, Mohanty
(1973 – 74, 142) is correct in remarking that “[t]he Gadaba feel it, as a great shame to visit a
Mahaprasad village empty handed on the occasion of a marriage.”
 China is the mark, scar, or sign that recalls an event; chinbar means “to remember, reco-
gnize” (cf. Gustafsson 1989).
 Thusu and Jha (1972, 56) mention the Ollar Gadaba’s idea that moitr relationships were
originally forged between affines, thereby making marriage between them impossible.
 Mohanty (1973 – 74, 142) mentions something that I have also observed with regard to
affines’ visits, that the guests must eat in every house belonging to the group: “Usually the
guests take at least a mouthful of food from each Mahaprasad family.” Mohanty also emphasizes
the practice of eating from the same plate, especially at seasonal festivals (146). Reciprocal
feeding (by individual moitr) is mentioned by Guha et al. (1970, 69).
182 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

that the parties feed one another with their hands. Feeding another with one’s
hand is not uncommon in ritual contexts and occurs between both agnates
and affines. The special emphasis on eating from a single plate deserves notice,
however, and emphasizes the nearness of or identification with the moitr. ²¹⁰
What is left out is namely the distribution (bata, tero’be*) of food from one’s
own plate before starting to eat. This distribution is often made only by more
senior individuals, but is reciprocal between moitr. This aspect of identification
through food is also evident in a myth describing the beginning of the moitr re-
lationship between the Sisa in Gudapada and the Challan of the Tiger bonso in
Tukum.

Long ago, when the Gudapadia were still cobras, and the Tukmia tigers, both were living in
the forest. The snake was very thirsty and drank all the water that was there [from a river].
The tiger arrived thirsty at the site and found no more water. He was in danger of dying of
thirst and pleaded with maphru to help him. The tiger met the snake and asked it where the
water was, and when the snake saw what difficulty the tiger was in, it vomited up the water
it had drunk, so that the tiger could quench its thirst. Each tied a cord (suta) around the
other, and they have been moitr ever since.

The image of the tiger drinking the water vomited by the snake, even more than
that of eating from the same plate, accentuates the closeness of the two crea-
tures, which accept leftovers and even digested matter from each other. The nar-
rative has various implications, however, beginning with the lifesaving function
of the snake, which is sent by maphru ²¹¹ to the tiger and quenches its thirst. The
connection to life (jibon) is also expressed in the name “liver” moitr, as already
noted, since this organ, together with the blood and the thorax, is equated with
the vital energy. In addition, the story emphasizes a leading aspect of the moitr
relationship, the duty of selfless giving. The snake has the possibility of giving

 Discussing the practice of bathing together, Pfeffer (2001a, 113) speaks of the behavior of
moitr toward one another as implying “total identification.” Other authors also give examples of
this identification, the most striking of which is Mohanty’s (1973 – 74, 144) report that moitr are
tied to one another in pairs on the occasion of gotr: “Thus throughout the whole Gotar day they
are tied in that fashion and go around the village. They eat together, sleep together, walk
together and even urinate and pass stool together.” The claim that moitr can also share their
wives, to be read in some studies (cf. Elwin 1950, 38; Pfeffer 2001a, 114), was contested by my
informants.
 This aspect remains unexpressed, but is clear from the course of events: the tiger first calls
on maphru for help, then comes the life-saving meeting with the snake. According to Mohanty
(1973 – 74, 36 f), divine intervention plays a role in most stories about the origin of moitr rela-
tionships.
 2.7 Relationships between Villages 183

only the contents of its stomach; it gives a part of itself and does so even without
being asked by the tiger.
The duty to give, like the duty to be a good host to one’s moitr, imposes sig-
nificant pressure on those concerned and has the result that in the course of
daily life, a visit to one’s moitr’s village is something that one rather tries to
avoid. A visit to moitr must be announced, since the hosts have to have the op-
portunity to brew beer, perhaps slaughter a chicken, and a sudden appearance
would be shameful, an “embarrassing thing” (laj kota).²¹² Conversely, this situa-
tion also makes demands on the guest, who must spend time and eat a great
deal. Brief visits to moitr are impossible. The guest/host (gotia/saukar) situation
between moitr sets up a highly formal framework in which the duty to give freely
(on the side of the host) entails the expectation of receiving (on the side of the
guest), and the duty to be a “good” guest entails the expectation of hosting a
guest of this kind. The shared meal takes place without jokes and also without
latent aggression of the kind observed between affines and agnates, who also
feed one another in a relatively violent way, called “hitting the mouth” (tond
mara, rik’tom*).
Rude words, jokes, and even evil thoughts with regard to moitr are transgres-
sions that bring illness and misfortune in their wake (cf. Mohanty 1973 – 74, 141).
Violence is out of the question, and no degree of drunkenness could excuse such
a slip. When an exuberantly drunk Sisa from Gudapada insulted a man from
Sonkai at the market, and the man responded with a box on the ears, the scandal
consisted in the fact that the man from Sonkai had hit the somdi of his moitr. The
moitr of the Sakia in Sonkai are the Ruda’i, and the Sisa had married a woman
from this group. The situation was resolved by communal eating and drinking in
the Sisa’s house, in which all three parties participated. I have not witnessed an
incident of this kind between moitr directly.
The rules for behavior between moitr are numerous and include, in addition
to those already mentioned, an especially humble form of greeting and a prohib-
ition on saying one’s moitr’s name. The usual greeting, which consists in bring-
ing the hands together in front of the forehead, an accompanying nomoskar or
juar, and a slight bow of the upper body, is exaggerated and in some cases re-
peated several times between moitr, when they meet at the weekly market, for

 This happened in Gudapada when the Sisa’s moitr from Tukum – who are the affines of the
Kirsani – brought a bridewealth payment to the Kirsani without the Sisa knowing about it ahead
of time, leaving them embarrassed by their moitr’s sudden appearance.
184 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

example. The prohibition on saying the moitr’s name is also strictly observed.²¹³
Two women who are neighbors in Gudapada address one another on a daily
basis as “mother of Mukta” (“mother of the Mutka people,” muktalokro aia)
and similar teknonyms, because their brothers’ groups, the Sakia and Ruda’i al-
ready mentioned, are moitr. ²¹⁴ Both aspects, the greeting and the prohibition on
use of the name are closely tied – not only in Koraput – to the manifestation of
status. An individual bows low before those “senior” to him, maybe even touch-
es their feet, and does not call them by name. In general, however, these rela-
tionships are asymmetrical; the more senior party calls the more junior one by
name without hesitation and may only gesture in the direction of a greeting. Be-
tween moitr, this pattern of behavior is reciprocal, implying veneration without
difference of status.
Taken together, these facts appear contradictory. Moitr are from different
bonso but are neither affines nor agnates as far as ritual transactions are con-
cerned. They are vitally important for one another, as is clear from the myth,
and their relationship is considered the highest of all, but – except for their pres-
ence and ritual washing – they are remarkably inactive. This way of behaving, as
various authors have remarked, implies nearness or even identification; never-
theless, the forms of politeness create and articulate a fundamental distance
that in the context of daily life shades almost into avoidance. Veneration is recip-
rocal, and the usual signs of status, such as the non-use of a name and the deep
bow, are cancelled out by this reciprocity, making the relationship fundamental-
ly egalitarian, free even of the temporary status advantages that exist between
agnates and affines. The command to give makes the prohibition on asking su-
perfluous from a material perspective, but manifests the message of selflessness,
the ideal of giving without taking. As Pfeffer (2001a) emphasizes in his compar-
ison of the relationship types, this attitude fundamentally distinguishes the moitr
from agnatic and affinal relationships, which are characterized by demands.
Since the formal framework of the moitr relationship prescribes the absence of
demands, the lavishness of the gift-giving may vary without one group complain-
ing. The panjabai, in contrast, are punctiliously concerned to receive if at all pos-
sible just as many buffaloes as they have previously given; demographic differ-
ences in the number of dead can be equalized by supplementary buffaloes. In
affinal transactions, scrupulous care is taken over the equivalence of the gifts,

 Moitr of the same generation address one another as “Maitar,” according to Mohanty
(1973 – 74, 137), adding “aba” (father) and “aia” (mother) when addressing members of their
parents’ generation.
 This example also shows that women and children are included in the collective moitr
relationships and that women retain this status – like their bonso membership – after marriage.
 2.7 Relationships between Villages 185

and if the rice given as part of the wedding rituals exceeds a determined meas-
ure, the excess is returned to the givers.

The Web of Relationships

Descriptions of the different types of relationships inevitably have the character

of a list, lack the living quality of practice, and transmit only a weak impression
of the density of these networks of relationships.²¹⁵ Over four generations, affinal
ties alone link one Sisa kutum (Chamru Gor) in Gudapada – as previously de-
scribed – with other groups in twenty-two villages, twenty-one of them in the im-
mediate neighborhood. The ata (FZ), mama (FZH, MB), banja (ZS) and banji (ZD),
and menabai (FZS, MBS) and menabouni (FZD, MBD) of the Sisa live in all these
villages, as do, in addition, the affines of their affines (saru, WZH), who are their
quasi-consanguines (cf. Vatuk 1969; Pfeffer 1982, 65). In agnatically linked vil-
lages, their tsorubai and panjabai are to be found, and in yet other villages,
their moitr. Since affines live alongside the “earth people” in all large villages,
agnates (tsorubai and panjabai) are also to be met with in affinal villages, and
affines in the agnatic ones. The fact that the different relationships do not
exist only at the segmentary level of the village, but instead kutum and kuda
are also linked in this way, further complicates the picture. In short, there is
no village in the surrounding area to which an individual, as a member of a
group, is not linked through multiple different relationships. In the context of
significant rituals, a sponsor’s tsorubai, somdi, and moitr gather, and these
guests are themselves “related” to one another in the widest possible variety
of ways. When the Gadaba in Petpada held mortuary rituals (bur), tsorubai
(Ruda’i), moitr (Sisa), and affines (Kirsani) put in an appearance from Gudapada.
If people from Tukum and Sonkai were also present on such an occasion, the
guests would be related to one another as moitr and somdi: the Tukmia are
the moitr of the Sisa and the somdi of the Kirsani, and the Sakia (from Sonkai)
are the somdi of the Sisa and Kirsani and the moitr of the Ruda’i. It is therefore
unsurprising that after the conclusion of the ritual in the strict sense, the entire
village appears to be out and about, and rounds of drinks are everywhere being
offered and accepted, with each invitation followed by a counter-invitation.
In certain contexts, one mode of relationship may move to the background
in favor of another. A group from Tukum that had ties to the Kirsani of Gudapada

 In addition to Mohanty’s study on moitr ties and other relationships, already mentioned,
Baliarsingh and Nayak (1996) have also contributed an article on this topic.
186 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

as affines and to the Sisa as moitr came to Gudapada as bride-takers, to deliver

the bridewealth for a bride previously brought to her husband’s house. The bride
had been given by a Kirsani kutum, and the ritual handover of rice and liquor
took place in her father’s house. The bride-givers’ side was represented by a sen-
ior Sisa man, who explained to me afterward that inside the house, in the formal
situation of the handover, he had been the affine (somdi) of the people from
Tukum and could argue or joke with them. In the yard (dand), he said, they be-
came moitr again. This example once again shows that marriage alliances are
ideally a matter for the village, since a Sisa appeared formally as a bride-giver,
even though the bride was given by the Kirsani. The affinal relationship between
the two villages defines the situation, even though only individual segments are
actually linked as somdi, so that the moitr relationship becomes temporarily ir-
relevant.
The next two figures present the ritual agnatic relationships (tsorubai, pan-
jabai) and the moitr relationships of the matia (figure 9) and the affinal groups
(figure 10) in Gudapada. In this case as well, as in that of the affinal villages de-
scribed above, the villages listed here are located in the immediate vicinity of Gu-
dapada and have just as multifarious relationships of their own. A presentation
of the relationships of many villages would be highly complex; the different re-
lationships cannot be learned though quick inquiries if the details are not to be
overlooked and erroneous information adopted without examination.²¹⁶ In gen-
eral, a village orients its ritual relationships to the villages around it, a phenom-
enon just as observable on the eastern edge²¹⁷ of the Gutob Gadaba area as in the
“center,” to which the village of Kujam,²¹⁸ for example, belongs. The Parenga and
Ollar Gadaba villages that border immediately on the villages of the Gutob Gada-
ba are generally integrated into the network of relationships, while distant rela-

 I inquired about these ritual relationships in numerous Gutob Gadaba, Ollar, and Parenga
villages, but the data from Gudapada are the most detailed and are sufficient to give an idea of
the complexity of these ties.
 The villages east of the Goradi River – including Tikrapada, Cheliamenda, Ponosguda,
Orna, and Chandalamanda – maintain numerous ritual ties: the Messing (in Cheliamenda) and
Endaktal Gutal (in Tikrapada) are moitr, as are the Sirme (in Chandalamanda) and Maji. Tsorubai
relationships exist between the Sirme (in Chandalamanda) and Ruda’i (in Orna), the Sirme (in
Chandalamanda) and Gumal (in Ponosguda), and the Endaktal Gutal (in Tikrapada) and Maji (in
Ponosguda). The Endaktal Gutal (in Tikrapada) and Gumal (in Ponosguda) are panjabai. Ne-
vertheless, ties to more distant villages of the “center” can also be demonstrated: for example,
the Endaktal Gutal (in Tikrapada) and Alangpada are moitr.
 The Gibir in Kujam are the tsorubai of the Osag (in Gonel), the panjabai of the Guga (in
Kalapada), and the moitr of the Munduli in Choktoput, all nearby.
 2.7 Relationships between Villages 187

tionships are rare.²¹⁹ The eastern villages, for example, maintain no relationships
with the Bening, the Kuvi Kond, or the Ollar Gadaba, who live in the hills around
Nandapur or further beyond in the area around Pottangi. We can therefore speak
of a relatively bounded regional system of ritual relationships, in which each vil-
lage prefers its neighboring villages as ritual partners, and the different seg-
ments within the villages have likewise established such relationships.
In figure 9, the participating groups in Gudapada are found inside the el-
lipse; the matia groups, on whose ritual relationships the figure concentrates,
are boxed to highlight them. Above the horizontal line are the matam relation-
ships, those that concern groups as wholes, which may be found on different seg-
mentary levels. For instance, the Sisa say that the Pambia are the panjabai of all
Sisa (matam), at the same time that the relationship is differentiated according
to the Sisa kutum segments. These relationships are depicted below the horizon-
tal line. Within the Sisa, for example, special relationships exist between the
Chamru Gor and the Pambia and between the Garsa Gor and the Munduli
from Poibada. Outside the ellipse are the external relationships, for which I
give first the village and then in parentheses the village group (e. g., Girem),
kuda group (Munduli), or kutum group (Mondoi Gor).
The figure makes clear that different levels of the segmentary order can all
be involved in ritual relationships, even within one relationship. For example,
the Kirsani (kuda) of Gudapada are linked to the Girem (village clan) as moitr.
In addition, not all relationships have the same status; I have already noted
the distinction between junior relationships internal to the village and senior ex-
ternal ones. The external relationships are also sometimes distinguished accord-
ing to seniority, when a group maintains two relationships of the same kind, as
in the case of the Sisa; their liver moitr in Tukum have higher status than the
ones in Petpada. The panjabai relationship between the Naik Gor of the Sisa
and the Kodomguria is said to have been established only about twenty years be-
fore the time of my research, when this kutum of the Kirsani gave buffaloes to the
Sisa for the first time. In contrast, the Bilaputia have no active panjabai at the
moment; they have not exchanged buffaloes with the Parenga from Barengput
for a long time, people said. Since the Bilaputia want to hold a gotr in the coming
years, they will either reactivate this relationship or look for new panjabai. The
Kirsani as a whole (matam) have no panjabai.

 The Osor in Gorihanjar are the panjabai of the Parenga in Kisop and the moitr of the
Parenga in Enung, both villages neighboring Gorihanjar. In the western part of the Gutob area,
according to Elwin (1950, 2), there exists or at least existed for generations a moitr relationship
between the Gadaba from Ongel and the Bondo from Andrahal.
 188
2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Figure 9: Ritual Agnatic and moitr Relationships of the “Earth People” (matia)
 2.7 Relationships between Villages 189

Petpada Gorihanjar Auripada

(Osor) (MUNDAGORIA)

Petpada

Munduli

Sisa
Kirsani

Messing MUNDAGORIA Ruda´i

Sisa Munduli Challan Kirsani

Kamarguda Borpada Tonkua Sonkai

(Tarob) (Sisa) (Munduli)
Tikrapada MALI KODRI
(Tarob) (Oileng)

segmentation koloj moitr OLLAR GADABA B/K Barna/Kodomguria village (village group/kuda/kutum)
tsorubai bai moitr Parenga KK Kukuda Kato village, tribal group
panjabai sada moitr “earth people” in Gudapada M Matu Gor affinal groups

Figure 10: Ritual Agnatic and moitr Relationships of the Gadaba “Latecomers” (upria)

The ritual relationships of the affinal groups in Gudapada (figure 10) show
that the immigrant groups have established relationships with the matia, with
other affinal groups, and with segments of their own village groups. A moitr re-
lationship exists between the Munduli of the matia group in Gudapada and the
Mundagoria in Mundagor, so that the Mundagoria who settled in Gudapada pre-
sumably retained this status automatically. This corresponds to the Gadaba’s
general view that ritual relationships are retained independent of the actual
place of residence. A comparison to the affinal groups’ villages of origin demon-
strates, however, that the tendency in practice is to enter into new relationships,
while the old ritual ties become less important. The Challan in Mundagor, for ex-
ample, identify the Dongoro Maji there as their tsorubai, while the Challan in Gu-
dapada no longer mention this relationship. The latter group, in contrast, have
become the tsorubai of the Kirsani who also moved from Mundagor to Gudapa-
da, a relationship that does not exist between these kuda in Mundagor itself. The
Messing (in Cheliamenda) are generally considered the moitr of the Endaktal
Gutal (in Tikrapada), but the affinal Messing groups in Gudapada no longer
cited this relationship, but either another one (Tarob) or none at all.²²⁰ The ritual

 My data on Cheliamenda are incomplete, and it is possible that segments of the Messing
there are the moitr of the Tarob.
190 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

relationships of the villages of origin may apply to the emigrant groups as be-
fore, but they also enter into new relationships in their new surroundings.

2.8 Concepts of “Society”

The Twelve Brothers (baro bai)

The commensal community of the Twelve Brothers (baro bai) was formed in the
legendary past, when the Gadaba came from the Godavari, as the following Gan-
gre myth (katani) recounts.

When the Gadaba came from the Godabir [Godavari], they assembled and cooked tsoru
[after a sacrifice]. When it was ready, it was distributed, but there wasn’t enough, and
only twelve brothers ate it.²²¹ So they became the Twelve Brothers, and these twelve still
share tsoru even today. They include Alangpada, Totapada, Guneipada, Deulpada, Gudapa-
da, Soilpada, Poibada, Auripada, Bondpada, and Potenda [only ten are named]. There
wasn’t enough tsoru for the Oleibir [in Oleibir], Osol [in Orna and Ponosguda], Guga [in Ka-
lapada], Kupa [in Ponjol]. They mingled with one another. Among the killo (Tigers) as well,
there was only enough tsoru for twelve; among the golori (Monkeys) and kora (Suns) there
was enough, because there are so few of them.

When the Gadaba speak of the Twelve Brothers, they are referring to a commun-
ity of villages defined by tsoru commensality, as the myth suggests. Beyond this
level of the Twelve Brothers, no tsoru commensality takes place, and the Twelve
Brothers compose the maximal ritual community within the broader social con-
figuration of Desia society.²²² The Guga and Oleibir mentioned also belong to the
Cobra descent category and are agnates (bai) of the Gangre, but they do not
share tsoru. ²²³ Likewise, the Pambia are the panjabai of the Sisa in Gudapada,
but they are not part of the Twelve Brothers.

 In another version, some of the brothers were absent and received nothing for that reason.
 The “tribe” of the Gutob Gadaba is from this perspective a comparatively irrelevant unit. All
Gutob Gadaba do share a language, but this is not a major source of identity, since Gutob and
Remo are very closely related. Although the tribe can in principle be regarded as an endogamous
unit, marriage alliances regularly take place at least with the Ollar Gadaba, and the Gutob
Gadaba also cannot claim any exclusive rights to their gotr, since the Ollar and Parenga (and
some Dombo) likewise perform this ritual. Conversely, not all Gutob Gadaba perform it. Hence
Pfeffer (2002a, 214) is correct when he writes, “the talk of [tribe as] a religious or an endogamous
entity must be seen as meaningless formalism.”
 They are sometimes referred to as “crooked” (arki) brothers, in contrast to the “straight”
(tia) brothers who received tsoru.
 2.8 Concepts of “Society” 191

The Twelve Brothers are an omnipresent category of reference, especially in

invocations to the gods, but they only rarely take concrete form as an empirical
group, and Gadaba usually have difficulty naming all twelve villages spontane-
ously. During my research stay, there was only one occasion on which the Twelve
Brothers became empirically relevant and were sent raw portions of meat in their
villages. To do this, it had to be agreed who belonged on the list; the villages
were counted out by common effort and the meat portions prepared. The reason
was a violent death, combined with a ritual error – that is, a transgression of the
proper order (niam) – that had enraged the spirit of the deceased (duma), result-
ing in his brother’s death. The situation appeared so serious that the Sisa’s senior
tsorubai were called on to feed tsoru to the spirit in the name of the Twelve
Brothers and to include all the Brothers by sending the meat. The restoration
of order – in less serious cases, the junior tsorubai are sufficient – was thus
an effort of the totality of the tsoru commensals. Death and marriage are the
two major events at which the Twelve Brothers are supposed to appear to eat
tsoru, demonstrating the significance of these rituals for the society as a
whole. This ideal is generally not put into practice at the mortuary rituals
(bur), but representatives of the Twelve Brothers are supposed to be present at
the wedding rituals. The Twelve Brothers – or at least some of their representa-
tives – should also be called for the reintegration of individuals excluded from
the community due to transgressions (such as the marriage of a member of
the house to a spouse from a lower-status group).
The Twelve Brothers are an exclusive community, and only someone who is
ritually married – that is, has been fed tsoru by them – is permitted to share tsoru
in their circle. Someone who participates in this tsoru illegitimately commits a
serious offense, one that is also associated with jati (exclusion from the com-
munity) and requires a compensation payment (the gift of a head of cattle).
Tsoru commensality is closely associated with a group’s status or identity, and
it is said that the group of the Murjia (from Murja, an Ollar village) changed
their bonso by inadvertently eating their affines’ tsoru. ²²⁴
Parkin (1992, 74 f, 90ff) discusses similar “village federations” among vari-
ous “Munda” tribes. He describes them as “clan councils,” the members of
which come from villages dominated by the same descent category; like the vil-
lage themselves, these “federations” thus have “an agnatically conceived focus”

 The Murjia are supposed to have been Cobras “in the past,” but a drunken member of the
group ate the tsoru of the Tigers at a wedding, causing the entire group to take on this bonso.
They are still considered Tigers today, but they and the Cobras do not marry one another, since
they were once brothers. The randari of Gudapada married a Murjia woman, and my informants
viewed his loss of sight in one eye as a consequence of this incest.
192 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

(95). At various times, in his account, regional rulers appropriated these institu-
tions for administrative and fiscal purposes and modified them in the process, to
differing degrees depending on the specific historical situation. Nevertheless,
Parkin argues, they are indigenous tribal institutions that were already in exis-
tence before any external intervention. In his view, this is demonstrated by the
chief function of these federations, the regulation of marriage alliances, an
area presumably of little interest to local rulers like petty kings or national gov-
ernments.

Perhaps the main preoccupation of tribal justice is to ensure that a properly constituted kin-
ship universe is maintained through correct marriages, and this is ultimately of more impor-
tance than even inheritance disputes or public-order offences. This is especially so as re-
gards marriage outside the tribe and breaches of exogamous rules, the most serious of
all offences to most tribals, and where they exist it is the village federations that are ulti-
mately concerned with them. (95)

What has been said so far about the Gadaba’s concept of the Twelve Brothers
supports this view of these “federations” as “final regulators of tribal custom”
(95). The Twelve Brothers are fundamentally seen in relation to the social
order (niam), which they represent and protect, with regard to marriage alliances
but also, as already noted, in the event of other serious ritual lapses, as in the
mentioned example involving mortuary rituals. At least today, the villages in-
cluded among the Gadaba’s Twelve Brothers do not form an economic or polit-
ical unit, and they perhaps have never done so. Nothing is known about their
relationship to the kings in Nandapur and Jeypore. The Twelve Brothers today
are an ideal ritual and commensal unit; however, this last aspect – the most sig-
nificant for the Gadaba – goes unmentioned by Parkin.
The bara-jangar group among the Bondo, described by Elwin (1950, 6 f), has
some similarities to the Gadaba’s Twelve Brothers. It consists of twelve villages
that understand themselves as the Bondo’s original settlements and are each
supposed to go back to one of “twelve” (baro) brothers. This group forms a ritual
unit and is represented by twelve naik, who practice tsoru commensality as part
of the veneration of pat kanda (Elwin 1950, 24n1). The chief village of this group
– and the Bondo’s mythical place of origin – is Mundlipada, and its naik is the
chief of the twelve villages.²²⁵ According to Elwin, Mundlipada and its naik main-
tain a special relationship to the king of Jeypore, and the other eleven villages
pay tribute to the head village. Other Bondo villages (the “Gadaba Bondo”) do
not belong to this group, are not subordinate to the naik of Mundlipada, and

 Unlike in the Bondo case, there is no head village among the Gadaba Twelve Brothers.
 2.8 Concepts of “Society” 193

do not participate in the pat kanda cult. Elwin’s description does not make ex-
plicit whether the twelve villages belong to the same or different bonso, but it
is unlikely that affinally-linked villages are included, especially in view of the
material collected by Parkin.

The Twelve Brothers and the Affines

Like the number four, the number twelve represents a whole.²²⁶ The Four Broth-
ers compose the tsoru community of the village; the Twelve Brothers compose
the superordinate agnatic unit.²²⁷ As in the double term bai bondu, which encom-
passes agnates and affines – that is, everyone – the Twelve Brothers are half of a
complementary pair always named together in invocations: baro bai tero gadi,
which can be translated as “twelve brothers, thirteen seats.”²²⁸ The thirteenth
place belongs to the affines, who are excluded from the brothers’ tsoru just as
they exclude the brothers from theirs. In the case of ritual transgression in the
context of the mortuary rituals mentioned above, a head of cattle was sacrificed
for the brothers, and tsoru was cooked and eaten. The affines received a pig, from
part of which they prepared tsoru and the rest of which they divided up into raw
portions. Just as the brothers sent portions of beef to the remaining eleven broth-
ers, the portions of pork were sent to all the deceased’s ji bouni, a total of nine-
teen groups.²²⁹ Importantly, the killing, cooking, and eating of the animals or the
tsoru are done entirely separately by agnates and affines; no one touches or eats
the other’s tsoru. Taken together, baro bai tero gadi form the Gadaba’s most en-
compassing ritual community and are synonymous in invocations with “the Ga-
daba” and with the social order (niam) itself.

 Zide (1978) has identified Gutob numerals up to twelve, but these are no longer known to
the Gadaba today (Rajan and Rajan 2001c).
 A Gadaba once said that there were 1,012 Gadaba villages. “One thousand” may stand for
“many” in this context, and “twelve” for the “whole,” or the “twelve” may refer to the Twelve
Brothers, of whom the Gangre are a part, and all the other villages that surround them.
 Gadi refers not only to a seat, but also in Oriya to the king’s throne in particular. Gustafsson
(1989) gives “room” as the denotation.
 While the number twelve is constitutive for the Twelve Brothers, including with regard to
the number of meat portions, the number of the affines is unimportant. They represent the
supplementary category, the thirteenth place, and are therefore considered as “one” vis-à-vis the
“twelve.”
194 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

The Creation of Society in Myths

Gadaba myths (katani) about the origin of the world and of human beings also
speak of twelve brothers, meaning in this context the different tribal groups (kul
or jati). My intention here is not to conduct a detailed analysis, but only to draw
attention to the genesis of the social order in the myths.²³⁰ A Kirsani man from
Gudapada told the following katani.

At Nandapur, God (roja maphru) was born on a mountain, in the forest. He came out there,
was born there. Near the place where he was born, he clapped his hands, and the entire
earth (dortoni) bent (piti kori). He took earth from the mouth of a cobra (nang), [an] earth-
worm (ladon) [several words inaudible], clapped his hands, and threw [the earth] into the
water […], the earth was soft. A tiger (druka) took it into his mouth [or bit], stumbled, and
the earth became hard.
After that, since he was alone, [God asked himself] whether there were perhaps
human beings or not. “Go, search and come back,” he said, and he sent a crow (kua)
out. It saw that everything was full of water, and there were no human beings anywhere.
A bottle gourd (tumba) with brother/sister or something was there. The bottle gourd was
being tossed to and fro [in the water]. “Is there something there or not?” [the crow said
to itself and returned to God] “Where should I sit?,” it said [to God], “Maybe I’ll sit on
your head a while?” – “Tsi, tsi [expression of indignation]! What kind of a great person
are you, what kind of a great person am I, where do you want to sit on my head? I’ll set
a post [in the earth for you],” he said. He set a red simli branch [in the earth]; [the crow]
sat on it [and made its report]. “Wherever I’ve been, [only] a bottle gourd was being tossed
to and fro.” – “Go, […] pick it up it in your beak and bring it here,” [God] said, [and the
crow] brought it there. […]
“Who are you, brother and sister?,” he [God] said [to two people in the gourd]. – “We
are brother and sister.” – “Are [expression of surprise]! You should have the pox for two
ages.” [After that, he asked the siblings again,] “Who are you?” – “We are brother and sis-
ter.” – “Are! The two of them simply don’t understand,” he said, and he imposed another
two ages of the pox on them both [and then questioned them again]. “Who are you?” –
“Who is she, who am I?” [the brother answered]. The two siblings moved into a house
[and all the people of the earth arose from that]. [They] settled. The Godabir [Godavari]
is our place of origin; our mothers and fathers were called to Nandapur by the king. All
those who live in the jungle [the Gadaba] came [and] are no longer allowed [to go back]
to the Godabir. We’re people from the Godabir, Godaba. Twelve tribes, twelve groups
arose: Rona, Kotia, Kamar, some Gasi, Goudo. That’s how many children there are. […]
The Godabir is our place of birth; as soon as we came here, as soon as we arrived, the
Twelve Brothers spread out.²³¹

 Despite considerable efforts, I was able to collect only a few Gadaba myths. Only a few men
and women are able to tell these katani, and they play no role in rituals or festivals.
 Nandapur kuplire jonom kori maphru (roja maphru), jongelre maphru jonom kori. Je, setini
baroila je maphru jonom korla. Jonom korla pake tapli piti dela, dortoni sobu piti kori. Se gote nang
ladon [inaudible, something like: budugur ekdom no jana] tond pati dei kori tapli piti kori jolre
 2.8 Concepts of “Society” 195

The myth first reports very briefly the origin of the “king god” from the earth in
Nandapur, probably meaning dorom maphru – sun/moon – who is associated
with the king.²³² With the help of a cobra and an earthworm, land comes into
existence, and through the actions of a tiger, it becomes hard, that is, inhabita-
ble. How this happens is only sketched. The earth comes out of the mouth of the
snake (the worm) and is cast into the water that is everywhere. The tiger takes
the still moist earth into its mouth (digests it?) and stumbles (vomits it up?),
after which it is hard. The existence of the water as the consequence of a
flood is presumed in this version,²³³ and we learn nothing about the way people
lived before the flood. We can suppose, however, that this episode refers to the
time when human beings lived along the Godavari River. The myth’s first brief
section thus implies the phases before and after the flood. The teller then goes
into detail about the search for and questioning of the sibling pair and finally
their transformation into a married couple. Making the siblings unrecognizable
through pox, in order to make them strangers to one another and make a marital
relationship possible, is a frequent motif, not only among the Gadaba,²³⁴ and I
recorded two other versions of this story that recount this. In one, God causes
temporary madness (baya) in the siblings, so that they forget their relationship,
after which they address a sacrifice to him and fill his stomach with incense

(mati, bosmoti) pingi dela. Jolre pingi dela ke mari dekla, lud lud hoila. Auni druka chabi kori odri
des [one word inaudible], druka chabi kori odri dela poche dortoni dat heigola. Poche gote heikori
konti kai se normon ai ochot ki nai: “ja deki au” boili kua potaila. Deki je sobu bate jol aka
patigola se konti nai ni mon. Gote tumba dui bai bouni ki kaita ochus ta. Tumba ene dul dal tene
dul dal hoigolani. Ene dul dal tene dul dal heigolani kaita ochi, ki nai, se boili [to itself]. “Ale konti
bosbar,” boila [to the raja maphru], “konti tor munde bosbar konbele moke?” – “Tsi, tsi! Tui kedek
lok mui kedek lok, konti moke munde boschu? Gada dang gadi debi,” boila. Lal simli ke take gadi
dela, seti (kua) bosbar. “Konti buli nai, gote tumba aka dul dal dul dal bulani.” – “Ja! Take dortoni
goRi dei kori aka, ja take chabi kori, tui tolre chabi kori jiki an,” boila, take chabi kori jiki anla. Jiki
anla ke sobu dortoni godla. Godla ke: “tui au tui kaita hoisu bai bouni,” boila. – “Ame dui bai
bouni” – “Are! Tui au tui au dui phut takur rokle. Tui au tui kaita hoisu?” – “Ame dui bai bouni” –
“Are! E lok bana heut nai ni,” boila au dui phut takur roki dei kori. “Tui au tui kaita hoisu?,” boile.
– “Se ke, mui ke?” Dui bai bouni gor sorpi dei kori, dui bai bouni gor. Sorpi dei kori aka Godabire
amor bosti, amor ma ki bapa ki se roja ke daki anle, Nandapur. Subu jongelre roilata asi kori aka,
Godabir nisoi kori. Godabria, Godaba ame. Baro kuli baro jati hoilu: Rona hoilu, Kotia hoilu,
Kamar hoilu, kete Gasi, Goudo [inaudible] hoilu. Tar puo pila ete […]. Godabir amor jonom setini
ene sorgi hoilani, ete sorgi aibake aka, baro bai bata ailu.
 As Schnepel (2002, 252 f) reports, the king was sometimes conceived of as the earth’s
husband, corresponding to the sun/moon’s status.
 In other myths, the flood is mentioned explicitly, for example in an Ollar Gadaba version of
this myth recorded by Roland Hardenberg and Georg Pfeffer (personal communication).
 Elwin (1949, 33 f; 1950, 3, 136 f) has recorded very similar myths among the Bondo.
196 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

(dup), and he subsequently marries them. In a version told by a Dombo from On-
mail, God (takurani mata) possesses (dorsi dele) the siblings, who nonetheless
remember their relationship, leading God to ask himself in desperation:

“What should I do? I must change the world.” After that, the siblings lose their memory and
no longer recognize each other, and God gives them a house. From one belly (pet), twelve
brothers and sisters were born. One became Gadaba, one Dom, one Gasi, one Gorua, one
Rona. From one mother, twelve tribes (kul) were born, brothers and sisters, twelve people
(lok), twelve groups (jati) were made. “You are Mali, you are Kamar, you are Gadaba” [God
said]. This is how the world was created, twelve from the belly of brother and sister. They
spread out; some went to Nandapur.

In all versions, the incest is motivated by the god, who uses deception to try to
induce the transgression of the incest prohibition, in order to make human re-
production possible. Once he has achieved his goal, and the siblings no longer
recognize or remember one another, he gives them a house, implying reproduc-
tion, and their offspring represent today’s society: the twelve groups, tribes, or
persons (jati, kul, lok).
The first myth distinguishes two forms of society, temporally and spatially:
before / after the flood and along the Godavari / in Nandapur. The first form –
before the flood / along the Godavari – is an undifferentiated humanity; the sec-
ond, after the origin of the “king god,” is a differentiated society: from “one
belly” (gote pete), twelve groups of different status are born. This transition is
particularly stressed in the first narrative: “The Godabir [Godavari] is our place
of origin; our mothers and fathers were called to Nandapur by the king.” This
call is the crow’s fetching of the gourd to the “king god.” “As soon as we
came here, as soon as we arrived, the Twelve Brothers spread out,” the myth
ends. One of the tellers explained that they were previously one child (pila),
and God undertook to divide them up (into portions, bag) only after the depar-
ture from the Godavari. The origin of the Twelve Brothers through tsoru commen-
sality, mentioned above, likewise took place after the departure from the Goda-
vari, the place where humans were a single unit. Nandapur, the king, and sun/
moon are linked to the differentiation of human beings into twelve kinds.

Seniority of the Desia Segments

The myths just presented describe the common origin of the Desia segments,
which have a consanguineal relationship to one another as twelve brothers
and sisters. In similar myths reported by Elwin (1950, 2 f), still other indigenous
groups are named. The eldest brother in one version is “Bhoi Gadaba,” followed
 2.8 Concepts of “Society” 197

by “Asur Gadaba, […] Kond, Bondo, Didayi, Jhoria, Parenga, Konda (Dora), Holar
[Ollar], Pengu, Chileri and Maria.” In another version, the Bondo claim the high-
est status (Elwin 1950, 3) among the brothers.²³⁵
The distinction between senior and junior generally appears as a binary op-
position on this classificatory level as well – as in the previously mentioned
cases of the kuda, the dignitaries, and the matia/upria – and there is no idea
of a homogeneous status chart that puts all the tribes in a linear order according
to seniority. The “second half” of the Gutob Gadaba are their “younger brothers”
(sano bai), the Ollar Gadaba, and similar pairs of tribal segments are found
throughout Central India (cf. Pfeffer 1997a). In addition, the Gutob Gadaba con-
sider the Bondo their “elder brothers” (boro bai), while the Didayi, Joria, Kond,
and Parenga are junior in comparison to them. What the status relationships are
within this last group of brothers the Gutob Gadaba usually cannot say. The
Rona, Mali, and other OBC (Other Backward Classes) are seen as unambiguously
senior, while the Dombo have a clearly junior status (cf. Berger 2002).
The word jati, which in Sanskrit literally means “birth” (Biardeau 1995, 181),
is most often used by the Gadaba to describe a segment or a Desia tribal group as
a unit; the word kul is less common. If someone is excluded from the tribal
group, he or she must “buy” jati back (jati kiniba). Jati thus refers to a kind or
category within the social order (cf. Pfeffer 2002a, 215).
An overview of the primary elements and relationships of the social order is
presented in figure 11, in which the inclusivity of the segments decreases from
top to bottom.²³⁶ The most encompassing unit consists of the twelve segments
of Desia society (jati, kul), which originated as siblings born from the primordial
incest. While the myths reported by Elwin in this context mention only Adivasi or
Scheduled Tribes, the tellers of the myths I recorded also integrated the other so-
cial categories into the group of twelve brothers and sisters; all of them taken
together are considered Desia, inhabitants of the land. All Desia are structurally
classified by means of the opposition of totemic descent categories that differen-
tiate all groups and individuals into agnates and affines, relatively speaking, in-
dependent of tribal membership. In addition, the segments are structured by
seniority. The Gadaba are divided into Gutob and Ollar, the senior Gadaba
(Boro Gadaba) and the junior Gadaba (Sano Gadaba). Within the Gutob Gadaba,
a ritual federation exists among twelve villages or village clans – the empirical
shape taken by the descent categories (bonso) – in turn referred to in the agnatic
idiom as the Twelve Brothers. They are tsoru commensals on designated occa-

 In general, the Desia discuss status issues openly.

 For comparison, see the figures in two studies by Pfeffer (2000, 340; 2002a, 226).
198 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

sions and exclude both Gutob Gadaba villages linked by affinal ties and “extra”
agnatic villages. In the reference category of the baro bai tero gadi, the Twelve
Brothers are supplemented by the affinal category, together representing the Ga-
daba as a social whole. The village clan in its external relations is contrasted ag-
natically or affinally to segments of the same type, and permanent, symmetrical
exchange relationships link the village clans in accordance with their bai or
bondu status. Affinal village clans or their segments can exchange milk (brides),
agnatically linked villages tsoru or their dead (buffaloes). Internally, a village is
differentiated into the village founders and “earth people,” on the one hand, and
the “latecomers,” who have a junior status, on the other. For their part, the
“earth people” in each village are segmented into four local status groups
(kuda) – the Four Brothers – from which the ritual and secular village dignitaries
are recruited. The Dombo are the only “latecomer” group that generally provides
a dignitary, the barik. The kuda groups are differentiated into varying numbers of
local sub-lines (kutum), the members of which consider themselves “own” broth-
ers and share both tsoru and land. Finally, the house represents the minimal rit-
ual, social, and commensal unit and consists of a married couple and their chil-
dren.

2.9 External Relationships

After Indian independence, an increasing number of strangers arrived in the Ga-

daba area, which should also not be seen as entirely isolated prior to that date.
Among the men in particular, some had previously visited Jeypore, when they
were summoned to perform labor service or at Dasara, when they attended the
king’s rituals as a formal delegation. Moreover, members of Koraput’s different
tribal groups have migrated to the northeastern part of the country to work in
the tea gardens there since as early as the second half of the nineteenth
century.²³⁷ On their return, they brought back to Koraput their impressions, as
well as a few Hindi and English words. In the last sixty years, a larger number
of strangers have arrived in the Gadaba area, where they are called goria (light-
skinned), saibo (from “sahib”), or foren (from “foreigner”). Those goria with
whom the Gadaba have regular contact deserve brief mention.

 Vyasulu (1985, 63) remarks in this regard, “There had been migration from Koraput to the
northeast where work was available in the tea plantations through the Tea District Labour
Association, which functioned in Koraput from 1862 to 1953.” Gadaba also work in the tea
gardens of “Assam” (the northern part of West Bengal state) today, most often returning to their
home villages after a few years there.
 2.9 External Relationships 199

Figure 11: Overview of the Social Order

Terminology Social Units: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Desia
 tribal groups (jati, Gadaba as part of the  brothers (tribal groups)
kul)
 brothers (baro bai)
totemic categories  different bonso categories,
(bonso) which differentiate all Desia into agnates (bai) and affines (bondu)
Gadaba segments Boro or Gutob Gadaba Sano or Ollar Gadaba
as older/younger bro- (ideally endogamous) (ideally endogamous)
thers
divided into the following bonso: in addition:
Cobra, Tiger, Sun, Monkey Bear, Hawk/Falcon,
Fish, (Cattle)a)
“ brothers,  seats”  village clans form a tsoru community
(baro bai, tero gadi) (exogamous), supplemented by the affines
village clan (exogamous)

village clan (external): contrasted to other segments as agnates (bai) or affines (bondu),
ga, ungom* across tribal lines:

exchanges “milk” with other, affinal village clans or their segments;

exchanges its dead and tsoru with village clans linked by agnatic ties;
maintains relationships (moitr) in which honor and selflessness are
exchanged outside the bai/bondu classification
village clan (internal): “earth people” (matia): senior “latecomers” (upria):
matia vs. upria junior
form a tsoru community with local gods eat lakka’* food
within the “earth people”:

Four Brothers, local status groups

four local lines (kuda)
associated with ritual and secular functions

dignitaries carry out ritual and secular func- Dombo carry out the
tions structured on the basis of seniority function of the barik
kutum
“own brothers” (nijoro “own” brothers
bai) form a community sharing tsoru and land
house (gor, dien*) husband/wife
form a tsoru community with the local house
god

a)
Cf. Thusu and Jha (1972, 53ff).
200 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

Already before 1947, a project began to build a dam on the Machkund River,
and a town was built to house the project’s workers, Hindus, Christians, and
Muslims from the plains of Odisha and Andhra Pradesh. The Desia worked on
the dam construction as day laborers, but only a few of them were able to obtain
permanent positions later or chose to do so (cf. Strümpell 2001, 2007). The work-
ers were quickly followed by police stations, administrators, and entrepreneurs
who gradually changed the local infrastructure through shops and restaurants
catering to the immigrants. Even today, interaction between the Desia and the
immigrants is slight, and the area’s Gadaba usually visit the town only on Thurs-
days, the day of the weekly market.
The market brings a variety of social categories and outsiders together in a
curious way. It is located at the western end of the Gutob Gadaba area, and the
first Bondo villages begin a few kilometers further west. Gadaba and other Desia
visit this market, but it is the Bondo, represented in greater numbers, who are
considered an attraction for tourists²³⁸ visiting this “tribal market” on their “trib-
al tours” through Odisha, booked in Bhubaneswar or Puri. In 1996, an average of
two or three people visited this market, arriving in a car; today, actual minibuses
come all the way to the end of the narrow dead-end road. The tourists spend only
a brief time at the market, and the Bondo have learned that they can sell them
bows, arrows, and similar items for high prices. The police from Machkund and
Lamtaput are present to maintain security, since as the Bondo grow ever more
drunk over the course of the day, they occasionally make use of their weapons,
which the men carry with them as a matter of principle. The officers watch the
goings-on from a place in the shade, as do the local residents, and it is not at all
unambiguous who the attraction is here and who is observing whom. Edwin Ard-
ener’s (1987, 45) remark that “[r]emote areas are full of strangers” applies here.
The area around Lamtaput is geographically and conceptually less remote,
and perhaps somewhat less trafficked for that reason, and tourists are more rare-
ly to be found at the market in Lamtaput. Nevertheless, the Gadaba of this area
come in for the same “pleasure” as their bai bondu to the west. Tourists on the
way to the “Bondo market” necessarily pass Lamtaput, and over the fifteen years
preceding my research, the tour leaders established contacts among the Gadaba
in some of the villages, where dance performances are organized when needed.
Almost every week during the dry and cold season, tourists came to Gudapada
on the way back from the “Bondo market.” Two senior Sisa are especially in-
volved in organizing the performance; the Kirsani largely stay out of the busi-

 As a rule, these are Western tourists. Indian tourists picnic at the waterfall on weekends,
but are uninterested in the weekly markets and the Desia.
 2.9 External Relationships 201

ness. On Thursday mornings, the two older men, jokingly called “dance gurus”
(nat guru) as a consequence of their activities, wait along the road in order to
find out from the passing tour leaders whether a dance should be performed
that day. If the answer is yes, the Dombo in a neighboring village, who provide
the music, are informed, and their appearance at the agreed time is arranged.
Starting around midday, the Gadaba women from all groups are then occu-
pied with dressing up as “Gadaba.” They put on the kisalo’* or kereng, which no
one in this area wears any more otherwise, put their hair up, and put on their
traditional jewelry. Since only quite old women still have the holes in their
ears for the large earrings (which have a diameter of 25 – 30 centimeters),
these are fastened to the women’s hair.²³⁹ The young women joke about their cos-
tume on these occasions, and they always found it somewhat embarrassing
when I watched their transformation.
When the tourists arrive, they first walk around the village, until the dancers
and musicians have assembled outside the entrance to the village; dances are
never performed for tourists within the village.²⁴⁰ The performance lasts about
half an hour, daring tourists try to join the dance for a round, and then the ne-
gotiations over payment begin. The women receive ten rupees each time, and the
men try to extract as much as possible, depending on the number of tourists. The
Sisa organizers and the Dombo receive a large share, as a matter of principle,
and individuals also try their luck with the tour leaders, with whom they have
been acquainted for many years. The men immediately convert the money into
liquor and beer, and an hour later, most of the participants are drunk, and
the tourists are on their way to their hotel.²⁴¹
Other than the short-term effects of the alcohol and the behavior of the chil-
dren, who have learned to ask all white people for sweets, the tourists’ influence
on Gadaba life is very limited in Gudapada. Their visits last no longer than an
hour, as a rule, and they do not visit the villages at all for many months on
end. Their motivations are not a matter to which the Gadaba devote much
thought. That people are interested in their “culture” – meaning their traditional
clothing, houses, and dances – is something the Gadaba also learn from the ac-

 Two photos on the jacket of Kornel’s (1999) book show Gadaba in this costume.
 On one occasion, tourists came to the village at the time of pus porbo (the January festival),
when the inhabitants were dancing demsa in the village plaza. The dance was interrupted, and
the women – who complied only with grumbling – sent to their houses to change. Half an hour
later, the performance took place outside the entrance to the village.
 I witnessed only one other “performance,” in which a pig was sacrificed for tourists at the
village shrine. The shrine remained closed, since it is opened only three times a year, and the
audience subsequently complained about the ritual’s insufficient authenticity.
202 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

tivities of government agencies and non-governmental organizations.²⁴² In Bhu-

baneswar, “tribal festivals” are regularly held, in which representatives of the
different tribal groups are brought to the capital from all over Odisha to compete
for the title of most colorful culture.²⁴³
The administration and the police have a stronger and more regular influ-
ence on the Gadaba.²⁴⁴ In nearby Lamtaput, the seat of the block development
officer, the Desia can purchase inexpensive rice with ration cards, and the eld-
erly receive a small pension, paid monthly. Gadaba are employed as day laborers
on Soil Conservation Department and Forest Department projects. Intervention
by the police (tana) in village affairs is generally feared, and both the threat
of a “case” and actual complaints to the police are consequently part of the
usual repertoire of weapons in a dispute. As a general principle, the result is
not in fact a “case” in the sense of a formal police report, but rather a summons
to the accused or the appearance of the police in the village, ending with a bribe
to the officers to make the affair disappear. The threat to go to the police is sup-
posed to impress the opponent, and the complaint is intended to be expensive
for him. In more than one conversation I had, the police were equated to the
rau demon, because both turn up suddenly, bring in principle nothing good,
and have to be negotiated with and given what they ask for so that they will
leave their victims in peace. Complaints to the police also fit into this picture,
since sending the rau demon against one’s enemies with the help of the ritual
specialists is similar in principle to calling the police in order to harm another.
In Lamtaput – as already mentioned with regard to the industrial town at the
dam – there is scant interaction between the new settlers from the plains and the
Desia,²⁴⁵ who nevertheless have the opportunity to sell wood cut in the forest to

 The Scheduled Castes & Scheduled Tribes Research & Training Institute in Bhubaneswar,
which has also published the journal Adivasi since 1960, is particularly important, alongside
many other NGOs concerned with “tribal development.” The areas of interest to the various
anthropological excursions and inquiries are reflected in the volume of studies edited by Pati
and Dash (2002). Literature on the topic of tribal development is abundant, in contrast to long-
term ethnographic research.
 Some Gadaba thus have the experience that certain aspects of their lives are the object of
great interest, such as their traditional dress, while the government simultaneously tries to
influence their way of life and diet through the schools. My interest in every aspect of their daily
life and rituals, on the other hand, was entirely new to most of them and, at least at the
beginning, relatively incomprehensible.
 On the school’s influence, see section 2.5.
 Those with an interest in politics, the village ward members, the sarpanch, who is the
political representative of multiple villages, and others who seek in different ways to participate
in politics and business are an exception.
 2.10 Conclusion 203

the restaurants or perform other occasional jobs. There are only a small number
of Christians in the area, and although Indian Christians formed an association
ten years prior to my research, the largest project of which is the operation of a
hospital in Lamtaput, I did not observe missionary efforts in the region.²⁴⁶

2.10 Conclusion

This description of the significant categories, groups, and relationships shows

that the social order of the Gadaba (or of the Desia, more broadly speaking) is
founded on idioms of kinship,²⁴⁷ as Pfeffer and Parkin have previously stressed
for the Adivasi in general. Further, this segmentary social order based on sym-
metrical exchange is embedded in asymmetrical and “organic” patterns of rela-
tionships at the level of the villages and the region.

Symmetry, Affinity, Generation, and Seniority

In various studies, Pfeffer has demonstrated that the forms of social organization
among Central Indian tribal societies are structured by a small number of ele-
mentary oppositions, “the fundamental ideas which govern the society of the
hillsmen” (Pfeffer 1982, 1). In this context, structural variations in the individual
tribes can be understood as transformations of fundamental patterns applicable

 I know of seven villages in which Gadaba Christians live, the majority of them in Chiliba,
where they make up fifteen houses. They are all Seventh Day Adventists and quite strong in their
convictions. I observed a striking instance of this at a wedding between Gorihanjar and their
somdi in Muchemput, some of whom had become Christians. The non-Christian bride-takers in
Gorihanjar, where there were no Christians up to that point, met in advance at assemblies at
which I was present. They resolved to carry out all the rituals in the same way as always, taking
the view that the Christians should likewise do as they wished for their side of things. Things
turned out otherwise, however; the bride-givers thwarted significant portions of the wedding
rituals, which the bride-takers accepted with a shrug, and staged a “modern” wedding. They
brought an expensive dowry, the items of which were announced at top volume in the yard over
a microphone. Among them was a vanity table that was subsequently entirely out of place in the
house. The women from the bride-givers’ side wore “Hindu-style” saris, and the men all wore
pants, shirts, and shoes and shook hands in greeting.
 The idea that the social order of tribal societies is identical with “kinship” has not only
been frequently stressed (cf., e. g., Sahlins 1968, 10), but also criticized as an anthropological
cliché and idée fixe (cf. Kuper 1988).
204 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

to the tribal order as a whole.²⁴⁸ First, Pfeffer seeks to demonstrate the presence
of these ideas in all domains of society – for example, in ritual and architecture
(cf. Pfeffer 1982, 96; 1991) – and not only in the “domain” of kinship, and second,
he strictly distinguishes the analytical levels of practice, norms, and categories
in doing so, as Needham (1973) urged.
The elementary ideas examined by Pfeffer are concerned (at the level of
practice, norm, and ideology) with manifestations of marriage or affinity (the
“horizontal” axis) and status or “distance” (the “vertical” axis). According to
Pfeffer, marriage alliances in Central India generally take the form of “symmet-
rical alliance” or “restricted exchange,” in which two groups or categories are
permanently linked to each other as reciprocal exchange partners or marriage
partners. The totemic categories or clans (bonso) that are relevant for marriage
alliances are not distinguished by genealogical depth, but rather by their oppo-
sition to one another; the “own” group defines itself through the contrast to the
“others.” “Everywhere in the tribal regions of middle India, the marriageable are
viewed in opposition to the non-marriageable collectives” (Pfeffer 1997a, 14), or
in the Gadaba case, the opposition between bondu and bai, respectively.
Status is articulated through the omnipresent opposition of senior and jun-
ior, that is, relative age or seniority. Pfeffer (cf. 1982, 20 – 33; 1997a) points out the
application of this structural principle at all levels of social organization, in be-
havior toward relatives, in kinship terminology, and in the opposition between
local segments, clans, patrons/clients, and individual tribes. The generation as
an organizing principle unites the complexes of status and affinal ties, since
the equation of alternate generations, which Pfeffer finds especially among the
Juang and Bondo, prohibits the repetition of an affinal relationship in the adja-
cent generation and contrasts the two generational classes to each other as sen-
ior and junior (Pfeffer 1982, 95ff; 1994).
Parkin (1992) has likewise studied tribal kinship systems in India intensively,
but he chooses a different frame of reference than Pfeffer does. While the latter
includes all Central Indian tribes in his analysis, Parkin concentrates on speak-
ers of Austro-Asiatic Munda languages and calls all such tribes combined the
“Munda.”²⁴⁹ Nevertheless, Parkin has a comparable theoretical perspective

 Pfeffer’s 1997 (a) article is titled “The Scheduled Tribes of Middle India as a Unit” for this
reason.
 This terminology has been criticized by Pfeffer on various grounds. For one thing, Pfeffer
argues, it conceals the great similarity between the “Munda” and other tribes that speak Dra-
vidian and Indo-Aryan languages, and for another, it invites confusion. The “Munda,” as Parkin
refers to them, have the same name as a particular tribal group, the Munda, whom he calls the
“Mundari” in order to distinguish them. This is similarly unfortunate, since this term normally
 2.10 Conclusion 205

and comes to similar conclusions. In the conclusion of his book, he stresses gen-
erations and alliance as the central aspects of “Munda” social organization.
“[T]he ideology of repeated symmetric affinal alliance” (216) is expressed in
just as broad a spectrum of ways as the equation of alternate generations.
With regard to the latter, the author turns his attention to the transmission of
names and souls between generations, among other things (203ff). Symmetry
is found both between affinal exchange partners and between generations,
only two of which are recognized, due to the identification of alternate genera-
tions with each other.

The links between alternate generations amount to an expression of equivalence – even an

identity – between kin types which allows us to postulate that there are really only two gen-
erations recognized in these societies. These generations perpetually revolve around and
replace one another, grandchildren being (re)born as grandparents die – a cyclical repre-
sentation instead of the unending ladder of generations familiar to us in the West. (216 f)

Both authors stress that the Central Indian systems of social organization they
describe are autonomous, and although they have historically been in contact
with “Hindu civilization” for a long time, they cannot have originated in that civ-
ilization and are not a product of diffusion or “Hinduization.” Rather, they point
to comparable elementary structures of symmetrical alliance and marriage
classes outside India (Parkin 1992, 12, 219, 222; Pfeffer 1982, 6; 1997a).
The fundamental ideas of tribal organization as identified by Pfeffer and
Parkin, generation, seniority, and affinity, have been confirmed by my research
and will be significant throughout my description and analysis of ritual process-
es. In the following summary of the primary aspects of Gadaba social organiza-
tion, I will both examine some of the perspectives already mentioned in greater
depth and extend the field of view beyond Pfeffer’s and Parkin’s theses.
“Natural” relationships and facts such as age and generational membership
provide the foundation for social classification in general; nevertheless, a kin-
ship domain cannot be isolated from other social configurations understood
as derived from it (cf. Pfeffer 1992). As I have already stressed in the introduction
to this chapter, moreover, social organization is not a lifeless artifact that can be
depicted as such; instead, groups, categories, and relationships are in constant
movement, and it is only for purposes of comprehension that they have been
treated here separately from the rituals in which they chiefly take on form and
are generated and transformed, as will be shown in the following chapters.

refers to the language of the Munda. Cultural and linguistic categories are thus blended together
(cf. Pfeffer 1999, 17; 2001b).
206 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

The oppositions between agnates and affines (bai vs. bondu) and between
senior and junior (boro vs. sano) structure all relationships between different
segments of this social universe, a closed system in which each person has a
place. A “brother” (bai) can be an individual, a local group (kuda), a village,
or a tribal group, and relative age or seniority can be invoked as the criterion
for distinguishing between them. The social order thus quickly escapes from
the personal relationships that constitute kinship in the strict sense, as in Fort-
es’s (1953; 1969, 250 f) opposition of kinship (or filiation) to the politico-legal
sphere. Kinship in this restricted sense is not the standard for analysis here,
but rather the indigenous concepts of relatedness,²⁵⁰ which may apply the widest
possible variety of criteria, whether “biological” or “natural” or not, in articulat-
ing the indigenous model. That this approach does not draw an a priori distinc-
tion within social relationships between “real” (i. e., biological) and “fictive”
kinship,²⁵¹ since “fictive” is associated with “secondary” and “supposed,” does
not mean that gaps and distinctions within the system should not be taken
into account (cf. Lambert 2000, 94). The Gadaba certainly distinguish genealog-
ical relationships from classificatory or ritual ones, and what needs to be inves-
tigated are the specific and context-dependent meanings of these distinctions,

 The term “relatedness” is used especially in more recent work, in order, according to the
authors, to expand the narrow framework entailed by the received understanding of “kinship”
and to express the priority of the indigenous perspective on kinship even in the analytical
terminology. In particular, the aim is to question the division between “biological” and “social”
ties (Böck and Rao 2000, 13 f; Carsten 1995, 224 f; Glasser in Strathern 1973, 32; Hardman 2000,
77; Lambert 2000, 81 f; cf. also Peletz 1995, 348 f). Carsten (1995, 224) uses this term “to indicate
indigenous ways of acting out and conceptualizing relations between people, as distinct from
notions derived from anthropological theory.”
 The question of what constitutes the sphere that anthropologists define as kinship and
whether this sphere should be defined a priori in the first place has been and is a subject of great
debate in the discipline (cf. Barnard and Good 1984, Peletz 1995, Pfeffer 1992, Pitt-Rivers 1973). It
is telling that Barnard and Good (1984, 184ff) pose the question “What is kinship?” only at the
end of their book. An approach that begins with a genealogical-biological definition encounters
the fact that many societies do not have or recognize any kinship in this sense. If kinship is
taken to be the particular cultural understanding of physical relatedness, a universal meaning is
not presupposed (as in the first case), but kinship is nevertheless clearly distinguished from
other kinds of social relatedness (cf. Gibson 1985, 409). A third possibility consists in also
describing as kinship those relationships that are not based on culturally specific conceptions of
physical relatedness, but are defined through, for example, shared activities, shared residence,
or a common mythology. The mentioned authors who promote the use of the term “relatedness”
would give preference to this approach. Barnes (1973) discusses the relationship between
kinship and “nature” at length.
 2.10 Conclusion 207

which refer not to genetic relationships, but to the cultural definition of physical
kinship (cf. Barnard and Good 1984, 184).

“Genealogical” Relationships

Someone’s “own” (nijoro) brothers are those to whom he believes himself genea-
logically linked, or put differently, those who came “from one belly/stomach”²⁵²
(gote pete). One’s “own” mother’s brother is the man whose “milk” (kir) one has
drunk, whose sister gave birth to and nursed one, and for this reason, he plays a
quite central role in the life-cycle rituals of his sister’s children and is distin-
guished from classificatory mother’s brothers.²⁵³ His ritual privileges and duties
extend beyond his own death; for example, when his sister’s son dies, he is usu-
ally himself long dead, and his son, grandson, or another representative of his
local sub-line (kutum) takes over his responsibilities. It is thus clear that the ac-
knowledgment of genealogical relationships is not identical with individual ties,
but rather links groups together.²⁵⁴ In the same way, “own brothers” (nijoro bai)
does not refer only to the sons of the same biological mother, since the “bearing
stomach” that is indirectly invoked need not be identifiable. Genealogies are not
put forward in order to undergird a kinship claim; rather, descent is defined by
opposition, and the reference to a common origin is to this extent classificatory.
The category of “own” brothers is not ascribed greater significance as a mat-
ter of principle, any more than this relationship is understood as particularly
“emotionally close” as compared to relationships not so designated. On the con-
trary, disputes, reciprocal complaints to the police, and festering suspicions of
harmful magic tend rather to be the common pattern. As members of a kutum,
“own” brothers share access to land, the appropriation of which by one brother
is seen as (violent) consumption and is one of the chief causes of endemic con-
flict. In contrast, unconditional affection, selflessness, and veneration are de-
manded between groups that relate to one another as moitr and have no genea-
logical ties of any sort.
A kutum’s “own” brothers occasionally also refer to themselves as “milk
brothers” (dudbai), thereby implying that their mothers are sisters. All in-mar-

 As was evident in the origin stories, this idiom is also used in this context even when
“genealogical” kinship is not at issue.
 All men of the +1 generation who belong to a different bonso.
 Strathern (1973, 31 f) gives an example from Papua New Guinea that likewise shows how
the indigenous distinction between genealogical and classificatory kin can be deduced from
supplementary criteria that go beyond genealogical nearness.
208 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

women are thus subsumed under a single category – just as the women given by
the local line are jointly referred to as ji bouni – and this fact articulates the idea
of marriage alliance as an exchange of siblings: a group of sisters marries into a
group of brothers. Since the women in fact come from different villages, and bio-
logical sisters only rarely marry into the same group, this is a classificatory con-
ception, one that I have also described among the Gangre’s internal affines. Mar-
riage between the children of “milk sisters” (dud bai bouni) is forbidden, since
they have drunk the milk of “one mother” (gotero ma), who was given by the
mother’s brother (tar kir ame kailu, “whose milk we have eaten”). This milk rela-
tionship thus expresses the ideas of filiation and affinity: a kind of uterine con-
sanguinity, produced by milk, and an affinal gift. Marriage prohibitions apply to
the children of biological sisters, as a rule – but not exclusively, as the example
of the Gangre’s internal affines shows – and do not apply, to my knowledge, to
the children of women who, for example, belong to the same village clan, but
were born in different villages. Genealogical relationships are thus differentiated
from classificatory ones. This distinction is not relevant in the case of agnatic
ties, and all FBD marriages are considered transgressions, since such a marriage
takes place within the bonso. Shared bonso status is not explicitly articulated in
terms of bodily substances, such as blood or bone, for example, in contrast to
milk, as is found in other South Asian societies (e. g., among the Kiranti groups
in Nepal; cf. Gaenszle 2002, 39), although the ritual processes make clear that a
diffuse shared corporeality²⁵⁵ is assumed.²⁵⁶
The articulated genealogical relationships are no more based on elaborate
ideas of circulating “substance-codes,” as Marriott (1976, 110) has argued for “In-
dian thought,” than other social relationships are. The Gadaba do not spend
much time contemplating the transformations of bodily fluids, at conception

 For example, this is evident in the context of birth and death and the associated ritual
impurity (sutok). All Gadaba who belong to the deceased’s descent category can eat in his house,
but not the affines, whose “sutok is different,” people say.
 The fact that relationships to one’s biological mother and her brothers and sisters are partly
conceived of as genealogical and unambiguously symbolized as milk kinship, in contrast to
agnatic kinship, which is generally classificatory (the “own brothers” within the kutum do not
share any special substance transmitted by their fathers), may be due to the “obviousness” of
uterine filiation. For Barnes (1973), a decisive difference between motherhood and fatherhood
consists in the fact that biological motherhood is a phenomenon observable by all, while
biological fatherhood is hidden from general observation. Concepts of fatherhood corres-
pondingly vary in different cultures or are entirely absent (68). He concludes, “Thus cultural
motherhood is a necessary interpretation in moral terms of a natural relation, whereas the
relation of genitor is an optional interpretation, in the idiom of nature, of an essentially moral
relation” (73).
 2.10 Conclusion 209

or in the course of pregnancy, for example, or the metamorphosis of blood into

sperm or milk into blood, and even individuals to whom one would be inclined
to ascribe expertise in these areas, such as the midwives, shrug their shoulders
when faced with such topics. The external brothers who eat the dead in the form
of buffaloes do not philosophize about potential negative effects (as in the case
of dan gifts to Brahmans; see above), and neither the metamorphosis of the meat
in their stomachs nor the possible transformation of tsoru into other bodily fluids
after its consumption gives the Gadaba food for thought. The construction of re-
latedness evidently takes place by means of other concepts, and indigenous dis-
course largely leaves processes inside the human body out of consideration.²⁵⁷

Descent, Territoriality, and tsoru Commensality

In recent studies,²⁵⁸ the significance of the cultural concept of “sharing” for the
construction and conceptualization of social relatedness among individuals and
groups has been extended beyond the spectrum of bodily substances to partic-
ipation in social units, relationships, activities, distinctive characteristics, and
knowledge of all kinds. What it is that is shared and through which relationships
and identities are generated depends on each society’s emphases, and the ways
in which shared territoriality (Lambert 2000, Sax 1990), myths and concepts
(Hardman 2000), names and souls (Parkin 1992, Pfeffer 1991), meals and com-
mensality (Carsten 1995), a combination of shared work, sex, and food²⁵⁹ (Gibson
1985), or food and residence (Strathern 1973) create and perpetuate social relat-
edness have been demonstrated ethnographically in various regions.
Seniority has already been stressed as a key concept of the Gadaba social
order, through which spaces, rituals, foods, gods, and human beings are set in

 Chapter 3 is concerned with the ritual processes of the constitution of persons, while ideas
about attacks on the body are discussed in chapter 5.
 The idea is not entirely new, but has merely received renewed attention. Pitt-Rivers (1973,
92ff) already emphasized the significance of “consubstantiality” (alongside “simulation”) for the
reproduction of kinship ties and included in doing so ties among individuals “who are related
through no womb, vagina or breast” (93), but rather through commensality, for example. Stra-
thern (1973) likewise studied the generation of identity and kinship through shared nourishment
and residence, as a supplement to descent, in highland New Guinea (see below). Earlier, Ro-
bertson Smith (1997) had pointed to the significance of commensality for the constitution of
kinship.
 Gibson (1985, 392) does not use the term “relatedness” and distinguishes in the case of the
Buid (in the Philippines) between kinship, based on shared bodily substance, and “compa-
nionship,” based on individuals’ mentioned shared activities.
210 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

hierarchical relationships. Symmetrical affinal exchange is likewise constitutive

for this society and links segments across generations. Pfeffer (1991) analyzes not
only affinal exchange among the Gadaba, but also “intra-agnatic ‘soul ex-
change’” in the context of the mortuary rituals. Alongside these parameters of
the social order, relatedness and kinship are primarily conceived of and ritually
generated among the Gadaba by means of three additional, closely interconnect-
ed and reciprocally implicated relational characteristics, the first of which has
already been mentioned: descent (and affinity as contrasted to descent), territor-
iality, and commensality. Sharing these three traits defines individuals as mem-
bers of social groups at different levels, and groups as segments of superordinate
units.
The opposition between bai and bondu is a global classification system that
encompasses all Desia and so locates the kinship order “above” the individual
communities (jati, kul; cf. Pfeffer 1997a). In the myths (katani) as well, consan-
guineal and affinal status exist prior to the division into communities and
prior to the segmentation of the unit. A society of “human beings” – whether
they are called Remo²⁶⁰ or Gutob – is conceivable without differentiation into
jati, but not without the opposition between bai and bondu. The transformation
of the sibling pair into affines, cloaking their incest, is at the origin of society.
The local representations of the gods are themselves not external to this classi-
fication scheme, as I have shown in my discussion of the various deities.
Although genealogical (nijoro) relationships certainly play a legal and ritual
role at the level of the kutum, agnatic status is not defined genealogically, but
rather by means of the opposition between totemic bonso categories (Pfeffer
1997a, 14). Unmarriageable agnates are contrasted to affines, who are members
of other descent categories or bonso. For a Cobra group, all individuals and
groups of the same category are considered brothers, and all others (Sun,
Tiger, Monkey) are potential marriage partners; there are no phratries that link
different bonso to one another as non-marriageable. In addition, local agnatic
groups are contrasted to one another without reference to ancestors or genealo-
gies. Ideally, a village consists of four local lines, and the incomplete corre-
spondence between ideal and reality does nothing to undermine the idea of
the Four Brothers who represent the village, even when all four groups (Sisa, Kir-
sani, Munduli, and Boronaik) are not found as local groups in a particular vil-
lage. While the descent categories are not differentiated according to seniority,
there is an asymmetry of relative seniority between the status categories and

 In a Bondo myth reported by Elwin (1949, 34), the sibling pair give rise to twelve sons and
daughters who become the Remo (“human beings”), the Bondo’s own name for themselves.
 2.10 Conclusion 211

the local groups (kuda), according to which the ritual categories, groups, and
dignitaries are senior to the secular ones.
The agnatic principle also connects groups of villages, the Twelve Brothers,
who – supplemented by their affines – constitute the maximal ritual unit and
stand as an idiom for “the Gadaba” and the socio-cosmic order (niam) itself. Em-
pirically, the Twelve Brothers are rarely in evidence; agnatic relationships at the
level of the house and the village, in contrast, are regularly generated in ritual
practice, and here the connection between territoriality and commensality is
clear.
The Gadaba define themselves in the first instance by reference to the God-
avari, the place where they were created and that gave them their name, as the
myth describes: Godabir, Godabiria, Gadaba. In addition, each person is linked
to a village, which I call his or her village of origin or village clan, and this re-
lationship is independent of actual residence. The relationship to the earth de-
termines the individual’s status as matia (“earth person”) or upria (“latecomer”),
a relationship initiated by those who built a shrine to the earth goddess in a
given territory and began to sacrifice there. Only the descendants of these orig-
inal Four Brothers are considered matia, distinguished by their names or kuda
titles (Sisa, Kirsani, etc.), their descent category (bonso), their ritual privileges
and obligations, and their collective megalithic monuments. In addition, all
the matia of a village are cremated at the same cremation site (rai’sang*),
such that their bones (sisang*) do not mingle with those of the upria. This is
an indication of the corporeal relatedness and homogeneity of the agnates,
something that, however, is associated with bones only vaguely at best.²⁶¹ Indi-
viduals retain membership in their village clan even if they migrate to another
village, where they have the status of “latecomers” vis-à-vis the village’s
“earth people.” After a number of generations, the genealogical relationships
to their village of origin are forgotten, but their status in opposition to the
other groups is perpetuated. A village’s internal affines, like the mentioned
Ruda’i in Gudapada, remain upria, even if they have lived in Gudapada for gen-
erations.
Strathern’s (1973) discussion of kinship, descent, and territoriality in high-
land Papua New Guinea can be used here as a contrast in order to highlight
the particularities of the Gadaba situation. In the cases Strathern observed, im-
migrant non-agnates become clan members within a few generations through
their relationship to the earth on which they live and the produce of which

 In the mortuary ritual named mach pani (“fishwater”), a piece of bone represents the
deceased’s body.
212 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

they eat. The Mendi thus distinguish “new-comers” and “sons of a new-comer,”
and that generation’s sons finally become “born to the land” (28), that is, mem-
bers of the “own” group. Among the Gadaba, I was able neither to observe this
gradual integration into the agnatic group nor to discern its existence in other
ways, and the Gadaba themselves do not presume that such processes take
place. “Latecomers” remain “latecomers.” It may perhaps happen that immi-
grants of the same descent category (who are far rarer and not found in Guda-
pada) could become members of the “own” group over many generations, but
such integration is ruled out for affines.
As a rule, Gadaba women change their territorial status upon marriage, but
retain the status of their village clan; in other words, a woman born as a Ruda’i
remains a Ruda’i, but she adopts the kuda title of her husband’s local group and
becomes part of his group for ritual purposes. Although she retains her descent
category, she is eaten as a buffalo after her death by her husband’s external ag-
nates, a service that only agnates perform for one another and that is an indica-
tion of agnates’ shared corporeality. If women do not become part of the “own”
group with regard to descent category and village of origin, they must become so
in another way in order to be able to receive the mortuary rituals within the
framework of their new villages’ agnatic relationships. A possible answer
leads us to the third criterion of relatedness, alongside descent and territoriality:
food, and especially tsoru commensality.
Consanguineal relatedness is constituted through tsoru commensality.²⁶² A
village’s “earth people” nourish the local representations of the gods, share
tsoru with them, and receive protection and the fertility of their fields as a coun-
gift. The community of the Four Brothers, like that of the Twelve Brothers, is pri-
marily a commensal sacrificial community. At the level of the house, the central
post is the representation of the earth, and tsoru commensality binds the “house
people” (gor lok) to one another. On all three levels of the social order – the
Twelve Brothers, the Four Brothers/village, and the house – in-married women
participate in the tsoru of their husbands’ agnates, after having left their birth
villages and been excluded from the commensal tsoru community of their fa-
thers’ houses (through the final ji tsoru). In the wedding rituals, the bridal couple
are fed tsoru by the Four Brothers and the Twelve Brothers, although women are
excluded from the commensality of these circles after this ritual. In their new
houses, women not only become permanent tsoru commensals upon marriage,

 A Dombo in Gudapada explained to me that I could not eat rice at his house because I ate
the Gadaba’s tsoru and was therefore their brother.
 2.10 Conclusion 213

but also cooks of the sacrificial meals, while the men are the sacrificers.²⁶³ The
consumption of the different categories of tsoru transforms the woman into a
member of the group and creates a kind of “alimentary consanguinity” that en-
ables her to be eaten by her husband’s agnates in the last phase of the mortuary
rituals. It is not the commensality of ordinary food, the fruits of the land of her
husband’s group, that constitutes consanguinity, then, but solely the consump-
tion of tsoru, and for the same reason, the “latecomers” of a village do not be-
come part of the “own” group, because they are excluded from the tsoru of
the “earth people,” at the levels of the Twelve Brothers, the Four Brothers,
and the house.
Once again, Strathern’s ethnographic material can be used to clarify the dif-
ference. The fact that “children have been nourished by and grown on the prod-
ucts of local land” has the consequence among the Maring that they “may be
claimed as members of the clan” (Lowman-Vayda in Strathern 1973, 29). Strath-
ern (28) emphasizes food’s role as a “mediator” between territoriality and kin-
ship.

Food creates substance, just as procreation does, and forms an excellent symbol both for
the creation of identity out of residence and for the values of nurturance, growth, comfort
and solidarity which are associated primarily with parenthood. (29)

Among the Siane and – as Strathern stresses – other highland societies, the col-
lective “ancestral spirit” is closely associated with the land and the produce that
grows on it, so that this spiritual, agnatic quality is also absorbed with food.

Food grown on the land is thus impregnated with ancestral spirit. Locality and descent are
in this set of ideas exactly fused. A Siane non-agnate who grows up on the land of his host-
clan might thus expect to partake of that clan’s ancestral spirit to a degree approaching that
of agnatic members, especially if he is a second-generation, and thus patrifilial, member.
(31)

The idea of the transmission of a kind of “ancestral spirit” through the medium
of the land and hence of food is present among the Gadaba to the extent that
some of the resurrected dead (in the form of buffaloes) are killed in the fields
as part of the mentioned mortuary rituals, and their entrails make the earth fer-
tile. However, the constitution of consanguinity is restricted among the Gadaba

 This relationship is analogous to the relationship at the village level between the ritual
cook (randari) and the sacrificer (sisa or pujari), likewise conceived of as a husband/wife re-
lationship. Tsoru cooks in the context of the seasonal festivals (porbo) are thus always “women,”
at the level of the village and at that of the house.
214 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

to tsoru commensality (along with the consumption of uterine milk), and eating
the products of the land – even over generations – does not transform upria into
matia, as I have emphasized above.²⁶⁴ Nevertheless, the parallels among physi-
cal reproduction, kinship, and food, underlined by Strathern, may also be signif-
icant for Gadaba ideas and suggest an answer to the question of just what the
source of tsoru’s efficacy is. The Gadaba themselves have little explicit to say
about this, although they stress that tsoru is always part of a sacrifice.
To begin with, we should pay close attention to tsoru’s distinguishing char-
acteristics and elements. Tsoru consists of two elements, rice on the one hand
and the head, blood, and liver of the sacrificial animal on the other. The rice
should be from one’s own fields, preferably from the rice paddies; the sacrificial
animals come from the weekly market, as a rule. Generally speaking, tsoru is
cooked and eaten at the location of the sacrifice, where the blood has run into
the earth. A man (pujari) performs the ritual killing; a “woman” (randari) does
the cooking. Tsoru is prepared in principle in a clay pot and must be either en-
tirely consumed or buried; the pot (on the village level) remains at the shrine
until the next sacrifice. In the context of seasonal festivals, tsoru is consumed
by the agnatic village community, the Four Brothers, and the consanguineal
house community, while lakka’* food is for all those who do not belong to
these groups.
Rice and blood are thus cooked in a clay vessel with the collaboration of a
“married couple.” The sacrificer kills the animal and lets some of the blood flow
onto the earth. The transformation of the raw foodstuffs is the task of the “wife”
– the ritual cook – who prepares the rice and meat. In my view, this combination
of facts and activities is to be interpreted as a transformative process based on
the physical model of sexual intercourse or analogous to that model. As already
mentioned, the Gadaba do not have any elaborate ideas about the processes of
conception in the form of a mingling of different substances and the child’s gen-
esis in the womb. The child’s body is formed by the god of the dead, jom raja,
and the vital energy (jibon) of someone recently deceased enters a woman’s
belly and gives life to the child’s body. After birth, the child’s social constitution
begins, the accumulation of social relationships through feeding with tsoru. The
Gadaba are unquestionably aware of the necessity of intercourse between a man
and a woman for conception, however. In the myths given above, the siblings
transformed into a married couple establish a “house,” and humanity arises

 The person and the earth or the territory do not mutually influence one another in the form
of a continuous and automatic exchange of substance, as is reported in a variety of ethnographic
studies on India (cf. Sax 1990, 494).
 2.10 Conclusion 215

from this cohabitation. When a bride sleeps in her husband’s house for the first
time, she is first urged to eat (“eat!,” ka), in order to bear a child later, and the
clothing (kisalo’*) that the women weave themselves also originates in collabo-
ration between the male and female elements of the loom. It is less the internal
processes of conception than the activities and processes of eating, weaving, and
sexual intercourse that the Gadaba associate.
The external, visible form in the preparation of tsoru is the pot, and the re-
quirement that it be made of earth underlines the fact that something is to be
generated in the cooking process. This aim cannot be achieved in a metal vessel.
In addition, the associations of the two main elements are telling. Paddy rice,
from which tsoru should ideally be made, is conceived of in affinal terms, and
both blood and the liver represent the animal’s life (jibon). The identification
of the sacrificial animal with the sacrificial patron is explicit in healing rituals,
but is not clearly evident in the village’s collective rituals. Nevertheless, the pos-
sibility cannot be excluded that the sacrificial animal is offered as a substitute in
this case as well, and its blood substitutes for that of the group. Rice and blood
then articulate the contrast between affinal and consanguineal ties.²⁶⁵ Further,
the place of cooking and eating and the presence of the consanguineally related
god with whom this food is shared are of great importance. Tsoru’s ritual efficacy
is also evident in the requirement that it all be eaten and absorbed into the body,
or else the leftovers must be buried (i. e., absorbed by the earth), in the same way
that the umbilical cord and placenta are buried in order to hinder the misuse of
these living substances. The tsoru of the house and the village thus create a very
specific connection among (divine) territoriality, descent, and commensality,
through which kinship is constituted.²⁶⁶
Agnatic relationships are regenerated through tsoru commensality, and in-
married women are integrated into the consanguineal group through tsoru con-
sumption. The gift of a bride is conceived of as “milk,” as already mentioned,
something that itself suggests that the ideas of feeding and sharing food are
not only relevant within the village; rather, alimentary idioms and rituals also
characterize relationships between villages. The different types of external rela-
tionships that I have discussed in detail above should now be briefly summar-
ized.
These external exchange relationships are again differentiated along the
bai/bondu dividing line, with one relationship type that appears to escape this

 Rice and blood are in every case opposites, and the minimum offering to gods or demons
consists of rice mixed with blood, so-called “blood rice” (rokto chaul). Blood is also associated
with millet, which is in turn conceived of as an opposite to rice.
 As will be shown later, affinal relationships are also founded on tsoru commensality.
216 2 The Social Order: Categories, Groups, Relationships

classification. One category of external agnates, the tsorubai, reciprocally feed

each other tsoru, in order to maintain (reestablish) the social order in the
event of transgressions, on the one hand, and in order to ensure the transforma-
tion of persons in transition into and out of the village community, on the other.
With regard to the latter aspect, another external agnatic and reciprocal relation-
ship is also relevant, that of the panjabai, who eat the dead of an entire gener-
ation – in the form of buffaloes – for one another. For the reproduction of the
group, however, the village is forced to rely on affinal relationships and the ex-
change of milk. As will become clear in the ritual processes of the life cycle, af-
final relationships are associated with cattle, agnatic ones with buffaloes, and
the exchange of milk between agnates is just as forbidden as the reciprocal eat-
ing of buffaloes between affines. Finally, there is an external, quasi-divine rela-
tionship, the moitr or dissel*, in which it is permitted to exchange neither milk
nor buffaloes, and which therefore falls outside the bai bondu schema. As
long as it is separated from the context of filiation and the genealogical concep-
tion of kinship that it has in the original author’s work, Fortes’s concept of “pre-
scriptive altruism” (Fortes 1969, 251; cf. Pitt-Rivers 1973) is a good description of
this relationship, which is also characterized by manifestations of respect that
are exchanged reciprocally, and therefore on a strictly egalitarian basis. This
form of prescribed selflessness is not characteristic of bai bondu relations.
In practice, all the mentioned exchange relationships may exist between dif-
ferent segments of the social order. Marriage alliances are ideally an exchange
between villages, and marriage practice also shows a relative balance in the
transactions at this level. In actuality, however, the local lines and sub-lines
(kuda and kutum) are also relevant for marital alliances, and agnatic relation-
ships are located at different levels of the social order as well. Different external
panjabai have ties to a kuda group or the village as a whole (matam), and at the
same time, specific relationships are articulated at the level of the kutum groups.
Alongside these symmetrical exchange relationships, the Gadaba are part of
a regional social constellation distinguished by specialization and asymmetrical
exchange processes. In the myth (katani), the differentiation of the original
Twelve Brothers (jati) is directly connected to the migration from the Godavari
to Nandapur, that is, directly connected to the king. The Gadaba see the king
in the first instance as a sacrificial patron, who appeases the earth goddess by
means of the sacrifices at Dasara. As part of this festival, the Gadaba had the ob-
ligation to show honor to the king with a visit. The extent to which they partici-
pated in sacrifices for the king, as in the case of the Juang or Dongria Kond, can-
not be determined from the existing literature and was not recalled even by my
oldest informants. What is significant is the conceptual correlation of the ritual
spaces: house (doron deli), village (hundi), kingdom (royal cult). All three ele-
 2.10 Conclusion 217

ments of this syntagmatic chain are “centered” and are considered local repre-
sentations of the earth. In light of the significance of tsoru commensality at
the level of the house and the village, it is certainly conceivable that in the
past, the Gadaba – perhaps the Twelve Brothers – sacrificed jointly for the
king in the context of the raja beti in Nandapur and Jeypore and ate tsoru.
At the village level, the “earth people” among the Gadaba take on the same
function that they ascribe to the king: by means of sacrifices, they maintain the
relationships to the gods and especially to the earth. I have argued that despite
this function, the Gadaba do not take on the royal role in the village context, as
has been demonstrated for the dominant castes. The opposition between Brah-
mans and Kshatriya, status and power, that Dumont considers constitutive for
the caste system is nowhere to be found in the Gadaba villages. In relation to
the village as a whole, the “earth people” occupy a privileged position as sacri-
ficers and are therefore in a position to represent the whole vis-à-vis all other
groups, which have the position of upria in relation to this whole. Structurally,
the matia’s position is similar to the “ritual centrality” of the Gujar in North
India (cf. Raheja 1990), but the idea of the dan gift and its implications is foreign
to the Gadaba.
No inhabitant of the village is entirely excluded from the matia’s harvest; in
particular, the village’s clients receive a share of the “fruits” of the land (pholoi)
and show their respect for the earth goddess and her “earth people” with their
manti gifts in exchange. The barik has a special role in the clientage system,
since he brings the sacrificial animals from outside and plays a decisive role
in those collective ritual processes in which the parts of the village (gulai ga)
are transformed into the whole (ga matam).
Part Two: Rituals and Festivals
3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person
[A]fter the child is weaned, his flesh and
blood continue to be nourished and renewed by
the food which he shares with his commensals,
so that commensality can be thought of (1) as
confirming or even (2) as constituting kinship in
a very real sense.
William Robertson Smith (1997 [1889], 257)

3.1 Pregnancy and Rebirth

When a person dies, his breathing stops, and his eyes no longer move, his vital
essence or vital energy (jibon, punda) is set free. Carried on the wind, it later at-
taches itself to another, female person. When the child in a pregnant woman’s
belly begins to move, or one of the dead speaks to her in a dream and demands
a particular food, for example, this is considered a sign that the deceased’s vital
energy has been reincarnated. People say that the jibon has attached itself (lagla)
or the deceased person (duma) has arrived (ailani). This in itself demonstrates
that social quality (duma) and vital energy (jibon), although conceptually dis-
tinct for the Gadaba, are nevertheless associated with one another.
A pregnant woman’s activities and movements are scarcely restricted before
the time of birth. She may continue to perform work of all kinds and may remain
in the vicinity of the house god (doron deli) and the village goddess (hundi). She
should keep away from sites of ritual pollution (sutok), meaning that she should
not go to the cremation site or visit the houses of the recently deceased.
The reincarnated vital energy retains some characteristics (the will or con-
sciousness, mon) of its previous bearer and is the cause of the woman’s desire
for particular foods, which her husband should provide for her. If these wishes
are particularly idiosyncratic, they make it possible to draw conclusions about
the jibon’s identity even at this stage. In many cases, the deceased reveals him-
self or herself to the pregnant woman in dreams. If the identity of the reincarnat-
ed jibon is still not clear after the birth, the dissari determines it by divination.
Sometimes, it is said, the corpses of the dead are marked with ash immediately
before cremation, so that the children can later be identified by these marks. In
some cases, however, the origin of the duma remains unexplained, and it is as-
sumed that an earlier (agorta) or another, unknown duma (palna duma) has re-
turned.
222 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

During his wife’s pregnancy, her husband should not kill any living thing,
whether as part of a ritual, while hunting, or in the course of daily life. If a ritual
has to be performed, as part of a seasonal festival, for example, one of the man’s
brothers will take over the ritual killing. The man is permitted to participate in
the hunt, but he should not kill any animals. Killing during this period is consid-
ered a transgression (dos, umrang*) and would endanger the child’s life.¹ A man
whose wife is pregnant is not permitted to join in eating the head of an animal
killed in the hunt, consumed together by the hunters, but this restriction does
not apply to the meat from the head (mundo manso) of an animal killed as
part of a sacrificial ritual.
Until the time of birth, no rituals are performed, as a rule. If the woman has
already lost several children, suffered stillbirths, or given birth to “only” girls,
however, the dissari is summoned, and in the case of pains, the midwife, the
“old woman of the umbilical cord” (bondki dokri), as well. In most cases,
cords (suta) are then tied around the woman to protect her and the child and re-
moved on the day of the birth. More elaborate rituals may also be performed, ad-
dressed to the rau demon so that he does not eat (kai debar) the unborn child’s
jibon, resulting in a stillbirth. Alternatively, a promise (mansik, titi leno’*) can be
made to offer a sacrifice in the event of a successful birth. Along with rau, anoth-
er threat to the unborn child is jom, the god of the dead, who endows human
beings with their bodies (deho, neri*) and is therefore also considered responsi-
ble for deformities. He can also take (nela) the jibon, in which case the child dies
in the womb. Harmful magic (nosto) does not affect the unborn child. Only about
a week after birth, when the child receives a name, does he or she also become a
potential target of these destructive powers.

3.2 Birth

A woman’s condition before and while giving birth (jonmo, jonom) depends on
the type of death suffered by the person whose jibon is being reincarnated.
This connection becomes noticeable as soon as the jibon is received, when the
child moves in the womb, but especially later, at the time of birth. During preg-
nancy as well, the woman’s condition depends on the deceased’s situation. If
stomach flu (jara banti) was the cause of death, for example, the woman will
have to suffer the same symptoms after receiving the jibon. Immediately before

 If a man whose wife was pregnant were to cut off a cat’s paw, the child would also come into
the world with only one hand, the midwife (bondki dokri) explained.
 3.2 Birth 223

the birth, the woman often demands whatever the deceased individual last ate or
drank.² In one case, a woman who was already in labor grabbed an ax to go chop
wood. This led to the conclusion that the reincarnated jibon was that of a recently
deceased man who had gone out every day to collect wood, which he sold in
nearby Lamtaput. With a “good” duma (bol duma), the woman has an easy de-
livery; with a “bad one” (korapta), the birth is difficult. Along with the decea-
sed’s food and activities, the place of his death also has a possible influence
on the birth. If someone dies outside the village – the so-called “death on the
path” (bate morla) – it is highly probable that the child will also be born outside
the village boundaries. Death and birth outside the village are very dangerous,
the former for the deceased’s offspring, the latter for the child.
The time and place of birth are of considerable significance for later life.
Children who are born outside the village often suffer from birth defects. A
girl in Gudapada was said to be blind in one eye for this reason. A child born
at an inauspicious time (gat) can be susceptible to particular illnesses through-
out his or her life. This is written (leka) or determined at birth, some say by the
god of the dead (jom raja). The child can thus be enrolled in a particular relation-
ship with the rau demon or the sun (suryo, bel, si*), beings that invade or fasten
on a person’s body and so lead to repeated attacks of fever and unconsciousness
over the course of the individual’s life. No one is safe from such attacks of un-
consciousness, when “the eyes do not see” (aki no deke), but these people are
predisposed to them. Iron objects, among other things, are used as prophylaxis
against such attacks.³
In addition, the day of the week on which someone is born and the phases of
the sun and moon are significant. The day of the week gives the child a name
and is tightly linked to the individual, which is why the use of the birth name
is necessary for the practice of harmful magic. As far as the phases of the sun
and moon are concerned, three points in time are of importance: full moon,
new moon, and an eclipse of the sun or moon. The Gadaba say that a birth at
the full moon (puni, purnima) is auspicious and produces generous people,
while those born at the new moon (uas, amabasia) are generally stingy and
greedy. In addition, it is especially children born at the new moon who can be

 For example, women demand beer or palm wine at the time of birth. Their condition is also
described as insanity or madness (baya bemar).
 Among the Sora, there is an even closer connection among the time of birth, iron, and the
formation of the body. Human beings acquire their form in the sun before birth, a process
conceptualized as a form-giving activity in terms of the metaphor of the smith’s work. Deformed
and imperfect humans of all kinds and those who die a bad death return to the sun after death
to be reshaped (Vitebsky 1980, 54ff; 1993, 63ff).
224 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

misused for harmful magic if they die before receiving a name and are therefore
buried. The practitioners of these destructive rituals (pangon lok) dig up the in-
fants and are said to take possession of certain bones (especially the lower arm
or the little finger) that enable them to cause harm to others.⁴ Finally, solar and
lunar eclipses (grohon) are considered dangerous. If a child is delivered at this
time, birth defects are likely; pregnant women should remain inside the house.

Sequence of Birth

Birth is an event with little social participation and only a few ritual precautions
in comparison to the following stages of the life cycle. As soon as a birth is at
hand, the bondki dokri is summoned. She is assisted by another old woman
from the local line (kutum), as well as other women from the neighborhood
who are present at the birth. As a rule, births take place in the big room of
the pregnant woman’s house. The place of birth can also be moved outside, how-
ever, if the woman is cold in the house, for example. For the birth, the pregnant
woman sits or kneels on a low wooden bench (pida), and she should under no
circumstances turn her back on the village goddess (hundi). If serious problems
occur in the course of the labor, it is the village goddess who receives sacrificial
offerings from the bondki dokri. A rope is fastened above the woman’s head, so
that she can pull herself up and hold on. The assistant sits behind her, while the
bondki dokri kneels in front and massages her stomach. All other women present
sit behind her at a distance of several meters; men are generally not present.⁵
In order to ease the labor, the woman’s hair, normally up in a knot, is let
down immediately before the birth, so that her hair falls loose about her should-
ers. After she has delivered, her hair is bound up again. If the child does not
begin to wail immediately after birth, the bondki dokri spits liquor into his or
her eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. Immediately after the birth, the child initially
remains lying in front of the mother, and the afterbirth (“flower,” phul) is set
aside. The bondki dokri then ties off the umbilical cord (bumli, bondki, londing*)
with a string and cuts it.⁶

 This underlines the connection between greed (new moon) and the practice of harmful magic,
which is described as “envy” (ongkar) – a reaction to greed – and “destruction” (nosto), among
other terms.
 Due to the presence of my partner, Amrei Volkmann, in the field, I was able to obtain detailed
information about the process of birth. She witnessed several occasions.
 According to the rule, a girl’s umbilical cord is supposed to be cut with a sickle, a boy’s with
an arrow. Otherwise, all the following steps are identical, irrespective of the child’s sex.
 3.2 Birth 225

Meanwhile, the child’s father has dug a small hole (bumli kal, “umbilical
pit”) behind or near the house.⁷ The first three times the iron rod, which has a
leaf tied onto its point, enters the earth, he must hold his breath; afterward,
he can dig normally.⁸ The father retreats again before the bondki dokri brings
the afterbirth to the site. Together with the mother, she then sits in front of
the hole and places the afterbirth into it, mixed with earth (or dung) and
straw. She adds a wild cashew nut (bon balia) and a piece of iron (luar).⁹ The
hole is then filled in and a flat stone placed on top, on which the mother
takes her place. The mother begins to wash and then rubs herself all over
with turmeric (oldi, sangsang*). After that, she washes her clothes, while the
bondki dokri cleans the child. The midwife first rubs the child with ground millet
(mandia), then washes him or her, then applies turmeric. Finally, everything is
washed off.¹⁰ Before the bondki dokri gives the child to the mother for the first
time, she warms her right hand over glowing logs and then presses it on the
child’s eyes, nose, and mouth.

Ritual Purification

The midwife and her assistant wash, put on new clothes, and then go to the
washing place at the river (nala). At the edge of the river, the bondki dokri lights
incense (dup), makes a brief invocation, and sacrifices a chicken egg for the river
gods (kamni). Afterward, the women first wash their clothes, then the bondki
dokri sets up a gate made out of chatreng stalks. She briefly dips another cha-

 The umbilical pit is not oriented according to a particular compass direction. It only needs to
be a somewhat secluded location near the house, since it is a polluted place for the first few
days.
 The Gadaba do not give any reason for holding one’s breath, other than that it is supposed to
be done that way according to the proper order of things (niam). In my view, this behavior is
linked to the relationship with the earth goddess in the context of birth. As mentioned, the
woman in labor should not turn her back to the earth goddess’s shrine, and in the event of
complications, a sacrifice is made for the goddess. Wounding the surface of the earth is therefore
problematic, and the iron rod used to dig is disguised with a leaf at its point. Since breath
(punda) characterizes living things and human beings, the digger possibly holds his breath for
this reason, in order to divert suspicion from a human being as the perpetrator of the injury to
the earth.
 The cashew nut is supposed to protect the child from skin diseases (wounds, gau), and iron is
supposed to ward off fainting spells (murcha bemar).
 Until the baby receives a name, the mother washes him or her morning and evening with
water and turmeric at the bumli kal, so that the “dirty water” (meula pani) runs into the earth
there.
226 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

treng stalk into the water and waves it over her assistant’s head while the latter
passes through the gate with the washed clothes. The bondki dokri then follows,
waving the chatreng stalk over her own head. This movement, like the ritual, is
called chatreng singlei and is also performed on the day the child is given a name
and in the context of the paddy rice harvest.

Liquor and Rice

Back at the house, the bondki dokri sprinkles a few drops of rice liquor (chaul
mod, ruku ili*) on the ground in various places for the dead (duma): first at
the place of birth, then at the umbilical pit, where she sprinkles it in all four
compass directions. Libations of this kind are called tipali, in contrast to food
offerings (betisong, leno’bong*).¹¹ The participating women subsequently gather
in the new mother’s house: the mother with the newborn, her mother, the mid-
wives, and other helpers. Liquor¹² is served in metal cups, and the participants
share (bata, tero’be*) the contents with one another before drinking.
In front of the house, a neighbor woman has previously prepared kordi rice,
a dish that, as we will see, is often prepared for rites of passage, together with
fish. In the context of birth, this dish is called poti bat or bondki bat. The bondki
dokri again performs tipali (with liquor) and betisong (with cooked rice and bam-
boo shoots) at the place of birth, then at the umbilical pit. Women and men then
come together inside the house for another round of drinking. Afterward, the
men leave the house again, and the women prepare their meal. Each woman re-
ceives a platter of kordi rice, and the mother receives two, one for the newborn.
Only after the women have finished their meal inside the house are the men pro-
vided the same food in front of the house. In this context, then, the usual se-
quence of eating and drinking – men before women – is reversed.¹³ The
woman who cooked the poti bat eats at the same time as the men, but inside
the house.
The worst of all possible outcomes at birth is the mother’s death with the
child or the afterbirth still in the womb. Both, afterbirth and child, are referred
to as a “flower” (phul) until the day the child is given a name. Even if the child
can be delivered alive, the duma of a woman who dies in this way becomes a

 Tipali is generally performed before the consumption of liquor or beer (pendom), not before
the consumption of palm wine (salap).
 Liquor is also called bondki mod in this context.
 That the men eat after the women and in front of the house was not explicitly formulated as
a rule, but it corresponds to my observations.
 3.3 Sacrifice for the Dead 227

vengeful being that must be placated with considerable ritual effort. If these rit-
uals are neglected, her offspring are in danger of being attacked and killed by
the duma.

3.3 Sacrifice for the Dead

On the evening of the day after the birth, the child’s father performs a sacrificial
ritual (biru) for the spirits of the dead (duma). The ritual is called bana lekbar,
bana borba, or duma balo’* and is performed in a variety of ritual contexts,¹⁴ al-
ways at sundown. The place and the sacrificial offering are also fundamentally
the same, as well as the time. The location under the eaves next to the entrance
to the house, known as osona, is reserved for rituals addressed to the duma; no
other entity receives sacrificial offerings here. The householder ritually kills two
crabs for the duma at this location.
First, water is mixed with cow dung or buffalo dung and spread on the
ground in a circle. The ground prepared in this way (gobor sara) serves as a sac-
rificial platform. Four small platters are made from leaves of the breadfruit tree
(ponos potro), two filled with chaff and embers, two with hulled rice. All four are
placed on the sacrificial platform. Resin is sprinkled on the embers as incense
(dup), and as soon as the scent rises, the sacrificer takes a crab in his left
hand and rice in his right and begins the invocation. The first crab is for the ag-
natic duma (bai duma). Following the invocation, the crab is set down on the
platform, and the sacrificer scatters rice over it, so that it “eats.” The same pro-
cedure is repeated with the second crab, intended for the affinal duma (bondu
duma). The shells (kirpi) on the underside of each crab’s belly, called its navel
(bumli), are pulled off and placed on the platform. Finally, the sacrificer sprin-
kles water counterclockwise around the platform and brings the remains of
the crabs (everything except the bottom shells) into the house to cook.
Shortly thereafter, cooked rice and crabmeat placed on leaf halves are dis-
tributed in various places in the house and yard as betisong. Two portions
(i. e., a few grains of rice in each case) are placed on the sacrificial platform
(for bai and bondu), then one each at doron deli, in the center of the big
room, at the cooking hearth, at the threshold, under the roof over the entrance,
in the yard (in each direction in which a path leads away), and in the stable.

 The ritual is performed on the eve of a name-giving, a wedding, the paddy rice harvest, and
the principal day of a village festival, for example.
228 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

3.4 Tying the Chicken Bone

Loud wailing and crying by the child after birth indicate the dissatisfaction of the
reincarnated duma, which is angry (kop hela, rusichi) or sad (mon duk). In order
to calm him (santi korbar pai), the child’s father sacrifices a chicken and ties (tol;
Rajan and Rajan 2001a, 52; the name of the ritual is thus totolti*) its little toe
(chini angti) around the child’s wrist.¹⁵ Tsoru is not prepared from the meat; in-
stead, the child’s father, an older daughter, or a neighbor woman cooks it as or-
dinary food, since the mother is forbidden to cook until the ritual that ends the
period of ritual pollution.

3.5 “Ending Pollution”

Sutok sorani – “ending pollution” – is the child’s first ritual transformation after
birth, one through which he or she accumulates social relationships and be-
comes part of a new community. The child receives tsoru for the first time and
is given a name (na). These are attributes that distinguish a social person, as op-
posed to a newborn. If a child dies before receiving a name, he or she is buried at
the site of the umbilical pit (bumli kal) without further ritual activity. After receiv-
ing a name, a child is cremated at the cremation site like all other adults.¹⁶ Fur-
ther, sutok sorani ends the period of ritual pollution (sutok) and the restrictions
associated with it, which impact mother and child most heavily.¹⁷ No one – ex-
cept the bondki dokri – should touch them during the time before sutok sorani,
and the mother should not cook. Not only the house where the birth took place,
but all agnates of the local line (and their in-married wives) are affected by sutok,
and affines do not eat in their houses during this period; to do otherwise would
breach a taboo (dos). Sutok sorani is performed seven, nine, or eleven days after
birth.¹⁸ Even-numbered days are associated with the rau demon, so the perform-
ance of the ritual on one of those days would have fever and illness (jor duka) as

 While doing so, the father tells the child, “Don’t cry, [you] have come from my belly, remain
friendly” (kandibo nai, amo petru aschu, bol babre ro).
 There are some exceptions: for example, lepers and people who have died from the pox
(takurani, bosont).
 The ritual impurity that follows a birth is also called pura sutok, in contrast to the sutok that
follows a death (morla sutok). In both cases, members of the local line should consume neither
meat nor fish during this period.
 The ritual (duma balo’*) addressed to the spirits of the dead (duma), described above, is
performed on the previous evening.
 3.5 “Ending Pollution” 229

its consequence. Sutok sorani can be divided into four sequences: 1. the dissari’s
sacrificial ritual at the umbilical pit; 2. the purification ritual (chatreng singlei); 3.
the name-giving; 4. the preparation and consumption of tsoru.

Sacrificial Ritual at the “Umbilical Pit”

The sacrificial ritual begins before sunrise – during raubela, “the time of rau” –
at the place where the umbilical cord is buried, the “umbilical pit” (bumli kal).
Before cockcrow, the dissari bathes, and the men of the kutum prepare the imple-
ments needed for the ritual on the house’s veranda.¹⁹ An opening is cut in the
top of a red bottle gourd, as for a drinking gourd, and liquor, water, and medi-
cine (oso, sindrong*) are poured in. The dissari adjures the contents with the help
of his iron weapon (jupan). The sacrificial offerings and animals also stand
ready. Along with a coconut, a chicken egg, and various fruits, chicks of different
colors – including a speckled one for soni and a white one for rau, two demons
considered responsible for most accidents and many illnesses – and a pig²⁰ will
be ritually killed in the course of the ritual. The dissari draws a pattern (bana),
different in appearance at every ritual I observed,²¹ on the stone at the umbilical
pit. In general, however, all the lines and symbols are done in three colors: red,
black, and finally white.²² The various objects (boat, toys), fruits, coins, small
banners,²³ and umbrellas are spread out on the pattern or stuck into the earth
next to the stone.
The mother takes her place with the child behind the stone, opposite the dis-
sari, and the latter begins the invocation, standing with his eyes closed, after
having breathed incense (dup).²⁴ Although the invocation is addressed to all con-

 The implements include a miniature boat with a pole, a tiny bow and arrows, miniature toys
(bongra), a ring made from sindi grass (sindi mundi), and the dissari’s medicines. It is the father’s
responsibility to obtain the needed fruit, sacrificial animals, and other items.
 As a substitute for the pig, a goat or duck (hauso) can be killed. Catfish (mangur) and doves
(parua) may also be sacrificed.
 In contrast, the patterns used during the village’s collective rituals are always identical.
 The red powder used for drawing comes from termite mounds, the black powder is ash, and
the white powder is made from milled millet or milled rice. The colors are always applied in this
order.
 These siral impede the effects of harmful magic (nosto).
 Like the patterns drawn, the invocations in these contexts are not standardized, although
they are generally similar. Often, they can be understood only with difficulty. A significant part
of the invocations, after the greeting of the gods, consists in the listing of various places (from
the neighboring village to Howrah Bridge in Calcutta), gods, and sacrificial offerings.
230 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

ceivable gods (Hindu gods included), soni and rau are the primary addressees.
Continuing the invocation, the dissari has the animals eat rice from the site of
sacrifice, one after the other, and establishes contact between them and the
mother and child in various ways. The chicks peck rice from their hands and
heads, or the dissari revolves them around the mother’s head and has her spit
on them. The dissari’s spiritual state (baya) is brought to an end by breathing
dup again, and the animals are sacrificed in the order of the invocation.²⁵ The
animals’ heads (and the “heads” of the sacrificed fruits) are placed on the sac-
rificial site; their bodies are discarded or set aside. The dissari lets the blood
(rokto, yam*) of the sacrificial animals drip on various locations and objects,
on a platter of rice, and especially into the gourd prepared previously.²⁶ He
lets a few drops of the gourd’s contents (medicine, liquor, water, blood) fall
onto the mother’s head and pours the rest over the child’s head. The arrows
that go with the tiny bow are set on fire and shot in different directions, after
which the bow is broken.
Over a small fire, men from the kutum prepare rice and some meat (tiny
pieces from the gullet) of the sacrificial animals in a leaf for betisong. Only
after the dissari has performed betisong and tipali (with liquor) are the heads
of the sacrificial animals removed from the sacrificial site. A piece of the lips
and the left ear are cut from the pig’s head and placed on the sacrificial site.
The dissari and possibly some senior men of the house and kutum then drink
liquor.
All the remains on the sacrificial platform are then piled on a leaf plate (toti)
that is revolved around the woman’s head. She spits²⁷ on it, after which it is set
aside, to be discarded later in the river by the dissari. She stands up at a sign
from the dissari, and he sprinkles her with water, throws ashes mixed with
salt (murat) in her direction, and draws (or scratches with a knife) several
lines on the ground in front of her. She steps over them and so leaves the ritual
area.

 The “small” sacrificial offerings always come first, followed by the large animals (coconuts,
eggs, fish, chickens, pigs/goats/sheep, buffaloes).
 The blood of pigs, goats, and sheep is collected and is part of the tsoru.
 The mother is sometimes also called on to sprinkle breast milk on the plate.
 3.5 “Ending Pollution” 231

Ritual Purification

Almost immediately afterward, possibly while it is still dark, the bondki dokri ²⁸
performs the chatreng singlei ritual for the family. As previously described, two
chatreng stalks are placed in the manure pile (kot gadi) near the house so as
to form a “gate,” and another one is laid down in front. After a brief invocation,
the bondki dokri kills a black chick on the manure pile for the duma and lets the
blood drip on the stalks and on a platter of unhulled rice. She presses the bloody
rice to the newborn’s forehead (rokto tika) and has the mother and child step
through the gate first, while she sprinkles water on their heads with the (bloody)
chatreng stalk. All other members of the house follow, sometimes carrying
household objects²⁹ with them through the gate. The bondki dokri sprinkles
water on each of them.
Somewhat later, the bondki dokri and her assistant throw into the river the
clay pot (sarni handi) used by the mother and child to bathe twice a day since
the birth. This action is the source of the ritual’s other name, handi darani,
“the clay pot (handi) is thrown away.” After the bondki dokri and the mother
have bathed, the clothes worn by all three (the bondki dokri, her assistant,
and the mother) are washed in the river. The chatreng singlei ritual is repeated
in the same way as after the birth.
During the following hours, until early afternoon, the mother and other
women completely repaint the house in which the child was born, inside and
out. Meanwhile, the young men of the kutum prepare the meal. Trenches are
dug for the cooking hearths, the area under a hayloft is turned into a storage
place for the food prepared (kandasal), and the sacrificial animals are butchered.

Name-Giving

If the ritual for “ending the pollution” (sutok sorani) has so far had the character
of a healing ritual and thus been primarily concerned with warding off malicious
powers, the following components have a different orientation: integration into
the community of the living now comes to the fore. The house is repainted, as on
a festival day, tsoru is cooked, and the child receives a name and is greeted by his
or her kuda group with tika and gifts of money. These actions, along with a ring

 Other individuals, the child’s grandfather for example, can also perform the ritual.
 For example, bamboo mats (tati), benches (pida), arrows (kand), or the pick (sabul) with
which the hole for the afterbirth was dug.
232 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

of sindi grass given to the child, are also characteristics of the wedding rituals,
through which the social person will later be completed.
In the freshly painted house, the dissari prepares to give the child a name. A
small brass pot (mota) is prepared with dung (gobor) and unhulled rice (dan).
Mother and child take their place in the middle of the big room, the ground is
prepared in front of them with dung and water, and the dissari places a ring
made from sindi grass in the child’s hand.
Hulled rice (chaul), referred to in ritual contexts not as chaul, but as arkot, is
the usual means of divination. There are various techniques for divination with
rice, all of which are called “seeing rice” (arkot dekba).³⁰ The dissari scatters var-
ious piles of rice on the prepared ground, holds rice in his hand, murmurs invo-
cations, and sometimes turns round about multiple times. Suddenly, the name is
clear, and before the dissari announces it, he gives the mother and child tika. In
other words, he sprinkles the mother and child with water from the brass con-
tainer (using mango leaves) and presses rice to their feet, knees, and shoulders
in turn and finally to their foreheads. This gesture of greeting or “blessing” is re-
peated by all family members and others present. Each person also sticks paper
money or a coin in the child’s hand. After the child’s parents, the mother’s
brother (mamu) is supposed to give tika. If he is late, the others wait until he
has carried out his duty. The mother’s brother is expected to give more money
than others, and he should make prestations to his nephew (banja) or niece
(banji) either as part of sutok sorani or later. The gifts can consist of clothing
or brass items (plate and pot). Nevertheless, these gifts have a less obligatory
character than the prestations to the mother’s brother in the context of the mor-
tuary rituals.
Once the first round of tika “sitting” (tika bosbar) is over, the money is count-
ed and tied up in a cloth, and the amount is announced. The cloth, the brass pot,
and the rice are set aside to be brought out again later. Mother and child will take
their places several more times on this day and receive tika from villagers from
other local lines. Members of the kutum, neighbors from other local lines, and
internal affines visit the newborn’s house in the afternoon as guests (gotia),
and as such, bring rice (chaul) and beer (pendom).

 Many Gadaba dissari cannot read and write, so “seeing rice” is the only possibility for
divination. Those who can read also use the commercially available commented panji (calendar,
almanac) or old palm-leaf manuscripts (talo potro).
 3.5 “Ending Pollution” 233

Tsoru and bulani Rice

In the afternoon, the men of the kutum have finished cooking, and rice and what
accompanies it (sag, ma*), that is, the meat, are distributed on leaf platters. The
heads of the sacrificial animals, the pig’s blood, and a piece of the liver are
cooked separately in a new clay pot as tsoru or “head meat” (mundo manso,
bob cheli*).³¹ The pig’s rump (gondi manso, gondi cheli*) is prepared in an ordi-
nary metal pot. The dissari takes the first platter of tsoru and offers betisong out-
side at the cooking hearth, on the threshold, and inside the house, where mother
and child are sitting, but not at the location of the sacrifice. He feeds the mother
tsoru and gives the child some in his or her hand or on his or her cheek.
Only the bondki dokri, the mother, the child’s mother’s brother, and the dis-
sari then begin to consume tsoru inside the house. Somewhat later, the senior
men of the kutum, who sit outside immediately next to the cooking hearth and
around the temporary “storage hut,” receive the tsoru. Children and women sit
somewhat further away.³² The children start to eat immediately, while the men
first take only some meat (chakana) and beer, beginning to consume the tsoru
rice only afterward. The young men of the kutum serve beer, rice, and meat to
all present; they themselves eat last. The dissari is the first to rise from the
meal; no one else is permitted to stand up before he does. Later, the young
men of the kutum go through the village and distribute cooked rice (bulani
bat) to every household. The pollution ends only when all eat, it is said. This
lakka’* food may contain rump meat or vegetables cooked additionally, but no
head meat, that is, tsoru. As a rule, tsoru is consumed only where it is cooked.
For his work, the dissari receives dokino, a prestation including some money, a
small basket (surki) of hulled rice, and one of unhulled rice. The bondki dokri re-
ceives one or two rupees and a basket of unhulled rice.
Although a child receives a name through the rituals described, this name
need not be definitive. The child’s wailing and crying is again a sign that the
name is not the right one. With the dissari’s help, a new name is determined,
the name of the reincarnated duma, for example. However, each person also
has a “day name” (baro na) or “birth name” (jonmo na) determined by the

 In the context of sutok sorani, the distribution of tsoru is not as closely regulated as at the
sacrificial rituals for the village goddess or at other shrines. According to the rule, all tsoru eaters
are supposed to have fasted, but transgressions are often ignored in this case.
 All members of the kuda (e. g., all Sisa) are supposed be allowed a share in the tsoru.
However, what I have observed is that in the main, only the members of the kutum (men and
women) participate. Affines who are present receive lakka’* food (meat from the rump) instead
of tsoru.
234 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

day of the week on which he or she was born. Each day of the week (bar) has
male and female derivatives as personal names. A man born on Thursday (guru-
bar) is named Guru, and a woman born on the same day is named Gurubari. An
additional variation arises from the fact that seven days of the week (rom*) are
also distinguished in Gutob. For instance, a man born on Sunday (aitarom) is
named Aita, and a woman is Aiti. Which name finally sticks depends on the
child’s behavior and the corresponding reactions of the parents and the dissari.
This explains the numerous names, even though the birth names determined by
the days of the week are a very restricted group.³³
However, another cause for increased wailing by the child may be that two
duma or jibon have been reincarnated in him or her. The conflict between the two
duma over the mother’s milk causes the child to wail, it is said. In this case, the
parents conduct a ritual for both duma at the usual place in front of the house,
ritually killing crabs for them. They appeal to the parties in conflict to make
peace: “From today forward, stop crying, [you] two people, unite and drink
milk. […] We are raising you well […], you should not cry, and you should not
fight.”³⁴ The two jibon remain in one body for the rest of the individual’s life,
without this being of any significance for him or her later.

3.6 Tying the “Birth String”

In order to protect the child from attacks by evil spirits (duma daini) and espe-
cially the rau demon, the dissari ties cords – so-called “birth cords” (jonom suta)

 The names of the days of the week are rarer among the younger generation, with an in-
creased number of “Hindu” names instead, taken by the dissari from the almanac (panji). Even
in the oldest generations, however, many names are found that cannot be derived from the
names of the days. A variable approach to names has thus probably long existed. Sixty years
ago, Elwin found the reverse among the Bondo. The old men had “strange Bondo names” (1950,
104), while among the young men and women there was a “distressing monotony,” their names
being closely tied to the Desia names of the days of the week.
Alongside the possible forms of name-giving mentioned so far, individuals have nicknames
or “joke names” (kiali na). For example, a neighboring youth was called something like “ci-
garette butt” (tuti bidi), and Gadaba occasionally have special names because they were ritually
“sold” to Dombo as children, due to severe or frequent illness, and received a new name in the
course of these transactions (cf. Skoda 2001).
 Ajini kanda buba huo nai, dui lok mishi bidi kori e kir ka. […] Toke bol babre amke posebu […],
tomke kanda buba huo nai, tomke janjat no korot.
 3.7 “Taking Down the Hair” 235

– with medicines³⁵ around him or her a week after sutok sorani, giving this ritual
its name. Before these cords are tied around an infant, he or she should remain
near the house and under no circumstances leave the boundaries of the village.
Without the medicines, the child would be unprotected against the attacks of the
demons and other beings there.
In front of the house, the dissari invokes the rau demon and promises him
the sacrifice of a white rooster – which he holds during the invocation and
has peck rice from the hands of the child and the mother – if the child remains
spared from his attacks until the ritual of the first haircut.³⁶ After the vow, the
dissari ties the cords around the child’s neck and hips and on occasion another
cord around one of the rooster’s legs.³⁷ This action articulates a homology be-
tween the rooster (the future sacrificial offering) and the child (the potential vic-
tim). The cord around the hips (ontador, tunuloi*), which protects the person
from rau, is worn lifelong by every Gadaba. Only after death is it cut at the cre-
mation site.³⁸ The cord around the child’s neck and the one on the rooster will be
cut when the promise is redeemed, at the time when the child starts to walk.

3.7 “Taking Down the Hair”

The ritual of the first haircut – “taking down the hair” (bal utrani), about fifteen
months after birth – ends the parallel development of and association between
rooster and child, and the vow made is redeemed by the sacrifice of the rooster.
The location of the ritual is the intersection of two paths (chokto rasta, dela kur-
ung*) outside the village, just beyond the village boundary, not the house and its
environs as in the case of the previous sacrifices. Like jonom suta, this ritual
takes place in the morning.
The dissari draws a white pattern on the usual prepared ground (gobor sara),
begins the invocation, and lets the rooster again peck rice from the hands of
mother and child. The animal’s cord is cut, and the rooster is sacrificed. The dis-

 Various types of wood, “red root” (rong ser), “black root” (kala ser), tubers (bus kanda), and
rubber are fastened to the cords. The roots and tubers have either an intense color, a strong
smell, or a bitter taste, properties that are supposed to be apotropaic.
 If the child nevertheless subsequently becomes sick, the dissari ties a new cord (with me-
dicine).
 I was never able to observe this action with regard to the rooster. However, some informants
insisted on its importance.
 Only elderly Gadaba men still fasten their loincloths (lengti, gamtsha) to this hip cord today;
women fasten the pieces of cloth (gamtsha) that they wear under their clothes to it. If the cord is
torn, a new one is tied.
236 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

sari offers betisong at the place of sacrifice and all branching paths with rice and
meat from the rooster (from the gullet, sok), either raw or briefly cooked over a
small fire. After a libation with liquor, the dissari cuts the birth cord around the
child’s neck and a lock of the child’s hair and lays both on the place of
sacrifice.³⁹ The rooster is then prepared at home in an ordinary pot, not as
tsoru. Everyone other than the mother and the child can eat it.⁴⁰
With the birth rituals, the end of the consequent ritual impurity, and the
tying and removal of the birth string, the child’s status in relation to various so-
cial entities undergoes a series of changes. The fact that as soon as a child has a
name and has consumed tsoru for the first time, he or she is no longer buried if
he or she dies, but cremated at the cremation site, demonstrates that the child
has “become human” and underlines the significance of sutok sorani. Through
this ritual, the house is reintegrated into the village community, and the agnates
of the local line are no longer burdened by sutok. The child is brought into the
kutum through tsoru commensality, and the distribution of rice throughout the
village announces this new social existence. If the child dies after this ritual,
the death is a matter for the entire village.
Only with the protection of the birth string should the child leave the boun-
daries of the yard and the village. With the promise of a future sacrificial offering
to soni and rau, the child enters into a moral relationship with these demons,
that is, a reciprocal relationship that implies obligations. This is made visible
by the child’s wearing of the cord and by the growth of his or her hair.⁴¹ The re-
demption of the promise and the removal of cord and hair end this close rela-
tionship, but the child’s status remains ambivalent.
Until a child begins to eat millet and rice on his own, he is considered to
have a close connection to the dead. This situation is stronger in the period
after birth, when the child “plays in the community of the dead” (duma kulre

 The child’s hair has never been cut before. After the ritual, the child’s entire head is shaved
at home.
 Individuals who are especially susceptible to rau attacks do not eat white chickens as a
matter of principle, due to this animal’s association with the demon.
 Hair in general is an indicator of the state of an individual and his body, especially with
regard to the body’s permeability. Correspondingly, hair is manipulated in order to exert in-
fluence on these states. Letting down one’s hair also means opening one’s body, and ritual
mediums therefore let down their hair at seances in order to let the gods in. Women also let
down their hair before giving birth, so that the child can leave the body more easily. Conversely, I
observed in the case of a woman possessed by the river gods that her hair was bound in a knot
once she had to some degree recovered her senses, presumably in order to hinder a new
incursion by kamni. When women have their hair down to dry after bathing, they do not go far
from the house; to do otherwise would be “not good” (bol nai).
 3.8 The “Path Wedding” 237

kelsi) and wanders between the world of the dead (jompur) and the middle world
of the living (mojapur). A sign of this is said to be the child’s gaze, which does
not really fix on humans, but appears to find other objects of vision. The ability
to see and its loss in death or unconsciousness is, as described above, a criterion
for identifying the living. The child’s laughter and smiles in his first months of
life likewise do not always seem to respond to a particular situation or have a
relationship to the human beings around him. Before each meal in the house,
a platter of food is set aside for the duma. This food should really be taken to
the place (bejorna) on the village boundary shortly before the cremation site,
where the duma linger. Nevertheless, it is simply set aside in the house, and any-
one can eat it later. This rice is called sig bat (“first rice”). The child first “actual-
ly” eats rice among the Gadaba without a ritual, at the time when he or she be-
gins to sit up.⁴² The child is then fed millet gruel (mandia pej, sa’mel ida*) for the
first time, rice soon afterward, and his or her relationship to the dead is thereby
definitively dissolved. In contrast to the ritual transformations of social status,
this transition is gradual and cannot be identified with a specific point in time.

3.8 The “Path Wedding”

After the birth cord and the child’s hair are cut in bal utrani, the next regular rit-
uals in the life cycle are those of marriage. Nevertheless, an expensive ritual is
performed for many children prior to their marriage, one called bato biba
(“path wedding”) and in fact parallel to the marriage rituals in many ways.
As a rule, the reason for performing a bato biba is a child’s serious illness
caused by soni rau. ⁴³ The parents of a child ill with a high fever seek out a guru-
mai (or a dissari), who identifies soni rau by divination as the cause of the
illness.⁴⁴ In a seance, the gurumai finds out what soni rau demand (mangbar)
to leave the child alone. The gurumai then counsels the performance of a bato
biba and promises soni rau, in the parents’ names, to conduct such a ritual if
the child recovers. The promise is often redeemed only many years later, and

 It was also said that feeding began starting with the sixth month. Children are nursed
around two years, but three- and four-year-old children also still occasionally drink their
mother’s milk.
 The gurumai may already identify a threat from soni rau and make a promise to perform the
ritual during pregnancy.
 A gurumai can be male or female. Even though I have encountered more males acting in this
role, the word itself indicates a female. Hence I refer to the gurumai as female. I go into the
differences among the ritual specialists in section 5.3.
238 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

younger siblings of the child who was ill can be integrated into the ritual in that
case.
In the period between the promise and its redemption through bato biba, the
child has an association with soni rau, comparable to the period between the
tying of the “birth string” (jonom suta) and its cutting (bal utrani), described
above. This special relationship is evident in two primary ways. First, marriage
negotiations (raibadi) cannot begin. The process of making suit for a bride usu-
ally begins, after prior arrangement, with a visit by the future bride-takers to the
house of the girl’s father. If the girl’s group drinks the beer brought by the sui-
tors’ group (raibadi pendom), they thereby accept their suit and open a series of
visits by the suitors that ultimately lead to marriage. The father of a girl whose
bato biba is still pending has to decline such offers, and in particular, he is
not permitted to drink the beer offered by the suitors’ group. If he did, his daugh-
ter would be attacked again by soni rau and possibly die, it is said. Only when
the vow has been redeemed, the suitors’ visit has been imitated in the context
of bato biba, and the gods have also received their share of the raibadi pendom
can the official preparations for marriage begin.
The second aspect is also linked to the child’s nourishment. In general, the
child is permitted to eat neither speckled chickens (chitra kukuda), associated
with soni, nor white chickens (dobla kukuda), associated with rau, as long as
a bato biba is pending. For this reason, the child cannot participate in any
feast in the village that is part of a ritual addressed to soni rau. This includes,
for example, the name-giving ritual, various healing rituals, and bato biba. Fes-
tival meals that are part of village collective rituals, addressed to the village gods
and led by the pujari, are not a problem, since these are not associated with soni
rau. As a rule, the child’s hair is not cut again until after the vow has been re-
deemed.

Sequence of a Path Wedding

The bato biba rituals take place in March (phagun), after the mortuary rituals
(bur) in December/January (pond/pus) and the wedding and gotr rituals in Feb-
ruary (mag). As for all these rituals, the exact date is determined by the dissari.
Unlike the mortuary rituals (bur and gotr) and wedding rituals (biba), which are
performed for multiple individuals within a village and often for whole groups
(kutum or kuda), a bato biba is concerned only with the children of one
 3.8 The “Path Wedding” 239

house. However, the cost of a bato biba is fully comparable with that of the men-
tioned rituals. At least five thousand rupees are needed.⁴⁵
Not counting preparations and postscripts, bato biba consists of the follow-
ing main phases:
1. a seance by the gurumai (in the house of those concerned)
2. a nighttime sacrificial ritual (biru) with the gods’ play (kel) (in front of the
house and outside the village)
3. on the following day: feeding tsoru to the children, giving tika, and the feast
(boji)

Along with the children for whom bato biba is being performed, the main actors
are their parents and grandparents, the gurumai, her helpers, and two boys (nita
dangra) and two girls (nita dangri) from the neighborhood, who accompany the
children.⁴⁶

The Seance

This part of bato biba, in which the “gurumai sits” (gurumai bosbar) and commu-
nicates with the gods, is considered precarious and dangerous. All the partici-
pants, who have fasted throughout the day, bathe in the afternoon. Anyone
who plays a role in the preparations or in bato biba or who helps with the cook-
ing should be “white” (sukol), and the observance of these rules is strictly
enforced.⁴⁷ This does not lead to any particularly devout mood, however, and
while the gurumai makes her invocation, those present talk, laugh, or argue,
as in other ritual contexts.
The gurumai’s invocation (suborna) takes place either in the small room next
to the house deity or in front of a wall in the house’s big room. First, the gurumai
draws a variable repertoire of figures (sun, animals, human beings) on the wall
with rice powder and also encourages the children to contribute drawings. She
then sits in front of a winnowing fan filled with hulled rice, in which a string fas-

 As day laborers – for example, in road construction – men earn about forty rupees a day in
this area (less than a dollar), women somewhat less.
 The children’s maternal grandparents may be present at the seance, as well as other
members of the father’s kutum. At the nighttime sacrificial ritual, or at the latest on the following
day, all relevant relatives are present.
 This rule also applies to the ethnographer. At bato biba and at the paddy rice harvest, when
the fasting rules are also strictly observed, I was usually asked multiple times whether I had
eaten anything.
240 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

tened to the roof ends. This is the “path” along which the gods enter the rice as a
means for divination. By breathing incense (dup), the gurumai begins her sitting,
which lasts one to two hours and shifts constantly back and forth between song
and spoken phrases. The gurumai recites the names of gods, villages, holy pla-
ces, and sacrificial offerings that are supposed to be presented to the gods
and soni rau later. Her song often shifts perspective: sometimes she sings in
the role of the giver of the sacrificial offerings, sometimes she appears as a
deity that takes the promised offerings. Nothing is sacrificed during the seance,
however, since it is divination and the gods’ “opinion” that is the focus of atten-
tion here. Without pausing in her song, the gurumai takes some grains of rice
from the winnowing fan and gives them to her assistant, who counts them
out. The grains of rice are sorted into pairs; if the number is even, the assistant
says pura (“whole”), and if one grain is left over, he says baga (“split”). The com-
munication between the gurumai and the gods or soni rau is considered correctly
understood (bujai kori tik korle), even (soman), and true (sot) when after an alter-
nating series of baga and pura, the grains of rice finally come out even several
times. This means that the gurumai and the gods have reached an understanding
about the sacrificial offerings and become one (ek). After the successful agree-
ment, the gurumai brings the seance to an end by again breathing incense.
In the meantime, the women have cooked rice, and the gurumai performs be-
tisong and tipali inside the house and at the cooking hearth. Since the sacrifices
have yet to be performed, the cooked food does not include meat, but may con-
sist of a variety of types of vegetables, without any fixed rules.⁴⁸ For the libations
(tipali), liquor (mod) and beer (pendom and landa ⁴⁹ mixed together) are used,
called nita pendom in the context of bato biba and kept during the ritual in
two small clay pots (kondi). The woman who prepares the nita pendom is sup-
posed to have fasted (as suggested by the word nita). By this time at the latest,
the Dombo musicians have also arrived. They receive a chick and a bottle of
liquor in order to perform a sacrificial ritual for their instruments.
Darkness has long since fallen when the participants eat their first meal. The
gurumai first feeds the children beer and rice inside the house, and everyone else
eats at the cooking hearth, somewhere in front of or behind the house. Warm
water is then made ready, and the gurumai, her assistant, and the family mem-

 In one case, the food was prepared in a new clay pot, suggesting the status of tsoru. At
another bato biba, the cook, the gurumai’s wife, said that it was not tsoru, which would be
cooked only on the following day.
 Landa is a fermented alcoholic beverage, like pendom, and is brewed by the Joria, who live
east of the Gadaba; it is very uncommon among the Gadaba.
 3.8 The “Path Wedding” 241

bers again bathe. The two ritual specialists receive new clothes from the spon-
sors.

Sacrificial Ritual and Play: biru and kel

Late in the evening, the final preparations for the sacrificial ritual are made.
Small versions of many items of daily life were made already on the previous
day, but this task is now completed. A yoke and plow (juari, nongol) are carved
to the children’s scale, and a rice pounder (musol), a winnowing fan (kula), a
bamboo mat (tati), a basket for cow dung (chatna), a goad for driving cattle, a
carrying pole (kauri) with nets (sika) for carrying burdens, and a bow (dunu)
and arrows (kand) are also produced. In addition, small baskets (tifni) for rice
and millet are made, along with a tiny ox cart (sogor) with two clay oxen⁵⁰
and saddle bags of rice or millet, led by a human figurine (putla). The two
small pots of liquor and beer have already been mentioned. Like the landa bev-
erage, two additional implements recall the Gadaba’s Joria neighbors, a musical
instrument (dudunga) typical of the Joria and made here in miniature and a bas-
ket (nandi tifni) that plays a central role in the Joria’s nandi festival. In addition,
many items that are also used in sutok sorani may be included.⁵¹
Finally, two sacrificial sites are prepared in the yard. Men set four posts into
the earth in front of the house, thus creating a kind of baldachin (chamda),
which they roof with mango branches. Beneath this structure, the gurumai
plants four larger branches⁵² in a hole previously dug in the middle of the
ground and uses rice powder to draw a white pattern covering the entire surface.
The potter (Kumar) stacks clay pots against each of the posts and against the
branches in the middle, fastening them there. In addition, a thorn swing⁵³
(konta doli) is set up at one of the exits from the yard. At this location, the guru-
mai prepares another, smaller sacrificial site. Behind the swing – still further
from the house – the ox cart (sogor) with the clay oxen is set up; it appears to
be departing from the house.

 The team is called “gold ox” (suna bolod) and “silver ox” (rupa bolod). In the “young plant
ritual” (moka biru) during the rainy season, a similar vehicle is used.
 These implements include the boat with the figure, the toys, the bottle gourd, the umbrellas,
the small banner, and leaf plates with various flowers, molasses, milk, sandalwood, and puffed
rice.
 The branches are from the banana tree, the mango tree, wild bamboo, and the jam tree.
 An illustration of such a thorn swing is found in Elwin (1950, 112).
242 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

Once these preparations have been completed, the gurumai’s assistant goes
to the river with the young girls (nita dangri) to fetch water. He first sacrifices a
chicken egg for the river gods (kamni), after which water is drawn with a new
clay pot, and the pot is covered with leaves. The girls initially bring the pot
into the sponsors’ house, but they bring it out again immediately before the sac-
rifices. The gurumai then takes the pot of water from them and sets it on a platter
of unhulled rice (dan) in front of the branches planted in the ground. The spe-
cific way this vessel is handled will become comprehensible later, when this ob-
ject – previously a “witness” to the sacrificial activities – becomes part of a div-
inatory process. Subsequently, the other offerings and implements are laid out
on the pattern under the baldachin.
It is after midnight when the gurumai orders the Dombo musicians to play
and begins to sing and dance in front of the baldachin. She has white cloths
bound around her head and upper body and rattles on her ankles, and she
holds a bundle of peacock feathers in her hand. She sings and dances all around
the yard with her eyes closed, changes the melodies and songs one after the
other, and instructs the musician playing the lead wind instrument (moiri) to
play this or that. From now on, all those present obey the gurumai to the letter.
All wishes and commands are immediately fulfilled, and the musicians play the
requested melodies and accept all reproaches by the gurumai if they do not play
appropriately. Everyone addresses the gurumai as maphru (god). Each deity who
makes an appearance in the gurumai has his own song and his own dance, and
each later receives the offering appropriate to him. Although the helpers and mu-
sicians try with almost violent haste to carry out all the gurumai’s commands,
her pleas, disapproving remarks, and curses when things are not done fast
enough also provide a source of amusement for all present.
After one to two hours of song, dance, and colloquies between the gurumai
and the musicians, the gurumai goes to the baldachin, the place of sacrifice. The
children sit behind the baldachin, their backs to the house, and as already de-
scribed for sutok sorani, the sacrificial animals eat from the hands of the subjects
of the ritual, in this case the children. The gurumai makes the invocation for all
the sacrificial offerings, begins the sacrifices with a coconut, and then leaves the
remaining sacrifices to be performed by her assistant or others – for example, the
children’s mother’s brother – while she continues her dance. Various chicks are
killed at the main sacrificial site,⁵⁴ and an egg and a dove are sacrificed in front
of the thorn swing.

 The first chick for the earth (bosmoti) is red in color, and others then follow: white for rau,
spotted for soni. The rau chick often gets a separate invocation.
 3.8 The “Path Wedding” 243

After this first round of sacrificial offerings, the gurumai tests the ritual’s suc-
cess using two divinatory methods, both of which are referred to as “soothsay-
ing” (sot dekibata). First, the gurumai sits down alone on the clay pot of water
that the nita dangri had previously fetched. All the sponsors must then take
their places on it, children and parents on top of one another. Finally, the guru-
mai stands on the knees of the person sitting on top of the pile and holds onto
the roof of the baldachin, swaying and shouting. If the pot does not break under
this burden, the ritual is considered successful. The second test consists in
swinging on the thorn swing. The gurumai again first swings alone, after
which the children and adults of the house must do the same. If all participants
are uninjured, this is a good sign.
Afterward, the sacrificial offerings and the dance continue. First, a black ram
is sacrificed in front of the house for soni, ⁵⁵ then the gurumai draws the children
of the house into her dances and games with the gods. The sponsors’ children,
the nita dangra and nita dangri, and sometimes the children’s parents as well are
involved in a variety of scenes. The gurumai continues to demand specific mel-
odies from the musicians. She dances and sings, for example, like the Joria at
their nandi festival. Gradually the previously prepared implements are put to
use: the gurumai and the children fish, collect honey, and hunt. They plow,
with the children playing the part of the oxen, they sow, and they pound and
sort rice. The children cook over a fire and eat together. They go to the weekly
market with an umbrella and a shopping bag, and then they mimic the Gadaba’s
gotr mortuary ritual. The children are the buffaloes that contain the dead. The
gurumai strikes them across the shoulders, as the panjabai strike the buffaloes
in this ritual, and howls in the typical way. She “cuts” their bellies open and
“rips” out their intestines, which she waves through the air in triumph. These
games may last some time, and the mood becomes increasingly exuberant. Al-
though the preparation of the implements indicates that certain scenes are
planned and belong to the established repertoire, there are no limits on the guru-
mai’s creativity here; the play does not follow a strict choreography.
Before dawn, all participants go to a crossroads outside the entrance to the
village, where the assistant has already prepared a sacrificial site. The children
take their places behind the sacrificial site, and the assistant performs the ritual,
while the gurumai continues to dance without a break. An egg and two chicks
(white and speckled) are sacrificed, and finally a white he-goat for rau. A mixture
of liquor, medicine, and blood from the sacrifices is poured from a bottle gourd

 The gurumai’s assistant or a male relative can do the killing. In one case, the children’s
mother’s brother took over the killing of the ram and the he-goat.
244 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

over the children’s heads, and all return to the house, where the gurumai and the
children continue to dance and enact pretend scenes.
Toward the end, they carry the small clay pots of nita pendom or raibadi pen-
dom and liquor in carrying nets on a carrying pole over their shoulders and imi-
tate the situation of making suit for a bride. The suitors (raibadia) arrive at the
girl’s house, sit down with her father and other men from his group, and imitate
the conversation between affines (somdi) at a suitors’ visit. After libations for the
gods, the two sides drink together. This marks the end of the sacrificial ritual,
redeeming the promise to soni rau. The house that has sponsored a bato biba
can now accept raibadi pendom from their affines and bring raibadi pendom
themselves; the path to marriage is open.

Feeding tsoru

The following day includes four major components: cutting the children’s hair,
feeding them tsoru, giving tika, and the feast (boji). After the sacrificial ritual,
the gurumai’s dance, and the pretend performances – which are all understood
as part of the offerings (bog) – have concluded in the morning, all participants
again bathe, and the children’s hair is cut for the first time since the vow was
made. After that, the cooking preparations begin, and the sacrificial animals
are cooked in different pots. The heads of the ram and the he-goat are cooked
by the nita dangra and nita dangri in a new clay pot as tsoru. The white and
the speckled chickens are likewise prepared separately, since not everyone
eats the meat of these animals, due to their association with soni rau. The re-
maining chickens and the carcasses of the ram and the he-goat are cooked in
other pots. An additional dish is also prepared, since many guests will be hosted
on this day.
As soon as the tsoru is ready, the gurumai distributes the gods’ obligatory
share inside the house and at the cooking hearth. She then feeds tsoru to the
children, the nita dangra, and the nita dangri, who all sit in a row in front of
the house. The rest of those present begin to eat the tsoru after that; affines
are also admitted, if they have fasted. However, only Gadaba participate in the
tsoru commensality; all other groups will participate in the feast later. Through-
out the day, guests (gotia) arrive at the sponsors’ house, bringing pots of beer
and rice (2– 3 kg, a man). Their gifts are received, and each guest is served
beer in greeting. All the groups of the village visit the house in this way,
along with many affinal relatives from other villages, who generally stay several
days.
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 245

In the afternoon, the gurumai opens the round of tika giving in the sponsors’
house. She is followed by the members of the house, the children’s mother’s
brother, and finally a long line of villagers and outside guests. The feast then
takes place for everyone, followed by drinking and dancing throughout the eve-
ning and on through the night. Celebrations and dancing also continue at the
house throughout the following days and nights; in some cases, additional feasts
are held. If the Dombo musicians do not come from the same village, they are
generally sent home on the second day, since many people cannot afford to en-
gage them longer. Many sponsors of a large festival such as bato biba these days
also borrow a solar-powered stereo system or one that runs on car batteries,
however, providing continuous entertainment even after the Dombo musicians
have left. Seven or nine days after the start of bato biba, the gurumai sacrifices
a red chicken at the baldachin and at the swing, after which both are dismantled
and the ritual complex is brought to an end.

3.9 The Process of Marriage

Paths to Marriage

It is a father’s responsibility to find a bride for his son and to hold the marriage
rituals, and conversely, it is the son’s obligation to sponsor the mortuary rituals
for his parents.⁵⁶ These duties are expressed in the proverb “sacrifice the head of
cattle, marry off the son, sacrifice the head of cattle, celebrate the mortuary rit-
ual” (go mari puo biba, bura mari bur hebo). Nevertheless, the marriage processes
differ from an “arranged marriage” in the plains, since the young women and
men often themselves play an active role in the search for the future marriage
partner, and parents have scant ability to impose their will against their child-
ren’s opposition. This active role of the young people in the choice of a marriage
partner should not be taken to mean that marriage is an affair of two individuals,

 The marriage rituals can be performed both in different orders and far apart in time. In
addition, not all the rituals are obligatory, and not all of them are therefore performed by all
houses. I was consequently unable to document the marriage rituals with the same level of
detail as the mortuary rituals. I observed the entrance of the bride into her new house multiple
times, and I was also able to directly document the subsequent reciprocal visits (pani chinchini,
handi baurani) of the bride-takers and bride-givers. As far as the wedding (biba) rituals are
concerned, I was able to witness a “Christian” version that diverged from the usual rituals in
many ways, along with my own marriage, which – although the rituals of the entire process were
conducted – was necessarily also characterized by deviations from the norm (cf. epilogue).
246 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

however. On the contrary, Gadaba marriage negotiations demonstrate that it is

not the future couple who work out the conditions for the marriage alliance,
but the representatives of their groups. The procedures in the event of compen-
sation payments and at the handover of the bridewealth also make clear the col-
lective nature of the relationships established or perpetuated through marriage.
Fathers keep an eye out for potential spouses for their daughters and sons,
and the eligible houses are likely to be acquainted with one another, since affi-
nal ties usually link villages over generations. It is generally preferred to give
one’s daughter to a family whose “house and yard” (gor duar) are known, and
conversely to take daughters from there.⁵⁷ As the examples of matrimonial prac-
tice have shown, each kutum has affinal ties with numerous groups and so has
relatively wide room for maneuver in choosing marriage partners. Generally,
daughters are not demanded; rather, the gift of a daughter is negotiated. Never-
theless, a Dombo said to me once, “If your mother’s brother demands your
daughter (for his son), can you refuse that?” In the same way, the Gadaba
would also not call the authority of the mother’s brother into question by a
flat refusal. Since the inclinations of the young people are an accepted relevant
fact, however, the daughter’s (fictitious) unwillingness can be invoked if neces-
sary in order to evade such pressing inquiries. The gift of a daughter against her
will may possibly lead to a quick dissolution of the relationship, entailing
lengthy and expensive compensation payments. In general, marriages are not
distinguished by a high degree of stability early on, and many women and
men have several attempts behind them before a tie proves lasting. The wedding
ritual (biba) is therefore often not held immediately after a bride has been
brought to a village, but only some time later. Three paths to marriage are distin-
guished, although the empirical proceedings probably most often consist of a
combination of the forms I will now briefly describe: making suit for a bride (rai-
badi, oibo*), abduction of the bride (jikbar, “to pull”), and elopement by a young
couple (udulia).

Making Suit for a Bride

A man whose daughter has reached marriageable age (about fifteen years old)
will sooner or later be asked about his daughter by his affines who regularly
visit his house. If he has only one daughter and has not yet brought a daugh-
ter-in-law into the house, he will delay assenting to such inquiries, since the

 From both women’s and men’s perspectives, it was always stressed to me that a good spouse
works much and drinks little.
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 247

house will otherwise be without a major part of its labor force. If his attitude to-
ward the informal inquiry is basically positive, an official visit by the affines
(somdi) to the girl’s house is planned. This begins the phase of making suit
for the bride (raibadi, oibo*), which can last several years.
A visit by the suitors (raibadia) to the woman’s house is a formal affair. On
the bride-takers’ side, as a rule, the youth’s father and other senior men of the
group (kuda), that is, his brothers, are present. They bring beer (raibadi pendom)
and possibly liquor (mod) to the girl’s house. On her side, most of the senior men
of the kuda are present, along with some younger men and the bride-givers’ in-
ternal affines. They act as witnesses (sakibai) for the bride-givers, unless they be-
long to the same village clan as the suitors’ group, in which case they join in rep-
resenting them.⁵⁸ At the visits by the raibadia and in the conversations, women
remain in the background, and the bride’s father also holds back and lets his
more senior brothers speak. If the bride’s group accepts the suitors’ beer at
the first visit, the suit is considered accepted, although this does not determine
when the bride will move to her future husband’s village or set the conditions for
the transfer (bridewealth). The relationship can still be broken off – as it also can
at any other time – but there should be no more suitors for the girl at the same
time.
After several visits, the question of bridewealth (jola) is broached, or the
bride-takers ask whether the girl’s group is demanding bridewealth. If the an-
swer is yes, the amount of and deadline for the bridewealth must be discussed
and argued over.⁵⁹ The time at which the bridewealth is paid is variable and is
often only after the girl has been brought to her husband’s village. However,
the bride-givers also have the option of answering the question in the negative
and giving the bride out of affection (kusire), that is, without demanding any-
thing.
Once this issue has been clarified, the date when the girl can be brought to
the bride-takers’ house is negotiated. The girl’s group generally tries to delay the
date, while the bride-takers press for a date in the near future. Once the date has
been set, however, it can nevertheless happen that the bride-takers appear un-
announced to take the girl home with them earlier than was agreed. The period

 A case of this kind occurred among the Sisa in Gudapada. The Ruda’i from the village of
Ruda’el had already been seeking the hand of a Sisa girl for several years. On each visit, the
Ruda’i living in Gudapada appeared as suitors together with their brothers from their home
village.
 The discussions about the bridewealth are continued on a variety of occasions, including, for
example, at the rituals of pani chinchini and handi baurani described below.
248 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

in February and March when many men are away for wage labor and little resist-
ance is to be expected in the bride’s village is especially suitable for such “raids.”
By such surprises, the bride-takers avoid lengthy negotiations and complica-
tions on the agreed day, which are extremely common. On one occasion, I accom-
panied four young, married men from Gudapada (Sisa and Kirsani) to a neigh-
boring village to fetch a girl on the agreed day. The future bridegroom and his
father did not come along. The raibadia argued with the girl’s father, who initial-
ly acted as if he knew nothing about the agreement and was only prepared to
give up his daughter in the following year. The girl herself first shut herself up
in a house and later ran away and was caught by the raibadia. The suitors
then convinced her family to let her go that evening. There were no new clothes
for the girl, it was initially argued, but she was finally made ready in her father’s
house. She then refused to leave the house, however, so that the raibadia wanted
to drag her out. In the small house, she struggled, placed herself crosswise
across the door, and defended herself with all her might, and women from
her group finally came to her aid. Some men from the bride-givers’ side also
commented that the girl should be left there. Someone openly insulted the
most important of the raibadia, so that, enraged, he wanted to leave the village
without the girl. He was calmed down, beer was drunk together, and the girl was
also persuaded to give in. Finally, those who would accompany the girl assem-
bled in the house. Her mother sat on the threshold of the inner room, her daugh-
ter in front of her; she was already no longer permitted to enter this room.
Around the two of them stood a circle of girls from the village who were to ac-
company their sister to her new village, with the raibadia behind. The daughter’s
feet were washed, and she was then the first to be blessed with tika, followed by
the other girls and the raibadia. A white cloth draped over her, she was brought
out by the village’s women and girls to the edge of the village, where she again
received tika and was bid farewell. No men from the village accompanied her,
only some of her sisters.
On the road as well, a bride is hidden under a white cloth most of the time. If
the group accompanying her passes other villages in this way, she is stopped by
the women of each village. The women spread a cloth in front of the bride and
give her tika. The raibadia are then required to toss a coin into the women’s cloth
in order to continue on their way.

Abduction
Another possibility for bringing a girl to the village is abduction (jikibata). An
abduction can be agreed with the girl’s parents or take place without their con-
sent. In the latter case, however, considerable resistance from the inhabitants of
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 249

the girl’s village is to be expected. Nonetheless, even agreed abductions, some-

times after years of marriage negotiations, are not without risk for the abductors.
Married men often recount how fiercely their wives defended themselves during
the abduction and how far they had to be dragged and carried by their husbands
and their husbands’ brothers. As a rule, the girls are not abducted from the vil-
lage, but while working in the fields, for example, or on the occasion of a festi-
val, when many people from different villages have gathered. At the Holi festival,
for instance, celebrated in the nearby administrative center, young people from
the entire area attend the theatrical and dance performances. A girl from Guda-
pada was abducted by young men at an event of this kind, taken to another, af-
final village, and accompanied back to her home a day or two later. The marriage
proposal was presented to the father, and shortly thereafter, the youth’s group
began the process of making suit for the girl. An abduction without such an ex-
planation and consequent suit for marriage would lead to conflicts between the
groups and to demands for compensation. In another abduction, this time within
the village, the bride-takers had consulted only the dissari about their plan, in
order to choose an auspicious date and time (jog). The girl and her widowed
mother knew nothing about the planned abduction. Several visits by the
bride-takers had previously taken place, but the mother ran up protesting
when several men seized her daughter by force and brought her temporarily to
another affinal house (from the bride-takers’ perspective) in the neighborhood.
The mother was sent away, and the girl was taken a short time later to the bride-
groom’s house, where she and the groom had to feed one another kordi rice.

Elopement
Along with the festival seasons, weddings, and major mortuary rituals, at which
an unmarried man has the opportunity to talk and joke with women from other
villages and vice versa, the weekly market offers possibilities for initiating rela-
tionships. Rings and tobacco most often serve as initial gifts. If the parents reject
the relationship, or if this is feared, it may happen that the young people elope
(“elopement,” udulia). In this case, they go the house of an uncle (FZH, MB) or a
married sister, where they remain a few days. The parents quickly find out the
whereabouts of their daughter or son. Under some circumstances, negotiations
are conducted between the two groups until a consensus has been reached
about the future path to follow and the eloping couple are accompanied by
250 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

the young man’s parents to his village.⁶⁰ In a concrete case, a woman who had
previously left her first husband saw a young man from Gudapada at one of the
dance performances described above and immediately asked her BWZ from the
same village about his marital status. At the same event, the man took a look at
his female “suitor” from a distance and agreed. Since his young wife had only
recently died, a certain interval of time merely needed to pass before he
would come for her. After several months, the woman slipped secretly out of
her village and met the young man at a prearranged location, and he brought
her to the herders (Goudo) in his village, where she stayed for several days.
Only after the man had brought her to his own house did her parents hear
where their daughter was and visit her in her new house.

Passage from the Old House to the New

“Daughter” tsoru
Before a girl leaves her father’s house, she is fed tsoru there for the last time. Af-
terward, she will be treated like an affine; in other words, she will not receive
tsoru and will no longer be permitted to enter the house’s inner room and loft.
“From today forward, you eat lakka’* rice, no more tsoru rice,”⁶¹ she is told. I
was able to observe the preparations for and the feeding of this “daughter”
tsoru (ji tsoru) on one occasion, among the Kirsani in Gudapada.
Early in the morning, the girl, who was to leave her father’s house in the
coming days, drew water from the river in a new clay pot and washed the rice
for the tsoru there.⁶² A youth from the kutum, who also cooked the tsoru in the
house’s inner room later, accompanied her to the river. As soon as they returned,
two sacrificial animals, a red chick and a white rooster, were killed. In the inner
room, the boy prepared tsoru from the red chick, which only members of the
house were permitted to eat later. In a different location, the white rooster
was prepared for bai bondu; all Gadaba of the village were permitted to eat
this animal’s meat. It was noteworthy that the two animals were not killed in
a ritual way, there was no invocation, and the animals were killed outside the
house and not beheaded with a knife as usual.⁶³

 This is the usual course of an udulia, my informants said. I was unable to observe this form
of marriage preliminaries directly.
 Aji tu lakka’ lai* kaisu, tsoru lai* nai.
 Water from the village hand pumps is not considered auspicious (sub).
 In multiple conversations with informants, this behavior was singled out as an unusual case,
not in agreement with niam. According to the rule, the tsorubai were supposed to sacrifice a red
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 251

While the youth prepared the tsoru, the girl bathed and received new
clothes. She took her place on a blanket in the house’s big room, and a senior
man from the kuda group⁶⁴ lit incense and began an invocation, standing before
her. He consecrated her with water (as in the name-giving ritual) and gave her
tika and a coin. Other members of the kutum followed. After that, the girl, the
cook, and the old man performed betisong for the gods at the usual places in
the house and yard, in the course of which the girl entered the inner room of
her father’s house for the last time.
She then sat in the big room as before, the young cook next to her. She re-
ceived liquor and beer from the old Kirsani, and a witness (sakibai) of the ritual –
a Kirsani – brought her a platter of tsoru. The young cook first fed tsoru to the
girl, and she reciprocated. Then the old man and the witness fed the girl, after
which she finished her meal, together with the cook. As soon as she was
done, the men of the kutum assembled to drink beer in the same room, while
the women sat in the annex. Shortly thereafter, men from all the Gadaba groups
of the village (bai bondu) assembled in the girl’s father’s yard, and the old Kir-
sani made a brief speech: “First I married my son, now my granddaughter; we
give her completely (sorpi delu).” The pujari of the village and affines⁶⁵ of the
kutum mingled their beer with that of all present and sat to consume it, along
with the meat of the white rooster prepared as chakana.

rooster (or chick) for doron deli in the inner house and prepare the tsoru there. Only married
members of the Four Brothers (including their wives) are allowed to eat this tsoru; all others
present are permitted lakka’* food. In another case, this is supposed to have also been done
accordingly. An unmarried Sisa youth cooked there as tsorubai in the house of the Kirsani.
 Because he was in conflict with his own son, this man lived with his wife in the yard of the
girl’s father, but he did not belong to their kutum. On many formal occasions (e. g., at mortuary
rituals), he took on leadership positions among the Kirsani.
 From the same village and the father’s FZH from a neighboring village. The girl’s MB was not
present.
252 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

Photos  and : The daughter tsoru

A daughter of the house is fed tsoru for the last time before she leaves the house and is received
into her husband’s sacrificial community. The young man is her “brother” (a member of the local
Kukuda Kato sub-line) and the cook of the sacrificial meal.
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 253

Bringing the Bride Home: gor mandaibar or dien obten*

Independent of the prior history and the type of bridal negotiations – whether
the bride is abducted from another village or within the same village, or the rai-
badia and her sisters formally escort her into the village – a bride must be ritual-
ly brought into her husband’s house. Often, this entrance occurs after an inter-
vening stop at another house in the bride-takers’ village, often one with
affinal ties to the bride-takers. The bride remains in this transitional location
for several hours, possibly for several days. One reason for this may be that
the dissari has determined an auspicious date for the move to the other house
only several days later. However, I also witnessed a case in which the bride
was brought from another village directly to the groom’s house. In the case of
a girl from another village who has left her home village accompanied by her
sisters and the raibadia, the dissari conducts a ritual for the bride and groom out-
side the entrance to the village. If the girl is from the young man’s village, the
ritual takes place inside the village, on a path leading to the house. The dissari
draws a pattern on the sacrificial site in three colors and has several chicks peck
rice from the couple’s joined hands before he sacrifices them.
The women of the kutum greet the couple with tika in front of the groom’s
house and wash their feet. The bride is then handed items that she is supposed
to carry into the house on her head. A new clay pot is filled with water, and a
small basket (tifni) filled with rice (dan) is placed on top. The unhulled rice is
referred to as seeds or seed grain (bion) in this context. Finally, a lit oil lamp
(maloi) is placed on top of the rice. The bride is instructed to step over the thresh-
old, on which a rice pounder (musol) and a broom (jadu) have been previously
laid. She steps over these objects into the house, followed by the groom. As the
couple enters the house, water is poured on the roof and caught in a taut cloth,
so that a few drops fall on the bride and groom. These details of the bride’s en-
trance into her husband’s house indicate parallels to other processes of transi-
tion that are also associated with affinal ties and to which I will return later.
For now, however, I will briefly note some relevant aspects.
As will become clear in the discussion of the paddy rice harvest, a basket of
rice that is brought into the house is significant there as well. The first part of the
harvest reaches the house in a basket of this kind, ideally carried by a young girl
of the house, and is conceived of as a bride. Before the rice leaves the threshing
floor, it receives tsoru as a food offering, like a young woman who receives tsoru
in her father’s house for the last time before she moves to her husband’s house.
A few months later, as part of the April festival (chait porbo), this first rice from
the most recent harvest is pounded, prepared in a new clay pot as tsoru, and
eaten by the members of the house only. The difference in the terms used for
the rice in the two cases is notable. In the context of the paddy rice harvest,
254 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

the basket that represents the bride is called joni tifni, where joni means, in ad-
dition to “vagina,” also “harvest” or “yield” (cf. Gustafsson 1989). The descrip-
tion of the rice that the bride brings into the house as seed, in contrast, implies
a movement in the opposite direction, not from the field into the house (as at
harvest), but from the house into the field (as at sowing). The bride’s rice thus
points to a future harvest, just as the bride – the bride-takers hope – will provide
future offspring.⁶⁶ The rice pounder and the broom on the threshold suggest an-
other association. These objects are also placed on the threshold of the stable
when a newly acquired head of cattle (of either sex) is first led in. Cattle are con-
sidered a typically affinal gift, and as I will describe shortly, calves replace the
gift of the bride in a “milk exchange” as part of the bridewealth. The three repro-
ductive processes are thus placed in relationship with one another, and women
are associated with both rice and cattle.

Feeding with kordi Rice

After their entrance, the couple take their seats in either the inner room or the
big room, together with senior women and men of the house, the dissari, and
a young boy and girl (nita dangra and nita dangri). They each receive a cup of
beer, which is first poured between cups, then drunk. The girls accompanying
the bride are also served beer. Subsequently, the bridal couple must feed one an-
other the kordi rice placed in front of them after the beer has been drunk. This
rice is called tikdar bat in this context and is prepared by the women of the
house.
However, the bride often refuses to cooperate in any way. Already on the way
to the groom’s village, the bride has to be repeatedly dragged along by her com-
panions (her sisters, the raibadia), since she is unwilling to go on. At the ritual
that I observed outside the entrance to the bride-takers’ village, the bride ignored
all the dissari’s instructions, and in the house later, she rejected the beer and
rice. She sat on the small ledge (pindoli) on the wall of the big room and turned
her head away from all the participants – especially the groom, who was sitting
next to her – to face the corner. For a while, she resisted the growing pressure
from all those present, who urged her to do what needed to be done, first joking-

 The name of the ritual also points to a harvest context. The word mandaibar means “to
thresh,” and the Gutob word obten* possibly has a similar meaning. Rajan and Rajan (2001a, 53)
give for the verb ten* the definition “stamp”; ob* is a causative prefix (cf. Rajan and Rajan
2001c). The English translation would thus be “to cause (someone) to stamp.” However, the
Gadaba were unable to explain to me the meaning of the name gor mandaibar or dien obten*.
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 255

ly, then admonishingly. Then, still looking away, she hesitantly began to drink
the beer that was more or less poured into her and to let her groom feed her.
The young men of the bride-takers’ side observe the whole proceeding with
mocking delight and egg the bridal couple on to stuff as much food as possible
into each other’s mouths. When the bride finally moves her hand with rice near
the groom’s face, for example, his brothers come to help out and stuff the food
relatively violently into his mouth. This action is called tond mara (or rik’tom*),
meaning “hitting the mouth.” The brothers also occasionally help out in this way
for the bride.
Preparations for the feast, at which the entire village will be hosted through-
out the afternoon, have been underway since morning. If the subsequent wed-
ding is already planned, not many outside guests are present, since a large
feast will be put on in that context. For financial and other reasons already men-
tioned, however, the actual wedding (biba) – the feeding with tsoru by the differ-
ent social categories – often does not follow immediately, but only some time
later. In this case, the feast on the day the bride enters the house is larger.
While the wedding rituals can be postponed or even entirely omitted, it is gen-
erally obligatory for a woman to be introduced into her new house by the feeding
of tikdar rice.
The bride’s unwilling behavior is conventional and also regularly manifests
itself on this day in the form of running away, sometimes together with her vil-
lage sisters. The young men of the village are naturally prepared for this occur-
rence and usually catch the bride again quickly. If the bride’s village is in the
immediate vicinity, her village sisters head home in the late afternoon. The
bride spends her first night with her new husband, and it is expected that
they will sleep together for the first time. If the couple does not yet have a
house of their own, the groom’s parents therefore sleep elsewhere for the
night. In the evening, the bride is supposed to be told by her parents-in-law:

From today forward, you do wage work (kuli) and daily work (buti). If a pot breaks, you re-
pair it; if a basket rips, you mend it. Become pregnant, bear a child (bol hei kori, “become
good”), daughter, eat.⁶⁷

First Visit to the Bride-Givers

The first official visit by the bridal couple to the house of the bride-givers is
known as pani chinchini, in reference to the “sprinkling” (chinchbar; cf. Gustafs-

 Aji tu kuli koro, buti koro. Handi phutle lak dio, tifni patile sutei. Bol hei kori jio, ka.
256 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

son 1989) of “water” (pani) upon entering the house. After the bride-takers have
signaled their readiness for pani chinchini, the bride’s side sets the exact date.
In the groom’s house before departure, his father or brother prepares a bun-
dle that the bride-takers will hand over. It contains a dry measure (manek) and
two handfuls (hunjela) of hulled rice (chaul), a small packet (chipta) made from a
siardi leaf and containing more rice and a coin, and a small clay pot (kondi) of
beer. A coin is also dropped into this pot; the beer (bondki pendom) goes to the
midwife (bondki dokri) of the bride-givers’ village. The bundle is carried by one of
the unmarried girls (song dangri) who are part of the delegation to the bride’s
father’s house. In some cases, several such village sisters of the groom accompa-
ny the group of bride-takers. A brother (song dangra) of the groom carries a large
pot of beer and a bottle of liquor. In addition, two senior raibadia and a senior
woman from the groom’s kutum accompany the bridal couple. Women of the
house bid the delegation farewell with tika at the house, and the group sets
out for the affines’ village (or just for another part of the same village).
Upon their arrival, the women of the bride-givers’ house receive them again,
and the gifts they brought with them are handed over. While the bridal couple
prepare to bathe, the men of both sides take their places in the house. First
comes a conventional conversation about the trip. The visitors are asked what
animals they saw and whether birds flew up. No, they answer, they saw nothing.
If they have seen anything and say nothing, let it be to their (the bride-takers’)
harm, the bride-givers’ spokesman concludes. The bundle is then placed in a
winnowing fan, and a lamp (maloi) and incense are lit. The handling and meas-
uring of the rice is done with ceremonial care, as a rule. The bundle is opened,
the small packet and the miniature pot removed, and the rice poured out into a
winnowing fan. A dry measure is filled with rice, and the remainder is poured
back into the cloth. The groom’s group takes this remainder back home with
them, since the bride’s side accepts only one man as a gift.⁶⁸ Finally, the house’s
beer (only later that of the bride-takers and guests) is served, poured from one
vessel to another, and drunk. After the men (or at the same time in a different
house), the women take their places to drink.
Outside the house, the bride and groom wash separately. The groom washes
himself together with a sala (WyB) or banja (ZS), and women from the bride-giv’

 In 2010 I had the opportunity to witness the complete wedding rituals and, again, the
reciprocal visits of bride-takers and bride-givers (pani chinchini and handi baurani). In the latter
contexts, the quantity of rice was different, since one dry measure plus two handfuls plus two
times one handful were accepted on both occasions, and the rest returned. Even though the
measurement was different in this case, the message remained the same, that of an exactly equal
exchange of rice.
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 257

side rub him with turmeric and wash him off. The women may also take the op-
portunity to throw earth or ashes jokingly on the groom first, in order to then
wash him off. The bride washes herself together with the song dangri. The bridal
couple subsequently receive new clothes from the bride-givers and are then led
into the house for the first time, as water is sprinkled on their heads.

Feeding with kordi Rice

Inside the house, the song dangri takes her place next to the bride, and the
groom’s sala (WyB) next to the groom. Platters of kordi rice are placed in front
of them, and the sala feeds the groom and the song dangri the bride. Both recip-
rocate and stuff their mouths with rice in turn. Others, such as the bride’s sisters
or her mother, may also feed the groom, but in the latter case, he does not recip-
rocate.
Afterward, beer is again poured, and the groom is pampered with other gifts
(cigarettes or chewing tobacco). Somewhat later, the men of both groups sit
down to eat the same food, which is portioned out to all of them. Members of
the bride-givers’ side go down the line and feed the bride-takers one after anoth-
er with rice from their platters, which the recipients may reciprocate. The feeding
takes place with exaggerated gestures, and the affines stuff large amounts of
food into each others’ mouths. Each one then consumes his own portion.
After the meal, the women of the house wash the men’s hands and faces.
Older women again allow themselves to joke and rub the men’s faces excessively
hard. The men are obligated to recompense this service with a small sum of
money.
No large feast is held as part of pani chinchini. Only relatives who have come
from other villages to attend the ritual are given hospitality with rice and beer.
Representatives of all the groups in the village and the village dignitaries are
likewise invited to eat and drink. In addition, the bride-takers must accept the
invitations of various houses of the bride-givers’ kutum and consume more
rice and beer in their houses. The bridal couple’s companions head home on
the following day; the daughter and son-in-law are expected to stay at the bride’s
house at least a few days. Not only do all the houses of the kutum invite (dakbar,
“call”) the bridal couple to drink beer and eat rice, but ideally, every other group
in the village should also host the new son-in-law before he returns to his village
with his wife.
258 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

Return of the Bridal Couple

After the bridal couple have spent several days, possibly weeks, in the bride’s
village, the reverse process takes place. In handi baurani, “the pot (handi)
comes back (bauri)” to the bride-takers’ house. In other words, the bride returns,
but so do the beer and rice that were given at pani chinchini. The delegation and
the gifts are thus essentially the same as at pani chinchini. ⁶⁹ The group that trav-
els to the bride-takers’ house consists of the song dangri and the song dangra (re-
cruited from the bride’s group this time), a number of men, and the bridal cou-
ple. Before their departure, the rice is measured out and wrapped in a cloth, as at
pani chinchini.
At the bride-takers’ house, the bride-givers are greeted, the rice measured
(excess rice again given back), and the guests given hospitality. Representatives
of all groups in the village and the village dignitaries are present. The affines’
reciprocal feeding of one another and the jokes take place in this context as
well. Unlike at pani chinchini, however, the bridal couple are not washed, nor
is kordi rice eaten. The bride-givers’ group is then invited to and given hospitality
at one house after another. In every case, the men first receive food and drink,
then the women. Not only the houses of the groom’s kutum, but also other
houses of the neighborhood (sai) invite the affines. After a number of visits to
various houses, the guests are drunk, decline all further visits, and try to post-
pone them to another time. Nevertheless, the hosts refuse to bend, drag the af-
fines into their houses, and force rice and beer on them, so that one can almost
speak of a kind of “alimentary harassment.” Although the formal gifts (rice,
beer, and liquor) at pani chinchini and handi baurani are the same, then, each
host tries to offer his guest as much food and drink as possible, and those con-
cerned must submit to their fate.

Bridewealth: The Exchange of Milk

As previously mentioned, the payment of bridewealth is not obligatory, but

comes at the request of the bride-givers. According to the rule (niam), the bride-

 Some informants said that the small pot with beer for the midwife and the small packet of
rice should only be brought to the bride’s house (on the occasion of pani chinchini), not to the
groom’s house (on the occasion of handi baurani). Others indicated that the gifts in both di-
rections should be identical. On the occasion I mentioned in the footnote above (in 2010) the
small pot with “midwife-beer” was not returned. Thus the exchange was equivalent with respect
to rice only.
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 259

wealth consists of at least ten man of hulled rice, a length of cloth woven by the
Dombo (mat luga), and two cattle. One of the cattle (bura), usually an older an-
imal, is given to be slaughtered – that is, to be eaten as meat – and is in fact
slaughtered, for example, for the feast that follows the handover of the bride-
wealth. The other animal should be a young female calf (bachuri) and is given
“to eat milk” (kir kaiba pai).⁷⁰ This calf is like a daughter, informants said; it
is given in exchange for a daughter. It is, they said, an exchange of brides
(badul konia).⁷¹
Although drinking cow’s or buffalo’s milk is not considered a transgression
(dos), the Gadaba are not in the habit of drinking milk. The milk is for the calves,
they explain. In other words, milk serves to nourish the next generation, as a
matter of principle, and is not a normal food. Since sexual intercourse is also
often articulated in the idiom of eating – for example, in the call for the bride
to eat (ka, “eat!”) with her new husband on her wedding night – it is not surpris-
ing that affinal ties in general are conceived of as an exchange of milk. When a
man wants to bring a woman into the village as his wife, he says, for example, “I
will eat milk” (mui dud kaibi). The mother’s brother is the milk-giver par excel-
lence: “we eat his milk (tar kir ame kailu),” the bride-takers say. Ideally, the ex-
change of milk is reciprocal. A woman – the milk of her group – leaves her
father’s house in order to bear children in another group. Later, a woman
from this group will return as milk to the current wife-givers. As an immediate
substitute for the milk, however, the calf is given as part of the bridewealth in
order to provide for the growth of the next generation (of cattle).⁷²
In the only handover of bridewealth (jola) that I was able to observe among
the Gadaba, the bride-takers brought such a calf to the house of the bride-givers,

 A male calf can also be given for this purpose. When asked, my informants said that it was
for plowing. However, the Gadaba also plow with cows. The difference between this calf and the
other animal given is that the calf is not slaughtered for a feast, but remains in the house.
 Konia refers to a young girl of marriageable age (that is, after puberty; cf. Gustafsson 1989;
Mahapatra 1985).
 The great importance of cattle, especially as bridewealth, is known from various African
societies. Kuper (1982) writes about the southern Bantu, “The exchange of women for cattle is
unquestionably seen as the central social exchange” (14). The indigenous idiom “‘cattle begat
children’” makes clear that the transfer of cattle within the framework of affinal marriage
alliances is necessary for the begetting of legitimate offspring (21 f). In the ethnographic context
described by Kuper, however, women as producers of agricultural products are contrasted to the
pastoral complex and are potentially considered a threat to the herds, tended by men. Unlike in
the Gadaba case, it is impossible to speak of a ritual identity between cattle and women among
the southern Bantu. The gifts exchanged between bride-givers and bride-takers are not identical
(grain, beer, and women for meat, labor, and cattle; cf. Kuper 1982, 14).
260 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

along with beer and rice. A delegation of fifteen or twenty people from the bride-
taking village Tukum – without the bride or groom – visited the bride-givers, the
Kirsani in Gudapada. The girl had gone to her husband’s village several months
before, but the wedding (biba) had not yet taken place. The affines were greeted
by the women in front of the house, and the calf was also honored with tika be-
fore being led away. The men of both sides and several senior Sisa took their pla-
ces in the house’s big room, and as in the rituals described above, the rice
brought by the visitors was first measured out. A senior Sisa represented the
bride-givers’ side. He measured out a man of rice, poured the excess rice back
into the cloth, took the coins out of the small clay pot of beer, and performed
libations with liquor and beer in the house. He drank beer from the small pot
with the bride-takers’ spokesman and then said:

As the herders (Goudo) watch over the cows, so the youth will watch over the girl. Other-
wise, the girl will run away like the cow, when the herder is not keeping an eye out. Thus
the youth and his father will keep an eye on the girl. From today forward, the girl belongs
only to you.

Following the two group representatives, all present drank beer, and in the after-
noon, the feast for the whole village was held, for which the bride-givers had
slaughtered a goat.
A detail of this handover of bridewealth highlights the fact that marriage is
seen as a matter for the entire village; what is more, existing differences within
the Four Brothers are overlooked in this context. The representative of the bride-
givers’ side was a Sisa, who sat opposite the bride-takers from Tukum for the
handover just described. These individuals belong to the group of the Sisa’s
liver moitr. When I asked the senior Sisa later how he could joke with his
moitr, as he did in this situation, he responded that in that house they had
not been moitr but somdi; once he left the house, on the other hand, they became
moitr again. None of those present in the house appeared to see anything in the
Sisa’s behavior that was unusual or worthy of reproach, which is unquestionably
the case for jokes with a moitr in the Gadaba’s eyes. My interpretation of the
scene is that in the formal context of the handover of the bridewealth, the village
as a unit was the counter-party to the bride-takers, and so the representative of
the village dealt with the people from Tukum as somdi. Even the most highly val-
ued moitr relationship, for this brief period of time in the house, became irrele-
vant as a consequence of this relational shift.
With the bride’s last feeding with tsoru in her father’s house (ji tsoru), her
entrance into her husband’s house (gor mandaibar), and the reciprocal visits
of pani chinchini and handi baurani, the minimum ritual requirements are fulfil-
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 261

led to ensure the bride’s transfer to her new house. However, the couple are not
yet considered ritually married. Only with the biba – the wedding ritual – is the
marriage process complete. Since the wedding rituals are very expensive, they
are often left for later and performed only after a good harvest or a period of
wage labor. Theoretically, however, the wedding (biba) may take place even be-
fore pani chinchini and handi baurani.

Wedding Ritual

Significance of the tsoru

The tsoru commensality of the Twelve Brothers at the wedding ritual (biba) is
considered the most important sacrificial meal of the life cycle. Alongside this
sacrificial meal, tsoru is also fed to the bridal couple by various other affinal
and agnatic groups. Taken together, the alimentary processes constitute the com-
plete ritual persons of the bride and groom, on the one hand, and the social unit
of the house, which also stands for the begetting of offspring, on the other. The
significance of this tsoru for the wedding and for the process of marriage as a
whole is evident in an informant’s comments.

A wedding, so, the astrological characteristics (login) are sorted out with the dissari – then a
wedding can take place. Bato biba is different; whatever soni rau demand is given to them
in sacrifice. A wedding is different. […] The tsoru is prepared on that occasion. The “twelve
brothers, thirteen seats” do the ritual and feed the rice to them [bride and groom] from one
plate; this tsoru [thereby] becomes fulfilled. Whatever shrine he [the groom] goes to, [he]
can eat this rice. He will eat the head meat. If [he] does not receive this tsoru [at the wed-
ding], he does not eat [at the shrines]. For this reason you have a son, you get him married.
You have a daughter, you give her to your son-in-law – if you have a daughter [and] just
keep her in the house, that’s also not good. Getting a daughter-in-law for your son is a mat-
ter of honor [lit. possible shame, opoman]. Keeping him like that [without a wife] won’t
do.⁷³

The wedding ritual is thus distinguished from bato biba by the fact that the latter
is addressed only to the cravings and the hunger of soni rau, while marriage is a
collective affair that brings the Twelve Brothers together and “fulfills the tsoru.”

 Bibata bele seta dissari pake hoisi, login bidai kori – seta se biba ta hebo. Eta bat biba olgata,
eta soni rauke sobu mongai kori se pujata dei deba. Seta [biba] olga. […] nije taro tsoru biraibarta,
baro bai tero gadi bidi kori, taku e bat ta gote tali loge kuai dele, e tsoru ta bidi jibo. Se kon
maphru gor gole misa se bat ta kaibo. Se mundo maus kaibo, nohele se tsoru no bidle, kaibo nai.
Semtire gote pila paibar je biba korle se, ji paibar juinke dele se – ji pai kori semti gore rokle misa
bol nai. Puoke buari anidele gote opoman kota. Semti rokibaku hoi nai.
262 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

In other words, the commensal community is confirmed, and the new persons
are integrated into it. In addition, the informant mentions the father’s obligation
to give his daughter and bring home a daughter-in-law; neglect of this duty, he
says, will result in a loss of honor. Another informant indicated that the sacrifices
and the planting of a girli branch in the wedding platform in front of the house
were additional requirements for the ritual to be successful and the “name ex-
plained.”

At a wedding, according to the sacrificial rule (puja bidi), we give the village goddess
(hundi) a coconut, a white chicken for pat kanda. Likewise, in order to bring the wedding
about (biba heba isabre), we plant the girli [tree]. […] if you don’t give according to the rule,
it becomes nothing […] A chicken is sacrificed [in front of the girli branch], a feather fas-
tened on the string; then the tsoru can be cooked. The Four Brothers mingle the food;
after another chicken is sacrificed, Four Brothers mingle it: “Today I’m mingling every-
thing” is said; the name is explained. It’s declared [deklär, from the English] at the wed-
ding. It’s for this reason that this work exists in the first place.⁷⁴

Cooking ji tsoru, feeding kordi rice, and the reciprocal visits (pani chinchini and
handi baurani) are obligatory and take place, as a general principle, when a
daughter-in-law is brought into the house. In contrast, the elaborate wedding rit-
uals (biba) described here are not mandatory in practice, although they are of
great importance. Half a dozen of the Sisa in Gudapada have not gone through
these rituals, something which is no disadvantage to them in daily life, but
which leaves their ritual status incomplete.⁷⁵ Someone who lives as a married
man – that is, has a wife and children – without having gone through the wed-
ding ritual is excluded from the public complex of tsoru eating and cooking. An
unmarried man does not receive tsoru at the village’s most important shrines
(hundi, pat kanda, jakor), and a married person does not accept cooked tsoru
from an unmarried one. The relationship between unmarried adults – not
boys and girls – and the gods is restricted: the “gods do not know them” (maphru
take jani hebo nai), they “do not obey” (manibu nai), and they “do not listen”
(sunibo nai). Moreover, they have no names and do not become full members
of society in the afterlife either.

 Biba bele amoro ga hundiku gote noria, dobla kukuda emti cholani, puja bidi, pat kanda-
monku. Emti amoro biba heba isabre se girli gadi tilu. Semti se girli seta gote bidi no dela hebo nai
[…]. Kukuda gote katidebe, sutare poki gote goti kori, tsoru randi hebo. Auri chari bai misai kori
kaibata, seta au gote kukuda kati kori, seta chari bai misaile: “aji mui sobu misai deli,” boli seta
gote tar nao phuta heba, deklär heijibo seta. Se biba hela boli. Semti pain seta kam hebo to auri.
 Among the Bondo, the elaborate form of marriage (sebung) is supposed to be much rarer.
Only 5 of 150 marriages studied were of this type (Elwin 1950, 95).
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 263

When they die and someone does gotr (mortuary ritual) for them, they have […] no names.
Someone does bur (mortuary ritual); they have no names. People still do it [the mortuary
rituals], but even so, they don’t [i. e., they have no names]. Now, in their time on this earth
(e purbele), the married eat together at the shrine of pat depta [pat kanda], the married eat
so much tsoru. In the same way, they [the married] will mingle with all the others in the
beyond (morigola pure), they [the unmarried] are left over.⁷⁶

Sequence of the Wedding (biba)

A wedding is held in the husband’s village, lasts two days, and includes the fol-
lowing main steps:
Preparations
– sacrifice for hundi and pat kanda
First day
– dissari’s sacrificial ritual at the girli tree
– Four Brothers cook and feed tsoru
– tika
– mothers’ brothers of the bride and groom cook and feed tsoru
– feast
Second day
– procession to the forest (to the sindi grass)
– Twelve Brothers / tsorubai cook and feed tsoru
– distribution of the meat
– farewell

Preparations
A ritual is considered a “great work” (boro kam) if it includes one or more feasts
(boji) at which practically everyone is welcome. Many aspects must be taken into
consideration, and the whole process is planned by the experienced men and the
village dignitaries (especially the naik and the barik). The men have to chop a
great deal of wood for the fires at the cooking hearths, and since the women
of the kutum are not in a position to hull the mountain of rice needed by them-
selves, the unhulled rice is distributed to all the houses in the sai for hulling.
Many houses also contribute a basket of unhulled rice for the feast, which is re-
ciprocated on a similar occasion. The sponsors have to inform the Dombo musi-

 Ebe morigole take gotor korle bi nao nai, ki bur korle bi nao nai. Korbar aka je, jete korle bi nai.
Ebe se biba heitibo epurbele, emti ame mishi kori kailu pat deptare. – bibahelalok jetek tsoru kaile.
Semti se morigola pure bi se asa nandre [unclear] sobu lok sangre mishi kori, se roijibo.
264 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

cians (moira), if they are not from the same village, and order a large number of
clay pots from the outside potter. The sponsors buy the sacrificial animals at the
weekly market, along with new clothes, and order cloth (mat luga) from the wea-
vers (Dombo). The exact date and time of the wedding and the start of the sac-
rificial ritual at the girli tree are determined with help of the dissari, who also se-
lects by name the boy and girl (nita dangra and nita dangri) who accompany the
bridal couple. A week before the wedding, the groom’s group visits the bride’s
mother’s brother (mamu) and brings him beer and liquor, as at the raibadi.
They ask the mother’s brother whether he would like to receive mamu luga
(“cloth of the mother’s brother”) at the wedding. If he says yes, he obligates him-
self to bring a head of cattle or a goat to the wedding. If he declines the cloth, he
does not have to bring anything. In general, affinal relatives give cattle (bura) to
the sponsors on significant occasions like biba, bur, and gotr.
As already mentioned in the quotations from my informants, the pujari con-
ducts sacrificial rituals in the name of the sponsors at the shrines of the village
goddess and the Great House. The day before the wedding, the boys chosen as
nita dangra, supervised by an older Gadaba man, bring a branch of the girli
tree and one of a type of wild bamboo from the hills into the village. Before
the boys cut the girli branch, they sacrifice a chicken’s egg. In front of the spon-
sors’ house, the men of the sai erect a baldachin (chamda) tall enough to stand
upright under, larger than the one for bato biba. ⁷⁷ After that, a trench is dug for
the cooking hearth (tsuli, tiri’song*) where space is available near the house, and
the householder offers crabs for the duma (duma balo’*) at sunset in front of the
house. Next, all the helpers and the village dignitaries assemble in the sponsors’
yard to drink beer.
The sequence of drinking serves to designate four Gadaba men of the village
to make up the two primary “service” groups the next day. First are the banda-
goria, who supervise the gifts in the sponsors’ house. They receive the gifts
brought by the guests (gotia, killom*), primarily beer and rice, along with gourds,
liquor, and goats or cattle. The bandagoria store everything in the house, tie up
the animals, these days note down the gifts and the givers’ names,⁷⁸ and provide
the visitors their first round of beer or liquor. In other words, they keep track of
not only the gifts that enter the house, but also all objects and foodstuffs that
leave the house. Second, two other men lead the work at the cooking hearth
and are for this reason called kandasalia. Kandasal is the hut near the cooking

 As in the case of bato biba, the baldachin is ritually disassembled by the dissari some days
after the ritual.
 Men who can write are often chosen as bandagoria for this reason.
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 265

hearth where the cooked food is kept. Most often, two storage huts are built,
since not all guests eat beef: one hut is for beef, the other for goat. Since the ban-
dagoria works inside the house, he is conceived of as “female,” in contrast to the
“male” kandasalia, who cooks in public. Both groups, kandasalia and bandago-
ria, have a great deal of responsibility for the success of the festival and have a
great deal to do. At the assembly in the yard, therefore, the sponsors present the
first glasses of beer to the kandasalia and bandagoria. Conversely, this means
that the first to drink expresses his willingness to take on these tasks. At one
such assembly on the eve of a mortuary ritual – for which bandagoria and kan-
dasalia are named, as for a wedding – the assembled men were hesitant to begin
the beer drinking. None of those present apparently wanted to take on the obli-
gation. Finally, four men were persuaded to do so, after which all the others
drank. Before the men scattered, the barik urged all the helpers (in vain, as it
turned out) to start work early the next morning, so that the feast would not
start late.

The First Day

Sacrificial Ritual in Front of the House: Planting the girli Tree
Since the dissari’s ritual is supposed to be completed before cockcrow, the bridal
couple bathe and dress in new clothes while it is still night. At the foot of the
veranda (pinda), the upper half of a pair of millstones (jata) is set up as a
seat for the bride, with a plow handle (nongol) next to it as a seat for the
groom. As in bato biba, the nita dangri fetches water from the river in a new
pot, which will later be covered with a large leaf, and places it in front of the bal-
dachin’s central post. This is also where the dissari prepares the sacrificial site
with water and dung (he does not draw a pattern). The father of the house
and the nita dangra dig a small hole in the same place.⁷⁹ The dissari begins
the invocation and sacrifices a coconut, an egg, and a red rooster for the earth
(bosmoti). The nita dangri and nita dangra then together set various trees and
branches in the hole previously dug: first the girli branch and the stalk of wild
bamboo, then the trunk of a banana plant, a branch of the jam tree, and a
mango branch. The hole is filled in with earth, and water is then poured over
it. The bride and groom take their prepared seats and receive tika and coins
from the dissari, the nita dangra, and the nita dangri. The nita dangri pierces

 In the same way as a father digs the umbilical pit for his child’s afterbirth, in the context
described here he breaks up the earth with an iron rod, which is again disguised with a leaf at
the point. The father only makes the first thrust; the rest is taken care of by the nita dangra.
266 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

the cover of the clay pot and uses a small clay pot (kondi) to dip up water, which
she pours over the heads of the bridal couple. The dissari instructs the couple to
stand up, and all present begin to rejoice, ululating (ululi, mare’nen*), shaking
rattles (gagara), and beating plowshares (pal) against spades (tirson). The couple
immediately enter the house and are served liquor there.

The tsoru of the Four Brothers

The bridal couple receive the first tsoru in the name of the Four Brothers of the
village. Shortly after the sacrifice in front of the house, the bandagoria takes up
his task in the sponsors’ house. Before he fills the first dry measure (man) to
measure out the rice for the first tsoru, he makes an invocation with incense
and rice. The first tsoru is called atri tsoru and is prepared by an unmarried
youth (mukla) from the group of the Four Brothers. The youth cooks the rice
and the red rooster previously sacrificed by the dissari in front of the house,
while the preparations for the feast continue at the same time at the large out-
side cooking hearth and inside the house.
As at all major festivals, the dissari buries an egg, a wild cashew nut, and a
tiny bow in the sponsor’s house, at the cooking hearth, and in the storage hut
(kandasal) next to the cooking hearth. This is intended to bar the influence of
harmful magic (nosto) aimed at diminishing the quantity of rice so that the
food is insufficient for the numerous guests. In addition, the dissari fastens a
string with a piece of turmeric to a large clay pot, which he places on the cooking
hearth as the first pot, in order to guarantee the auspiciousness (sub) of the cook-
ing process. After that, the metal pots for the rest of the rice are placed on the
fire. The head of cattle to be sacrificed is led to the branches planted under
the baldachin, consecrated by the dissari with an invocation, and then killed
and butchered off to the side of the cooking hearth. Raw portions (batia) of
rice, chili, salt, and vegetables are made ready for those groups in the village
that do not accept cooked food from the Gadaba.
As soon as the Four Brothers’ atri tsoru is ready, it is distributed on leaf plat-
ters, and late in the morning, the bridal couple again take their places on the
millstone and plow. A feather from the red rooster is fastened to a cord and
tied to the upper part of the girli tree, along with the cooking pot used for the
atri tsoru. ⁸⁰ After a drink of liquor, the representatives of the Four Brothers min-

 The central importance of the girli tree is evident both from the informants’ comments and
from the ritual actions themselves. Nevertheless, the Gadaba offer no further explanation for
this, other than that it is supposed to be this way according to niam. In view of the use of such
vertical constructions among the Sora, for example, where they forge a connection between the
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 267

gle their rice with that of the bridal couple – this was what my previously quoted
informant was alluding to when he said that the Four Brothers mingle the food –
and the couple begins to eat. Affines are also permitted to share in atri tsoru, not
just brothers of the groom.
The couple’s two mamu (MB) and the groom’s father-in-law (satra) each re-
ceive a platter of raw beef (or goat), and the bandagoria also presents them with
rice (one man) and beer or liquor.⁸¹ Three huts (balsa) are set up for them, in
which they now prepare tsoru separately.

Tika
After the dissari has been the first to consecrate the bridal couple with tika, early
in the morning, the couple again take their places under the baldachin at mid-
day. All the members of the village and guests now have the opportunity to give
the couple tika and place a sum of money in their folded hands.⁸² When the last
person has given tika, the bridal couple stand up amid rejoicing and ululation, as
in the morning, and the woman (followed by the man) enters the house. As she
does so, she carries into the house a winnowing fan (kula) with the cord used for
the chicken feather and a small lamp (maloi).

The tsoru of the Mothers’ Brothers: mamu tsoru

In the afternoon, the bridal couple are summoned in turn to the mothers’ broth-
ers’ cooking hearths and to that of the father-in-law. Each time, they receive new
clothes, drink beer or liquor, and eat the tsoru together with the cooks.

Feast
Once the bridal couple have eaten the mamu tsoru, and the kandasalia have fin-
ished cooking, the barik invites the village to the feast. Women and men sit sep-

worlds (cf., e. g., the illustration in Vitebsky 1993, 134), a comparable meaning is conceivable
among the Gadaba. The girli branch, which stretches far above the roof of the baldachin,
possibly forms a connection between bosmoti and dorom, the primary cosmological opposites,
with the rooster’s blood sprinkled on the lower part of the branch (bosmoti) and the feather tied
on at the top (dorom).
 The mothers’ brothers may also conduct separate sacrifices of roosters, from which they then
prepare the tsoru.
 This process may last several hours, and the tika gifts can also be repeated multiple times, if
guests arrive late and want to make up this part.
268 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

arately in long rows, and the Dombo sit apart from the Gadaba. Those who re-
ceive batia, that is, raw foodstuffs, and have done their own cooking also sit
somewhat off to the side. The kandasalia and other helpers distribute first
beer, then the festival rice (boji bat). The Dombo musicians, who have played al-
most without pause throughout the day, now have a brief break before the demsa
(circle dance) begins to be danced after the meal. Accompanied by the rhythm of
the drums and the melodies of the moiri, men and women trace endless circles
into the morning hours.

The Second Day

In the morning, the money from the tika gifts is counted in the dissari’s presence,
and the total is officially announced. The participants then set out for the sindi
buta, or more precisely, for a hill near the village where sindi grass (sindi buta)
grows.

The Relationship to the Forest: Procession to the sindi Grass

The bridal couple is led in procession from the sponsors’ house out of the village
and into the “forest.” The Dombo musicians lead the procession, the groom car-
ries a hoe and a fishing net, and the bride carries a basket containing liquor, the
rings used in the ritual, and kordi rice cooked in the sponsors’ house. The bridal
couple’s two mamu and the sponsors’ tsorubai, acting as representatives of the
Twelve Brothers (all of whom are ideally present), accompany the procession.
Having arrived at a tuft of grass of the appropriate kind (sindi buta ⁸³), the
bridal couple pretend to look for tubers with the hoe and catch fish with the
net, an action called “looking for tubers, catching fish” (kanda kuna mach
mara). The ritual stages the subsistence form of gathering in the forest and fish-
ing in the river, thus looking back, in my interpretation, to the mythical time in
which the Gadaba did not yet engage in agriculture and lived in the “forest.”⁸⁴
An egg is sacrificed by a senior member of the village, and the bride and
groom offer tipali with liquor. The sacrifice is addressed either to the river
gods (kamni) or to the Herder of the Forest (bon goudo), according to different
accounts. A further ritual follows immediately, in front of a tuft of sindi grass.

 Sindi buta is a grass with stalks that are very difficult to tear, used for binding the sheaves of
rice and millet at harvest. Its tubers (kanda) are edible.
 For example, in the myths collected by Mahapatra (1985, cf. 117), a story typically begins with
an old married couple who live from gathering and fishing (dokra dokri puni roilai semti kada
kuni mach mari jiilani…).
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 269

Two rings made from sindi stalks and two metal ones, which their owners (mem-
bers of the delegation) have temporarily surrendered, are placed at the foot of
the tuft. After a joint invocation by the bridal couple, the tsorubai, the mamu,
and a number of village brothers, an egg is sacrificed, beer is sprinkled on the
sacrificial site, and the gods’ share of the rice the bride carried is presented
on leaves (betisong). The sindi rings are placed on the right hands of the bridal
couple, while the metal rings are slipped over two stalks of sindi grass. The bridal
couple then take their places immediately in front of the tuft of grass, the others
next to them, and all eat a platter of the rice. On the way back to the village, the
company rejoices and sings, and a line of women dancing demsa snakes in front
of the Dombo musicians. Back at the house, the women again greet the bridal
couple with tika.

The tsoru of the Twelve Brothers

Although the Twelve Brothers (baro bai) are constantly invoked as a category of
reference, they only rarely appear as a commensal tsoru community; ideally, a
wedding should be one of these occasions. The Twelve Brothers are informed
of the wedding rituals, but it is not necessary that they all be present for the wed-
ding to be successfully performed.⁸⁵ It is sufficient if representatives of the spon-
sors’ tsorubai, as one of the twelve groups, sacrifice a rooster in the inner room of
the house and prepare tsoru. They cook the rice in river water previously fetched
by the bride in a new clay pot, and they feed the bridal couple from a single
plate. Unlike the atri tsoru and mamu tsoru, this baro bai tsoru may be eaten
only by agnates, and ritually unmarried men are also excluded. If they eat it any-
way, they must either belatedly perform the wedding ritual after the fact and pay
a head of cattle as compensation or run the risk of being attacked by a particular
demon (degoi duma ⁸⁶).

 In the event of their absence, they also do not receive portions (china manso) sent to their
villages.
 This demon apparently watches over the legitimacy of marriage relationships and the ob-
servation of the ban on the participation of the unmarried in collective tsoru commensality. The
Ollar Gadaba, unlike the Gutob Gadaba, do not have the possibility of omitting their wedding
rituals without punishment, and the degoi duma is supposed to attack those who do not fulfill
this obligation. Elwin describes “Dagoi” as a demon linked to the house, who decides on the
fertility and infertility of humans and fields and who can receive sacrifices from each Bondo only
three times in his life (1950, 106ff, 158).
270 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

Farewell
In the afternoon, the tsorubai are accompanied to their village, and the legs of
meat they received are carried to their houses for them.⁸⁷ The moitr, mamu,
and potentially other guests are bid farewell “halfway along the road” (oda ras-
tare). The Dombo musicians accompany the groups to the other side of the vil-
lage boundaries. Everyone then sits down again and consumes beer and an ac-
companying snack (chakana) together as a farewell.

After the Wedding: mosi Rice

A few days after the wedding ritual, the sponsors of the wedding bring rice to the
house of the bride-givers. The food consists of cooked rice and meat (chicken,
pig, or goat) and is known as mosi bat or isai’ lai*. The recipients of the mosi
bat distribute it in their sai, within their kutum, but also give portions to internal
affines, if they have them.

Women’s Status and Compensation Payments

The comparison of the bride-takers to herders and of the bride to a head of cat-
tle, made by the bride-givers’ spokesman when the jola was handed over, sheds
light on two aspects. First, it underlines the association between women and
milk, already described. Second, the analogy to the herders illustrates the
bride-takers’ responsibility to pay careful attention to the woman and treat her
well. If they fail to do so, the threat is, the woman will run away.
In fact, close ties between a woman and the house and village where she
was born persist even after marriage. This can be seen, among other places, in
the fact that the duma of women (ji bouni) who have left the village are still re-
membered at sacrifices (duma balo’*) and with food offerings (on the occasion of
a cremation), and a house also sacrifices for the gods of its affines. In addition, a
woman is present with her family in her brothers’ houses on all important ritual
occasions, and both daughters and sons-in-law help with major tasks such as
harvesting, sowing, and building a house. If a woman feels that she is being
ill-treated or neglected, she leaves her husband and goes to the houses of her
brothers. As a rule, the man follows her to petition for her return only a few
days later. If a husband is manifestly irresponsible in the eyes of the bride-givers,

 The distribution of the meat is the same as at bur.

 3.9 The Process of Marriage 271

drinking too much and beating his wife or working too little, her brothers will
call him to account – commonly with physical force as well.
Despite her brothers’ possibilities for intervention, a woman legally belongs
to her husband’s house after marriage. If she leaves her husband and marries
again, the entire village of her first husband will demand compensation (sorgota
mangbar) from her new husband. The compensation (sorgota) is generally set
higher than the bridewealth and the cost of the marriage negotiations. Converse-
ly, if a man sends his wife away, her group demands damages (jouto pelani), al-
though this sum is not set as high as sorgota.
Although a woman retains her clan status (bonso) all her life, she belongs
fully to her husband’s house from a ritual perspective and bears his kuda title
in her name. She cooks the tsoru for her house, and her husband’s group accepts
cooked tsoru from her. Her brothers, on the other hand, do not let their married
sisters enter the inner rooms of their houses, and the sisters receive nothing from
the tsoru of their brothers’ houses. A woman’s bonso status becomes relatively
unimportant after marriage in comparison to membership in the tsoru group
to which she is gradually assimilated in the course of marriage. After marriage,
it is her husband’s group that has ritual responsibility for her. This also applies
to the performance of the mortuary rituals, the next definite life-cycle rituals
after marriage. After marriage – as a consequence especially of the multiple feed-
ings with tsoru that are part of the wedding rituals – the woman’s future duma
belongs to her husband’s group.⁸⁸

Excommunication or jati

Severe transgressions of niam may lead to exclusion from the community. When
Desia talk about the “Gadaba,” the “Dombo,” or the “Rona” as abstract social
categories, they use the word jati (along with kul).⁸⁹ This term is also used to de-
scribe the process of excommunication (jati heba). An individual – and hence
the members of the house concerned – loses his or her Gadaba status when
he or she enters into a marital relationship with a person from a lower status cat-
egory, for example, or is struck by such a person. If a Gadaba marries a Dombo

 An informant described the postmortem status of his daughter-in-law as follows: “[She]

came to our house, it’s not their [the bride-givers’] duma. To whom the [duma] of the man
belongs, it’s their duma. It’s not the duma of her parents’ house.” Amor gor aka utigola, tanko
duma nai. Je munusro tar duma aka, takor ma-bapa duma nai.
 The word jati is used in many parts of India, is variously translated as “caste,” “tribe,”
“genus,” or “race,” and literally means “birth” (cf. Biardeau 1995, 181).
272 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

woman, he is thereafter treated as a Dombo by those around him, something

that primarily affects ordinary and ritual commensality. No Gadaba will accept
food from him, and he is barred from participating in the sacrifices for pat
kanda or hundi. The man’s parents and immediate (“own,” nijoro) brothers are
also affected by the exclusion, but they can get back their status by “buying” (ki-
niba) jati.
For the reintegration of excluded individuals into the Gadaba community,
the ritual activities of the tsorubai and the commensality of the Twelve Brothers
are just as essential as they are at weddings or in placating those who have died
a bad death. One woman compared death on the path (bate morla) to excommu-
nication (jati). In both cases – dying outside the village and marrying outside the
community – living and dead individuals find themselves outside the social
order that the tsorubai restore (tsorubai niam korbar). In order to reacquire lost
status, a head of cattle or, as a substitute, a pig must be killed. The tsorubai
cook tsoru and subsequently feed the persons concerned. All the Gadaba groups
of the village and the Twelve Brothers are supposed to participate in the feast
that confirms the reacquisition of status.
Jati cases occur quite commonly in the everyday life of the village, but the
repurchase of jati is often not performed in full. When a Gadaba is struck by a
Dombo, he can call a village assembly (miting, niai) and demand a head of cattle
and ten man of hulled rice from the individual concerned in order to buy back
his status. In one case, a Gadaba had not done anything about an incident of
this kind for a number of weeks, and many inhabitants of the village were un-
aware of the fight. Only in the context of a mortuary ritual (bur) – which will
be discussed in greater detail later – did the incident become generally known
and at the same time a problem, since the Gadaba who had been struck be-
longed to the sponsors’ group. His brothers reproached him for not taking
care of the matter in a timely fashion and thereby burdening the festival. The
other Gadaba groups in the village might stay away from the feast on the
grounds that it was prepared by “Dombo.” Before the mortuary rituals began,
a chick was sacrificed to remedy the situation. On another occasion, a Gadaba
woman was struck by a Dombo man in a scuffle. When I asked her whether
she now had to buy back jati, she said no. A ritual purification with water
that had first been poured on the roof of her house was sufficient, she said. If
a Gadaba marries a Dombo woman or is seriously injured by a person of
lower status, the rituals must be performed in full. I will now describe an exam-
ple of this.
In March 2000, Buda Sisa’s daughter hit him and his wife so hard on the
head with a wooden board that their wounds had to be stitched up in the nearby
government hospital. The daughter was generally considered crazy (baya) by the
 3.9 The Process of Marriage 273

village, had been married some years previously, lived with various men after
that, and then moved to the village of the man with whom she was living at
the time, on the Andhra side of the Machkund River. He belonged to the social
category of the Kolai, found in none of the Gadaba villages known to me and
said to be of lower status than the Dombo. At that point, Buda and his family
were forced for the first time to win back the status lost through their daughter’s
relationship, by sponsoring a feast financed by their daughter’s new husband.
This relationship also did not last long, however. Buda’s daughter repeatedly
left her husband for her parents’ house and finally refused entirely to return
to him. She lived in a room next to the buffalo stable and earned some money
by distilling rice liquor. Some time after her return – she still retained the low
status of the Kolai – the violent conflict occurred through which Buda’s house
again lost Gadaba status.⁹⁰
Three weeks after the incident, the jati kiniba for Buda’s house took place.⁹¹
The April festival had already begun – the sacrifice for the Great House was on
the next day – and without the reintegration rituals, Buda and his son would be
excluded from the tsoru at the village shrines. In the morning, two Kirsani from
the village and representatives of the Sisa’s senior tsorubai performed a sacrifice
for the members of Buda’s house. The tsorubai had them drink water into which
gold and silver items had been immersed (suna rupa pani) and water that
dripped from the roof of the house. Then they sacrificed a pig for doron deli in
the inner room of the house and cooked tsoru there from the animal’s head.
The pig’s body was prepared as lakka’* in the yard. Later, men from the various
Gadaba groups and the barik assembled in an open area behind the houses,
where pendom was first distributed to all. The members of Buda’s house⁹² –
not his daughter, who does not belong to the commensal house community –
subsequently took their places in a row and were fed tsoru from one platter by
the tsorubai. Buda and the members of his house were then served their own
rice platters, and the tsorubai placed some of their own rice on their platters.
Buda and the others reciprocated the gesture each time.

 More recently, the woman is living with a Gadaba from another village; he also had to
purchase jati.
 I was unable to observe the ritual personally. My assistant Manto Pradhan documented the
events, and details were obtained from the sponsor afterward.
 That is, along with Buda Sisa, his wife, his son, and his daughter-in-law, who live in the
same house.
274 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

Married members of the Four Brothers (including their wives) and members
of the Twelve Brothers⁹³ had a share in this tsoru, according to what the sponsor
and sacrificial patron said. The lakka’* food could be consumed by all others
present, including the barik. After the meal, Buda stood up, gave the tsorubai
ten rupees, and addressed the gathering. In a brief speech, he sketched the
course of events and announced that he had now bought back jati, before raising
his joined hands to his forehead and bowing to all present.

3.10 On the Living, the Dead, and Dying

For all Desia, death is part of daily life. Although there are phases in the life
cycle, such as birth and the following days, that are considered especially preca-
rious, people are conscious that physical survival is never certain. The experi-
ence of insecurity and one’s own vulnerability likely contributes significantly
to the ideas about illness, the person, death, and the dead. Only societies that
believe that they have illness and accidents largely under control and drive
death out of sight are indifferent to the dead.
The Gadaba do not practice an ancestor cult in the sense that relationships
to the dead structure the relationships of the living, so that relationships to “ap-
ical ancestors” are of social significance and result in a hierarchy among social
groups, for example. Among the Gadaba, all those who have undergone the mor-
tuary rituals belong to the ancestors (anibai). This category is nevertheless as un-
differentiated as possible and is contrasted to the living as a block. Allusions to a
genealogy of the ancestors are not found in the rituals, other than the acknowl-
edgement of the generation of the village founders. One stone among the many
stone slabs in the assembly platform (sadar) in Gudapada represents the gener-
ation of the village founders and is therefore acknowledged with blood when
sacrifices take place. Otherwise, the ancestors, whether as individuals or as a col-
lective, play a central role neither in Gadaba daily life nor in Gadaba ritual. In
contrast, much attention is paid to the recently deceased (duma), since they
can bring more death under certain circumstances. While the gods are constantly
asked for help and protect human beings, the dead are simply expected to grad-
ually withdraw from human life, and their feeding with rice, meat, beer, and
liquor in the circle of their relatives is intended to make this withdrawal bearable
for them and placate them. Understood as a successive dismantling of relation-

 Alongside the senior tsorubai, an additional representative of the Twelve Brothers should be
present.
 3.10 On the Living, the Dead, and Dying 275

ships, this withdrawal is effected by the same processes of tsoru feeding and
commensality that integrated the person into the community previously.

Death and Dissolution of the Person

The rituals before and after the birth of a child are especially concerned with
warding off demons who try to devour the vital energy (jibon) of the unborn
or newborn human being; in the marriage rituals, on the other hand, this aspect
is absent. Feeding with tsoru dominates the wedding ritual, effecting the accu-
mulation of social relationships and the constitution of a house. In other
words, the “alimentary socialization” that began with the name-giving ritual is
brought to completion in marriage. The Gadaba have no specific term for the so-
cial quality generated by alimentary processes, but the idea of a person (lok) in-
cludes this component, which after death is called duma. At death, a person’s
unity dissolves. The breath (punda), a synonym for the vital energy, vanishes,
and the “eyes see no more.” The body of the deceased (mor) is fully cremated
on the day of death – if possible – and ritually sent to the realm of the god of
the dead two days later.⁹⁴ The question arises of the relationship among the
vital energy, the deceased’s name, and his social quality after death.
The Gadaba’s statements and their ritual activities suggest that the three
components of a person remain associated with one another for a certain length
of time after death. In order to make use of a duma for harmful magic (nosto), the
practitioner needs the deceased’s name and if possible, part of his body (hair,
bone, teeth, fingernails), which then stands for the whole body as pars pro
toto. This would appear to indicate that the sorcerer (pangon lok) aims to control
all aspects of a person in order to direct that person’s power against others
(duma peson). In addition, a duma can attack the living on his own account,
without external inducement (duma dorla). Both types of attacks are only possi-
ble during a brief period of time after death, however. Accounts of the length of
this period vary from a few days to a number of weeks. The same variability ap-
plies to accounts of the period of time within which the jibon is reincarnated,
that is, binds itself to a new body. Some Gadaba see a link between the
duma’s activity and the potential threat he represents, on the one hand, and
his connection to jibon, on the other. One informant said that of course, duma

 That the body of the deceased is also linked to the status of those left behind, in accordance
with Hertz’s (1960, 39) classic thesis, is shown by an informant’s remark that mourning lasts
longer when the body cannot be cremated. Just as the body only slowly decays, so sadness
remains among the living for an extended period; for this reason, the dead are not buried.
276 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

have vital energy (jibon): how else could they threaten the living and possess
them? A person’s name can leave the village with the duma as part of the mor-
tuary rituals, but it can also be transferred to another, when a newborn’s jibon
demands this, for example. Here again, the connection among the elements is
evident.
It is therefore advisable not to excessively systematize Gadaba ideas about
the constitutive elements of a person. Sometimes, it was said, the vital energy
only returns to the living after many years, at a time, that is, when the duma
has long ceased to be a source of danger and the person may scarcely be remem-
bered. In addition, the two concepts of jibon and duma cannot be completely
separated. True, the jibon is considered autonomous, unchanging, and unmoti-
vated, while the duma can be manipulated and transformed by rituals, but the
jibon nevertheless includes aspects of the social person, as I have shown in
the context of birth, and conversely, the duma apparently retains the jibon’s vi-
tality for a certain period.

Manifestations of the Dead

Especially in the days after death, duma are considered agile and dangerous.
They move about freely in the village and cause rustling sounds at night, espe-
cially in their former houses. When the village’s barik died, many inhabitants
said that they had heard him calling out at night, in the same way he always
used to summon people to village assemblies: “Come to the assembly platform,
all of you!” (sobu sadre aso!). Gadaba also report that duma have appeared to
them at night in their human forms. They are described as white or pale
(doboi) in that case. Those who have died on the path (bate morla) can take
the form of whirlwinds (sura gali), especially at the hour of their death, posing
a danger to humans caught in them. People also become aware of a duma’s near-
ness when they feel a sudden chill or their hair stands on end. These manifesta-
tions generally involve the recently deceased; in contrast, a duma can appear in
his relatives’ dreams for a long time, even after his gotr has been performed.

Types of Death, the Dead, and the Rituals

The relationships between humans and the dead depend primarily on the type of
death and the performance of the rituals. In the period immediately after death,
the relationship is ambivalent, even if the person has not died a bad death, since
sorcerers can make themselves the masters of any duma during this phase, if
 3.10 On the Living, the Dead, and Dying 277

they have the requisite means and knowledge. A “good” death is a death in one’s
own house, or at least within the village boundaries. Individuals who have died
in this way also drift through the village in the nights after their deaths and visit
their houses, but they do not cause alarm or harm their families.⁹⁵ The living
show the duma respect and acknowledge their social relationship to them by car-
rying out the rituals properly and providing the duma beer and rice. The duma
then gradually withdraw.
In the event of a bad death, attacks by the duma are considered probable,
and a peaceful withdrawal cannot initially be hoped for. People die badly, ac-
cording to the Gadaba, who drown in the river, fall from a tree, hang themselves,
die on the path (i. e., not in the village), or die in childbirth with the placenta
and/or the child (“flower,” phul) still in the womb. They become vengeful
duma of different kinds, according to the different categories of death.⁹⁶ The
duma of individuals who die in the forest (bon duma) or are killed by tigers
(bag duma) are considered especially dangerous for the living. They become per-
manently malicious beings drifting through the forest, and their jibon is not re-
incarnated. The expression duma daini designates these generally malicious cat-
egories of spirits of the dead, among other things. As part of the last phase of the
mortuary rituals, when the village’s duma are reawakened for the purpose of
their final transformation, these beings must simultaneously be banished from
the village boundaries (cf. Padel 1995, 122; Vitebsky 1993, 66 f).
These bad types of death make expensive rituals necessary in order to pla-
cate the enraged duma and enable a transformation into the community of the
dead. According to the rule (niam), twelve animals (baro mundo, “twelve
heads”) must be sacrificed for the deceased individual over the course of the
mortuary rituals (not including gotr) in these cases. The mortuary rituals
under these circumstances are no longer a matter for the village and the junior
tsorubai alone, but require the participation of the “twelve brothers, thirteen
seats” (baro bai tero gadi). The representatives of the Twelve Brothers sacrifice
a head of cattle, feed the duma tsoru, and then share the sacrificial meal. If
the deceased’s offspring do not fulfill their ritual obligations, he will take re-
venge as a sagbo duma. In this case, he attacks the necks of family members,

 A duma who is harmless in principle but induced by a sorcerer to do harm in his house or
fields is called betani duma. The duma of someone struck by lightning is sometimes called by
the same name.
 For example, the hanged become utshki duma, individuals who die in the forest become bon
(forest) duma, and those killed by tigers become bag (tiger) duma. Those who fall from trees
belong to the category of mursu duma, and women who die in childbirth in the way described
become sunguni duma.
278 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

so that they have to vomit blood (rokto banti) and their necks swell. The twelve
sacrificial animals that are sacrificed for the duma include a variety of small an-
imals, alongside cattle and pigs;⁹⁷ however, the rule that twelve animals should
be sacrificed is not always observed.⁹⁸ As in the case of the wedding ritual, so in
the context of the mortuary rituals as well, there is a tendency among young Ga-
daba to substitute goats for cattle, since many no longer eat beef; opinions vary
as to the consequences of such deviations. In the case of a bad death, however,
most people would assume that cattle sacrifices are necessary. A situation in
which a duma took revenge for insufficient ritual attention from his family,
among other grievances, will be described later.
If someone dies at a great distance, so that the body cannot be brought back
to the village, the corpse is cremated (buried if necessary) by his companions
there, and a stone is brought back as a substitute. This stone is wept over by
the women in the deceased individual’s house, wrapped in his clothes, and
brought to the cremation site by the tsorubai, who burn it on a small pyre, togeth-
er with the clothes. The stone does not have the function of a memorial stone
and is paid no further attention after the cremation.

Places of the Dead: mosani, bejorna, osona

Although the duma drift freely through the village and the surrounding area and
are particularly to be found rustling in the trees, there are various places where
food is offered for the dead and that are explicitly considered places of the duma.
The cremation site (mosani, rai’sang*) – located outside the village bounda-
ries, as a matter of principle, and also occasionally called the house (gor) of the
dead – is the place to which the duma is supposed to be banished with the cre-
mation of the corpse (mor). This is where the spirits of the dead generally linger
and where they receive food from the living on festival days and at funerals. In
Gudapada, the Four Brothers and their affines use a single cremation site. They
do not cremate their dead at exactly the same place, however, so that the re-
mains do not mingle. The Dombo’s cremation site and burial site is next to
but clearly separated from that of the Gadaba.⁹⁹ The Goudo and the Kamar cre-
mate their dead near their hamlet on the other side of the river.

 Including lizards (tendkar), field mice (chutia), and cockroaches (jurda).

 My informants had different views on the number of sacrificial animals required by niam.
Some said twelve animals had to be sacrificed; others indicated that five were enough.
 The Lower Dombo of Gudapada bury their dead today, but they are supposed to have
practiced cremation in the past also. As justification, they recount an incident that is said to
 3.10 On the Living, the Dead, and Dying 279

Another place associated with the dead is the village’s ritual boundary (be-
jorna). It crosses the village’s main street, which leads to the cremation site. The
duma receive food here as well, and this location gets special attention in rituals
addressed to the dead (mortuary rituals, exorcisms). Along with this special rit-
ual village boundary, all paths that lead out of the village have a connection to
the duma; the duma await the offerings of the living there as well. While mosani
and bejorna act as collective places of assembly for the dead, it is only the duma
of a kutum who gather at the place previously described under the eaves in front
of the house (osona) and are provided with sacrificial offerings (bog) on desig-
nated occasions.

Ideas about the Afterlife

Questions about the afterlife and the type of existence there, like questions
about specific attributes of the gods, are often (and convincingly) answered
with statements like “people can’t know that” (jani hebo nai). Everyone knows
how to behave with regard to the dead and the gods and what reactions are to
be expected in response to such ritual actions. Little is known about the gods
and the dead themselves. The suppositions expressed about the afterlife are cor-
respondingly far from uniform. For a period after death, the duma initially linger
near the living, at the places described above. After the conclusion of the last
phase of the mortuary rituals (gotr), which leads the dead collectively out of
the village, the duma have gone (gola) and so definitively withdrawn from the
human realm. They are then in the “inner world” (bitorpur), which is identical
with the underworld (patalpur or jompur), but possibly also in the upper
world (sorogpur). Wherever they may be, it is assumed that they live a life
there very similar to the one here: men plow, women weave, the Gadaba and
Dombo maintain their usual relationships, and the unmarried do not mingle
(mishi kori) with the ritually married. In other words, unlike the bon duma, the
normal dead live in a “society.” Because the dead have the same needs as the
living, they are given the necessary items to take with them: miniature looms
to weave clothing (kereng, kisalo’*), mirrors, items of clothing, rain hats, and
more.

have taken place at a cremation in the time of their ancestors, when a mourning woman fell into
the flames and died; since then, they bury their dead.
280 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

The Pattern of Rebirth

Some time after a person dies, his or her vital energy (jibon) attaches itself to a
woman who will subsequently bring a child with this vital energy into the world.
The sex of the deceased is unimportant in this reincarnation; the jibon of a man
can be reborn in a female body and vice versa. As already mentioned in the dis-
cussion of birth, the jibon can come back in either the agnatic or the affinal line.
In one case, two jibon in affinal relationship to one another, one from the father’s
group and one from the mother’s, reincarnated in a single newborn. In general,
the vital energy attaches itself to women in the adjacent generation (SW), in
order to be reborn in the alternate generation (SWC). Women often bear children
with the vital energies of their classificatory fathers-in-law (satra, mamu). In
many cases, then, the vital energy is passed on within the kutum in alternate gen-
erations (cf. Parkin 1992, 213). However, the Gadaba stress that the person to
whom the vital energy attaches itself is not predetermined; it can be an agnate
or an affine, within the village or in another village, in the alternate or adjacent
generation. Most often, nonetheless, jibon reincarnate within known social rela-
tionships; for a vital energy to attach itself to an unknown person (palna lok) ap-
pears to be relatively rare. The remark quoted previously that the duma of in-
married women belong to their husbands’ groups may also suggest the probabil-
ity that a woman’s vital energy reincarnates in her husband’s group. In general,
it can be said that as long as the vital energy remains associated with the duma,
it is also an object of ritual action and can therefore be directed to some extent.
Once it separates from the duma, humans have lost all control, and the jibon
only makes an appearance again when it makes itself noticed in a pregnant
woman’s belly.¹⁰⁰

 According to Fürer-Haimendorf (1943b, 167 f), the Bondo distinguish between two types of
“spirits,” the shadow (sairem) and the soul (siorem). After death, the latter travels to the land of
the dead or to the sun/moon deity and passes the time there in the same way as on earth, until it
returns from there after another death and is reincarnated within the clan. The shadow, on the
other hand, remains near the living, is provided with food in the mortuary rituals, and receives a
final resting place in the concluding gunom ritual. With regard to the Gadaba (cf. Fürer-Hai-
mendorf 1943b, 152 f), the author does not mention a comparable division of the person or the
phenomenon of rebirth, but the similarities between the shadow and the Gadaba’s duma and
between the soul and the Gadaba’s jibon are evident. Parkin (1992) discusses the pattern of
rebirth and establishes a division of the person into two parts after death among various tribes.
He supposes two souls for the Gadaba as well, “one harmless, the other dangerous,” although
both are referred to as “dhumba” (213). “At death, the harmless soul immediately enters the
deceased’s SW, eventually being reborn in the ensuing generation,” while gotr is concerned with
the deceased’s dangerous aspect. In general, Parkin concludes, the “Munda” tribes distinguish
 3.10 On the Living, the Dead, and Dying 281

Forms of Mourning

Displays of mourning (duk) are women’s work among the Gadaba. The form of
mourning is highly conventional, and young girls already imitate the gestures
of the adult and elderly women. The most notable gesture is that of clasping
one’s hands behind or on top of one’s head. A group of women who have just
heard about the death of someone in their village and immediately set out for
the corresponding house do not at first show any signs of mourning. Only
when they come within sight of the house, in some circumstances only a few me-
ters from the house, do they clasp their hands behind their heads in an almost
synchronous movement and immediately begin to lament loudly, so that tears
stream down their cheeks. Depending on their relationship to the deceased,
the women go directly into the house to mourn or else squat on the veranda
or in a corner of the yard. Sisters and aunts (FZ, MBW), along with women of
the kutum, will surely lament in the house, members of the kuda group tend
to squat near the house, and women from other groups will likely do so some-
what further away. The intensity of the laments and the degree of violence inflict-
ed on one’s own body also vary in accordance with the relationship to the de-
ceased. The house’s members and its ji bouni lament loudly, sway back and
forth as they sit, strike themselves on the breast, tear their hair, and scratch
their cheeks bloody.
The expressions of mourning are not of constant intensity throughout the
course of a mortuary ritual, but vary in accordance with the ritual actions.
Shortly before and at the time of death, the women present begin the lamenta-
tion. When a woman nears the house of a deceased individual for the first time
after his death – even if a fairly long time has passed, because she was away for
wage labor, for example – the gestures of mourning will be intense. During the
mortuary rituals, various transitions are accompanied by loud lamentation:
when the corpse is brought into the yard to be washed, when it is brought out
of the house for the second time, on the way to the cremation site, and finally
at the cremation site itself. In the context of the rituals that follow cremation
as well, intense outbreaks of mourning take place on the occasion of specific rit-
ual actions – especially the various trips to the cremation site – followed by nor-
mal conversation and even jokes. The social regulation of the articulation of

between a reincarnating “soul substance” and a “personalized soul” that fades away into the
ancestors or gods. The division of the person into jibon and duma described above thus largely
corresponds to the general pattern established by Parkin.
282 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

mourning, as Hertz (1960) has described it, is strikingly evident among the
Gadaba.¹⁰¹
Overly vehement outbreaks of mourning are often met with criticism by the
men. Mourning women are reprimanded, for example, when a dying individual
is not yet considered dead, or the tumultuous lamentation hinders the perform-
ance of the rituals. According to the men of Gudapada, the women’s uncontrol-
led mourning during cremations was the reason for keeping them from entering
the cremation site on this day, as a general principle. Unlike the case in other
Desia groups, Gadaba women generally accompany the corpse to the cremation
site. When the naik died in spring 2000, the women were urged at the ritual
boundary (bejorna) not to go further, and when they ignored this demand,
they were violently prevented from entering the cremation site.¹⁰² The men
gave as their reason that if the mourning women threw themselves to the ground
there, they could injure or burn themselves. The women only accepted this asser-
tion very unwillingly, and at every following funeral, there were again physical
disputes between men and women at this location, as the women tried to liter-
ally fight their way through to the cremation site. Usually, only the women of the
house were permitted to accompany the corpse. For all the rituals following cre-
mation, the women enter the cremation site unhindered.
The men do not articulate a unified form of public mourning. It is their re-
sponsibility to ensure the unhindered performance of the rituals, while their
wives lament at the deceased’s house. Men of the family immediately affected
by someone’s death, a father, son, or brother, for example, show their mourning
and grief publicly, but without definitely prescribed gestures. On two occasions, I
observed men – in one case, the father of a boy who died, in the other, a son
whose father died – turning somersaults out of grief, something that in our so-
ciety is commonly considered an expression of joy; they had to be restrained by
others.
Another formal and alimentary expression of mourning consists in the gift of
“mourning gruel” (duk pej), brought to the deceased’s house exclusively by

 The gesture of clasping the hands behind the head is unambiguously associated with
death; in one case, this gesture was deliberately employed outside the usual context. A tra-
velling magician exhibited his tricks in the village, one of which was that he let himself be
buried for a certain length of time. When he disappeared under the earth, a woman crossed her
arms behind her head and began a lament, to the amusement of all concerned.
 The naik’s death is not said to be the first occasion on which the men tried to enforce this
rule. Since the village was greatly disturbed by the naik’s violent death, however, the women’s
onrush and resistance were also greater. At cremations that I had previously observed, I did not
notice any conflicts of this kind.
 3.11 The Mortuary Rituals I 283

women. Duk pej usually consists of cooked rice and beer or liquor, and there is
no fixed period during which it should be brought. However, gruel (pej) – in par-
ticular, millet gruel – is prepared along with rice by other local lines only in the
days immediately following death, when nothing is cooked in the deceased’s
house, not when the death has occurred some time before. The houses of the de-
ceased’s kutum do not bring duk pej, since they themselves – it is said – are also
in mourning. All other local groups, agnates and affines, can bring this gift. As a
rule, the groups of the village are the first givers; outside groups can present duk
pej over the course of months. For example, the man in whose house I had pre-
viously lived died in spring 2002, and at the time of my last visit in December of
the same year, only the moitr among the external groups had already given duk
pej, and many affinal groups (ji bouni) were therefore expected in pus (January),
the time of the mortuary rituals (bur). When a group of women bringing duk pej
arrives at the deceased’s house, usually with advance notice, men and women of
the kutum eat together with the bringers (after the deceased has received his
share in the form of betisong). If the women represent an entire kuda group,
the moitr for example, they invite the “great people” (boro lok) of the deceased’s
kuda group to eat.

3.11 The Mortuary Rituals I

There are no significant differences between the mortuary rituals for men and
women or for the old and the young.¹⁰³ As soon as a child has a name, the mor-
tuary rituals are performed, with the exception of the last stage, gotr. There are
no exact prescriptions for how old a person must have been for gotr to be cele-
brated, and he or she need not have been ritually married. The decision is left to
the sponsors’ judgment.

 I was able to observe and document the first three phases of the mortuary rituals (morla
din, machpani, bur) many times among different groups. I observed gotr, the last phase of the
rituals, three times: among Dombo, Parenga, and Gadaba. The gotr in the Gadaba village of
Ponosguda was the one I was able to document most extensively. I have summarized the
mortuary rituals in an article (Berger 2001).
284 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

The “Day of Death”

As soon as someone’s death appears imminent, the women of the house and the
neighborhood begin to lament. The dying person¹⁰⁴ is brought into the house
and placed in the usual sleeping position, with either his head toward the
house deity or his feet toward the door. He lies on a bamboo mat, and his
head rests on one of the small wooden benches. His wife sits lamenting at his
head, and other women of the house sit around him. In this precarious situation,
no efforts are made, as a rule, to ward off death. Bringing the dying to one of the
nearby hospitals is out of the question, first, because a means of transport is
lacking, and second, because the fear that someone might die outside the village
boundaries is greater than the fear of death itself. The possibility of summoning
a doctor to the village is also generally not pursued at this stage. In cases in
which it seems worthwhile, only a local healer (dissari) is called to perhaps
still save the dying person.
Death is considered certain when the individual’s chest no longer rises and
falls and no heartbeat can be felt. In a sign of deep mourning, the women throw
themselves upon the deceased’s body, while the men of the neighborhood almost
immediately begin preparations for the cremation; the “day of death” (morla din)
has now begun. News of the death is brought to the tsorubai of the deceased’s
local line (kuda) and to his mother’s brother (mamu); both are indispensable
for the performance of the rituals.¹⁰⁵ The aim is usually to cremate the corpse im-
mediately; if the day is too far advanced, this is done the next morning. The de-
ceased’s daughters, sisters (if resident in the village), and mother pass the entire
night accompanying the deceased with laments, while the men, in contrast, sit
quietly around fires in front of the house. It is assumed that the deceased’s
duma remains near the house, and people are correspondingly alert.
The preparations then begin early the next morning. An experienced man
from among the tsorubai takes the role of the morodandia ¹⁰⁶ and leads the rit-
uals, often together with the deceased’s mamu. The morodandia cuts the first
branch from a tree as firewood, after which many men from the tsorubai’s sai

 For the description of the ritual, I have chosen to use the death of a man, but as already
noted, the rituals for men and women are identical.
 If the mother’s brother or other important individuals are absent from the cremation, the
duma is said to often show his anger by the fact that the bones burn very slowly and only
incompletely, especially the breastbone (buk).
 Moro refers to death, dandia both to the bier and to a staff. During the collective festival in
the month of chait (April), a man takes on the task of ensuring peace in the village. He carries a
staff as part of this office and is called dandia.
 3.11 The Mortuary Rituals I 285

help to chop wood and stack it at the cremation site.¹⁰⁷ The bier (dandia), which
consists of seven crosspieces, is made out of bamboo by the tsorubai, as is a kind
of swing (jigri). The swing’s base is a bamboo triangle, to the corners of which
siardi cords are fastened and which serves to transport smoldering dung and in-
cense (dup). Inside the house, the women heat water for washing the deceased
in a new clay pot and prepare a small amount of cooked rice, which will later be
taken to the cremation site, in a small clay pot (kondi).¹⁰⁸ Many of the village in-
habitants who participate in the procession to the cremation site bring a piece of
white cloth (pochia, dan goronda) and some coins to the deceased’s house; both
are later redistributed.
When the deceased’s mamu has arrived and the preparations have been
completed, ever more men and women gather in the area around the deceased’s
house. As soon as the house door has been taken off its hinges and placed in the
middle of the yard, the situation becomes tense. The widow and in some cases
other women of the house throw themselves down lamenting on the door and
are dragged away by others. Men who are close to the deceased also have to
be calmed and restrained by others when the deceased is carried headfirst out
of the house by the men of the neighborhood and laid on the door in the
yard. The widow or a tsorubai pours the warm water, colored with turmeric
(oldi, sangsang*), over the body, together with many others who have brought
water with them. While a dozen people try to wash the deceased, the widow
throws herself onto her husband’s body over and over. These scenes are often
tumultuous, but do not last long, since the washed corpse is quickly brought
back into the house.
Inside the house, the deceased is dressed, covered with white cloths
(brought previously) and blankets, and rolled up in a bamboo mat, which is
then tied shut. His head rests on a small wooden bench, and paper money,
which will also be distributed later, is fastened to the cloths around his head.
Outside, the morodandia breaks the clay pot in which the washwater was heated
and places a potsherd of the right size on the triangular base of the swing (jigri)
made earlier. On the potsherd, dried dung is lit, and incense is sprinkled over it.

 For a funeral in the rainy season, the barik collects a small piece of dry wood (amil kat) for
the pyre from each house in the village before the cremation. He would also do this in the dry
season, the barik said, but I did not observe this. The contribution from every house – as in the
collection of potri chaul for collective sacrifices – underlines the idea that ideally, the whole
village (gulai ga) should participate.
 A woman explained to me that if this rice – which she referred to as morasia lai* (see
below) – boiled over, it would be a sign that the death was caused by harmful magic; if not, jom
caused the death.
286 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

As soon as the deceased has been carried out of the house a second time and
placed on the bier in the center of the yard, the women’s stormy laments
begin again.
The procession sets off immediately, as soon as the bearers have shouldered
the bier with the corpse. The morodandia leads the way with the incense swing
(jigri) and an ax (tengia) from the deceased’s house. Another tsorubai or the
mamu carries the small clay pot (kondi) with the rice cooked inside the house,
which is considered tsoru. A man of the kutum also goes before the bier and toss-
es over his shoulder the coins received earlier. Many men (from the kuda, sons-
in-law, etc.) carry the bier, and others follow. The women come at the end, their
hands clasped behind their heads. How often the bier is set down depends on
the relative position of the deceased’s house in relation to the cremation site.
Possible stopping places are the border of the sai and the shrine of the village
goddess; in all cases, a stop is made at the village’s ritual boundary (bejorna),
and the bier is briefly set down. A few moments later, the procession continues
and reaches the cremation site, where the pyre has been built.
After a counterclockwise perambulation, the bier is set down, a white cloth
is spread over the pyre, and the corpse is laid on it. The tsorubai break up the
bier, which will be burned soon afterward, together with the raffia mat. The
cloths (dan goronda) and blankets with which the deceased was covered are re-
moved and set aside, except for one cloth covering the corpse. The morodandia
rips a piece from this cloth and ties it to the branch of a nearby tree or shrub as a
banner (siral). Banners of this kind normally ward off sorcerers’ spells by bind-
ing them to themselves. The aim is to prevent sorcerers from subjugating the
duma by their magic and setting him on others. This cloth is used again in the
fishwater ritual (mach pani) two days later. Before more branches are placed
over the deceased and three thicker logs are leaned against each long side of
the pyre, the morodandia cuts the deceased’s hip cord (ontador, tunuloi*),
which he has worn since his name-giving, and thereby enables an unhindered
rebirth of the jibon.
The pyre is then lit. The morodandia and another man (e. g., the mamu or
another tsorubai) kindle a bundle of straw at the smoldering incense swing
and simultaneously, one at each end, set the wood on fire. They then switch
sides, crossing their hands with the burning straw bundles behind their backs.
After the wood has caught fire and thick plumes of smoke are already rising,
the two men stand, one on each of the pyre’s long sides, and pass the deceased’s
ax back and forth over the pyre three times, first touching the ground with the ax
each time. When the morodandia receives the ax back the third time, he strikes
the clay pot of rice with the blunt side, shattering it into many pieces. He is then
the first to place a rice offering (betisong) for the deceased at the foot of the burn-
 3.11 The Mortuary Rituals I 287

ing pyre. While the others now offer tsoru to the deceased from the broken pot,
the morodandia removes the ax head from the handle, reverses it, and replaces it
in that position. The ax is now reversed (ulta). With this reversed ax, the moro-
dandia circles the pyre counterclockwise and touches the ground at all four cor-
ners, in order to bind the duma to this site. Subsequently, all those present throw
a small piece of mango wood into the flames, bid the deceased farewell with the
usual juar gesture, and leave the cremation site, first the men, then the women.
Dombo and Goudo who are present, who do not enter the cremation site, stand
on the path and hand the Gadaba small pieces of wood to throw onto the pyre in
their names.
All those who participated in the procession then go to the river to ritually
wash their feet, mouths, and hair. The morodandia is the first to head back,
and on the path back to the village, he breaks a raw chicken egg and leaves be-
hind a flower as well. Next, all the men assemble at a suitable location near the
deceased’s house. The previously given cloth (dan goronda), coins, and in some
cases some of the deceased’s clothing are now officially distributed to selected
individuals and groups.¹⁰⁹ First, a representative of the local line presents to
the deceased’s mamu a plate and a pot of brass, along with a white cloth: this
gift of brass items is called gasi moali (or dud moali). Gasi refers to members
of a lower caste not to be found in the Gadaba villages, but who possibly resided
in the royal capital of Nandapur in the past;¹¹⁰ dud means “milk.” The word
moali is composed from the words for “pot” (mota) and “plate” (tali) and desig-
nates this obligatory gift to the mamu. As part of the mortuary process, the mamu

 Upon the death of the senior naik (a Sisa), the distribution took place as follows: after the
purification at the river, all the men in the village sat beneath the tamarind tree, the Sisa’s
assembly place. A senior man of the local line (kuda) was responsible for the distribution. First,
the mamu (in his absence) received a brass plate, a bangle, and an umbrella (as gasi moali); then
five groups (matam) – tsorubai and moitr – each received a piece of cloth, in the corner of which
coins were knotted. A sari was ripped in half and given to two Kirsani groups who had done
their part as tsorubai, along with thirty rupees each to buy liquor. Finally, the following in-
dividuals and groups were honored with pieces of cloth and small sums of money: the barik, a
herder, the smith, the moira, the junior naik, the Munduli (the village’s third agnatic group), the
affinal groups (Messing, Mundagoria), the randari’s kutum, and a senior Dombo. Immediately
after the distribution, fifty rupees’ worth of beer was purchased in the neighborhood by the
deceased’s kutum and drunk by the assembly.
 Ritual activities make reference to the Gasi caste among the Joria as well. In the multi-day
ganga puja, the leader of the rituals – a Joria – is called the “chief Gasi” (mul gasi), and he and
his group are considered extremely low-status for several days. As long as the ritual lasts, they
dress in rags and behave offensively, singing obscene songs, eating and drinking gluttonously,
and trying to “put one over” on the village inhabitants with dubious stories (cf. Volkmann,
unpublished).
288 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

will again receive moali in a later phase, when the same gifts will be called
“bone” (har) moali.
After his nephew’s death, the mamu is in a position to make demands. On
the day of the cremation, however, he must restrain himself and accept in silence
what is given, like everyone else. Alongside the mamu, the tsorubai receive cloth,
a small sum of money, and perhaps also a brass pot or plate. After them, the vil-
lage dignitaries – pujari, randari, naik, barik – and other guests and helpers re-
ceive cloth and coins. Each gift is set down before the recipient, who acts entirely
uninvolved. After everything has been distributed, a representative of the decea-
sed’s kuda or kutum briefly addresses the circle of men, honors those present,
apologizes for the interruption in their work (kam, i. e., their affairs in general),
tells them not to be dejected (monduk no koro), and announces the time of the
following ritual, called “fishwater” (mach pani, a’dong da’*). The spokesman
then clamps a small twig between his teeth, kneels before those present, bows
down, and breaks the stick, after which he stands up again, marking the end
of this task. The gathering then breaks up, and usually, the tsorubai immediately
use the money they have received to buy a pot of millet beer, which they drink
together. Before each participant returns to his house, he should bathe.
For the tsorubai and especially for the morodandia, however, the work is
only done when the pyre has properly burned down. They go to the cremation
site several more times to monitor it and push the half-burned logs together.
This task is called baura kat, the “last wood” or “returning the wood.”¹¹¹ If in
the course of this task it is found that pieces of bone have fallen out of the
pyre, special ritual actions may be needed, since this is judged to be a sign of
the duma’s anger.
Back at the deceased’s house, in the spot under the eaves (osona), the tsor-
ubai cook rice in another sherd from the pot broken after the washing of the
corpse. This tsoru, like the tsoru cooked for the duma in the following rituals,
is called morasia rice. It is offered to the duma on breadfruit leaves (ponos
potro) at the cooking hearth, inside the house (the place of death), at the
place where the corpse was washed in front of the house, and on all the
paths leading out of the village. For a certain period afterward, not precisely
fixed but not much longer than a month, the duma is served food daily, inde-
pendent of the various feedings that are part of the ritual process. For three

 In my notes, I had marked down baura as “last” (adjective). Baura kat is the last action at
the cremation site on this day. Likewise, the last day of chait porbo, the seasonal festival (porbo)
in April (chait), is called baura porbo. However, baura appears with the meanings “to call back”
and “to return” in Gustafsson (1989) and Mahapatra (1985), and the word is used in this sense in
the name of the handi baurani ritual, the “pot comes back.”
 3.11 The Mortuary Rituals I 289

days, until the performance of the second mortuary ritual, nothing may be
cooked in the deceased’s house; as previously described, women from other
local lines bring duk pej.

The Second Phase of the Mortuary Rituals: The “Fishwater” Ritual

The tsorubai usually conduct the second phase of the mortuary rituals on the
third day, counting the day of death. If the death occurs at an inopportune
time, however, in one of the festival seasons for example, the second ritual se-
quence may follow the cremation immediately, since it is not a “senior work”
(boro kam). Nevertheless, this ritual cannot be omitted, since it ends the period
of pollution (sutok), which affects all agnates of the local line, as in the case of
birth, and is intended to effect the incorporation of the deceased into the com-
munity of the duma. The ritual activities consist primarily in the preparation and
feeding of ritual food and tsoru. The name of the ritual, “fishwater” (machpani,
a’dong da’*), is explained by a relatively unusual ingredient in the tsoru: fish
previously caught in the river is cooked along with the rice.
The tsorubai, including the morodandia, prepare the cooking hearth, which
as usual consists of three small stones, in front of the house. In a small pot
(kondi), first rice is cooked, then fish with salt and chili. The fish is one of the
small species easily caught with nets in the rice paddies. While the tsorubai pre-
pare the tsoru under the eaves, the women – not the widow, but women from the
kutum – cook kordi rice inside the house. As soon as everything is ready, the food
is placed on small platters (chipli) made from the leaves of the breadfruit tree
(ponos potro). Larger leaf platters (dona) are filled with hulled rice, and the tsor-
ubai also make two small packets (chuti) out of ponos leaves, each of which con-
tains a small piece of cloth. These cloths are again part of the gifts of cloth (dan
goronda) previously brought to the deceased’s house; they are colored with tur-
meric and soaked in castor oil (jara tel). Beer and liquor are made ready, along
with a small platter of rice water (torani, ginen song*). All the offerings are ini-
tially set out on the veranda. The morodandia then takes all the cooking utensils,
including the stones from the cooking hearth, to the bejorna, where he discards
them at the side of the path. Upon his return to the deceased’s house, the par-
ticipants proceed to the cremation site.
In contrast to the cremation, public participation in the fishwater ritual is
relatively slight; perhaps ten or fifteen people, both men and women, take the
prepared food to the cremation site. Here as well, the stereotypical gendered di-
vision of labor is in evidence. The men are restrained; the women mourn demon-
stratively. Those participants who are not carrying any of the prepared food from
290 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

the house bring hulled rice in a ponos leaf, which they scatter at the cremation
site.
There is a brief halt at the village’s ritual boundary (bejorna), where the mo-
rodandia places some rice on the path as an offering (betisong) and sets aside a
glass of beer and one of the packets of cloth with oil and turmeric, which he will
retrieve on the way back. He is then the first to enter the cremation site, carrying
the deceased’s still-reversed ax, and goes to the place in the heap of white ash
where the deceased’s head was. All the offerings are laid down here. While the
women squat down in a semicircle and lament loudly, and the widow throws
herself into the ashes, the morodandia unties the piece of white cloth from the
tree or branch to which he had fastened it two days earlier. He looks for a
small fragment of bone in the ashes, ideally a piece of the skull, which he
picks up with the cloth and places where the deceased’s head was. The cloth
is laid on top of the porous bone and represents the head of the deceased,
who receives the offerings here. The duma is invoked, and the morodandia
and many other men together place a portion of all the offerings, one after an-
other, on the cloth-covered bone. Before the men leave the cremation site,
they scatter some hulled rice elsewhere in the area for the village’s other
duma, agnates and affines. The women likewise squat in various places and
weep over other duma. When the men set out to the river to wash, the women
remain behind. They place additional food offerings on the main road leading
away from the village for the duma of the village’s external affines, that is, for
the village’s ji bouni and members of their original kutum groups. They then fol-
low the men to the river.
As on the day of cremation, the morodandia conducts a brief ritual on the
way back to the village from the river. He breaks an egg and places the second
packet (with the cloth soaked in oil and turmeric) in the center of the path. He
then removes the iron head of the deceased’s ax from the handle and replaces it
in the usual position; the ax is now back in its original condition. Following the
morodandia, men and women go to the deceased’s house, where they first ritual-
ly purify themselves again with “house water” (gor pani) and then begin to feed
the duma in and in front of his house. Two platters, one containing tsoru and the
other kordi rice, are placed under the eaves. Next to them is a branch broken
from a breadfruit tree, from which each of those present takes a half-dozen
leaves with which to perform betisong. The morodandia goes first, followed by
the mamu, the other men, and finally the women. The locations and sequence
of the offerings are identical to those on the day of cremation (tsoru cooking
hearth, big room, threshold, washing place, paths).
The corresponding locations are soon overflowing with leaves and rice, and
before the men of the kutum, the tsorubai, and the mamu can assemble in the
 3.11 The Mortuary Rituals I 291

house, the remains are quickly cleaned up off of the ground. A ring belonging to
the deceased or to another man is placed in the middle of the room, the duma is
invoked, and he is told that all have assembled in his honor. This includes the
mamu, who is often referred to in this context as a mountain (mamu dongor).
The mamu is then called on to let drops of liquor fall into the center of the
ring (tipali), and it is then placed on his finger. After those present have had a
drink of liquor, the women distribute platters of kordi rice. The morodandia
alone receives two portions, one of which is for the duma. He places some grains
of rice on the ground and then distributes rice from the duma’s platter to every-
one else. In this way, all those present – agnates and affines – eat from the de-
ceased’s platter, the duma’s rice.
The period between the cremation and the performance of the fishwater rit-
ual is visibly marked as a liminal period by the morodandia’s reversal of the de-
ceased’s ax. The ritual on the third day is intended to integrate the duma into the
world of the dead, or in other words, to separate him from the realm of the living;
this transition correspondingly also marks the end of the period of ritual pollu-
tion (sutok) and the immediate threat from the duma. Food can again be cooked
in the deceased’s house without restrictions, meat and fish can again be eaten,
and affines can again receive food from the houses of the local line. The widow
was also forbidden to wash and change her clothes in the period following the
death, as well as to cook, and these restrictions also now come to an end. The
kordi meal that the men consume along with the deceased after returning
from the cremation site and the river points to the auspiciousness (sub) of this
change of status, as in the cases of birth and marriage. The packets with oil
and turmeric offered at the cremation site and on the path appear to be imme-
diately connected to the deceased, especially to his body. The cloth of the
dead (goronda), oil (commonly rubbed into the skin), and turmeric all adorn
or are worn on the body. According to my informants, the offering of these pack-
ets is important so that the duma leaves the realm of the living and the ritual pol-
lution ends. “Mingle with the king of the underworld (tume jompur raja sange
mishibo),” the morodandia is also supposed to tell the duma when he conducts
the ritual.¹¹² The association with the body is underlined by this detail, since it is
jom who fetches the deceased’s body to his realm. The body thus ritually leaves
the middle world (mojapur) of the living on the third day. The duma’s transforma-
tion is not yet complete, however.

 Other informants – outside the context of the fishwater ritual – described the integration of
the duma into the world of the dead as mingling with the community (jati mishaibe) or mingling
with the duma (duma sange mishla).
292 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

The Third Phase of the Mortuary Rituals

The next stage in the ritual actions – called bur, dosa, ¹¹³ or obdel* – may take
place a few days after the fishwater ritual or only months (occasionally years)
later. If conducted soon after death, the rituals are held only on a small scale.
If bur is held at the appropriate time, however, that is, in December or January
(pond, pus), it is celebrated lavishly and considered a “senior work” (boro kam).
In this period, bur are performed in many villages, and a village often holds a
joint ritual for a number of people who died in the course of the year. In its struc-
ture, bur does not differ significantly from the fishwater ritual. Feeding the de-
ceased tsoru and sharing food with him are at the forefront here as well, but
the sponsors also provide a feast (boji) for the entire village, and it is this aspect
that gives the ritual its senior (boro) status. Bur therefore requires preparations
and financial resources on a larger scale: sacrificial animals must be obtained,
the women have to pound rice, and firewood needs to be chopped. The ritual it-
self lasts two to three days. On the eve of the chief day, as in advance of every
great event, the chief sponsor performs a crab sacrifice (duma balo’*) for the
duma; the helpers – bandagoria and kandasalia – for the next day are designat-
ed; and the storage hut (kandasal) is made ready.

Sacrifice, tsoru Cooking, and Other Preparations

The tsorubai and mamu reach the sponsor’s house around the middle of the day
on the first day, before most of the other outside guests have arrived, since both
play an active role in bur as sacrificers and tsoru cooks. First, they prepare the
cattle sacrifice, from which the tsoru will later be cooked. At the site under the
eaves (osona), the tsorubai prepare a round sacrificial platform from dung and
water and set a small branch of the breadfruit tree into it. A “rope” (damo)
about ten centimeters long is made from siardi fibers, with which the sacrificial
animal is supposed to be symbolically tied up. Next to the place of sacrifice is a
platter of hulled rice and one of chaff (anap*) and embers (suol*), over which
incense will be sprinkled.
One head of cattle is sacrificed for each deceased individual, with no distinc-
tions according to the animal’s age or sex. The animal is led before the place of
sacrifice, and the mamu, tsorubai, and several of the deceased’s agnatic relatives

 Dosa alludes to the number ten (dos), and some Desia, such as the Goudo, also conduct a
mortuary ritual with this name on the tenth day after a death, but this ritual differs considerably
from the Gadaba ritual actions.
 3.11 The Mortuary Rituals I 293

(from his kutum and kuda groups) begin the invocation of the duma. They an-
nounce to him the performance of the ritual and ask him to be peaceful. The an-
imal receives tika from many of the participants and is given some hulled rice to
eat. A piece of its left ear (potri kan) and some hairs from its tail are cut off by the
tsorubai; the blood is let drip onto the platter of unhulled rice – thereby produc-
ing “blood rice” (rokto chaul) as an offering for the deceased – and then the
piece of the ear and the hairs are laid down on the platform. The animal is
then led away to be killed in an appropriate location and immediately butchered
there. Who does the killing is unimportant, since the animal’s blood has already
been shed as part of the puja. The mamu also sacrifices a black chicken for the
deceased at the same location.
The tsoru cooks first prepare the rice in front of the house’s veranda; as soon
as the butchering has made progress, they receive some beef and a piece of the
liver. As usual, the tsorubai cook in a tiny clay pot (kondi), and their tsoru (mo-
rasia rice) is intended only for the duma at the cremation site. The mamu, on the
other hand, uses a medium-sized clay pot to prepare rice and meat that agnates
and affines will eat in the house later as mamu tsoru. The butchers (katkia) also
bring to the house the animal’s lower jaw (tora), tongue (jib), and omasum (puja
pota),¹¹⁴ all of which will be used in the ritual later. At the large outside cooking
hearth, rice is first cooked and set aside in the storage hut (kandasal). In addi-
tion, members of the kutum cook a particular category of rice with turmeric,
called bongsel rice, which will be eaten by the kutum, the tsorubai, and the
“great people” (boro lok) during the feast (immediately after the mamu tsoru is
consumed inside the house). Some of this rice must also be brought to the cre-
mation site, since otherwise the duma does not obey (manibo nai).¹¹⁵ Inside the
house, the women cook kordi rice. At the same time that the cooking is going on,
volunteers make bamboo implements for the deceased, which will later be taken
to the cremation site as offerings. These include tiny baskets (surki) filled with
unhulled rice, small imitation rain hats (satori), mats for sitting (tati), and
small saucers made from breadfruit leaves.
As part of bur, then, the following foods are cooked and – except for the last
category – later brought to the cremation site.
– “blood rice” (rokto chaul)
– tsoru prepared by the tsorubai (morasia rice)
– tsoru prepared by the mother’s brother (mamu tsoru)

 A ruminant’s last forestomach (see below).

 I was unable to observe the eating of the bongsel rice on any occasion, but my informants
insisted that it was an important aspect of the ritual.
294 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

– rice prepared by the women (kordi rice)

– rice with turmeric (bongsel rice)
– rice for the feast (boji rice)

Feeding at the Cremation Site

In the afternoon, the butchering of the head of cattle has been completed, the
head and haunches (mund kulund) and part of the legs have been set aside,
and the rest has been prepared for the feast. The barik goes through the village
at this time and distributes small packets of raw meat to all the houses. This gift
is called china manso, a “memory” or “memorial” (china) of the bur and of the
deceased individual. All the guests (gotia, killom*) from the village and from
other villages have meanwhile arrived at the sponsor’s house, bringing hulled
rice and pots of untapped beer (gula pendom). Affinal relatives (somdi) also
bring one head of cattle per group, less often goats.¹¹⁶ The gifts are stored and
noted down by the bandagoria, and the guests are given hospitality with beer.
Before the procession departs for the cremation site, the offerings for the
duma are piled up on the house’s veranda: the tsoru of the tsorubai, part of
the mamu tsoru, and the women’s kordi rice. Next to these are stacked the
blood rice, onto which the ear blood was dripped, and other platters, saucers,
and cups containing unhulled rice, beer, and liquor, as well as the bamboo im-
plements. For a (female) infant who died immediately after sutok sorani, a mini-
ature loom was made on one occasion, so that the girl could weave her kisalo’* in
the underworld. Various personal effects of the deceased may also be brought to
the cremation site, a plow or a bow for men, a rice pounder or clothing for
women, school notebooks for children. The mamu has the right to claim these
items for himself later.
The trip to the cremation site is distinguished from the corresponding part of
the fishwater ritual only by the number of participants, since the barik summons
the village to participate, and many do so. Otherwise, stops are made at the same
places, and the men’s and women’s behavior is the same as that previously de-
scribed. At the cremation site, all the offerings are set down, a piece of bone is
found, and one of the small rain hats (satori) is placed over it. The food offerings
of the tsorubai and all others are placed on top of this. Each of those present pla-
ces food from each category here and pours a few drops of beer and liquor onto

 I was also able to observe affinal guests of the sponsors buying up cattle that had already
been given away in order to subsequently present them as gifts once again. One head of cattle
thus served the same purpose multiple times. In this way, the cattle-givers save themselves the
trouble of driving a refractory animal a long distance.
 3.11 The Mortuary Rituals I 295

it. The women again remain at the cremation site longer and subsequently feed
the affinal duma on the path.

Discussions with the Mother’s Brother, Feeding the Dead, and Feast
On the way back from the river after the first ritual purification, the men sit down
on the path, and a conventional dialogue begins, involving the mamu, the tsor-
ubai, and the deceased individual’s group. The conversation includes the follow-
ing stereotyped sequences. The tsorubai addresses the mamu, “We gave you a
rake (akori) to turn the straw. We gave you a cow (gai) to drive away. Whatever
else you want, demand it.”¹¹⁷ According to custom, however, the mamu should
not ask for anything at this point, and he correspondingly answers, “We came
to see, we came to go to the threshing floor (kotar). We did not come to demand
anything.”¹¹⁸ The interchange can be significantly longer, especially when the
participants are already drunk. Finally, the speakers – still squatting on the
path – drink millet beer together, after which they continue on the way to the
house. After the further purification at the house, betisong – feeding the de-
ceased – is the next step.
In principle, the feeding of the deceased in his house in bur is comparable to
the procedure in the fishwater ritual. Nevertheless, significantly more people
take part in the context of bur, and at the location where the tsoru was cooked,
under the eaves, the omasum (in some cases also the lower jaw and tongue) of
the head of cattle is placed on the platter of blood rice. This is also the first and
most important location for presenting the food offerings (betisong), and the
platters of tsoru are placed immediately next to the stomach, which is generally
called the “ritual stomach” (puja pota) and in the context of bur has the special
name of “remembering the dead” (mora chini). The tsorubai consume this stom-
ach (and the tongue and jaw) on the morning of the next day, together with a
bottle of liquor. I will discuss the meaning of this organ in the context of bur
in the chapter conclusion.
Immediately following the return from the cremation site, the leading ritual
actors (tsorubai and mamu) begin making food offerings again, first placing food
(a few grains of rice from the tsoru) on the cow’s stomach, then at the other lo-
cations. The other men and women follow them, so that the house and yard are

 Mariba pai akori delu, kotar jiba pai gai delu. Mamu kista manguchu, mango. The harvest
metaphor is unsurprising in a conventional discourse between affines, since – as will be shown
later – the paddy rice harvest is conceptualized as “fetching the bride” (dangri ana), and the gift
of a cow mentioned here is to be understood as an allusion to the gift of a bride.
 Dekiba pai ailu. Ame kichi mangbar pai asi nai.
296 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

filled with coming and going, and the ground is quickly covered with rice and
leaves.

Demanding the “Bone Vessels”

It is already late in the afternoon when the men assemble in the house after the
betisong. The mamu is again the center of attention. He now has the opportunity
to demand gifts, if he followed the rules previously and brought a head of cattle
or a goat to the house of his sister’s son (or his sister’s daughter) for bur. As in the
fishwater ritual, a ring is placed in the center of the room, together with the
“bone vessels,” the brass plate and pot, which are referred to in this context
as har (“bone”) moali. ¹¹⁹ The mamu is urged by the sponsors to make the libation
(tipali) with liquor. “We gave you a plate (tali); do you perform tipali now, or
what else do you demand?”¹²⁰ The mamu accepts the gifts or demands more.
“I will not perform tipali; give me one more [a brass plate] for eating.”¹²¹ The tsor-
ubai responds brusquely, “There’s still a nephew there [i. e., the deceased’s older
brother, literally “sign”]; what more do you demand? Make tipali.”¹²²
The concrete situation in which these fragments of conversation were written
down then escalated. The room was filled with drunken men, some of them con-
siderably so, and the spokesmen were also not in any better condition. A loud,
although friendly, argument ensued, with the disputants talking over one anoth-
er, until the men remembered (and were reminded by the women) that the feast
could begin only after they had reached agreement. An understanding was ar-
rived at, and things continued according to plan.
After reaching agreement, the mamu pours a few drops of liquor into the
ring, and the spokesmen drink the rest together. Immediately thereafter, the
mamu brings the tsoru he cooked into the house, where it is eaten by the men
(sponsors, tsorubai, mamu), once again together with the deceased. After that
– now shortly before sunset – the feast for the entire village begins. The banda-
goria has already distributed raw ingredients (batia) to those (Goudo and Sundi)
who do not accept cooked food from the Gadaba, and they prepare the ingredi-
ents themselves.

 Har moali can also be demanded by the mother’s brother at gotr, as described below,
instead of in the context of bur.
 Gote tali tomke dei delu, tui ebe tipali delu, ki au kista mangucho?
 Mui tipali kori ani, au gote kaiba pai delu.
 Au gote china achi, kahinki manguchu, tipali kor.
 3.11 The Mortuary Rituals I 297

Transactions in Cattle and Meat

On the following day, the distribution of the pieces of meat is the focus of atten-
tion. As an illustration, I will list the gifts and their redistribution in a concrete
case. Sukro Challan – a member of the affinal Mundagoria group in Gudapada –
and his elder brother held a bur for their parents, who had died in the course of
the year. Many of the village’s internal affines correspondingly brought cattle to
their houses. The two brothers each received the guests’ gifts separately in their
houses, but the festival and the redistribution took place jointly. Sukro’s banda-
goria recorded the following gifts in his list:¹²³
– 42 x 1 man (1 man = about 2.5 kg) hulled rice
– 4 x 2 man hulled rice
– 1 x 3 man hulled rice
– 2 x 4 podi hulled rice
– 1 x 4 man unhulled rice
– 1 x Rs. 100.–
– 1 pot liquor
– 1 x 1 bottle liquor
– 1 x 4 bottles liquor
– 1 brass plate (somdi)
– 1 brass pot (eZDH)
– 1 x 1 goat (WZH)
– 1 x 1 sheep (eZH)
– 8 x 1 cattle (WB, MB, MBS, MZS, ZS, MFyB, MBS, ZeDH)

On the first day of the bur, the two cattle for the duma were ritually killed, and on
the following day two more, so that enough meat could be redistributed to the
ritual actors and guests. The various pieces of beef were hung on a wooden struc-
ture in the sponsors’ yard: heads (mundo), front legs (podia), rear legs (sati), ribs
(buk), pieces of the neck (gala), and washed intestines (atin). The rule is that a
guest (gotia, got) who brings a cow receives a front leg (podia), also called got
podia for this reason, when he leaves the village. The gift of the head of cattle
must be reciprocated by the recipient on an appropriate occasion. An initial
gift is described as a credit (udar) from the giver’s perspective, while the debt
(run) falls to the side of the recipient.
The mamu’s gifts are valued differently from those of the guests. The gift of a
head of cattle (or a goat) by the mamu is expected at bur, although it is not ob-
ligatory, and he receives in exchange gasi moali and har moali. The sponsors are

 The gifts of millet beer (gula pendom) were not listed; there must have been dozens of pots.
298 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

not required to reciprocate cattle to the mamu later, but they are obliged to make
corresponding gifts to their own nephews and nieces (ZS, ZD). In a symmetrical
marriage model, this consequently means that there is then a reciprocal ex-
change of cattle between groups linked by marriage in the context of bur. The
deceased’s mamu likewise receives a front leg (podia) or rear leg (sati); if he
has brought a head of cattle to the sponsors’ house, he takes another in ex-
change. In any case, the mother’s brother or his group claims at least one leg.
In the event that he is not identical to the mother’s brother, this does not
apply to the FZH, who although he is also called mamu, belongs to the category
of the bride-takers.
The tsorubai and moitr ¹²⁴ receive a piece of the ribs (buk) or the neck (gala).
Like the meat that the barik distributed to all households, the gift to the moitr is
also called china manso (“memory meat”). Even if the moitr do not appear at a
bur (or at a wedding or a gotr), their share is brought to them. The meat is divided
up within the recipients’ group.
As affines of the Gangre, Sukro and his brother received a number of cattle
from different groups and houses in the village. A Kirsani group (kutum) collec-
tively (matam) gave a head of cattle and received a leg in return; in other cases,
the givers were individual men whose wives came from Sukro’s group. The de-
ceased mother’s mamu, or rather a representative of his group, had brought a
head of cattle from his village and correspondingly took two legs back, unlike
the father’s mamu, who came without a head of cattle and returned home
with a single leg. The tsorubai received the ribs (buk) of one head of cattle for
their work. The sponsors’ moitr – the Munduli from Gudapada – received a
piece of the neck, which they left to be brought to their house. Other outside
guests were also given the service of having their portions brought to their vil-
lages. On another occasion, I learned about a bur that had taken place two
days earlier in a neighboring village when envoys of the sponsors brought a
piece of neck meat to their moitr in Gudapada. They said that they were bringing
china manso for the moitr and were immediately invited to drink beer in several
houses.

Head and Haunches

On the third day of bur, the “great men” (boro lok) of the village, including all the
dignitaries, assemble in the sponsor’s yard again. The head and haunches (mund

 The moitr of the same descent category (bai moitr) do not receive china manso. They receive
buffaloes at gotr, people say.
 3.11 The Mortuary Rituals I 299

kulund) of the head of cattle sacrificed for the duma are cooked and eaten with-
out rice, together with a thick millet gruel (rab).

The Last Rice

Bur ends roughly a week later, after the duma receives food offerings for the last
time. The ritual is called baura bat, ¹²⁵ and for the last time, the sponsors, the mo-
rodandia, and the Four Brothers go to the cremation site to feed the duma, before
he again receives food offerings at the house. Unlike in the previous phases of
bur, no tsoru is cooked; instead, the women of the sponsors prepare rice and
beef that was dried after the first day. Women and men go to the cremation
site together, without stopping at the village’s ritual boundary first. The decea-
sed’s agnatic relatives offer him cooked food; his affines merely scatter hulled
rice. At the place where the deceased’s head lay on the pyre, there have accumu-
lated countless saucers, pots, and drinking gourds left behind on the preceding
days; they remain here for the duma. The women adopt their postures of mourn-
ing, and the morodandia carries out his office for the last time and begins the
feeding.
After the purification at the river and at the house, betisong is performed in
the house and yard, after which everyone eats together in the yard, women and
men in separate rows. Neither an assembly inside the house nor the libation into
a ring take place, and the mamu’s presence on this last day is unnecessary.

Example of a Bad Death and Its Consequences

Before describing the last phase of the mortuary rituals, gotr, I will illustrate the
situation and consequences of a bad death with an example. During the April
festival in 2000, a series of events took place that began with an otherwise
not unusual situation, a physical dispute between a father and son. The father,
Aita Sisa, was the village naik; his son had the reputation of a good-for-nothing,
whose third wife had left him and who was living with his parents, along with
his young son. In the course of the argument, the son apparently struck his
father so hard (surprisingly, no one witnessed the incident) that the older man
died shortly thereafter in the hospital from internal injuries. In what follows, I
limit myself to describing the rituals and leave out of consideration the meetings

 Other terms are baura arkot and ande rukuda* (“to reciprocate hulled rice”) or ande lai*
(“to reciprocate cooked rice”).
300 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

of the village council about how to handle the death, since they are unimportant
for the sequence of ritual actions.
The corpse was brought to the village from the hospital late in the evening,
in a borrowed jeep, and was immediately laid out in the house in the usual way.
The men were in agreement that the rituals should be performed quickly in order
not to affect the upcoming events of the April festival (chait porbo), and the prep-
arations began early the next morning. Although the naik had not died in the
village, his death was not considered a “death on the path” (bate morla),
since he died in the hospital, and the violent circumstances of the death were
also not interpreted as a bad death; for this reason, the deceased’s son –
there were critics of this behavior – did not initially sacrifice the “twelve
heads” (baro mundo).¹²⁶
Various signs and misfortunes very quickly revealed, however, that the ritual
actions had been insufficient, and the deceased was angry about it. Already at
the cremation, the morodandia had to hit the small pot with rice three times be-
fore it broke and the duma received his first food offering. This was interpreted to
me as a (bad) sign that the duma was still holding fast to the world of the living,
and the transition to the underworld could be problematic. During the subse-
quent trips to the cremation site to monitor the fire as it burned down (baura
kat), a Gadaba remarked that he heard the rustling of the duma. Relatives of
the deceased (MyZ, eZ) from other villages had also meanwhile arrived in Guda-
pada and threw cloth for the deceased onto the glowing pyre. A senior Sisa (the
memor) spoke to the duma as they did so: “See, your brothers and affines have
come, have brought along cloth (kopra) for you. Cause us no difficulties and go!”
The fishwater ritual was conducted on the same day, and since the deceased’s
mamu was not present, the deceased’s son-in-law (DH) took on the task of per-
forming tipali. The memor again addressed the deceased: “See, your mamu is not

 In such cases, a pig sacrifice is first carried out on the day of the cremation, when the
deceased is brought out of the house for the second time, newly dressed. At this time, the
morodandia sacrifices a young pig in the deceased’s yard and sprinkles the pig’s blood, mixed
with water, on the heads of the assembled people, using a bundle of various grasses. On the way
back from the river, after the visit to the cremation site, two tsorubai stand along the path
leading into the village. One sprinkles water (pani chinchini) on the heads of the returning group,
as a supplemental ritual purification, and the other hands a small piece of the cooked pork to
each individual as he passes. The recipient merely smells the meat (considered equivalent to
eating it), then throws it over his shoulder for the duma. The usual ritual activities then follow.
These measures show that the community is especially affected by a bad death, and not only
additional sacrificial offerings for the deceased, but also reinforced commensality with him and
additional ritual purifications become necessary.
 3.11 The Mortuary Rituals I 301

here; that’s not a problem. Your nephew (banja) is here; we’re calling him the
mamu mountain (mamu dongor).”
Three days later, still before the chief festival day of chait porbo, a simple bur
took place, in which a pig was sacrificed instead of a head of cattle, and the jun-
ior tsorubai (the Kirsani of the village) served as sacrificers and tsoru cooks. The
deceased’s mamu was also not present on this day; in his place, an internal af-
fine, the most senior man of the affinal Ruda’i group, took on the task of receiv-
ing the “bone vessels” (har moali): brass plate, plow and yoke, bow and arrow, a
hoe, an umbrella, and a new cloth.
A day after the chief festival day of chait porbo, Aita’s brother, Guru Sisa, was
haunted or possessed by his duma (duma dorla). The man could neither sit nor
speak, and a doctor would probably have diagnosed a stroke. The gurumai and
the dissari from Gudapada hurried to the scene, took charge of the situation, and
tried to expel the duma. I will go into greater detail about their techniques and
the later visit of an external dissari when I discuss the healing rituals; my inten-
tion here is to note the aspects relevant to the mortuary rituals.
When Guru Sisa lost consciousness, he was carried into the house to die;
when his “breath” then “returned” (punda aila), he was brought back out to
the veranda. The memor (a Sisa), who also played a significant role in the
naik’s mortuary rituals, and another man brought a head of cattle to the
house, where Guru was sitting out in front, supported by others. A short ritual
was conducted with the animal, and Aita’s duma was invoked. The animal
was given rice to eat, and a piece of its ear was cut off, as is usual in the sacrifice
that is part of bur. The memor mixed some drops of blood with some hulled rice
that he shoved into the sick man’s mouth – as an offering of blood rice – together
with the piece cut from the animal’s ear. This offering for the naik’s duma, who
had taken possession of his brother, was intended to appease his anger by rem-
edying the omission at the bur, the cattle sacrifice. The junior tsorubai also came
to Guru, gave him water to drink, and performed a mansik ritual in front of
Guru’s house god (doron deli), in which they promised sacrifices in the event
of his recovery. The still-untamed rage and destructive power (nosto) of the de-
ceased were manifested again in the death of a pig that died suddenly on the
way to the sacrificial site where a healing ritual for Guru was to be performed.
Guru died late in the evening, and in his case as well, the cremation and the fish-
water ritual took place on the following day, since further rituals for the seasonal
festival were scheduled for the same day, and arrangements had been made for a
theatrical group (nat) to come to the village that night.
However, Guru’s mortuary rituals also did not go according to plan. On the
visit to the cremation site to monitor the fire (baura kat), after the cremation
proper, it was noticed that a bone had fallen from the pyre, something that
302 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

again did not suggest a peaceful duma. The bone was interpreted as part of the
left leg, meaning that the deceased’s affines were threatened by the duma’s po-
tential attacks (if it was a bone from the right side of the body, the agnates would
be the targets). In such cases, when a duma is seen as particularly dangerous,
whether due to his own vengeful motives or to activation by a third party
(duma peson), the cremation is symbolically repeated. Two miniature figurines
are made out of ebony (kendu), hair is fastened to their heads, and they are
wrapped in the cloth of the dead (dan goronda). A bamboo mat the size of a
book jacket is placed under the two corpses. These images are called mosnia ¹²⁷
and are discarded either at the ritual boundary or at the cremation site. In the
case described here, Guru’s tsorubai made the figurines and brought them to
the cremation site as part of the fishwater ritual that followed the cremation.
The memor threw the figurines and the bamboo mat into the embers and called
out to the duma, “Here are your affines who have come; unite with them and go.”
The assessment of the cause of Guru’s death can already be deduced from
the ritual actions themselves: the rage of Aita’s duma about his manner of
death and the ritual negligence of his kutum. However, various reasons for the
incidents were expressed (sometimes by the same individuals). Some murmured
behind their hands that Guru himself was at fault, that he had been negligent in
sacrificing for the house god; others said that Aita’s duma had been sent against
his brother (duma peson) by sorcerers (pangonia). The majority nevertheless
traced the events back to the ritual omissions and the duma’s wrath. Aita’s
own death was likewise evaluated in various ways. Some said that the naik
had died in the hospital, not on the path, and so had not died a bad death in
this regard. Others said that both the death outside the village and the violent
circumstances had enraged the duma, even if he had not died a classic bad
death. The opinion was unanimous that the ritual omissions had to be remedied
if further attacks were to be prevented.

The tsoru of the Twelve Brothers

After only a few days, even before chait porbo was over, additional ritual steps,
usual in the event of a bad death, were taken, since it was feared that Aita’s and
perhaps also Guru’s duma could inflict yet more harm on their family or the vil-
lage. As a result, for the first and only time during my stay in Gudapada, the
Twelve Brothers took a concrete form in a ritual context.

 The word mosnia alludes to the cremation site (mosani), and the suffix “–ia” designates
people. Mosnia thus means roughly “the [people] of the cremation site.”
 3.11 The Mortuary Rituals I 303

In order to do justice to tradition (niam) and placate the angry duma, two
animals needed to be sacrificed and consumed by the “twelve brothers, thirteen
seats” (baro bai tero gadi): a head of cattle for the Twelve Brothers and a pig for
the affines. A representative of the senior tsorubai from the neighboring village
of Potenda was called on to represent the Twelve Brothers. In all other rituals
that I observed, the Kirsani from Gudapada acted for the Sisa in their role as jun-
ior tsorubai (and vice versa).
The sacrificial animals were led in front of the naik’s house (under the
eaves), and some senior Sisa, the Kirsani tsorubai, and the external tsorubai
began the invocation of the duma there. It could be gathered from the joint in-
vocations that they were announcing to the duma that the baro bai tero gadi
were now going to offer “twelve heads” (baro mundo) for him. One of the
cow’s ears and hair from its tail were cut off and placed on the sacrificial plat-
form. A number of small animals, including a mouse and a cockroach, were
killed at this site. The cow was led away by the deceased individual’s brothers,
and the village affines took away the pig. The two animals were killed, prepared,
and consumed entirely separately. Along with the pig, the affines received a new
clay pot, two man of rice, and money for two bottles of liquor. They cooked in
one of their yards for the deceased’s ji bouni. The brothers received four man
of rice and a pot in which to prepare the beef. It was their responsibility to
engage the participation of the Twelve Brothers in the meal, in the deceased’s
name. Before the preparations for cooking began, the senior and junior tsorubai
went once more to the cremation site to feed the duma and addressed a brief in-
vocation to him: “Your baro bai tero gadi are there; we’re all mingling. Do not do
anything more to your brothers.”
When the cow was butchered, a front leg (podia) was first set aside for the
tsorubai, and the head and a hind leg (sati) were prepared in a metal pot. The
tsorubai received the liver and the blood, along with pieces of this meat, and
cooked the tsoru from them in a clay pot.¹²⁸
Twelve portions of raw meat, spread out to view on leaves, were then set
aside for the Twelve Brothers, or rather for their villages. The men discussed
which villages belonged to the Twelve Brothers, and since a situation of this
kind does not happen every day, it took a while before agreement was reached
on the “right” villages. The portions were to be brought to the designated villages
later. The Gangre men then ate the tsoru, and their wives and children ate the

 The rest of the animal was distributed on the following day to Sisa houses only.
304 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

lakka’* rice prepared in the metal pot.¹²⁹ Elsewhere at the same time, the affines
assembled the portions of pork for the ji bouni. In this case, the number of por-
tions was not significant. Nineteen small portions were prepared for the same
number of villages – to which the ji bouni had gone – and then the village’s af-
final groups likewise ate.
The rituals for Aita and Guru – not counting gotr – came to an end a week
later. Bur was again celebrated for the two recently deceased men and for a
young man, Aita’s son, who had died mysteriously some years before while vis-
iting another village. The tsorubai sacrificed a head of cattle for each of the older
men, a sheep for the younger one. Aita’s and Guru’s “own” (nijoro) mamu also
came on this occasion to cook tsoru and fulfill his ritual duties. The deceased
had now received all honor and food, and they subsequently kept away from
the realm of the living. Only gotr remains, the ritual by which they definitively
leave the village as duma.

3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr

Briefly stated, gotr consists in the reembodiment and subsequent eating of the
dead.¹³⁰ In a collective ritual at the level of the kutum, kuda, or village, the
duma of all those who have died since the last gotr are brought back to life in
the bodies of water buffaloes (por, bongtel*), fed and wept over by their relatives
for days, and finally taken away and consumed by external agnates. The age that
a deceased individual must have reached before death for a buffalo to be given
for him is left to the sponsors’ judgment. Children should not have been too

 Ideally, the Twelve Brothers should eat together in the deceased’s village, but according to
my informants, raw portions of meat are most often sent to their villages, and an actual as-
sembly – unlike in the case of marriage – is not absolutely necessary. In this particular case, the
tsorubai from Potenda was also no longer present at the meal, since a dispute had broken out
and he had left the village in anger; he also left behind the front leg intended for him, and it was
brought to him later in his village.
 I was able to observe gotr three times during my fieldwork. In 1999, at the beginning of my
stay, I documented parts of the ritual first among the Dombo, then in a Parenga village. In a
Gutob Gadaba village, I had the opportunity to observe this ritual from various perspectives and
to document the course of events in detail in 2001. I was able to witness the crab gotr (ungon
gotr), also mentioned by Fürer-Haimendorf (1943b) and performed only in some villages in the
Onukadilli area, in the village of Gutalpada. As the name suggests, in this type of gotr –
something of an object of amusement in the Lamtaput area – crabs are tied to the simli trees
instead of buffaloes. Since the description of this variant is largely insignificant for the und-
erstanding of the buffalo gotr, I will not recount the ritual I observed here.
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 305

young, however, since otherwise “they have not seen the four persons” (char lok
deki nai) and are therefore not yet part of the village community. Unlike bur, in
which the sex of the sacrificed cattle is irrelevant, in gotr, a female buffalo is
given for a woman, and a male one for a man. The animals are not sacrificed
in the name of the duma; they become the dead themselves.
Gotr is the only Gadaba ritual that anthropologists have described in detail
and that is also mentioned in various other sources.¹³¹ It is considered – un-
doubtedly correctly – a magnificent ritual, the Gadaba’s most important, as we
read (Izikowitz 1969, 129; Pfeffer 1991, 72; 2001, 108 f). At the same time, early ob-
servers judged it to be a “monstrous performance” and “horrible practice” (So-
masundaram 1949, 42, 45); compared to the meria of the Kond, however, it has
attracted little attention. For this reason, there were on the one hand no efforts
by the British to abolish gotr, but on the other hand, there are also no nineteenth-
century descriptions like those we have of meria.
In the region itself, gotr is identified with the Gadaba, although the Parenga
and some Dombo groups also celebrate this ritual. An often-heard proverb runs
(cf. Kornel 1999, 61):
Raja dasara
Mali bali
Joria nandi
Gadaba gotr
Gotr is thus associated with the other great festivals of the region, the Dasara of
the king in Jeypore (before that in Nandapur), the bali jatra of the gardeners
(Mali), and the nandi ritual of the Joria. Little is known about the royal Dasara
festival, which has lost its significance today. The bali jatra of the Mali and the
nandi of the Joria have been entirely unstudied up to now, although both festi-
vals, like gotr as well, take place today and are not celebrated only by the groups
mentioned in the proverb.¹³²

 Gotr was mentioned as early as the studies by Ramdas (1931) and Somasundaram (1949).
Fürer-Haimendorf (1943b) offered the first detailed description, which although it was not based
on personal observation, nevertheless gave the first concrete impressions of this ritual. More
recently, an article by Pradhan (1998) has appeared, as well as a book by the biologist Kornel
(1999). This last contains an extensive description of gotr. The most important articles are those
of Izikowitz (1969) and Pfeffer (1984a, 1991, 2001a), and their work, together with my own
research results, stands at the center of my discussion of the ritual.
 I had the opportunity to witness significant portions of the bali jatra in a village dominated
by Parenga. I was able to document the nandi festival and the associated, entirely unknown,
ganga ritual in two Joria villages. Although a comprehensive comparison of the major rituals of
different tribes in the Koraput district is overdue, these data will not play a role in this study.
Since my colleague Tina Otten is working on the bali jatra of the Mali, and another Parisian
306 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

Before presenting my own data on the gotr complex, I will first summarize
the descriptions by Izikowitz (1969) and Pfeffer (1984a, 1991, 2001a). Izikowitz
– who did research among the Lamet in Laos before World War II – was the
first to publish a detailed description of gotr. He observed this ritual as part of
his “visit to India” (1969, 129); by his own account, he spent a total of five months
in the area. In view of the very sparse information about gotr and the Gadaba in
general prior to that date, Izikowitz’s contribution is considerable. Unlike Iziko-
witz, Pfeffer has been concerned with the Gadaba and the Central Indian tribes
in general for many years, and gotr has always been a focus of his interest.
The word gotr is spelled in different ways in the literature: gota mela (Fürer-
Haimendorf 1943b), gotar (Kornel 1999), or gotr (Izikowitz 1969; Pfeffer 1991,
2001a). Some authors (Kornel 1999, 62; Pfeffer 2001a, 105) derive the term from
the Sanskrit gotra, a patrilineal descent category, and correspondingly translate
the name of the ritual as “festival of the lineage” (Pfeffer 1991, 72). In contrast,
linguists spell the word go’ter* (cf. Rajan and Rajan 2001a, 48). According to Arlo
Griffiths (personal communication), it could refer to the butchering and distribu-
tion of the buffaloes (or living matter). The syllable “g-*” often designates a liv-
ing thing,¹³³ go’* means “to cut” and “to sacrifice,” and ter* (or tero’be*) means
“to distribute” (cf. Rajan and Rajan 2001a, 53). The name of the ritual would thus
literally mean “cutting and distributing.” Griffiths’s thesis is supported by the
fact that the ritual’s central day, when several buffaloes are hacked or ripped
to pieces and the others are subsequently distributed, is called gotr din (“day
of the gotr or go’ter*”). Fürer-Haimendorf’s (1943b, 156) informants called this
day jur, which the author translates as “‘tearing into pieces day’” or “‘tearing
day.’” Jur and gotr/go’ter* thus possibly have the same meaning.¹³⁴

colleague, Raphael Rousseleau, is engaged in ethnographic research among the Joria, a better
overview of the connections among the individual rituals will perhaps become possible in the
future.
 Most animal names begin with the syllable “g-,” as do many group names (Gutob, Goren,
Gumal, Gutal).
 The gifts to the buffalo-takers early in the morning of the mentioned day are referred to as
jur rice. Each taker group receives half of a head of cattle, cut lengthwise, among other things
(cf. also Kornel 1999, 66). Jur also means both “to plunder, rob” and “to ripen” or “ripe” (cf.
Gustafsson 1987, 134; Mahapatra 1985, 224).
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 307

Izikowitz’s Description

In an article that first appeared in 1960 and that is to my knowledge his only
publication derived from his work among the Gadaba, Izikowitz describes two
gotr that he observed in the spring of 1952. The ritual in Kamarguda¹³⁵ – one
of Gudapada’s neighboring villages – is treated at length; for the second exam-
ple, the Parenga’s ritual in Kichop, Izikowitz limits himself to individual details.
After introductory remarks on the region and the Gadaba social and economic
system, the author explains the significance of gotr, its heavy expenses for
those involved, and the motives for the ritual. The increasing number of the “spi-
rits of the dead” (133) or “goigigi”¹³⁶ can be harmful to human beings. They cause
illness, and especially when a person is rich and nonetheless has not held a gotr
for the dead, the angry spirits cause harm to his livestock and harvest. If some-
one performs a gotr and frees himself from the dead, the harvest is good. Among
the various types of relationships that are relevant in gotr, Izikowitz mentions the
panjabai and moitr. The former take the buffaloes that contain the spirits; the lat-
ter are a kind of “sacred friend” (132).

Gotr in Kamarguda
In Kamarguda, the gotr began in mid-January 1952 and reached its conclusion
and culmination a month later, after the full moon in the month of mag (Febru-
ary). The gotr proper, however, began only a week before the dramatic finale. The
sponsors of the gotr were two groups in the village, the Kirsani – the chief spon-
sors – and the Pujari. The buffaloes were tied up in various places marked by
horizontal and vertical stone slabs and branches of the simli tree. A shared plat-
form was located inside the village (gotr munda ¹³⁷), another of the same kind for

 Izikowitz (1969, 135) spells the village name “Kammarguda.” In summarizing Izikowitz’s
and Pfeffer’s descriptions, I will maintain the previously introduced terms and spellings for the
sake of consistency. So, for example, I will continue to refer to moitr and not to “oath brothers,”
as Pfeffer does in his 1991 article, and I will also not change the spelling to moitur, following
Izikowitz.
 From my research, I know only the word duma as a term for the dead. Fürer-Haimendorf
reports the same term and adds in a footnote, “Duma is a word of Oriya origin, which has been
adopted by the Gadabas, as it seems to the exclusion of any term in their own language” (1943b,
152n1). Pfeffer (e. g. 1991, 61) also mentions goigigi as an indigenous term for the dead. According
to my knowledge of Gutob, the adjective goigi means “dead,” and goiguji means “to die.” Goud’s
(1991, 96) wordlist includes the terms goigu, “death, heaven,” and gogoi, “to die.” Rajan and
Rajan (2001a, 48) translate goyigu as “died.”
 Munda means “post, stake,” among other things; this is what the buffaloes are tied to.
308 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

the Kirsani only, the richer group, in their part of the village (nggom munda ¹³⁸),
and finally a third, likewise shared, outside the village (gotr langbo ¹³⁹; Izikowitz
1969, 136 f).¹⁴⁰
Izikowitz describes how the buffaloes were led back and forth between the
platforms within the village in the days before the chief festival day and contin-
ually mourned and fed by the women. The men performed war dances in front of
the buffaloes and drummed day and night. Among the external groups that ar-
rived in the village before the chief day, Izikowitz names the Kirsani’s panjabai.
They came from the village of Alangpada and brought boulders to the gotr
munda and a head of cattle. In addition, the Kirsani’s moitr came from Deulpada
and brought stones to the Kirsani’s platform (nggom munda). Two other groups –
from Sonkai and Tikrapada – are not identified in the text; they brought cattle.
Based on my knowledge of the villages and their social composition, I can add
that they were probably affines of the sponsors.

Chief Festival Day

In total, twelve buffaloes were given away by the sponsors, three of them in ad-
vance of the official main act of the ritual, to whom is unclear. The remaining
nine buffaloes were dressed and adorned by the sponsors on the chief festival
day and finally led to the gotr langbo outside the village and tied up there,
where a large crowd had already assembled from the entire surrounding area.
The panjabai set up an additional stone slab there.

External Buffalo-Bringers
Various armed groups with buffaloes in their midst then turned up from other
villages and charged into the assembly at the gotr langbo. A group from the pre-
viously mentioned Sonkai (presumably affines) initially brought their buffaloes
to the house of the Kirsani sponsors. Izikowitz (1969, 139 f) explains, “The cus-
tom is that the buffaloes contributed by relatives and friends are to be taken out-

 Ungom* means “village.”

 Langbo* refers to the dry fields, poda in Desia.
 The platforms are referred to in a wide variety of ways. Alongside the megalithic monu-
ments of different kutum or houses in each neighborhood, the most important distinction is that
between the collective platform inside the village and the collective platform outside the village.
The internal collective platform was often called ga munda (or ungom munda*) or gotr munda,
but the external platform was also referred to as gotr munda (panja munda in Pfeffer 1991,
2001a), as well as poda munda (or langbo munda*).
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 309

side the village on the last day and torn to pieces.” However, they then tried to
take to their heels with their buffalo again and were stopped by the sponsors’
Alangpada panjabai, sparking an open fight over the buffalo. Other “troops” ar-
rived, bringing buffaloes to the sponsors; some people immediately took individ-
ual buffaloes away with them again in payment of old debts. Other buffaloes that
were brought were suddenly attacked by men who knocked them on their backs
and slit them open with knives in order to rip out their intestines. Still other peo-
ple threw themselves on these men and the buffaloes in order to obtain a piece
of the intestines for themselves, resulting in chaos. Twelve buffaloes were killed
in this way, and according to Izikowitz’s informants, the entrails that individuals
obtained would be buried in the fields later: “The men explained that the piece
they succeeded in grabbing they would later bury in their fields, thus insuring a
good harvest” (141).
The sponsors’ nine buffaloes were still standing tied up at the external plat-
form up to this point and were now distributed to the buffalo-takers, who set out
for home with them as fast as they possibly could. The Kirsani’s Alangpada pan-
jabai received five, and their moitr from Lugum received one. The remaining three
were taken by the panjabai of the Pujari of Kamarguda, from Gudapada.¹⁴¹ Ac-
cording to the Gadaba, Izikowitz writes, the deceased were now “finally dead”
(141).

Distribution of moali
On the next morning, ten of the cattle brought by the guests were slaughtered to
provide meat for the feast and to enable the sponsors to send pieces of meat
home with the external guests later. At the conclusion of another feast on the fol-
lowing day, the distribution of the moali gifts took place, as I have described it in
the context of cremation and bur. Izikowitz describes three transactions.
First, Sukro Kirsani, who had celebrated gotr for his father, gave a brass pot
and a brass plate to his MB (his father’s WB) from Tukum, who had brought a
buffalo. Second, Sukro’s wife gave moali to her HFZ, because her mother-in-
law – the sister of the buffalo-giver from Tukum – was dead, as Izikowitz (142)
explains. Third, a sponsor from the Pujari group, who performed gotr for his de-

 At present, there is no Pujari kuda group in Kamarguda, which forms a ritual unit with the
village of Deulpada. The Pujari group of this ritual unit lives in the village of Dudipodor.
Currently resident in Kamarguda are members of the Sisa, Kirsani, and Munduli. A tsorubai
relationship exists between this last group and the Kirsani of Gudapada. Either the composition
of Kamarguda has changed since Izikowitz’s research, or a kutum group – which perhaps
provided the local pujari – described itself as a Pujari group.
310 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

ceased father, gave a brass pot to his MB from Tikrapada, who had likewise
brought a buffalo. In this case, it is not clear from the text whether the MB of
the deceased or of his son, the sponsor of the ritual, is meant. In view of my
own experiences and the situation already described for bur, it was probably
the deceased’s MB. However, the moali gift first mentioned went explicitly to
the sponsor’s MB (see above). Izikowitz consequently concludes:

Thus, in the family who gives a Gotr, the husband gives a moali to his mother’s brother,
from whom he has received a buffalo, and his wife gives a moali to his father’s sister, in
case her husband’s mother is dead. (142)

Izikowitz’s remarks on his second gotr example are limited to a few supplemen-
tary aspects. He briefly describes how moitr from the village of Gorihanjar bring
stone slabs to the village of the gotr sponsors; as moitr, according to the author,
they do not bring buffaloes (143). The sponsors’ village, inhabited by Parenga, is
named Kichop. Izikowitz does not reveal to whom the sponsors gave their four-
teen official buffaloes. One Sukro Boronaik from Gorihanjar, whom Izikowitz
likewise identifies as moitr, ¹⁴² informally received a total of four buffaloes, a
gift that he would have to reciprocate later as a gotr sponsor. Without discussing
Izikowitz’s interpretation here, I will next summarize with the necessary brevity
Pfeffer’s description of gotr as he has observed it.

Pfeffer’s Description

Unlike Izikowitz, Pfeffer describes not a specific ritual as he observed it, but
rather an indigenous model that he generalizes from the different empirical var-
iations he documented, mainly during the 1980s.¹⁴³ In his 1991 and 2001 (a) ar-
ticles, Pfeffer distinguishes as ritual actors in the context of gotr not only the
panjabai and moitr, but also the tsorubai within the agnatic categories (Pfeffer
2001a, 111 f). Within the affinal categories (bondu), he distinguishes between af-
final helpers and the sponsors’ affinal challengers.¹⁴⁴ The conventional behav-

 To the best of my knowledge, the “earth people” of the two villages (Gorihanjar and
Kichop) have a panjabai relationship to one another. It is certainly possible that upria groups in
Gorihanjar maintain moitr relationships with the Parenga from Kichop, but Izikowitz (1969, 143)
speaks of the “second chief” in Gorihanjar, who would be expected to belong to the “earth
people.”
 For this reason, I will use the so-called “ethnographic present” in summarizing his ob-
servations.
 According to Pfeffer (2001a, 109), all the village’s local lines act jointly as the sponsor.
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 311

iors associated with the different relationships, according to Pfeffer, are striking.
While the panjabai and tsorubai are generally rude and demanding to the spon-
sors within the gotr framework, the moitr relationships are highly polite and lov-
ing. The affinal helpers are restrained and supportive, unlike other external af-
fines who try to appropriate the sponsors’ status (Pfeffer 1991, 72ff).
These stereotypical standards of behavior go along with specific forms of ex-
change. Moitr bring stone slabs and take what they are voluntarily given, while
panjabai and tsorubai bring stone slabs and take away the sponsors’ buffaloes.
They try to extract as much as possible for themselves. Affinal helpers bring cat-
tle, among other things, as at marriage, when the animals are part of the formal
bridewealth. They accept their affinal status and therefore take on a lower-status
or more junior position vis-à-vis the sponsors’ external agnates. As eaters of the
buffaloes, the latter play the dominant role in gotr, reversing the situation at mar-
riage, when affinal relationships are emphasized. The affines who act as chal-
lengers do not bring any cattle, but rather buffaloes, and assert a quasi-agnatic
status for themselves. Pfeffer (2001a, 114ff) therefore describes them as higher-
status or senior affines, who appear at gotr as agnates (sponsors); put differently,
although they are the nephews of the deceased, they behave like their sons.

Sequence of gotr
Although the decision to hold a gotr is made back in November (diali), the ritual
never actually takes place until February (mag), when weddings are also usually
celebrated. Pfeffer concentrates primarily on the ritual’s four-day central core,
with the following highpoints with regard to the ritual activities:
– On the first day, the transfer of the duma into the buffaloes.
– On the second day, the arrival of the stone slabs or menhirs.
– On the third day, the violent phase and the giving away of the buffaloes.
– On the fourth day, joking interactions between the affinal groups (Pfeffer 1991,
83).

The First Day: Transfer of the duma

Before gotr begins, the duma are banished by the dissari, who buries medicine in
and around the village, and simli trees are set up for the buffaloes in the areas
occupied by each of the local lines (kuda) and sub-lines (kutum). Stone platforms
are already found in the different parts of the village from previous gotr. Individ-
ual sub-lines also have such stone constructions, alongside a joint platform
within the village for each local line (gotr munda). The buffalo tied up first is
called kutti bongtel* and is reserved for a duma deserving particular honor.
312 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

The last one tied up is the rau bongtel*, which will be sacrificed to the demon
later and is assigned to a less honorable person (Pfeffer 1991, 75 f).
On the first day, the duma are transferred into the bodies of the buffaloes by
feeding the buffaloes cooked rice after a sacrifice and calling out the names of
the deceased (Pfeffer 1991, 76).¹⁴⁵ The dead have now been resurrected. As Iziko-
witz also described, the buffaloes are led back and forth between the different
platforms inside the village and are fed by the sponsors. The first guests are af-
final relatives, who bring cattle, along with other gifts; they also feed the buffa-
loes and will assist the sponsors as helpers and witnesses during the ritual’s
subsequent phases.

The Second Day: Arrival of the External Agnates

On the second day, the individual moitr reach the sponsors’ village. Relation-
ships of this kind exist between individual houses, and as a rule between differ-
ent tribal groups. They also receive buffaloes later “in the name of the deceased
person” (Pfeffer 1991, 78). The collective moitr, those who are part of relation-
ships that link large groups over generations (73), arrive on the same day,
bring stone slabs to the sub-line’s platform, and are welcomed in a conventional,
loving manner. The tsorubai and panjabai arrive in the village only later in the
afternoon and evening, place stones at the shared gotr munda, and dance
there in front of the buffaloes, with loud shouting and in a warlike manner.
The haggling over the distribution of the buffaloes begins at night. Pfeffer
stresses that the panjabai aim for a complete settlement of accounts. In other
words, if the current sponsors give more than they have received in the past,
the takers promise to reciprocate the corresponding number of buffaloes in
the future. In the reverse case – when the givers have received a greater number
in the past – “‘unsouled’” (Pfeffer 1991, 79) buffaloes are added to the “souled”
ones in order to reach the required number. After the decisions have been made,
a packet of rice is given to the selected takers for each buffalo, a sign of the trans-
fer to those now responsible for the animals.

 In his 2001 (a) article, Pfeffer (2001a, 109, 111) reports the observation that the duma are
transferred into the buffaloes at the cremation site, where they were previously banished.
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 313

The Third Day: Arrival of the purani Buffaloes and Giving Away
of the Buffaloes
The buffalo for rau is the first one killed outside the village, before first light on
the third day. As soon as the animal’s belly has been slit with an ax, the men¹⁴⁶
fall on it in order to pull out its intestines. Finally, the sponsors’ panjabai take
the buffalo’s rear half, the moitr its front half (Pfeffer 1991, 80). Over the course
of the morning, the buffaloes are adorned and finally led out of the village to the
external platform (panja munda; in Izikowitz, gotr langbo*). Here, the buffaloes
are tied to new simli branches previously set up next to the old stones from the
days of the village founders. The women weep over and feed the buffaloes here
as well, while the tsorubai and panjabai celebrate their upcoming receipt of their
buffaloes in a relaxed mood.
As in Izikowitz’s description, the external buffalo-bringers – unambiguously
identified by Pfeffer as affines of the sponsors – suddenly appear on the horizon
and charge into the assembly. They have first held a kind of “mini-gotr” (Pfeffer
2001a, 116) in their own village for their MB or FZ, tying up a buffalo referred to
as purani, and their own panjabai have brought them boulders in their village.¹⁴⁷
They departed from their village together with their panjabai, and they now set
upon the more senior affines, but advance only as far as the boundary of the ac-
tual sponsors’ village. Here, the duma of the deceased MB or FZ awaits and is
transferred into the purani buffalo, until then “‘unloaded,’” when the boundary
wall is touched (Pfeffer 2001a, 117). The affines and their panjabai immediately
turn around and are at once pursued by the sponsors’ agnates, so that a struggle
for the purani buffalo begins. Different groups try to knock the buffalo down and
cut its belly open. Once someone succeeds, all participants try to rip out the en-
trails and cut off the animal’s tongue. It may happen that various of the affinal
groups reach the site of events with their buffaloes at the same time. Pfeffer
(1991, 82) emphasizes that although it is in part agreed in advance which affinal
groups will bring purani buffaloes, the concrete situation in not lacking in spon-
taneity. Following the combat over the purani buffaloes, the sponsors’ buffaloes
are turned over to the panjabai and moitr, who hurry off with the animals. The
buffaloes are killed and eaten in subordinate feasts over many weeks.

 Antagonistic categories of the sponsors’ panjabai and tsorubai are said to be especially
involved (Pfeffer 2001a, 112).
 These stones are set up in this village at a location different from the lineage platform,
since the MB – despite the ritual claims of the affinal challengers – must be separated from
one’s own agnates (Pfeffer 2001a, 116 and n25).
314 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

The Fourth Day: Joking Rituals between Affines

On the fourth day, both categories of the sponsors’ affinal relatives are largely
still in the village. A fixed part of gotr is a concluding set of joking interactions
between the affines; bathing together thus becomes a mud fight, but one that –
as Pfeffer stresses – is free of the aggressive atmosphere of the previous day
(Pfeffer 1991, 84).

Gotr in Ponosguda

Describing festivals like gotr poses considerable challenges to an ethnographer,

especially when the general course of the ritual is still unknown (this was Iziko-
witz’s situation) and he has no or little familiarity with the sponsors’ village; in
this case, it is particularly difficult to tell the different groups and individuals in-
volved apart. Not least for this reason, I had hoped to be able to witness a gotr in
Gudapada itself, but this hope was not fulfilled. Around 1996,¹⁴⁸ the village’s
lower sai held a gotr. All the Sisa, the Ruda’i, and the Messing participated,
and I had the opportunity to collect some retrospective information. Roughly
forty buffaloes were given away on that occasion. People recalled over and
over, with great pride, how many people had gathered around the external plat-
form, so that not a patch of earth could be seen between them.
A striking characteristic of gotr is the rumors and speculations that circulate
every year about the festivals. A decision is made in the villages at harvest as to
whether a gotr can be afforded in the coming mag (February). Long before the
village’s Four Brothers assemble to publicly announce that the ritual will be per-
formed, the potential sponsors hold secret conversations, about which even the
other kuda in the village know little. For example, the numerically largest group
in Gudapada – the Kirsani – was due to hold a gotr, with many duma already
“accumulated.” However, just as potential sponsors in other villages cloak them-
selves in silence, the Kirsani in Gudapada likewise stuck to diplomatic and en-
tirely non-binding statements. No one wanted to make himself ridiculous by an-
nouncing a gotr and then being unable to carry it out. In addition, no one
wanted to wake up any “sleeping panjabai” and their demands. The Kirsani suf-
fer from internal divisions, and for this reason as well, they were unable to agree
to hold a gotr, which is still pending.

 Periods of time are not remembered in absolute numerical terms. In other words, no one
can say exactly how old a child is or how many years ago an event was. Events are ordered
relative to one another with the help of other reference points.
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 315

However, in the last months of my fieldwork, a gotr did take place in which
groups from Gudapada participated as bringers of a purani buffalo. The spon-
sors’ village, named Ponosguda, is located about ten kilometers east of Gudapa-
da. Unlike the area around Gudapada, where the villages are ringed by gentle
hills, Ponosguda lies at the eastern end of a broad plain, divided north to
south by the Goradi River. Directly behind the village rises a range of hills, be-
yond which no more Gutob Gadaba villages are to be found. The sponsors of
the gotr, the Gumal, belong to the matia of Ponosguda, who have acquired a cer-
tain prosperity thanks to the railroad that runs from the coast up into the hills to
Koraput, a line that was built in the 1960s and a stretch of which runs through
their land. The Gumal are from the Tiger bonso (killo) and are represented by two
local lines, the Kirsani and the Maji. Alongside the Gumal, several other Gadaba
groups from other villages¹⁴⁹ live in Ponosguda as internal affines, together with
the other Desia categories of the Sundi, Kond, Rona, Dombo, and Kamar.
Following the death of a respected man of the Kirsani (among the Gumal),
Ranju Kirsani,¹⁵⁰ in December (pond), his son Komlu decided to sponsor a gotr
on short notice, even though the ideal time for announcing a gotr (diali, Novem-
ber) had already passed, and even the bur had not yet been arranged. The re-
maining Kirsani houses – a total of six brothers – agreed to his suggestion to per-
form a joint gotr. Otherwise, Komlu would have sponsored a so-called sudi gotr, a
gotr for just one house. Eleven buffaloes, two of them for the late Ranju, were
now to be given away for a total of ten duma. In the end, thirteen buffaloes
would be given to the agnates. The Maji in Ponosguda are the Kirsani’s junior
tsorubai; the senior tsorubai come from the neighboring village of Chandalaman-
da (known as Sirmlia). The Kirsani’s panjabai are the Gutal from the neighboring
village of Tikrapada. In the gotr context, these three groups of buffalo-takers
were also referred to as the Gumal’s three wives: the panjabai are the first
wife (“senior one,” borli), the senior tsorubai the second wife (“middle one,”
moja), and the Maji from Ponosguda the third wife (“junior one,” sanli).¹⁵¹
This ranking by seniority was also apparent later when the buffaloes were
given away. The Gumal’s moitr did not receive any buffaloes, neither the bai
moitr from Kotuput, who are Parenga, nor the koloj moitr of the Pujari kuda
(from the Cobra bonso) from Ponosguda. With regard to the latter, the sponsors

 Upria groups from Auripada, Deulpada, and Totapada live in Ponosguda; all are from the
Cobra bonso and are thus brothers (bai) of the Gangre.
 Even his neighborhood in the village is called Ranju sai after the deceased.
 Some informants from Gudapada indicated that it was unusual to refer to the buffalo-takers
in this way.
316 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

said that if they ate their buffaloes, they would have to vomit blood (rokto banti
korbar). They were supposed to be invited to a separate feast later.
Following Ranju Kirsani’s death, his mother’s brother’s group in Gudapada
was also informed of the planned gotr. Ranju’s MBSS is Domru Sisa, who repre-
sented his long-dead grandfather as mamu in the context of the gotr. He decided
to give a purani, not least in order to be able to demand greater moali gifts, since
he was aware of his affines’ relative wealth. He would take home the “whole
house,” he boasted in advance of the gotr. The sponsors, possibly guessing his
intentions, initially tried to talk him out of the purani gift, but without success.¹⁵²
A buffalo was purchased in a neighboring village, and the gift was announced to
the sponsors. As Pfeffer has mentioned, mini-gotr take place in the villages of the
purani bringers, in parallel to the actual gotr of the sponsors. The following table
summarizes the main stages in both locations.

Awakening the duma and Banishing the Evil Spirits

About two weeks before the chief day of the gotr (gotr din), the duma were awak-
ened (duma utaibar) in the house of the initiator (Komlu). Together with the
dissari, ¹⁵³ the six brothers who made up the group of sponsors – and who refer-
red to themselves as the Four Brothers – assembled in the big room of the house
in the afternoon.¹⁵⁴ The dissari drew a pattern on the ground and began the in-
vocation. Subsequently, all six brothers scattered rice from their own platters on
the platform and called out the names of their duma (na pokaibar). Following the
sacrifice of a black chick, its blood was made to drip on all the implements, es-
pecially the prepared medicine, including iron pegs (kuti) filled earlier with
finely chopped thorn plants. After the kuti had thus “eaten blood” (rokto kaibar),
they were hammered into the ground in various places in the house, yard, and

 The purani bringers from Gudapada said that the sponsors had asked for a purani. This
claim is undermined by the fact that two other villages had initially announced purani but then
– plausibly at the sponsors’ request – refrained from carrying through their plans.
 The dissari was unusual in that he claimed to have learned his craft from a Brahman in
Nandapur, and he once referred to gotr as pitr sraddha (a Hindu mortuary rite). It was also
notable that he did not use a jupan, an instrument that usually no dissari does without.
 The Gadaba from Gudapada who had accompanied me to Ponosguda pointed out to me at
various points what is done differently in their village. The awakening of the duma takes place at
the cremation site in Gudapada. In front of the house of the kutti bongtel* (the buffalo for the
most senior member of the group), a miniature buffalo is made beforehand out of jackfruit
(ponos) leaves; for each other buffalo, a small platter of hulled rice is made ready; and a pig is
ritually killed in the name of all the duma.
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 317

Table 11: Sequence of the gotr in Ponosguda and Gudapada (2001)

Date Ponosguda (Sponsor) Gudapada (purani-giver)

January – purani buffalo purchased, name given


January – duma awakened (duma utaibar)
 – bon duma banished by medicine
January – rau sacrifice
 – simli branches set up
February  – duma transferred into the buffaloes
(by means of sig rice)
– sponsors feed the buffaloes from
now on
February  – drums repaired
February  – duma sacrifice (duma balo’*)
(Thursday)
(full
moon)
February  – feeding the buffaloes (affines) – simli munda set up
(Friday) – duma transferred into the buffalo (by
means of chuti, sig rice)
February – feeding the buffaloes (gada mara) – guests feed and mourn the buffalo
 – bur tsoru for Ranju – duma sacrifice
(Saturday) – feast (boji) for all
– agnates arrive
February gotr din (chief day) – purani washed and dressed
 – rau sacrifice
(Sunday) – rice packets (chuti) distributed
– jur rice for buffalo-takers (?)
– buffaloes taken to the external – departure for Ponosguda
platform
– purani arrives – arrival in Ponosguda
– purani ritually killed
– buffaloes given away – tsorubai go back to Gudapada
February – buffalo-takers and affines bathe
 – moali gifts distributed
(Monday)
February – return to Gudapada

(Tuesday)
318 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

village.¹⁵⁵ The dissari drove the first kuti into the house’s threshold and divided
the rest among the brothers, who hammered them into the earth in their stables,
their houses, and on the paths leading out of the village. Gotr attracts other, out-
side duma, it was explained, including those permanently malicious beings who
died a bad death. After one’s own duma had been awakened, therefore, it was
necessary to keep bag duma, rau, and daini away by means of the medicine-fil-
kuti. As soon as the duma were awakened, the drums were beaten, an announce-
ment of gotr that can be clearly heard in the neighboring villages as well.
With his more junior assistant, the dissari subsequently procured first two
simli branches and then, after dark, two more branches from the palda tree.
Each time he returned with the branches, Ranju’s widow greeted him in front
of the house with tika. These branches (munda) were set up at the stone platform
only the next morning, however, after the sacrifice for the rau demon.

Rau Sacrifice and Planting of the simli munda

During the time of rau (raubela), before cockcrow (around 4:00 a.m.), a small
group led by the dissari left the village in the direction of the sunrise. The dissari
sacrificed a white rooster, dug a hole in the sacrificial site, and added the kuti
filled with medicine, as before, feathers from the rooster, and some of his own
leg hairs. Finally, he spit into the hole and filled it back up. Back in the village,
a simli branch and a palda branch were first set up at the platform of the kutum
(the Gumal), known as ga munda or ungom munda* (village platform). After that,
the group went to the external platform¹⁵⁶ in the fields (poda munda or langbo
munda*) in order to plant the first branches there as well.¹⁵⁷ In each of the
holes dug for the branches, the dissari placed a small clay pot (kondi) containing
thorn paste and thorn twigs, over which he made a libation of liquor.
At the house later, as the first rays of the sun rose, millet beer was drunk,
and the upcoming dates for the gotr were discussed. The dissari initially wanted
to push the gotr back, since the days were not auspicious (jog) in his view, but
the sponsors – especially Komlu’s mother, Ranju’s widow – wanted to get the
burden of the gotr behind them quickly: “we’re carrying a mountain on our

 Each of the dissari’s medicines and instruments must receive sacrifices on a regular basis in
order to maintain its effectiveness.
 The platforms are referred to in a wide variety of ways. The collective platform inside the
village was often called ga munda or gotr munda, but the external platform was also referred to
as gotr munda (panja munda in Pfeffer; see above), as well as poda munda.
 The branches ritually set up on this occasion were significantly smaller than those that
were set up later and to which the buffaloes were tied.
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 319

heads (amor mund dongor ochi)” was how she formulated the obligations before
them.

Feeding the sig Rice

As agreed with the dissari, the so-called “first rice” (sig bat or sig lai*) was fed to
the buffaloes a week later, thereby bringing about the transfer of the duma into
the buffaloes.¹⁵⁸ The dissari was supposed to feed the kutti bongtel* first, after
which the sponsors would feed the rest of the buffaloes. Komlu’s father, on
whose account the gotr had been initiated, was indeed considered the most
prominent of the dead, but another of the dead was nevertheless more senior,
so that the kutti bongtel* was reserved for him. Once the duma were transferred
into the buffaloes, they began to be offered food appropriate to duma (rice, millet
gruel, beer).

Preparations in Gudapada
Already on the day it was purchased, the buffalo that was to be brought by the
mother’s brother’s group to the sponsors’ village was given the name of the de-
ceased (na dori dela). After that, people said, the animal was angry (risa), some-
thing that would also not change in the coming days. On the evening before the
night of the full moon in the month of mag, a crab sacrifice (duma balo’*) was
performed for the duma in the yard of Domru Sisa, the mamu. Two drums (dol
and kirdi) that had long been in need of repair had to be fixed for the occasion,
since drumming cannot be omitted in gotr. Two sacrificial sites were prepared in
front of the buffalo, as usual, one for the agnatic dead, the other for the affines.
After the crabs had been killed, the drums received a sacrifice (a chicken egg);
the drummers received tika from Domru’s wife, and drumming took place in
front of the buffalo only from this time forward.
On Friday morning (February 9), a simli branch was cut and planted inside
the village, and the skittish buffalo was tied to it.¹⁵⁹ The mamu was the first to

 I was unable to observe the feeding with sig rice in person. When I asked whether sig rice is
considered tsoru, I received different answers. The rice is prepared in a clay pot, but on the other
hand, it need not contain meat (in which case it is not part of a sacrifice), but rather bamboo
shoots and fish. The fact that feeding with sig rice transforms the buffalo into a duma, however,
speaks in favor of its classification as tsoru.
 Since the duma did not belong to the givers’ own group, the buffalo was not tied to the
platform of the local agnatic group (the Sisa), but rather in a field (i. e., a garden) inside the
village.
320 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

feed the buffalo a packet (chuti) of hulled rice and explained to me, “Today the
duma has come (‘fallen’); it’s the duma now, not a buffalo anymore.”¹⁶⁰ Immedi-
ately thereafter, the deceased/buffalo was fed beer, liquor, and sig rice (kordi
rice), with the constant accompaniment of drumming.¹⁶¹ In the evening, the buf-
falo was tied in front of the house again, washed by the women with turmeric
water, and fed again by the mamu. On the next day (Saturday), other houses
of the village came to the mamu’s house as guests (gotia)¹⁶² and were given hos-
pitality there with beer before going to the buffalo, which had meanwhile been
tied up at the simli munda again. Here, the animal was now washed by the
women of the guests, fed, stroked, and wept over.¹⁶³ Meanwhile, the young
sons of the Kirsani, whose fathers would later accompany the buffalo as
“panjabai,”¹⁶⁴ danced around the animal, shouted, and tried to seize the gifts
to the buffalo for themselves. In this controlled context, they could practice
for later “real” actions. On Saturday evening (February 10), the buffalo was
again tied up in the yard, and all the guests were served food and beer. During
the morning hours of the next day – the chief day in Ponosguda – the purani buf-
falo was adorned, and the purani delegation left for Ponosguda around midday.

Ponosguda: Feeding the Buffaloes

When we arrived in Ponosguda on Friday afternoon, the buffaloes had already
been tied up at the Gumal’s internal platform, and the feeding was in full
swing. Affinal visitors who were already in the village, women of the sponsors,
and the wives of some panjabai (whose husbands came only later) from the
neighboring village gave the animals as much as they could eat. The Dombo
of the village did not feed the animals cooked rice, but rather hulled rice,
since a Gadaba – even in the form of a buffalo – does not accept cooked food
from a Dombo. While the women fed and wept over the buffaloes, Komlu intro-
duced them to us one by one: “This is my boroaba (FeB), my ma (M), my puo (S),”
etc. While the sponsors appeared somewhat tense, but calm, some of the internal
tsorubai (Maji) were already dancing before the buffaloes and striking them on

 Aji duma porigola. Ebe seta duma, por nai.

 Together with my assistant, I left for Ponosguda after the feeding, in order not to miss the
events there. My life partner remained in the village and followed two days later with the purani
delegation.
 A crab offering for the duma was also carried out on this evening.
 The guests also first fed the buffalo a small packet (chuti) of hulled rice.
 The Kirsani are the tsorubai of the Sisa; in this context, they were sometimes referred to as
panjabai, underlining their role as buffalo-takers.
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 321

the shoulders. With an eye to the eating buffaloes, Komlu explained, “however
much the buffaloes eat [today], the panjabai will eat [tomorrow].”¹⁶⁵ After dark-
ness fell, the buffaloes were untied and led to the individual houses. The organ-
ization of the coming days was discussed, and the helpers (bandagoria and kan-
dasalia) were designated. Also under discussion was whether extra buffaloes
should be given to particular people as credit (udar). The Kirsani had no debts
(run) from similar transactions. When such buffaloes are given, they have to
be kept secret from the panjabai and “given in hiding” (luchei debar). At the
gotr documented by Izikowitz in Kamarguda, three buffaloes were given away be-
fore the chief day, plausibly in secret transactions of this kind. However, the
Gumal in Ponosguda decided not to give any buffaloes away in secret.

Feeding the Buffaloes, Feast, and Arrival of the Buffalo-Takers

Already on the day before the chief day, the village was swarming with outside
guests. Not only were the sponsors welcoming their affines, some of whom
brought cattle with them, but all other groups were also awaiting their relatives
who were coming for a visit on the occasion of the gotr. Early in the morning, the
dissari conducted a ritual intended to ward off harmful magic (nosto), first in
Komlu’s house, then in the others and at the cooking hearth. In particular, the
decimation of the rice for the feast by means of magic spells (montor) had to
be prevented. At each location, the dissari buried a small bow, a wild cashew
nut (kala balia), and an egg. The rice was measured out in the houses, and a
new clay pot was the first to be set on the longitudinal outside cooking hearth
for the feast. Cattle and goats for the feast were slaughtered in the afternoon.
Meanwhile, in front of Komlu’s house, under the eaves, the Maji as the junior
tsorubai of the Kirsani cooked bur tsoru for the deceased Ranju. Although he was
already in his new buffalo body, the bur phase of the mortuary rituals could not
be entirely skipped, and so an abbreviated version of the bur was performed and
tsoru prepared, separately from the gotr.
Early in the afternoon, the Maji brought the first boulders to the internal plat-
form (ga munda) in a procession with dancing and shouting. They were greeted
there with tika, the stones were washed with turmeric water by the women from
the sponsors’ group, and then the simli branches were set up. On the way there,
the tsorubai had already been pelted with dung by the women of the village, and
some of them already had their faces painted black or in bright colors. Other

 Por kaile etki, panjabai kaibe setki.

322 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

than the sponsors, who were very focused on their tasks, and the dissari, it al-
ready appeared that no one in the village was still sober at this point.
The preparations for the feast ran late, so the meal took place in darkness.
Unlike other villages, which are often technologically well-equipped for such oc-
casions (with solar-powered stereos and lamps), only the cooking hearths were
illuminated in this case, and the moon was not yet high, so that everyone sat in
darkness, and things were relatively chaotic in comparison to other feasts.¹⁶⁶
Shouting and swinging sticks, the senior tsorubai from Chandalamanda and
the panjabai from Tikrapada then arrived in the village, one after the other, and
set up the stone slabs they brought with them at the ga munda. These groups
were also greeted, after which all the buffalo-takers danced before the animals
lined up there. These had been fed (gada mara) all day long and now faced com-
petition in the form of the panjabai and tsorubai, who ripped the platters of food
intended for the buffaloes out of the women’s hands, appropriating the duma’s
food for themselves.

Gotr Day

Rau Sacrifice
The buffalo-takers and others danced before the buffaloes in the plaza all night,
until a small group, led by the dissari, left the village before dawn to perform
another rau puja. Instead of the otherwise customary buffalo, a white ram was
ritually killed.¹⁶⁷ The method of killing was the usual one, however, since the an-
imal’s belly was slit open and its entrails ripped out. The tongue was also cut
out, and the animal was cut entirely in half. The two halves were to be given
to the groups of buffalo-taklater.

 Pfeffer (2001a, 106 f) remarks on the frequent combination of supposedly “traditional” and
“modern” characteristics. The Gadaba in the Onukadilli area are very conservative in their dress,
but no longer celebrate gotr (except for the crab gotr), unlike the Gadaba further east with their
more “advanced” attire, as in Gudapada. The latter group, on the other hand, considers it
“primitive” to drink beer from gourds. In Ponosguda, still further to the east, near Nandapur,
many of the younger women wear saris in the “Hindu style,” and men in pants are also not
unusual. There was no use of electric lights or stereo equipment at the gotr, however, while this
equipment drones day and night in other villages on comparable occasions. Beer was also drunk
from gourds as a matter of course, despite the relative wealth of the sponsors.
 At first it was said that the dissari had raised objections to a buffalo sacrifice; others said
later that the sponsors had been unable to agree on which of their buffaloes should be killed as
the rau buffalo. Everyone wanted his buffalo to be on view at the external platform on the chief
day.
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 323

Distribution of the Packets

Immediately following the rau sacrifice, representatives of all the buffalo-taking
groups assembled in Komlu’s house to negotiate the distribution of the buffa-
loes. All the participants suddenly appeared entirely sober, and the discussion
was pursued in a quiet tone. The sponsors attempted from the start to avoid a
dispute about the buffaloes. Komlu issued the injunction not to separate the
two buffaloes for his father, saying that they should be taken together; then
he held back and let others speak. In the conversation, the groups of buffalo-
takers were again associated with wives. The sanli and moja – the “junior”
and “middle” wives, that is, the two tsorubai groups – were each to take three
buffaloes, and the borli – the sponsors’ “senior” wife, that is, the panjabai –
was to receive seven.
Thirteen small packets (chuti) of rice (chaul) had been lying on a platter in
the center of the group to this point and were only now taken out. “The rice
blooms and is ripe,” a man commented, possibly in reference to the buffaloes,
which could now be “harvested,” or in anticipation of the killing of some buffa-
loes in the fields, intended to guarantee the earth’s fertility. A young man from
the ranks of the sponsors said calmly to the assembly:

I say it very clearly: we have thirteen buffalos, not one more. We have no debts, we give no
credit. The [bai] moitr aren’t receiving anything; we’re not hiding anything. [turns to the
panjabai] The tsorubai have three buffaloes each, that’s six, you have more than both of
them together; isn’t that enough? Take the seven buffaloes and don’t demand anything
else, don’t be greedy (dugra dagri). Don’t fight about the buffaloes on the way.

The spokesman for the panjabai replied only, with a provocative allusion to pos-
sibly hidden buffaloes, “Would I find no buffaloes, if I looked for them?” The
sponsor then turned to each individual group, asking, “Are you agreed or not
(raji ki nai)?” In answer, the buffalo-takers took the gourds of beer that had
been handed to them, let a few drops fall to the ground, saluted one another
around the circle, and drank. The dissari distributed the individual packets to
the three groups according to the number of buffaloes each was assigned, and
the groups’ spokesmen demonstratively counted them. The men bowed to one
another and left the house to sort the buffaloes at the internal platform accord-
ing to their groups.
324 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

Jur Rice
In the following hours, each group of buffalo-takers prepared its own meal,
called jur rice;¹⁶⁸ a collective feast does not take place on the gotr day. The spon-
sors are supposed to provide each group with half a head of cattle, split the long
way, and other ingredients. After the buffaloes, in other words, it is now the turn
of their future eaters to be provided for, having arrived too late for the feast on
the previous day. An informant from Gudapada described the obligation to pro-
vision the buffalo-takers in this way as follows:

On the gotr day, they [the buffalo-takers] don’t eat at the festival; we don’t cook any feasts at
all here on the gotr day. The ones who take the buffaloes, we have to give them everything
on the gotr day, in the morning. We give them the packet (chuti) at three o’clock. […] After
we’ve given the packet, we give [them] rice, salt, chili, turmeric, oil, just everything. To two
people [i. e., groups] we give an entire head of cattle. […] Our brothers, tsorubai, panjabai,
moitr, we give them a head of cattle – it’s split like this [shows the lengthwise cut along his
body], we give them a half, with everything: entrails, stomach, everything, liver, heart, just
everything. […] Then a basket [of rice] as well, a small basket; three, four pots, cooking
spoons, a knife – we give them everything. They take it, cook, and eat it on that day.¹⁶⁹

Departure from the Village

Late in the morning, the panjabai and tsorubai brought large simli branches and
two stone slabs to the external platform (poda munda), accompanied by drum-
ming, and set up a kind of fence, as was also to be found at the internal plat-
form. The buffaloes would later be tied to this structure. In the village, the prep-
arations for the buffaloes’ departure were in full swing, even as guests were still
arriving and likewise had to be looked after. The buffaloes received their last

 I did not observe the preparation of this meal by the individual groups of buffalo-takers in
Ponosguda. The sponsors had nevertheless described this part of the ritual in advance, and this
was probably what Komlu was referring to in his remark that the panjabai would eat as much as
the buffaloes. Kornel (1999, 66) describes the same sequence of events – chuti distribution, then
eating of the jur rice – and the insatiability of the buffalo-takers, who ate the sponsors out of
house and home, in what is said to be the meaning of the word jur. At a Parenga gotr in Budliput
that I witnessed in 1999, the sponsors’ panjabai (Gadaba from Soilpada) were given beef on the
morning of the chief day (after the sacrifice for rau), which they prepared outside the village,
while the sponsors’ affinal guests were hosted in the village.
 Gotr dine seman boji kaibe nai eti au gotor dine boji randibe nai, randibu nai ame. […] je por
neijibe tankumon sobu debaku porbo. […] gotor din aka, sokale. Taku chuti dia hebo tinta so-
moyore. […] Chuti dei kori, chaulo, luno, morij, oldi, telo, sobu jako, dui loko gote bura sorpi dei
deba. Baimonku, tsorubai, panjabai, moitor, semanku gote buraku soman, emti tari kori, tanku
gote bag sobu debar: atin, pota, sobu, koloj, dunda, sobu jako. […] Au gote dala, gote tifni, tinta ki
charta handi, chatu, gote katra – sobu tanku debar. Semon neikori randikori kaibe, se dinre.
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 325

bath and were adorned and dressed by the sponsors. A sari was tied around each
of the female buffaloes, a lungi around each of the male ones. Brass pots, mir-
rors, and many other gifts and personal effects of the deceased soon bounced
from the animals’ horns.
Around midday, the animals were led out of the village in a relatively leisure-
ly procession, accompanied by mourning – generally older – women, who wept
and tore their hair as if their husbands or sons had just now departed this life.
The men tied the buffaloes to the poda munda, and the dance in front of the an-
imals continued beneath the blazing midday sun. Not much happened for a
while, and unlike the two other gotr that I had seen previously, and in accord
with Izikowitz’s and Pfeffer’s descriptions, the Gadaba circle dance (demsa)
was not danced, nor did any boys stage combat interludes as entertainment.
As usual, a growing stream of entrepreneurial men and women arrived to spread
out cloths on the ground and sell sweets, jewelry, tea, and much else, since many
hundreds of people were expected at the poda munda soon.

Arrival of the purani and Giving Away of the Buffaloes

In the meantime, the mamu (Domru) had set out with a delegation from his vil-
lage and the Sisa’s tsorubai (the Kirsani) from Gudapada. The entire distance was
covered at a trot, with only occasional pauses to refasten the ropes on the buf-
falo, which still appeared angry. A major obstacle on the way was crossing the
Goradi River. For many Gadaba, almost none of whom can swim, crossing the
river means putting oneself in the hands of an alien power, and accidents on
the overcrowded, homemade ferryboats are not uncommon. Before the first pas-
sengers got in the boat and the ferryman cast off, a chick was sacrificed for
kamni, the river gods. As soon as the first group arrived safe and sound with
the buffalo on the other bank, they set off again at a trot. Only shortly before
reaching the last hilltop before Ponosguda did the first part of the delegation
stop and wait for those behind, in order to charge together down into the hollow
where the poda munda was located.
Beating the drums as they ran, the group first ran past the poda munda to-
ward the village, joined along the way by other men, including panjabai and
tsorubai of the sponsors.¹⁷⁰ In front of Komlu’s house, the buffalo was greeted
with tika, indicating that it was accepted. The group then immediately turned
around and headed back the way they came, and the purani was driven back
again to the poda munda at the same pace. There, women from the sponsors’

 One informant also described the purani group’s arrival as a dance (nat).
326 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

group had given the other buffaloes their last rice and last beer as a sign of fare-
well. When the group had scarcely arrived at the external platform, a man¹⁷¹
stabbed the purani buffalo, which stood untied at the poda munda, in the
side, so that its entrails could be reached through the wound. The buffalo
stood like this for a few seconds more before the men – whoever can and
wants to – fell upon it in order to pull out all its intestines. As soon as this
was done, the mamu’s tsorubai and the sponsors’ panjabai stepped forward to
make sure that they were not disadvantaged and the vital organs remained in
the animal’s body. One of the tsorubai from Gudapada jumped on top of the
front half (sinkur) of the purani and made threatening gestures in all directions.
The buffalo was then cut entirely in half, and each of the two groups pulled its
half out from amid the crowd, the panjabai taking the rear half (“tail-haunch,”
lenj kulund).¹⁷² Shortly thereafter, the sponsors’ buffalo-takers untied the other
animals and departed for their villages (the Maji from Ponosguda for their hous-
es). The mamu’s tsorubai from Gudapada also did not linger long, but headed
back home with their share. For all the other guests, including the new arrivals
from the purani group, the epilogue to the day now began. They bought sweets
for the children from the temporary stalls and went to the houses of their rela-
tives to eat and drink.

Bathing and Distribution of the moali Gifts

The next day (February 12) began in a leisurely fashion with rounds of drinks at
Komlu’s house; preparations were then made for another feast. Only in the after-
noon did the women of the sponsors carry large vessels of warm water to the
field behind the house. Before this, the external tsorubai and panjabai had
made a new entrance into the village, accompanied by drumming, and the var-
ious ritual actors now began to pour water over themselves. Very soon, someone
began to throw mud, and others reciprocated the friendly attack; a brief mud
fight ensued, after which the sponsors distributed new white cloth.
Shortly thereafter began the part of the ritual for which Domru Sisa – Ranju’s
mamu – had been waiting: the distribution of the moali gifts. Not only were the
various mamu of the deceased individuals honored on this occasion, but also the
buffalo-takers, the two tsorubai groups, and the panjabai. In total, the represen-
tatives of seven groups took their places on bamboo mats (tati) in one of the

 It was said that the killers of the purani are recorded by the police, who are also present in
order to monitor the situation.
 This division of the buffalo – the panjabai of the affines receive the front half, those of the
sponsors the rear half – also corresponds to the rules (niam), according to my informants.
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 327

sponsors’ yards. This action of sitting on mats also gives this part of the ritual its
name: tati bosbar (taking one’s place on the bamboo mats).
A number of mats were placed next to each other, creating a long row, in
front of the roughly eight-meter-long stable, which manifested the Kirsani’s
wealth. The tsorubai and panjabai took their places at one end; next to them
sat the mamu of four of the deceased, including Domru Sisa, behind whom
other people from Gudapada sat for support. Domru’s WB, named Sukro Chal-
lan, one of the Mundagoria in Gudapada, had supported Domru throughout
the entire time of the gotr and was also the spokesman on this occasion, along-
side the mamu himself. As soon as the men sat down, they were handed gourds
or cups of beer, and a set of “bone vessels” (moali) was placed in front of each of
the mamu. Sukro immediately pushed the moali gifts aside and made no move to
drink the beer, thereby demonstrating the rejection of the gifts by the mamu’s
side. All the others likewise waited and held their beer in their hands without
tasting it.
There ensued a drawn-out and in part dramatic discussion about the
amount of gifts Domru should receive. One sponsor after another, then all of
them together, addressed Domru and Sukro, who shook their heads and gestured
negatively. A silver bracelet (kadu) was brought and placed next to the other
gifts, then another brass plate, but the purani bringers rejected the offer.
Domru demanded a large water container made of brass (goria), which he ap-
peared to know that the deceased had possessed. The sponsors asserted that
such an object was only given for deceased women. The longer the discussion
went on, the more restless the other mamu and the buffalo-takers became,
still sitting before their untouched drinks. Ranju’s widow squatted before
Domru and urged him to accept the gifts as they were; her sons bowed before
Domru and said that they could not give more.
Finally, the meal was placed in front of the sitting men, consisting of rice and
meat, along with a platter of millet gruel. Domru’s food was served in a brass
platter. The purani bringers then stood up, and Domru said, “Then act as if
your mamu had not come.” The representative of the panjabai had meanwhile
become impatient, and after pouring some of his beer into others’ vessels and
vice versa, he began to empty the first gourd. Here and there, criticism of the
mamu’s behavior was heard. Next to the house, the sponsors continued trying
to persuade Sukro and Domru. The latter offered to give the purani got isap (as
a guest) and not mamu isap (as a mother’s brother). All affines can bring purani
to a gotr as guests (gotia). These gifts are reciprocated in the same way on sub-
sequent occasions. Only the deceased’s mother’s brother can bring such buffa-
loes for moali. In other words, as mamu of the deceased, he receives special
328 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

gifts for the purani that he brings to his nephew’s house.¹⁷³ The buffalo then does
not have to be reciprocated.
Domru thus offered to redefine his role in the context of the gotr and view it
as that of a simple guest. This was meant as a provocation and was correspond-
ingly rejected by the sponsors; it would probably have been equivalent to dis-
honoring the mamu. Finally, the sponsors offered to add to the gifts an old
and richly carved bed belonging to Komlu’s father, and Domru agreed. The par-
ticipants returned to their places, and this time, the offered beer was not refused.
Some of the other mamu stood up to go down the row of honorees and place
some of their rice on their plates. Then Domru and Sukro also began to eat.
Only on the next day did the group accompanying the mamu return to Gu-
dapada; the women carried the pieces of the bed home on their heads. Once ar-
rived in Gudapada, Domru served beer at his house to all those who had gone on
the expedition to Ponosguda. He sat proudly on the bed, which stood in the yard
in front of his house, where the buffalo had been tied up not long before. In his
small house, there was no room for the bed.¹⁷⁴

The Buffalo-Takers’ Invitation to the Sponsors

It is usual for the buffalo-takers to invite the sponsors of a gotr to a feast in their
own village in the following weeks. This occasion is called panji kaiba (“eating”
panji); the meaning of panji is unclear. Panji kaiba is considered a feast in which
both villages take part, and therefore not only the sponsors, but all Gadaba
groups from the gotr village are invited by the buffalo-takers. However, this
does not apply to the other Desia groups from the village. In the context of
panji kaiba as well, the group representatives – this time, those from the bufgiv’
village – should sit on bamboo mats, eat off brass plates, and subsequently feed
one another. It was stressed that – even though no tsoru is consumed – only rit-
ually married men may sit on the mats. A violation of this rule must be compen-
sated for with the gift of a head of cattle, as is usual in jati cases. Along with the
feast, the sponsors of the gotr (Kirsani) received the front leg (podia) of a head of
a cattle and the front leg of a goat. The bufgivwere invited first by their tsorubai
in their own village, last by the senior tsorubai from Chandalamanda. I was able
to observe the panji kaiba in the village of Tikrapada, where the Kirsani’s panja-
bai were the hosts, about three weeks after the gotr.

 The same applies in the event that he gives a head of cattle or a goat.
 Very few Gadaba sleep in beds or have any use for them.
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 329

The Kirsani’s panjabai live in different parts of Tikrapada, which is a large

village, like Gudapada and Ponosguda. In addition to the outside guests from
Ponosguda, men from each sai of Tikrapada were supposed to be given hospital-
ity. There was consequently a drawn-out back-and-forth between the main vil-
lage and the various hamlets even before the feast proper. The guests were of-
fered beer and snacks (chakana) at each visit, and very soon, it was dark, and
both guests and hosts were completely drunk. The feast finally failed to take
place, because the participants on all sides were evidently no longer in a fit
state. Some guests also could not be found, and it was supposed that they
had already started back to Ponosguda, which is located in the immediate vicin-
ity. I was told later that the “sitting on the mats” (tati bosbar) and the feast had
taken place on the following morning. It was also said that one of the gotr buf-
faloes was given away alive to an affinal group (ji bouni) of the panjabai on this
day. On the previous evening, we had seen some of the gotr buffaloes standing
tied up at a house. They no longer received rice to eat, but were not permitted to
be put to work in the fields.¹⁷⁵

Interpretations of gotr

In this section, I will briefly present the different ways gotr has been interpreted,
before examining this ritual in the context of the life cycle as a whole in the fol-
lowing conclusion and analysis. In doing so, I will not go into the admittedly nu-
merous deviations in detail evident in the different descriptions.¹⁷⁶ Rather, what
is astonishing is the agreement in the depictions, based on data collected over
fifty years. Through his many years of research into the social orders of the Cen-
tral Indian tribes, Pfeffer has obtained a more comprehensive perspective on the
region, and his analyses are correspondingly better-founded and more far-reach-
ing than those of Izikowitz. Nevertheless, Izikowitz – who had previously inves-

 One informant said that the buffaloes could also be sold under some circumstances.
However, the buyer must hammer a ritual peg (kuti) filled with medicine into the buffalo’s horn
and so drive out the duma.
 Significant differences exist on the question of who receives moali gifts and who brings the
purani. Izikowitz, who describes the moali gifts at gotr, indicates that the mother’s brother of one
of the sponsors receives these gifts. Pfeffer believed that sisters’ sons brought purani for the
duma of their mothers’ brothers and therefore laid claim to the status of sons. From what I have
learned – as is clear from the descriptions of both bur and gotr – both gifts are linked to the
mother’s brother’s status as the giver of milk (his sister). After the death of his sister’s children,
the mother’s brother first of all receives moali gifts and second, has the possibility of bringing
purani for them, or bringing them as purani.
330 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

tigated comparable rituals in Southeast Asia – points out aspects of gotr to

which Pfeffer pays little attention. For example, Izikowitz noticed that some buf-
faloes were given away secretly, to pay off debts or build up credits, and he de-
votes a certain amount of space to the distribution of the moali gifts, which Pfeff-
er mentions only in his first article on gotr (1984a).
Among the authors whose descriptions I have not recounted in detail, Fürer-
Haimendorf interprets gotr chiefly in the context of the debate about “megalithic
cultures,” of which he sees the Gadaba and Bondo as the southernmost off-
shoots in India (cf. 1943b, 178). He views gotr primarily as a memorial festival,
in which the earth’s fertility and the ancestors’ blessing are at the forefront,
and only to a lesser extent as a feast of merit oriented largely toward raising
the sponsor’s status (174ff). Pradhan (1998, 303) stresses in very general terms
the function of the group solidarity forged by gotr, while Kornel (1999, 70) iden-
tifies the reciprocal distribution of wealth as a primary part of the idea of gotr.
Izikowitz (1969, 144), drawing on van Gennep, understands gotr as a “social
transformer,” an institution that effects transitions between different forms of ac-
tivity, whether economic, social, or religious. The surplus value produced by eco-
nomic activity is thus invested in the religious sphere in gotr, in order to elimi-
nate evil and gain access to positive “life power” (148). Izikowitz also
differentiates three cycles or systems that are interwoven with one another in
gotr, in his view: the life cycle, the production cycle, and finally the exchange
cycle. To this extent, the author underlines the interdependence of different “do-
mains,” which he nonetheless views as separate in principle. This aspect of the
ritual’s embedding in encompassing processes of transformation and exchange,
processes also connected to the reproduction of the earth, will be at the center of
my later analysis of this ritual. Izikowitz’s interpretation of gotr as a “social
transformer” points in the right direction, in my judgment, but remains relatively
vague. In the domain of the life cycle, according to this author, the spirit of the
deceased individual is extinguished in gotr through quasi-endo-cannibalistic
acts, while the benevolent life force is permanently harnessed in the form of
the menhirs (146).
In his first study (1984a), Pfeffer interprets gotr as a feast of merit sponsored
by specific prominent individuals, but stresses the collective support for these
“individual initiatives of the ‘Big Men’” (238) by each one’s “status group”
(kuda) (233). Likewise making reference to van Gennep, he emphasizes the perio-
dicity of the worldview expressed in the ritual – a passing-away and coming-into-
being – in which the themes of aggression and sexuality are tightly linked. These
rhythms of the ritual process are also mirrored in the spatial order, and the phas-
es of separation and incorporation are also staged in an “immediately physical”
way (239). Like his predecessor, and making reference to comparable rituals
 3.12 The Mortuary Rituals II: gotr 331

among other Central Indian tribes, Pfeffer stresses the significance of the earth,
fertilized by the bloody ritual (234 f).
Pfeffer’s second article (1991) offers a significantly more complex
interpretation.¹⁷⁷ As already suggested in his first study, the focus of the interpre-
tation is on the themes of regeneration (or reproduction), exchange, and status.
Gotr is primarily seen as a complex of exchange processes that link collectives
with one another on an ongoing basis. Pfeffer is thus not concerned with indi-
vidual motivations or individual strategies within the framework of gotr; instead,
he investigates the types of relationships, in order to thereby decipher the ritual’s
structure and significance.
The theses developed by Bloch and Parry (1982) in the introduction to Death
and the Regeneration of Life provide the starting point for the analysis. On the
basis of examples from different societies, the authors demonstrate that biolog-
ical reproduction also always means dependence on others and may lead at the
level of the ideal order – articulated in mortuary rituals in particular – to an end
to exchange and hence to independence from exchange partners. Since such an
ideology must be implemented in the real world, however, compromise with the
dependence that the ideology denies is ultimately always inevitable (Bloch and
Parry 1982, 27– 31, 38 f; cf. Pfeffer 1991, 63, 88 f). Drawing on these theses, Pfeffer
seeks to show how gotr enables a unification of ideological and biological states
of affairs and additionally offers a solution to the problem of “incestuous secur-
ity” (63) by uniting exchange and incest.
Pfeffer’s theses are primarily based on a comparison between exchange ac-
tivities in the context of marriage (physical reproduction) and in the context of
gotr (metaphysical reproduction). In both cases, according to this author, the ex-
change is one of symmetrical reciprocity with temporary status advantages. At
marriage, the bride-takers give a head of cattle as a counter-gift and are the
lower-status category until the bride is reciprocated, when the difference in sta-
tus is reversed. In contrast to marriage, Pfeffer argues, the exchange of souls in
gotr takes place within the same clan, making it a metaphysical self-marriage.
Pfeffer describes how the affines appear at gotr in a double form, on the one
hand in their usual role as cattle-bringers, on the other as buffalo-bringers (of
the purani buffaloes). As in the marriage context, when the cattle-bringers are
in the subordinate position as bride-takers, the cattle-bringers are also the junior
category in gotr vis-à-vis the more senior buffalo-bringers. Pfeffer concludes that
the valuation of the takers and givers in gotr is the reverse of that at marriage; in

 Given the text’s richness, only the main lines of argument are pursued here, and not all of
Pfeffer’s criticisms of Bloch and Parry (1982) are discussed.
332 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

other words, at gotr, the agnatic buffalo-takers have the higher status (vis-à-vis
the buffalo-givers), while at marriage, the bride-givers are superior (vis-à-vis
the bride-takers; Pfeffer 1991, 89).
On the metaphysical level – that is, in the exchange of souls – the desire to
keep things within one’s own group and not be dependent on others is realized,
since the duma is eaten by his own clan brothers. However, this ideology also
makes explicit use of biological models, since both eating and sexuality are di-
rectly corporeal. This opposition is dissolved in gotr as well. According to Pfeffer,
this ritual must be considered the higher form of regeneration, since “it includes
affinal exchange [the purani gifts]” (89). Both affinal categories, like the buffalo-
giving sponsors as well, must cede the higher status to the buffalo-takers.
In gotr, the reciprocal alimentary consumption of the dead by agnates repla-
ces the sexual consumption of marriage, ensured only with the help of affines
(86). The agnates are not only members of one’s own group, however, but also
the opposite, namely others, since they come from other local lines or other vil-
lages. According to Pfeffer’s exegesis, it is to this extent the case that in the act of
eating, they also take their opposite into themselves.
In his most recent article, Pfeffer shifts the emphasis of his analysis some-
what: “This ideal of transcendental incest, or intra-clan marriage of a spiritual
type, very much remains in the centre of the ritual abstraction, but the present
interpretation is returning to Durkheim’s original thesis” (2001a, 121). What
this means is that gotr celebrates a triumph over the arbitrariness of death,
since the participants take their fate into their own hands through reciprocal re-
consumption. The clan celebrates itself and the eternal rhythms of its own proc-
esses of exchange (121 f). As far as the value ascribed to the relationships is con-
cerned, Pfeffer’s interpretation has changed since 1991, since the sponsors as
patrons of the sacrifice are assigned higher status in comparison to all other cat-
egories; nevertheless, gotr’s position in Gadaba society remains untouched,
“most sacred” (2001a, 121), since the ritual allows individuals to dissolve into
the whole.

3.13 Conclusion

Individual and Society

Life-cycle rituals pose the question of the relationship between individual and
society. Ritual actions like those of the Gadaba that have been described in
this chapter can be considered in Lukes’s (1985, 291) terms as implicit theories
on the nature of this relationship. This means that in contrast to societies in
 3.13 Conclusion 333

which specialists and philosophers have it as their vocation to systematize ideas

about these questions and set them down in texts that become the subject of ex-
egesis in their turn, the Gadaba center these discourses in the domain of ritual
action.¹⁷⁸ The consequence of this implicit discourse – or this “practical logic”
(Bourdieu 1990, 86) – is a greater flexibility and context-dependence of the
ideas articulated in this way, as well as a certain fuzziness of their representa-
tions in comparison to explicit theories.¹⁷⁹ An additional consequence is the spe-
cial relevance of the body and of actions and movements related to the body, in-
cluding eating, for the articulation of cultural patterns of meaning.
In the Gadaba case, the indigenous concept of the person – as seen in the
descriptions of the rituals – does not correspond to the idea of the person as
a permanent, closed, and undivided energy ascribed to modern industrial na-
tions or to the “West.”¹⁸⁰ A Gadaba person is created as a consequence of ritual
actions that gradually integrate the individual into larger social units. On the
“path” from birth to death and beyond, a person undergoes a series of transfor-
mations that can be understood as the accumulation and dismantling of social
relationships. The aspects or elements of which a person consists are not unique-
ly encapsulated in individual beings, but are rather linked to other social units.
This kind of socio-centric concept of the person, in which individuals and
the collective are fused, was already ascribed to “primitive” or “ancient” peoples
in the nineteenth century. In his treatment of the religion of the Semites, Robert-
son Smith (1997) stresses the organic unity of the person and the group as both
an external characterization and an internal self-perception.

A kin was a group of persons whose lives were so bound up together, in what must be
called a physical unity, that they could be treated as parts of one common life. The mem-
bers of one kindred looked on themselves as one living whole, a single animated mass of
blood, flesh and bones. (255)

 Commentary and conversation in the course of daily life, which are not part of the rituals in
the strict sense, also pertain to this area.
 Cf. also Gudeman’s (1986, 28ff) distinction between universal and local models.
 The differences between such “Western” concepts and “non-Western” understandings of
the person, considered to be better characterized in terms of relationality, permeability, and
divisibility, have been frequently emphasized; cf. Alvi (2001, 45 f), Barraud (1990, 215), Barraud
et al. (1994, 4 f), Bloch (1988, 16 f), Dumont (1980, 4 f), Iteanu (1990, 40), Marriott (1976, 111), and
Östör et al. (1982, 4). On the other hand, various authors have warned against setting up a
dichotomy reduced to two opposed archetypes of the concept of the person; cf. Bloch (1988, 18),
McHugh (1989, 83), Morris (1994, 15 f), and Spiro (1993, 144).
334 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

While Robertson Smith focuses on the physical aspect of community and “kin-
ship,” Marcel Mauss (1985) concentrates on the collective roles that individuals
in tribal societies act out.¹⁸¹ According to Mauss, it is as characters (in French,
“personnages”) that individuals have a place in the social order. The relationship
between individual and society is made clear in the following passage:

Thus, on the one hand, the clan is conceived of as being made up of a certain number of
persons, in reality of ‘characters’ (personnages). On the other hand, the role of all of
them is really to act out, each insofar as it concerns him, the prefigured totality of the
life of the clan. (Mauss 1985, 5)

Both authors link their collective characterizations of the “non-Western” concept

of the person to ritual contexts (dances, sacrifices, commensality). More modern
ethnographic studies and anthropological works also describe this relationship
between the individual and collective units, the relational constitution of the per-
son in the framework of life-cycle rituals and especially in mortuary rites. For ex-
ample, Maurice Bloch stresses the aspect of the independence of a person’s con-
stitutive elements. He sketches a system

where the unique combination of the individual is not of such primary importance because
the elements which combine in the person are capable of a form of independent existence.
[…] In such a system death stops being a total loss but rather becomes a stage in a long and
continuous transformation of taking apart and putting together. (Bloch 1988, 16 f)

Examples of comparable systems can be found in all parts of the world. An ex-
treme case of a relational perspective on the individual, who appears to be en-
tirely absorbed into the ritual system, the sole locus of superior value, is descri-
bed by André Iteanu for the Orokaiva of Papua New Guinea (cf. Iteanu 1990, 40 f,
50). Individuals, according to Iteanu, consist of social relationships, and
“growth” consists in the addition and subtraction of these relationships.

 Mauss’s essay has been highly influential in anthropology, although with some delay from
its initial publication. The volume of essays edited by Carrithers et al. (1985) made a particular
contribution to its popularity. Beginning with the concept of the “personnage,” according to
which human beings are considered chiefly as expressions of social forms and which he at-
tempts to demonstrate among the Zuni, the Native Americans of the Northwest Coast, and the
indigenous inhabitants of Australia, Mauss describes the different transformations of the con-
cept of the person in Europe, where it has reached its current form under the influence of Roman
law (individual rights), Greek philosophy (the free and responsible individual), Christian me-
taphysics (“The person is a rational substance, indivisible and individual” [Mauss 1985, 20]),
and finally modern philosophy (e. g., Descartes and Fichte, the “I” as a condition for con-
sciousness).
 3.13 Conclusion 335

[S]ubjects do not possess ontological identity in the Western sense; their identity is rather
defined as a conjunction of ritually created social relations. […] During his life, a social per-
son continues to ‘grow’ by accumulating relations each time he participates in a ritual.
After his death, the process is reversed. The funeral ritual extinguishes one by one each
of the relations that had a part in the constitution of the social person, and the deceased
is thus transformed into an image (ahihi). (Iteanu 1990, 38, 40)

With reference to the Indian context (especially the concepts of different Hindu
communities), the relational, non-substantial character of the person has been
underlined by authors of various theoretical orientations.¹⁸² Not much is
known about comparable ideas among India’s tribal societies. Vitebsky’s
(1993) study is perhaps the only detailed contribution to this topic.¹⁸³ His ethnog-
raphy engages in a detailed and highly differentiated examination of the indig-
enous concepts of the Sora, who live northeast of the Gadaba on the border be-
tween Odisha and Andhra Pradesh. As Vitebsky describes it, the Sora person is
primarily constituted in dialogues with the dead (who are also “persons”), con-
ducted on a regular basis with the help of a ritual medium. Over the course of an
individual’s life, these conversations involve him ever more deeply in relation-
ships with the dead, who increasingly form a part of his own being and change
his person. Vitebsky also distinguishes Sora ideas from the “Western” under-
standing of the person (9).

The Sora person […] emerges not so much as having a firm core or an essence, as being a
changeable confluence of attributes and traces of memories and events, a coming together
of other people’s perceptions and actions as much as of his own. (15)

 Cf. Dumont (1980), Marriott (1976), and Östör et al. (1982). Louis Dumont (1980, 4– 13)
distinguishes the universal individual, understood as an empirical subject, from the individual
as value, an understanding of the individual that in his view leads to the ideals of freedom and
equality and is a specific characteristic of “modern” ideology. Dumont calls societies “in-
dividualistic” if in their ideological configuration they view the individual as a value in this
second sense, and he contrasts them to “holistic,” “non-modern” configurations in which value
is ascribed not to the individual, but to the society, that is, to the whole. The Hindu caste system,
according to Dumont, is an example of a holistic value order of this kind. From a transactional
perspective, Marriott (1976, 111) has characterized the Indian concept of the person as “‘divi-
dual,’” thereby stressing the person’s relationality and divisibility. In his view, persons are
constituted through the circulation of “substance-codes” (110), by which he means that the
parameters of the social order (dharma) are substantialized in the elements of circulation, with
the consequence that both aspects should be considered together from the analytical perspective
as well.
 More recently, Tina Otten (2000b) has published a study on concepts of illness and the
categories of the person among the Rona of Odisha, and I have published an article on the ritual
constitution of the person among the Gadaba (Berger 2007).
336 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

The author describes the states of consciousness and emotions of the actors in
these dialogues. In doing so, he refers, among other things, to elements that
have less to do with the category of the “person” – understood as the social
meaning of the empirical individual – than with the concept of the “self.” The
“self” can be described as the psychological fact of a person’s awareness of him-
self and his own experiences and emotional and mental states (cf. Alvi 2001, 47–
49; La Fontaine 1985, 126).¹⁸⁴ This raises the question of the extent to which such
facts are of sociological interest and in what way they are accessible to empirical
observation. Vitebsky convincingly explains how through the dialogues, the psy-
chological facts of consciousness and emotion become a public discourse that is
accessible to the ethnographer, on the one hand, but also constructs the persons
concerned themselves, on the other hand. Psychic and mental occurrences thus
become social events.

[T]he Sora offer a total interpretation of death. Their view of death is larger [than a mere
psychology of death] because for them death itself is not a negation of life but a continu-
ation of it with a change in the quality of face-to-face interaction. […] We are driven back to
the community as a whole. What one might like to call inner feelings are brought to the very
edge of the Sora person, to the point at which they encounter other persons and are dial-
ogised. (Vitebsky 1993, 17)

Gadaba rituals prescribe conventional forms of mourning, but do not provide a

place for individual emotions comparable to that of the Sora dialogues. In the
event of a death, women from all houses in the village express the community’s
mourning (duk) in a stereotyped way by gathering in the deceased’s yard to weep
over him. Their personal feelings have less to do with the matter. Conversely, they
also have the possibility of articulating their personal emotional state according
to a socially prescribed pattern. In and in front of their houses, women some-
times loudly lament the death of a family member day and night. For men, in
contrast, there is no specific cultural pattern through which they can communi-
cate their personal sorrow (mon duk), and they are responsible, not for the com-
munity’s work of mourning, but for the performance of the rituals. The dead are
thereby placated by offerings of beer and food, and those left behind are brought
“mourning gruel” (duk pej) in their houses by the women of the village’s other
kuda groups.

 On the distinctions between and relationships among the different concepts of “human
being,” “individual,” “person,” and “self” cf. Carrithers (1985, 235 f), Harris (1989, 600 – 604), La
Fontaine (1985, 126), and Morris (1994, 10 – 14).
 3.13 Conclusion 337

Transformations of the Person

The transformations of the Gadaba person are primarily marked or induced by

the eating of ritual foods. Sharing kordi rice – rice with bamboo shoots and
fish – or feeding someone with it marks situations of transition, such as the en-
trance of a bride into her husband’s house, the birth of a child, or the dedication
of a new house. In contrast, the sacrificial meal (tsoru) effects the transformation
of social relationships. Local groups are linked to one another as tsoru “broth-
ers” (tsorubai), among other ties, and reciprocally perform for one another the
service of cooking and feeding the sacrificial meal. Through the feeding of
tsoru as part of life-cycle rituals, social relationships are initiated (as at a wed-
ding) or gradually dissolved (as in the mortuary rituals). In this context, it is sig-
nificant who cooks and who serves or feeds the food. As the representative of a
group, a person feeds another the particular quality of the relationship in ques-
tion. In other words, a brother can feed someone only as a representative of his
own agnatic group; his food cannot transmit any affinal qualities. The food
stands for the relationship and has a relational ontological quality; it “is” this
relationship. For this reason, the illicit consumption of another group’s sacrificial
meal is considered a transgression entailing compensation payments, because
consuming food changes a person’s status and would make him or her a member
of the group in question. Moreover, such transgressions can provoke attacks by
certain demons (degoi duma).
Food also connects a person not only to a group, but also to a place. Being a
person also means belonging to particular places: a house, a neighborhood, a
village. The alimentary processes integrate a person into different spatio-social
relationships. As a consequence of the significance of this spatial aspect, move-
ment is a central element in the rituals described, in which dynamic processes
that structure time and space are manifested. Within the framework of a ritual,
actors move, objects and persons circulate, food is exchanged, rice is collected,
or meat is distributed. These movements are not arbitrary, but largely prescribed.
Spaces open or close, bringing into existence borders that are stressed or created
and ritually objectivized. Borders are highlighted, but they are also weakened,
and transitions take place across them. These correlations between social and
spatial units have become clear in the description of the life-cycle rituals and
will play an important role in the analysis that follows, in which I seek,
among other things, to trace the “paths” taken by exchange elements between
villages and across generations. Such movements within rituals and the move-
ments of rituals themselves will also be a focus of my interpretation of the rituals
of the annual cycle.
338 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

David Parkin (1992, 18) considers movement or “formulaic spatiality” to be

ritual’s constitutive element. By this he understands “the capacity to create
and act through idioms of passage, movement, including exchange, journey,
axis, concentricism, and up-and-down directions.” Rituals have a particular ef-
fect, according to this author, on the actors’ bodies, which are transformed,
split, and distributed across space (23). The Gadaba’s life-cycle rituals also illus-
trate this last aspect. For example, the dead of a generation are embodied in buf-
faloes and given to agnates from other villages. As part of this transaction, some
buffaloes are cut open in the fields – that is, between the villages – and their
entrails are buried in the earth.
Edmund Leach is one author who dedicates equal attention to the structur-
ing of space and time and correspondingly speaks about “social space-time”
(Leach 1991, 35).¹⁸⁵ Time and space, according to Leach, are ordered by means
of the cultural construction of discontinuities, that is, the creation of boundaries
and distinctions. This ordering based on the articulation of oppositions takes
place both conceptually and empirically. The opposition of the categories mar-
ried/unmarried distinguishes temporal segments of the life cycle by a conceptual
boundary that is without temporal and spatial extension. In ritual, this transition
from one status to another is given form through the structuring of temporal and

 Leach is one of many anthropologists who have devoted themselves to the topic of cultural
or structural time. In his book, Alfred Gell (1992) summarizes the various debates and also
criticizes Leach’s hypothesis of the inversion of time in ritual and his remarks on alternating
concepts of time (33 f). I will return to the subject of temporal patterns and the idea of oscillation
in the context of the rituals and festivals of the annual cycle. Nevertheless, I will not discuss the
different theoretical approaches, since the complexity of this topic demands a more extensive
treatment than is compatible with the focus of this study. In order to be able to say something
about Gadaba concepts of time at a more fundamental level, it would be necessary to analyze
not only the rituals, but also the linguistic categories of time and how the Gadaba speak about
time in the course of daily life, something that I hope to do in a separate publication. For present
purposes, let it simply be noted that the Gadaba attach little significance to linear time and that
time – as Leach (1977, 126) says – has no depth. For example, the Gadaba speak about the
“people from before” (agtu lok) in contrast to the “people of the present” (ebro lok), and absolute
temporal reference points are meaningless, as is also shown by the Gadaba’s indifference to
individuals’ absolute age. On the other hand, relative time – expressed in the idiom of seniority,
for example – is of great social significance. The fact that little importance is assigned to linear
concepts of time and the placement of historical events along an axis of this kind does not
mean, however, that the linear progress of time is not perceived. In my view, Gadaba ritual
processes articulate a variety of temporal patterns, such as alternation and cyclical movement –
which Gell (1992, 34) claims are inevitably logically connected to one another in any case – and
parallelism or synchronization (cf. Iteanu 1999).
 3.13 Conclusion 339

spatial segments and thereby made empirically perceptible to the senses. A rit-
ual’s structure is thus part of its meaning.

In such [ritual] performances the movement of individuals from one physical locality to an-
other and the sequence in which such movements are accomplished are themselves part of
the message; they are direct representations of ‘changes in metaphysical position.’ (Leach
1991, 52)

There are few limits to the creative manipulation of time and space as parame-
ters subject to the cultural construction of meaning, so that time in ritual can, for
example, run backward (Leach 1977; cf. Gell 1992, 37ff), different processes can
be synchronized (Iteanu 1999), and the sequences of ritual actions can articulate
and reinforce hierarchies (Leach 1991, 52), as is particularly evident in the case of
the Gadaba’s collective sacrifices.
The structuring of time occurs both within a single ritual process and be-
tween different rituals. The different phases of a ritual can be opposed to one
another in myriad ways, thereby marking changes or articulating opposed val-
ues, as two examples from the Gadaba mortuary rituals illustrate. When some-
one is cremated immediately after death, the deceased’s liminal situation and
his surviving family’s temporary ritual impurity are expressed by the manipula-
tion of his ax. The axhead is removed from the handle, reversed, and replaced in
that position. Three days later, the next stage of the rituals ends this impure sta-
tus, and the ax is also correspondingly returned to its original condition. The sec-
ond example draws on Leach’s (1991, 78) distinction between phases of especial-
ly formal action and phases of extreme informality within the framework of a
ritual. In the Gadaba’s final mortuary ritual, gotr, different phases are differenti-
ated by means of two contrasts: formality / effervescence and aggressive efferves-
cence / peaceful effervescence. Before they start to arrive in the sponsors’ village,
the buffalo-takers behave in an entirely effervescent way, and their armed entry
into the village itself indicates their readiness for violence (cf. Pfeffer 1991,
2001a). Initially, however, they merely dance and drink wildly before the tied-
up buffaloes. This continues through the night, until all the buffalo-takers as-
semble in the house of one of the sponsors in the early morning hours in
order to regulate the distribution of the buffaloes. At a stroke, the wild dancers
appear to have become strategic negotiating partners. After the formal distribu-
tion of the buffaloes, an effervescent phase again follows, reaching its aggressive
climax in the tearing to pieces of several buffaloes and the struggle over the an-
imals’ entrails. On the last day of the ritual, the same contrast between formality
and effervescence is found, only this time the informality is peaceful in charac-
ter. First, all the participants engage in an effervescent mud and water fight.
340 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

Afterward, different groups receive specified gifts from the sponsors. The recip-
ients are formally seated on bamboo mats, and in some cases, a drawn-out de-
bate ensues about the appropriateness of one or another gift. These contrasts
distinguish different temporal phases of the ritual – the precarious period of ag-
gressive effervescence before the departure of the dead and the phase of relief
and peaceful effervescence after this has taken place – at the same time that
they stress different aspects of the relationships involved. On the one hand,
the groups are linked to one another in a quasi-contractual way as partners in
the exchange of brides, buffaloes, and food, and on the other, the ritual also of-
fers a framework for the conventional articulation of emotional dispositions that
likewise play a role in these relationships.¹⁸⁶
The rituals are not only internally structured through the opposition of dif-
ferent phases, relationships, and elements, but also refer to one another and
thereby shape the rhythm of social time and space. The example of the reversed
ax has already shown how linked rituals – in this case, the cremation and the
second phase of the mortuary rituals soon afterward – mark out periods of
time. These periods can also extend over many years. A sacrifice promised to
a deity or demon may be performed only years later in some cases, and during
the intervening period, those concerned are subject to specific prohibitions that
express a particular relationship to these powers. For example, shortly after a
child’s birth, the rau demon is asked to leave the newborn unharmed and is
promised the sacrificial offering of a white rooster once the child learns to
walk. In this ritual, cords are tied around both the potential victim (the child)
and the foreseen victim (the rooster), stressing the parallel or homology between
the two beings for this limited period, in my interpretation. During this time, the
child is not permitted to eat any food prepared in the context of rituals addressed
to rau, and the meat of white chickens should be avoided in general until the
promise has been redeemed. The child’s ritual status corresponds to that of
white chickens, which are therefore excluded as potential food. Before I turn
to the analysis of the life-cycle rituals against the background of these reflec-
tions, I will now summarize the basic elements of the ritual processes.

 Alongside the different characterizations of the various agnatic and affinal relationship
types, rightly emphasized by Pfeffer (2001a), such as the aggressiveness of the panjabai and the
devotion of the moitr, individual relationships are also regularly characterized by contradictory
qualities. Affinal relationships, for example, manifest both qualities of cooperation and inter-
dependence and aggressive and potentially hostile tendencies.
 3.13 Conclusion 341

From Birth to the “Path Wedding”

The situation of a human being after birth is liminal, precarious, and ambiva-
lent. For this reason, the rituals of this phase serve to gradually embed the
child in the community, ward off threatening powers, and homogenize the vari-
ous elements of the person. Immediately after birth, a close relationship, we
could say a ritual identification, exists between the umbilical cord (bumli, lond-
ing*) buried at the house and the afterbirth (“flower,” phul), on the one hand,
and the newborn child’s body, on the other. Like the placenta, the child is
also referred to as a flower in the days before he or she is given a name,¹⁸⁷
and the mother bathes him or her every day on the stone over the “umbilical
pit” (bumli kal). Medicine intended to protect the afterbirth and the child is bur-
ied in this pit on the day of the birth. By means of the rituals following birth, the
baby is transformed from the status of a flower to a (still incomplete) social per-
son. For this reason, the child is cremated at the cremation site if he or she dies
after the name-giving ritual, the end of the ritual impurity following birth. If the
child dies prior to that, he or she returns to the umbilical pit without ceremony
or public participation and does not pass beyond the ritual status of a “flower.”
However, the umbilical pit is not the only place associated with a newborn.
Already on the day of the birth, the newborn is served ritual rice (poti bat) for
the first time, usually cooked by a neighbor woman and eaten by the mother in
the infant’s place. The child remains connected to the “community of the dead”
(duma kul) until he or she begins – at around six months old – to eat first millet
gruel, then rice. Until then, rice (sig bat) is set aside for him or her at each daily
meal. This offering is addressed to the vital energy (jibon) reincarnated in the
child, which still retains character traits of the deceased (duma). For this reason,
this food is supposed to be brought to the village’s ritual boundary (bejorna), one
of the places where the dead linger. In practice, the rice is most often simply set
aside in the house and eaten later by the house members. It is evident that dur-
ing this phase, the child is linked to two places, the house (at first, the umbilical
pit in particular) and the bejorna, and two communities, the living and the dead.
The name-giving (sutok sorani) about a week after birth is a decisive step in
the development of a person. The ritual transforms the child into a member of
the kutum and of the village. The infant receives a name and his or her first
tsoru. With a name, the child can become the target of witchcraft attacks, so
that he or she is also henceforward of social relevance in this regard. The ritual
specialist (dissari) feeds the child tsoru in which the members of the kutum (ide-

 If a child dies shortly after the performance of the first, expensive rituals, it will be said, for
example, “Ah, if only you [the child] had just died as a flower (phul mal, “flower, vine”).”
342 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

ally also the kuda) participate.¹⁸⁸ In addition, the entire village takes notice of the
now “named” person through the distribution of lakka’* food to every house-
hold. Further, this day ends the phase of ritual pollution (sutok), and non-aga-
gain eat in the houses of the child’s local line. However, the child should not
leave the house and yard – under no circumstances the village – until the
birth cords are tied around his or her neck and hips with medicine a week later.
In this first stage of the child’s integration, relationships are thus established
with the local groups and gods.¹⁸⁹ The name-giving is followed by a ritual that
aims to force the rau demon, unpredictable as a matter of principle, to also
enter into a moral, that is, reciprocal and responsible relationship with human
beings. During the first years of life, the child’s vital energy is at particular
risk of being eaten (kai debar) by this demon. For this reason, the dissari suggests
a kind of deal to him, in the name of the child’s relatives. Rau is promised that he
will be provided with blood (an animal’s life), rice, meat, and liquor, if he does
not eat the child’s jibon. Only if the child remains healthy or recovers after an
illness is the promise carried out. The name of this ritual, already mentioned
as an example above, refers to one of its actions, the tying of the “birth string”
(jonom suta). Cords are tied around the child and the sacrificial animal and will
be cut when the vow is redeemed around fifteen months later. The demon does
not receive tsoru as part of the promised sacrifice, and humans do not eat togeth-
er with him. This treatment underlines the qualitative difference between this re-
lationship and the relationship between humans and gods.
In the first weeks after birth, the different aspects of the person are only
loosely joined. The will, the feelings, and the awareness (mon) of the reincarnat-
ed vital energy make themselves noticeable in the child, as they did previously in
the pregnant woman. Through the child’s wails, the jibon or duma, since the two
concepts cannot be entirely separated in this context, articulates its own dis-
pleasure. It is necessary to find out whether the child’s name is in fact unsuitable
and has to be changed, or – because multiple jibon have reincarnated in the
child’s body – a dispute over the mother’s milk (kir, da’ktor*) is the cause. The
ambivalence of this social figure in the process of becoming is also expressed,
in the Gadaba’s view, in the child’s lack of control of his or her mimetic and
motor capacities. A newborn’s gaze, smiles, and movements appear to be direct-
ed from another world, without reference to the living. As soon as children are
old enough, they eat the tsoru in their houses as part of the festivals. Boys of

 Since the child cannot yet eat rice, some rice is rubbed on his or her cheek.
 In some cases, the midwife has already made a sacrifice to the village goddess on the day of
the birth.
 3.13 Conclusion 343

the “earth people” or the Four Brothers are also soon able to eat the tsoru at the
village shrines. During the April festival, they alone are served tsoru in front of
the village goddess. They have then “seen the Four Brothers” (chari bai dekla),
and their persons are linked with the village as a whole.
This first phase of the constitution of a person – from birth to bato biba – is
sharply distinguished in ritual practice from the time after marriage, when collec-
tive relationships are at the forefront. It is striking that agnatic and affinal exter-
nal relationships (tsorubai, panjabai, mamu) are without significance in the rit-
uals after birth. The mother’s brother alone makes an appearance in the ritual
“ending the impurity” (sutok sorani), and he has no active function in it. Ritual
rice, whether tsoru or kordi rice, is prepared by the members of the house or of
the kutum in these rituals and – at least in sutok sorani – fed to the child by the
dissari. Nevertheless, sutok sorani and bato biba also include the commensal and
communal aspects that characterize the marriage and mortuary rituals.
The rituals of the early phase of life are intended on the one hand to incor-
porate the child into the elementary social relationships of house, local line, and
village and on the other hand to protect this person in the process of becoming
from attacks. This double function is clearly expressed in the structure of sutok
sorani, for example. The sacrifices at the umbilical pit are supposed to placate
the greedy demons, so that they leave the newborn alone. This sequence there-
fore has the character of a prophylactic healing ritual. The second part of the rit-
ual, which begins after the purification of the people and the house, serves the
purpose of the social integration and recognition of the developing person, ar-
ticulated and produced through the name-giving, the giving of tika by the
local line, and the feeding of tsoru.
The costly “path wedding” (bato biba) celebrates the dissolution of the tie in
existence between the child and the demons since the promise of a sacrifice. In
her seance, the gurumai first establishes the gods’ support and the demons’ ac-
ceptance of the sacrificial offerings. She then dances until morning in a combi-
nation of sacrifice and divine play. For the children concerned, whom the guru-
mai draws into her play, these actions prepare the way for their reintegration into
human society, from which they were excluded for a period of time from a ritual
perspective. Under divine guidance, they learn everything that a person needs to
know: plowing, collecting honey, pounding rice, and celebrating gotr rituals. On
the next day, the feeding of tsoru, the giving of tika, and the cutting of the child-
ren’s hair complete the ritual status transformation. The repetition of the ritual
actions of giving tika and feeding tsoru and kordi rice reveals that the transfor-
mations of the person take place only gradually.
344 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

Transition to a Complete Person

The wedding ritual effects the transformation to a complete person by localizing
the primary affinal and agnatic relationships in the person through the ingestion
of tsoru. This means that married people are incorporated into social responsibil-
ity and its various exchange processes. Gadaba say that the wedding ritual gives
one a name (na), that is, social respect and legitimate participation in all social
and ritual activities.
It is no longer the protection of life that is at the center of attention in the
wedding ritual, but rather the person’s social status. For this reason, the dissari
now has only limited functions in connection with the sacrifice at the girli tree;
feeding tsoru is no longer his responsibility, and neither does he participate in
the bride’s ritual separation from her parental house. Instead, the tsorubai are
supposed to prepare the sacrificial meal in her father’s house. The correlation be-
tween spaces and social relationships becomes evident once again in this con-
text. This last commensal act puts an end to the daughter’s membership in
her father’s group (although not her bonso status), and she is correspondingly
no longer permitted to enter those spaces – the inner room and the loft – to
which only agnates, in-married wives, and unmarried daughters have access.
Shortly after the feeding of the last tsoru, she is introduced into her husband’s
house. Her first actions in the new house are the eating and feeding of kordi rice.
As part of the wedding ritual (biba) – which takes place in the groom’s vil-
lage – the bridal couple eat a spectrum of agnatic and affinal variants of tsoru.
They also establish relationships to the forest. The pair are led out of the village
and there imitate the activities of gathering and fishing. The river gods and/or the
Herder of the Forest receive sacrifices, and the exchange of rings with a tuft of
wild grass establishes the basis for a social relationship with the forest, also an-
nounced through the shared consumption of kordi rice. The bridal couple receive
the ritual’s first tsoru from the Four Brothers, the groom’s village community; on
the next day, they eat in the circle of the Twelve Brothers. For this purpose, the
groom’s tsorubai, who belong to the Twelve Brothers, sacrifice and cook in the
inner room of the house. All affinal relatives are therefore excluded from this
most important meal.¹⁹⁰ During the interval between these two agnatic sacrificial
meals, the two mothers’ brothers of the bridal couple and the bride’s father cook
for the pair; this food is equally accessible to affines and agnates.

 Other than the householder, only the tsorubai of his group sacrifice and cook in the inner
room of his house, and this meal is open only to agnates. “From what is [tsoru] of the house god
the affines do not eat (doron ta somdimon kaibe nai),” it is said.
 3.13 Conclusion 345

After consuming these meals, the married couple embody the maximum of
all possible agnatic (bai) and affinal (bondu) relationships and are legitimate
cooks and eaters of all types of sacrificial meals. The house constituted within
the framework of the marriage process is part of an encompassing system of ex-
change that also includes the dead and the gods. Except for collective tsoru com-
mensality, couples who are not ritually married also participate in these ex-
change processes. In other words, they have a share in the exchange of grain,
festival rice, alcohol, blood (sacrifices), wives, calves, brasswares, and stone
slabs. These elements move along the pathways of the various social cycles of
reproduction and reconsumption, as I will show in greater detail in the next sec-
tion. It is important to understand the substances that circulate in these ritual
movements as representations of social relationships and not as objects valued
for their own sake. This aspect is visible in the names given to specific gifts to the
moitr and the houses of a village in the context of the bur mortuary ritual. The
raw meat given is referred to as china manso, which could be translated as
“meat of memory.” What is remembered are social relationships of different
types, the ritual significance of which is thereby stressed. Especially through
the handling of food, by means of ritual feeding (exchange of food) and com-
mensality (sharing food), relationships are created from scratch, confirmed, dis-
solved, and also transformed, as nearly happened in the gotr ritual in Ponosguda
described above. A refusal to eat could have led in this context to a transforma-
tion of the mother’s brother (mamu) into an ordinary affinal guest (gotia).

Disintegration, Reembodiment, and Consumption

Physical death begins a gradual process of the disintegration of the person, ul-
timately concluded – after a brief inversion (the reembodiment of the dead) – in
the stomachs of the panjabai. Prior to this, the same actors as at a wedding, pri-
marily the tsorubai and the deceased’s mamu, see to the separation of the duma
from the living. The body is burned, the cutting of the hip cord marks the col-
lapse of the complete person, and the reversal of the deceased’s ax points to
the liminal phase of ritual pollution, which lasts three days. The jibon departs
from the body, and human beings have no influence over what happens to it.
Only later will it be learned in which individual it is reincarnated. The rituals
focus their attention on the person’s social aspect, the product of previous col-
lective ritual efforts, or in other words, for the most part, the feeding and eating
of tsoru. This description of a deceased individual’s social quality is an approx-
imation of the ideas associated with the concept of the duma. For a certain pe-
riod after death, considered particularly dangerous for the deceased’s surviving
relatives, duma and jibon are still associated with one another.
346 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

In the mortuary rituals as well, the cooking and feeding of tsoru are at the
center and are intended to lead to separation from the living and the reintegra-
tion of the duma into the community of the dead. The breaking of a pot by the
tsorubai at the cremation, the cooking of tsoru in a potsherd from another clay
vessel, and the disposal of all cooking utensils at the village’s ritual boundary
are signs that this food serves not for the construction of social relationships,
but for their dismantling, the separation of the deceased from the society of
the living.¹⁹¹ This aspect of the duma’s transformation becomes evident in a de-
tail of the mortuary rituals that recalls in its metaphorical framing Parry’s (1985)
essay on “Death and Digestion.”
In the third phase of the mortuary rituals (bur), a head of cattle is sacrificed
for the duma, and a particular part of the stomach is placed at the usual site in
front of the house associated with the dead. The tsorubai have previously pre-
pared the sacrificial meal at the same place. The stomach serves as the chief me-
dium through which the duma receives his food offerings once the tsoru is
cooked. All members of the village and all outside guests place sacrificial
food on the cattle stomach for the deceased. Both this organ’s name and its con-
notations are significant, in addition to this special ritual use. The part of the
stomach in question is the so-called omasum, the surface area of which is multi-
plied by filling the interior of the organ with numerous leaf-like internal walls
that optimize the digestive process.¹⁹² When butchering cattle, the Gadaba point-
ed out to me that the cattle’s food is moist in the rumen (“big stomach,” boro
pota) and gets dried out (sukaibar) in the omasum. In their view, the largest
share of digestion (jirno) takes place in the latter organ, which they call the “rit-
ual stomach” (puja pota) and refer to in the special context of bur as “remember-

 In other contexts, such as the collective sacrifices at the shrines, but also in the case of
marriage, the pots are kept. In cases of extreme conflict between houses in a village, the
relationship is entirely and publicly broken off by the smashing of a clay pot. Only when the
tsorubai make a new, unbroken pot for the parties from clay is the tie renewed. The pot in which
the tsorubai cook the “daughter’s sacrificial meal” (ji tsoru) is not destroyed – even though the
daughter leaves the village – because an active relationship to her father’s house remains in
existence. In this regard, a daughter’s transition to another house is not comparable to a
deceased individual’s move to the world of the dead.
 The omasum “is the last forestomach. The omasum is practically a sieve for the food and
only lets through what is fine enough” (http://www.cow-camp.at/online/girlscamp_files/files/
rinderleben.html). “The inside of the omasum is thrown into broad longitudinal folds or leaves
reminiscent of the pages in a book (a lay term for the omasum is the ‘book’). The omasal folds,
which in life are packed with finely ground ingesta, have been estimated to represent roughly
one-third of the total surface area of the forestomachs” (http://arbl.cvmbs.colostate.edu/hbooks/
pathphys/digestion/herbivores/rumen_anat.html).
 3.13 Conclusion 347

ing the dead” (mora chini). As the central medium for the transformation of food
into the animal’s body, this stomach is particularly suited to express in a vivid
way the idea of the metamorphosis of the dead. By feeding the deceased through
the medium of this stomach, the participants “remember” their relationship to
him, at the same time that this action is in fact intended to transform that rela-
tionship. The change from moist to dry in the ruminant digestive process corre-
sponds to the change in the deceased individual’s status. Finally, it is the decea-
sed’s tsorubai – the agents of transformation par excellence – who cook and
consume the ritual stomach on the following day.
As in the case of the Sora, recently deceased Gadaba find themselves in an
ambivalent situation and are simultaneously dependent on and threatening to
human beings.¹⁹³ The different types of dead among the Sora eat the souls of
the living, but also nourish and protect them (Vitebsky 1993, 5). The Gadaba ap-
pear to expect nothing good from their dead in the first instance, but merely to
hope for their peaceful withdrawal. In order to encourage this, the dead are host-
ed and honored. They are not only left to consume their food at the edge of the
house (under the eaves), at the cremation site, or at the edge of the village (the
bejorna), that is, in locations corresponding to their current relationship to the
living, but also invited into the midst of the community once more. Affines
and agnates eat together with the dead. This commensality is particularly de-
manded in the case of bad deaths, which appear to have spatial anomaly in com-
mon. Drowning in the river, dying in the forest, falling from a tree, hanging
oneself,¹⁹⁴ dying on the path, or dying in childbirth, when the child and/or
the placenta remains in the mother’s body: all these forms of death can, drawing
on Mary Douglas (cf. 1969, 40), be understood as “death out of place,” as a threat
to the spatio-social order. Only the shared sacrifice and commensality of the baro
bai tero gadi – in other words, the community as a whole – can placate these
dangerous duma. The Gadaba’s duma only become nourishers in the context
of the last mortuary ritual, gotr, when the dead achieve their permanent status.
Gotr briefly reverses the process of dissolution that begins on the day of
death, in order subsequently to bring it to completion. After the dead have
been induced by food and insistent verbal pleas to withdraw from the affairs
of the living, their upcoming final transformation is now announced to them.
Those men and women of the village who were previously fed tsoru at their wed-

 “Though in one sense the dead have power, at the same time they exist in a state of
emotional and material deprivation. Dialogues are thus not only a communication but also a
feeding” (Vitebsky 1993, 6).
 When the naik’s wife poisoned herself with kerosene, this was not considered a bad death,
since she died in the house (and on the ground, not in the air).
348 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

dings in order to bring them into the society’s system of relationships are now
communally awoken and once again turned into complete persons by being
fed sig rice. Although in the bodies of buffaloes, they nonetheless bundle togeth-
er in themselves the entirety of all social relationships. While as duma they had
previously resided at the village’s internal and external borders, these living
dead now leave their house, kutum, kuda, and village following their last great
feast. An impressive substitute is found for them on the collective level in the
form of rock slabs, however, and the fertility of the earth is promoted by the rit-
ual killing of a number of buffaloes. In this sense, the Gadaba’s duma ultimately
also become nourishers.

Transformation, Reproduction, and Assimilation

In the series of ritual transformations¹⁹⁵ undergone by a social person among the

Gadaba and brought about by alimentary exchange processes (cooking for and
feeding others or eating others) and commensality (sharing food), weddings
(biba) and the last phase of the mortuary rituals (gotr) are especially significant.
The analogies and inversions between marriage and gotr have already been
stressed by Pfeffer (1991, 2001a) as a primary aspect of his analyses, and my in-
terpretation is based on his insights. At the same time, I hope to develop the ar-
gument further in light of my data on the other rituals of the life cycle and the
annual cycle, with consequent modifications to Pfeffer’s theses.
In Pfeffer’s view, both agnatic and affinal relationships are involved in each
of the two ritual processes (marriage and gotr), although gotr is dominated by
exchange between agnates and marriage by exchange between affines. The “un-
stressed” relationships in each case (agnates at marriage, affines at gotr) provide
the rituals with witnesses. My analysis likewise emphasizes the importance of
the agnates at marriage (especially as tsoru commensals) and of the affines at
gotr (as buffalo-bringers). However, Pfeffer (1991, 86ff) equates affinal exchange
with physical reproduction, while he describes the exchange between agnates as
metaphysical reproduction. In my view, the introduction of this dichotomy, not
articulated in the rituals themselves, restricts the possibilities for analysis and
understanding more than it expands them. The physical/metaphysical opposi-
tion is related to other contrasting pairs, such as matter/spirit and “good to

 In his analysis of the mortuary rituals of the ’Aré’Aré of Melanesia, de Coppet (1981) shows
how elements of the social person take different “paths” after death depending on the type of
death. He refers to the different processes of transformation of the elements as “chains of
transformations” (178).
 3.13 Conclusion 349

eat”/“good to think,” that I have already described as problematic in the intro-

duction to this study, precisely from the perspective of the analysis of ritual ac-
tions and the meaning of alimentary processes. The exchange of buffaloes be-
tween agnates and the exchange of brides between affines are concerned both
with processes of “physical” reproduction (the fertility of fields and human be-
ings) and with the continuity of the agnatic community (as empirical group and
as value-idea).
In what follows, I will first compare the primary features of these rituals and
demonstrate the extent to which agnatic and affinal relationships are involved in
these processes. I will then examine the similarities and differences between the
patterns of movement in the affinal (exchange of brides) and agnatic (exchange
of buffaloes) exchange processes and the meanings articulated by them.

Marriage and gotr

Through the feeding of tsoru, the wedding rituals constitute two complete social
persons¹⁹⁶ and additionally renew a collective relationship of marriage alliance.
The bridal couple’s mothers’ brothers, from whose milk the bride and groom
originate, cook and feed tsoru just as the Four Brothers and the Twelve Brothers
do. It is not only social persons who come into being, however, but also a house,
that is, the basic ritual, economic, and social unit of society. A house has two
tasks, among others: the begetting of the following generation and the transfor-
mation of the preceding generation. In the myths about the origin of the world,
the house is associated with the begetting of offspring; however, this begetting
depends not only on sexual intercourse by the married couple, but also on the
movements of the vital energy (jibon) and the will of the god of the dead, who
gives human beings their bodies. In gotr, a local group discharges itself of its re-
cent dead (duma) and receives stone representations of the past generation. This
exchange, entailing a transformation or replacement of the dead by ancestors,
takes place only between agnatic groups. However, affinal categories participate
as chief actors in another primary aspect of the ritual, namely the regeneration
of the earth or the fertilization of the dry fields, and hence the reproduction of
the grain.

 The wedding rituals are often conducted jointly for multiple households, as is also the case
for the third phase (bur) of the mortuary rituals. An entire generation of the village is not
married at once, however, in the way that a generation’s dead are put to rest together in gotr.
350 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

Brides and Buffaloes

If we compare brides (milk) and buffaloes (the dead) as the two primary ele-
ments of the affinal and agnatic processes of exchange, the differences in the rit-
ual actions to which these elements are subject are especially noticeable. A bride
is separated from her parental house by the feeding of tsoru and is introduced
into her new village’s tsoru community at her wedding. In addition, she is in-
structed before the first night in her new house to “eat” male semen, in order
to bear a child. A buffalo is transformed into one of the living dead by the feed-
ing of sig rice and is then fed the widest possible variety of foods for days. How-
ever, it does not receive tsoru that would separate it from the village community
before its transfer to the buffalo-takers’ village, nor is it fed tsoru in its new vil-
lage and so introduced into that community. Instead, the buffalo itself becomes
food, and significantly, it is not eaten as tsoru. After the dramatic farewell the
buffaloes receive at the external stone platform, where they are adorned and
sent on their way equipped with all they might need, they spend a period of
time living a relatively ordinary “buffalo life” in the buffalo-takers’ villages,
with the difference that they are not used as draft animals. Sometime during
the weeks following the gotr, the buffaloes are gradually slaughtered. This can
happen as part of feasts, at which the buffalo-takers’ bai bondu may be present,
or else the animal’s meat can be distributed in the neighborhood, eaten, or dried.
Just as significant as the fact that the buffaloes are not eaten as tsoru is the fact
that the buffalo-takers’ affines may also eat this meat and often even receive en-
tire living buffaloes, which they lead back to their villages. This treatment shows
that the consumption of the buffaloes is not a matter of accumulating or regen-
erating relationships within the group of agnates, as would be the case for tsoru
commensality and as the bride encounters in her new village. The giving away of
the buffaloes at the external platform appears to entail a certain dissolution of
the duma’s social quality. On the other hand, it would be incorrect to say that
the buffalo dead become “normal” animals again after they are given away, as
they were before they were fed sig rice. This is countered by the fact that they
are not put to work.¹⁹⁷ At the same time, the empirical participation of the
buffalo-takers’ affines in the consumption of the animals does not take away
the fact that ideally, the agnates are considered the sole eaters of all the buffa-
loes, something also stressed by the rule that the buffalo-givers’ affines are ex-
cluded from consuming the animals and would have to vomit (banti korbar) if
they ate them.

 Another piece of evidence against this is an informant’s statement that if a gotr buffalo is
sold, its new owner has to drive kuti into its horns in order to expel the duma.
 3.13 Conclusion 351

The differences in the ritual treatment of brides and buffaloes are reflected
in the types of movement that characterize the affinal and agnatic processes of
exchange, which can be described as reproduction and assimilation. In the eyes
of the participants, the duma – unlike the dead’s vital energy – do not return,
and the giving away of the buffaloes is a definitive farewell; the dead have
gone (gola).¹⁹⁸ The duma are assimilated into the external agnates’ bodies by
being eaten, and this service is reciprocated on a later occasion within the
same generation. Brides also definitively leave their fathers’ villages and receive
the mortuary rituals in the villages of their husbands. Nevertheless, part of the
milk given in the bride – the bride’s daughters – ideally returns to the givers’ vil-
lage. The bride is not completely assimilated, but rather reproduced, and milk
circulates in this way both between villages and within and between genera-
tions. Both transactions are symmetrical and reciprocal, but they imply different
types of movement.
This difference between affinal reproduction and agnatic assimilation is
highlighted by the types of counter-gifts given, which articulate the contrasts
symmetry/asymmetry and mobility/immobility. The takers of a bride give two
heads of cattle (along with Dombo cloth). One of the animals is to be slaughtered
for a feast, and the other, a female calf, is “in order to drink milk” (kir kaiba pai).
This calf is considered an identical replacement for the bride and serves for the
production of offspring. Brides and calves permanently circulate as milk in op-
posite directions. The buffalo-takers’ stone slabs likewise substitute for the dead,
but this counter-gift is precisely not identical to the givers’ buffalo dead; the
megaliths are set up only once and then remain outside the cycle of exchange,
just as the buffaloes find their final resting place in the panjabai’s stomachs and
no longer circulate. The process of replacement consummated in gotr transforms
the temporary and individual duma into a permanent and collective representa-
tion of an entire past generation of a local group. This aspect is made especially
clear by the megalithic monuments at the central assembly platform (sadar),
where a timeless assembly of the Four Brothers meets in this form opposite
the village goddess, as each generation since the village was founded is repre-
sented by two stones.¹⁹⁹ The dead have left the village as buffaloes, but the

 This view also corresponds to that of Izikowitz’s (1969, 141) informants, who indicated that
following gotr, the deceased were “finally dead.”
 Izikowitz (1969, 130 f) mentions that for the parents of the village head (i.e., the naik), a pair
of boulders were brought to the sadar in the context of the gotr. The age of a village could be
determined, Izikowitz claimed, by counting the stones and estimating about twenty-five years
per generation (149n4). At the gotr that I observed in Ponosguda, no stones were set up at the
sadar, as far as I know. However, I was told that in Gudapada, the senior (boro) tsorubai from
352 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

stone slabs are rooted in place in the village’s earth and bear witness to the ter-
ritorial continuity of the “earth people.” In contrast, the affinal gifts (including
the brass gifts to the mother’s brother) articulate a continuity of the cyclical
and mobile. The difference between the two types of movement is illustrated
in the following figure.
Alongside this difference between the processes of exchange involving buf-
faloes and brides, various ethnographic facts point to other apparently contra-
dictory ideas that could be described as an implicit indigenous model. This
model stresses the commonalities between the two processes, the oscillation be-
tween villages and the alternation of generations. I have already noted the fre-
quency and significance of alternating patterns elsewhere, and Parkin writes
with regard to the equation of alternate generations “that there are really only
two generations recognized in these [‘Munda’] societies. These generations per-
petually revolve around and replace one another, grandchildren being (re)born
as grandparents” (Parkin 1992, 216). In view of the frequency of alternating pat-
terns, it seems evident that in this complementary model, the dead return to
their original group and are reassimilated or reconsumed. Perhaps it is precisely
the idea of the identification of alternate generations with one another that re-
quires reconsumption, but nonetheless bars the explicit articulation of this
fact. Although the Gadaba are aware that the reciprocal consumption of the
dead by agnatic groups is effectively equivalent to a reconsumption of one’s
own grandparental generation, it would probably never occur to anyone to
claim that he was eating his own grandmother.
Viewed in this way, the movements of the agnatic and affinal processes of
exchange – the path of the buffaloes and the path of the brides – are fundamen-
tally analogous. Both elements extend across generations and oscillate between
groups in a rhythm that structurally equates alternate generations. In gotr, the
buffalo-takers’ group eats a person (in the form of a buffalo) who has previously
consumed the group’s own grandparental generation. With a delay – or a detour
– the members of one’s own group are thus eaten and the alternate generation
assimilated. This perspective corresponds to Pfeffer’s interpretation of gotr: “the
revived dead are orally consumed or internalized by several categories of clan

Potenda placed a pair of stones at the assembly platform when the Sisa celebrated a gotr about
six years earlier. This only happened, it was stressed, when the Sisa celebrated gotr, not the
Kirsani (in this way, the double representation of a generation is avoided, and the senior
segment stands for the whole). The Sisa provide both the boro naik and the pujari in Gudapada
and have a senior status in relation to the Kirsani. Without reference to a specific event or
village, other informants indicated that the panjabai and tsorubai together bring a pair of stone
slabs to the sadar on the eve of the chief festival day.
 3.13 Conclusion 353

Agnatic Assimilation and Replacement

Village A Village B TIME

Stone slabs (“ancestors”)

Buffaloes (duma)

some years later

Buffaloes
Stone slabs

etc.

Affinal Circulation and Reproduction

Village A Village C
TIME

Brides (milk)
Calves (milk)

etc.

Figure 12: Agnatic and Affinal Exchange in the Life Cycle

members to live on and to be reconsumed at another gotr by members of the orig-

inal lineage” (Pfeffer 2001, 120). Analogously, a woman who leaves her home vil-
lage as a bride is taking the same path as her maternal grandmother, as a con-
sequence of the symmetrical and direct exchange between two groups. The use
354 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

of “daughter” (ji) as a term of address for a father’s sister arises from this con-
ception, which associates the out-marrying women of alternate generations.
The analogous movements in the two processes of exchange are summarized
in schematic form in figure 13. The dashed lines in the path of the dead can be
read as “is eaten,” and the arrows indicate the reciprocal exchange of buffaloes
between two local lines in villages 1 and 2. X represents a member of the agnatic
line, whose son (X’) is distinguished as a member of the adjacent generation by
an apostrophe. When X dies, his son X’ will give him in the form of a buffalo to
Y’, and Y’ will consume this buffalo that represents X. When Y’ dies a generation
later, his son Y gives a buffalo to X, and X consumes this buffalo that represents
Y’, who previously ate X. The parentheses indicate this aspect of incorporation. A
person X is thus eaten after his death by his grandson – in whom X’s jibon is also
ideally reincarnated – by way of a detour through Y’ and with the delay of a gen-
eration. The exchange processes consequently imply a double identification be-
tween alternate generations, through the reincarnation of the jibon and the reas-
similation of the body. In the depiction of the bride’s path, the dashed line
indicates the chain of reproduction and can be read as “gives birth to.” X and
Z are the agnatic lines of two villages, x is the sister of X, and z is the sister
of Z. The arrows symbolize the reciprocal gift of brides between the villages.
The woman x is given in marriage to village 3, where she gives birth to z’, a mem-
ber of her husband’s descent category. This woman z’ – the daughter of x, as the
parentheses indicate – is given back to village 1 and gives birth there to x. This
person is the daughter of z’, who is in her turn the daughter of x. A woman thus
takes on as ji bouni the same position as her maternal grandmother, and like her,
she leaves the village and marries into another.

Path of the Dead/Buffaloes Path of the Milk/Brides

Village 1 Village 2 Village 1 Village 3

X Y Xx Zz

X’ (Y) Y’ (X) X’ x’ (z) Z’ z’ (x)

X (Y’+ (X)) Y (X’+(Y)) X x (z’ (x)) Z z (x’ (z))

etc. etc.

Figure 13: Circulation of Buffaloes and Brides

 3.13 Conclusion 355

Self and Other

Both processes of exchange constitute and accentuate the distinction between self
and other, at the same time that they are an example of the difficulty of drawing
this boundary and of the consequent opportunities for manipulation. The tension
between self and other is itself the central motif in the myth of the origin of the Ga-
daba, which recounts the inducement and concealment of incest by the divine hand.
The Gadaba consider marriage between siblings the most serious transgression of
the social order (niam), and the other thus becomes a logical necessity. Nevertheless,
every marriage is ultimately an incest originating in the primordial transgression.
The buffalo dead as well, as Pfeffer has previously stressed, are given to others,
since consuming one’s own dead is just as much a transgression (dos) as impregnat-
ing one’s own sisters and daughters. Agnates from other villages – that is, members
of another village clan – assimilate the dead by eating the buffaloes. When some
buffaloes are given away to the junior tsorubai within the village, the difference is
expressed through the opposition between the local lines (kuda). The Sisa and Kir-
sani in Gudapada are others in the context of gotr, even if they form a single unit in
the context of the tsoru commensality of the Four Brothers.
Beyond question, the topic of the incest taboo has played a central role in an-
thropological theory (cf. Lévi-Strauss 1969a). The motif of the ritual or ideological
overcoming of dependence on others – and hence exchange in general – is also dis-
cussed by Bloch and Parry (1982, 27ff) in their study of death and regeneration, as
mentioned before. Pfeffer’s (1991) interpretation of gotr draws on this approach as
well, especially in his early study demonstrating that gotr simultaneously brings
into being both exchange and incest. At the center of the problem is the issue of
loss and the search for ways to ritually prevent or conceal the process of entropy,
or in other words, “incestuous security” (Pfeffer 1991, 63). The difficulty could be for-
mulated as follows: how can separation be prevented from turning into creeping dis-
solution? According to Weiner (1992, 5), this tension is at the root of all processes of
exchange: “all exchange is predicated on a universal paradox ― how to keep-while-
giving.” In contrast to the ethnographic examples discussed by Bloch and Parry, ex-
change is not denied in the Gadaba’s rituals (cf. Pfeffer 1991, 90); the others – ag-
nates and affines – remain necessary partners, through whom alimentary and ma-
trimonial incest is avoided, or rather, with whose help it is consummated without
being considered incest, by the delay of a generation. In this way, brides and buffa-
loes can be given away without being lost.
Independent of the mode of exchange considered, that in which the dead are
assimilated and do not return to their group (figure 12) or that in which the path
of the dead is the same as that of the brides (figure 13), a fundamental difference
between agnatic and affinal processes of exchange remains. In my view, this differ-
ence consists in the fact that it is only in affinal processes of exchange that we can
356 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

speak of reproduction in the strict sense. In agnatic exchange, the dead – to the ex-
tent that one accepts their circulation between villages and generations – are not re-
produced, but rather reassimilated. Agnatic categories (especially the tsorubai) trans-
form the social person in ritual contexts, by generating or dismantling social
relationships through the feeding of tsoru, and the panjabai are also in a position
to assimilate the dead and replace them with stone slabs. For processes of reproduc-
tion, however, the participation of affinal categories is required. Reproduction
should be understood here – drawing on Weiner²⁰⁰ (1980, 71) – as a process in
which one unit (or element) gives rise to an identical unit: from a bride there
comes a bride, from seeds there come seeds. I understand transformation, on the
other hand, as the modification of something that already exists, and regeneration
as its renewal. For example, tsoru commensality renews the unit of the Four Brothers
and its relationship to the local earth goddess. In the life-cycle rituals, the tsoru at
sutok sorani transforms a being from the status of the placenta or flower (phul)
into a member of the group, and the “daughter’s sacrificial meal” (ji tsoru), converse-
ly, dissolves the commensal relationship between a house and one of its daughters.
For the reproduction of human beings, in contrast, the gift of affinal milk (along with
other relationships) is a prerequisite.²⁰¹

The Affines’ Buffalo

The importance of affinal categories for reproductive processes is also manifested in
gotr, even if agnatic relationships dominate this ritual. In other life-cycle contexts,
affines are usually the givers of cattle; in the context of bridewealth, a calf substi-
tutes for the daughter given as a bride. The gift of a buffalo in this context would
be unthinkable.²⁰² In the context of gotr as well, the sponsors’ affines may bring cat-
tle, but it is additionally open to them to bring a buffalo, which is referred to as pur-
ani. Like the other buffaloes in the ritual, the purani contains or “is” a duma brought

 Weiner (1980, 71) defines “reproduction” as “cultural attention and meaning given to acts of
forming, producing or creating something new” and contrasts this to “regeneration,” defined as
“the renewal, revival, rebirth, or re-creation of entities previously reproduced.”
 Although tsoru gives rise to regenerative and transformative effects, as described in the
examples, the actions involved in tsoru preparation draw on reproductive processes through the
union of contraries. If my interpretation is correct, rice (affinal) and blood (agnatic) are mixed in
the cooking process by way of the participation of “man” (pujari or husband sacrifices) and
“woman” (randari or wife cooks).
 An informant reacted with horror when I asked whether affines could also bring a young
buffalo “for drinking milk” (kir kaiba pai) as part of the bridewealth, instead of a calf. That
would be shameful (laj), he repeated multiple times, adding that someone who did that could
never show his face at the weekly market again.
 3.13 Conclusion 357

back to life.²⁰³ Only the mothers’ brothers of the dead of the sponsoring village (or
their descendants within their kutum) receive brass objects (moali) and other domes-
tic valuables as a counter-gift for a purani they bring. All other affinal relatives may
bring a purani as guests (gotia), and these animals will be reciprocated on the cor-
responding occasion, but the guests do not receive other gifts.
Izikowitz (1969, 147) considers the gift of the purani buffaloes²⁰⁴ the most diffi-
cult problem that gotr poses to observers, and Pfeffer (1991, 2001a) also sees the af-
final gift of the purani as a central aspect of the ritual. He interprets the gift of the
purani and the performance of a “mini” gotr in the affines’ village as a challenge to
the sponsors. By giving a buffalo and organizing the “mini” gotr, the affines ascribe
to themselves the status of agnates and implicitly claim the deceased individual as
one of their own. It is this tension, according to Pfeffer (1991, 81 f), that gives rise to
the atmosphere of potential violence in which the antagonistic groups and opposed
claims encounter one another.
Expanding on Pfeffer’s interpretation, I would like to draw attention to the fer-
tilization of the earth, effected through the gift of the purani, as a condition for the
reproduction of grain. The purani can be described as a second bride brought by the
mother’s brother to his affines, the first being the earlier gift of his sister. It is not the
mother’s brother himself who brings the purani as a second bride, however, but his
grandson, since he himself does not live to see the gotr of his sister’s children. In
alternate generations, thus, a local line gives milk (the first bride) to an affinally re-
lated village and, in some cases, brings a product (child) of this milk as the living
dead – and as a second bride in the form of a buffalo – to the village of the sponsors
of the gotr (and takers of the first bride).
The movement of the mother’s brother’s group as purani bringers (and their ex-
ternal agnates) from their village to the sponsors’ village does not correspond to that
of a procession or to the usual pace at which a group sets out to visit a feast as
guests. The group travels the entire distance at a trot, the often agitated and skittish
buffalo in the center, the men armed with clubs. This is the way men bear them-
selves when stealing a bride, at the same time that, in a reversal of expectations,
the affines are not stealing a bride at gotr, but bringing one (although the “contents”

 The Gadaba indicate that the mamu increases his own reputation with the gift of a purani,
and a gift of this kind is especially appropriate for an important person. The sponsors’ festival
also becomes more significant and more beautiful (sundor) through the purani gift. With this gift,
however, a mamu also puts pressure on the sponsors to reciprocate with more than the usual
moali gifts, since they do not have the possibility – as in the case of a gotia purani – of paying
him back “in the same coin.” Such motives on the side of the purani bringers are nonetheless
only reluctantly acknowledged.
 He was apparently not familiar with the term purani, however.
358 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

of the bride will then be stolen; see below). In the case of the gotr in Ponosguda, the
trip to the sponsors’ village was made at speed. Atop the last hill, the group halted
briefly, in sight of the crowd around the buffaloes tied up at the external platform.
Their “final spurt” then took them at first past the external platform into the village,
to the house of the deceased,²⁰⁵ where the buffalo – like a bride – was greeted with
tika before the entire group immediately turned around and headed back to the dry
fields.
One of the sponsors’ buffaloes is sacrificed as munda puja for rau about midday,
at the external platform in the dry fields;²⁰⁶ for a purani, in contrast, the rule is that
men can fall on it anywhere, and the carnage is therefore explicitly not considered a
sacrifice (biru). Both buffaloes are killed in the same violent way, however: the belly
is cut open, and everyone in a position to do so tries to rip out a piece of the animal’s
entrails (and cut off its tongue), while the buffalo is still alive. The difference between
the agnatic and affinal gifts here is again that the sponsors’ buffalo is tied up in one
place – thus immobile – while the purani is ideally mobile and is cut open while
being driven over the fields.
The significance of the entrails is emphasized by both Izikowitz and Pfeffer. Izi-
kowitz describes the entrails of the purani buffalo as “life power” (1969, 147) that fer-
tilizes the earth and guarantees good harvests if buried (Izikowitz 1969, 141; Pfeffer
1984a, 235; 1991, 82) or makes men dangerous warriors if consumed (Pfeffer 2001a,
117). My informants also stressed comparable ideas.²⁰⁷ The purani’s entrails thus
have regenerative effects in a very general sense, but are especially associated
with the earth. That the intention is to make the dry fields in particular fertile
through the ritual killing of the purani is also evident in the location of these actions.
The external platform is called both gotr munda and poda munda or gotr langbo*,
referring explicitly to the dry fields (poda, langbo*). It represents the external branch

 Izikowitz (1969) also writes that the buffaloes are first brought to the sponsors’ house and
then killed in the fields.
 According to Pfeffer (2001a, 118) and Pradhan (1998, 301), the buffalo of the most senior or
most meritorious of the dead, the kutti bongtel*, is sacrificed at the external megalithic mo-
nument. As is clear from my description of events, this was not the case at the gotr in Po-
nosguda; nevertheless, additional possibilities for interpretation arise from the other authors’
observations. It is the case in my experience as well that the buffalo of the most senior member
of the group is considered the kutti bongtel*, and in the logic of seniority, articulated in many
ways in the framework of the annual cycle, the most senior segment represents the whole. The
sacrifice of this buffalo at the external platform would thus be equivalent to the sacrifice of all
the buffaloes, perhaps explaining why the buffaloes are treated in a relatively profane way in the
villages of the panjabai, since the deceased have already died their “second death.”
 The tongue is a source of medicine and also promotes fertility in the sense of “profitable
deals,” for which reason it is also sold to Dombo, among other uses.
 3.13 Conclusion 359

of the collective megalithic monument inside the village, the village platform (ga
munda, ungom munda*; cf. Izikowitz 1969, 136 f). As will become clear from the de-
scription of the annual cycle, the dry fields (and the plants that grow there) are as-
sociated with the earth goddess and hence tend to be conceived of in consanguineal
terms; this connection between the village’s dead and its earth or fields appears to
be articulated in gotr as well. The ritual killing of the purani buffalo takes place in
the area around the poda munda, somewhere in the fields.
In no other ritual are the entrails (atin, suloi*) of a slaughtered animal signifi-
cant; rather, it is usually the red organs (blood, liver, heart, lungs) associated
with the vital energy (jibon) that are the desired items, as a rule. In sacrifices for
the Great House, for example, after the sacrificial animal is beheaded in the usual
way, the way to the liver is first opened with a small cut, and then the rump is
sewn up again. In gotr, the first stabs and thrusts are aimed directly at the purani’s
underbelly, and the intestines are the desired item.²⁰⁸ This fixation on the entrails
may be related to the food that has been fed to the buffaloes for days, since this dis-
tinguishes the gotr buffaloes from ordinary sacrificial animals, which – since they do
not represent the living dead – do not receive any kind of food before being sacri-
ficed. The buffaloes, both the purani and those in the sponsors’ village, are first
fed sig rice, the food that transforms them into the duma and that some people
say is tsoru.²⁰⁹ There then follow days of feeding with beer, rice, millet, and all avail-
able foods. First the agnates feed the buffaloes, then the entire village and all arriv-
ing visitors (mostly affines). The Dombo feed the buffaloes as well, but only un-
cooked food, since the duma also do not accept cooked food from them. The
feeding by the dissari and the agnates is thus followed by a total or unlimited feed-
ing (gada mara) by all individuals and groups. Unlike in the preceding stage of the
mortuary rituals, in which the (disembodied) duma receives tsoru from the whole
community by way of the intermediary and image of his own ritual transformation,
the cattle omasum, people fill the buffaloes’ stomachs with food in gotr. The buffa-
loes’ intestines are packed with the community’s alimentary efforts, and in view of
the association between the process of feeding and sexual intercourse or sexual pen-
etration, it can perhaps be said that the intestines acquire their reproductive poten-
tial through feeding. The food-filled intestines must appear especially suitable for re-
production when affinal categories participate in the process. This is why the
mother’s brother’s purani, as the gift of a second bride, is of the greatest importance
for the regeneration of the earth, the recipient of this bride’s fertile “contents.”

 The panjabai of the sponsor and of the mother’s brother, each of which groups has a right
to half the purani, try to restrain the rabble from the additional theft of the vital organs.
 Pradhan (1998, 300) also indicates that the buffaloes are fed tsoru in the opening phase.
360 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

While the earlier gift of the first bride contributed to the reproduction of the
bride-takers’ group and the constitution of a house, the spectrum of recipients of
the gift of the second bride is wider; more precisely, only the sponsors of the gotr
and the mother’s brother’s representatives are excluded from acquiring the
intestines.²¹⁰ Since everyone else is free to try to obtain a piece of this fertile matter
to bury in his own fields, the purani can be described as a generalized gift, or draw-
ing on Bloch’s (1982, 229) terminology, a “generalized predation.”²¹¹ That this is a
kind of predation or theft is shown first of all by the aggressive and violent form
in which the buffalo is brought to the sponsors’ village, the way it is killed, and
the way it is disposed of. Second, the terms used to designate the day (jur din,
gotr din) and the ritual as a whole (gotr or go’ter*) are an additional indication:
jur points to the actions of tearing into pieces and stealing, and “distribution”
(ter*) possibly refers both to the distribution of buffaloes to the agnates and to
the generalized theft of the entrails.
As in the processes of exchange of brides and buffaloes analyzed above, this gift
of a buffalo-bride also makes clear the ambivalence or tension of the relationship
between self and other. The duma belongs to the sponsors’ village and so is one
of their “own,” but he is called back to life in his mother’s brother’s village and re-
ceives his new body there through feeding with sig rice, and from this perspective he
is an “other.” The food that fills his stomach and his intestines after his resurrection
is also primarily affinal food, from the affines’ fields. The gift of the purani perhaps
makes even more plainly visible than transactions involving “normal” brides and
buffaloes the process that makes objects of exchange strange, “other,” and through
this transformation enables their return and the creation of a new tie. The marriage

 This raises the question of the extent to which the gift of the purani can effect the re-
generation of the sponsors’ fields. On the one hand, the fact that their dry fields are the site of
this spectacle could itself bring about this effect, or else – since it is often the case that only one
kuda acts as sponsor – the village’s non-participating group each time could attempt to gain
possession of the entrails for the fields of its village. In either case, the sponsors will have the
opportunity at other gotr to obtain purani entrails as a generalized gift and carry them to their
village. Nevertheless, this question cannot be answered conclusively here. I have also not been
able to determine how the entrails are handled in practice.
 Within the framework of a theory of life as a “limited good” (Bloch and Parry 1982, 7 f),
intended to explain how regeneration is made possible in ritual in and through death, Bloch
distinguishes two processes, which he calls “positive predation” and “negative predation”
(Bloch 1982, 229). In negative predation, the focus is on the attempt to hinder another group’s
regeneration by trying to steal and annihilate the needed material (e. g., the body). Positive
predation, in contrast, tries to gain possession of the material for one’s own regeneration (as in
headhunting). In these terms, the purani could be considered an additional type of these pro-
cesses, a generalized predation in which the regenerative material is laid open to the theft of
(almost) everyone.
 3.13 Conclusion 361

of siblings in the myth and the union of one’s own dead with one’s own earth – also
a form of marriage, if my characterization of the buffalo as a bride is an adequate
representation of the indigenous concept – thus become recognizable as variants
of a classic motif, closely associated with the paradox identified by Weiner: the
idea of simultaneously practicing and denying or evading exchange.
Finally, it is necessary to note the considerable analogies between the gotr of the
Gadaba and the meria of the Kond. In the meria as well, the sacrificed buffalo – in
the past, the human sacrifice – is an offering to the earth goddess, and the animal’s
flesh is buried in the earth (cf. Niggemeyer 1964, 184ff; Padel 1995, 109ff). Among the
Dongria Kond, the slaughtered buffaloes represent the earth goddesses of the clan’s
various territories, on the one hand, so that the number of buffaloes offered corre-
sponds to the number of territories. On the other hand, the buffaloes are conceived
of as brides, which are hacked into pieces and (pieces of which are) stolen by the
sponsors’ affines. The affinal groups hang the stolen meat on the dharni, the repre-
sentation of their earth goddess, and cook and eat it later. The sacrifice and the bur-
ial or eating of the flesh ensure the fertility of the earth both in the sponsors’ village
and in the villages of the affines. Villages often perform the meria after a good har-
vest, and the sacrifice is therefore to be understood as a counter-gift for the earth
goddess (Roland Hardenberg, personal communication). This is not the place for
a detailed comparison between gotr and meria, taking into account the social con-
texts of the corresponding tribal groups, but this is a topic that will be pursued in
future. It is noticeable at first glance, however, that the dead are not involved in
meria, unlike gotr.
In summary, the rituals of the life cycle are not primarily concerned with indi-
vidual life trajectories, but rather constitute persons and “houses” through the accu-
mulation of relationships, making them participants in overarching social processes
of exchange. Social persons are both subjects and objects of exchange (cf. Iteanu
1990),²¹² and the spatial and temporal dynamics of the rituals make clear the rela-
tionality and the collective character of the societal idea of the person. Multiple vital
energies (jibon) can be reincarnated in a single individual, and conversely, the same
person is brought back to life in different places at the same time in gotr and circu-
lates (as an exchange object) along affinal and agnatic pathways.²¹³ Moreover, the

 Iteanu (1990, 37, 48) describes how on the one hand, the Orokaiva treat pigs as subjects, the
equivalents of small children in daily life, but then on the other hand, they become objects of
exchange in ritual contexts.
 Not only can a deceased individual be reembodied in multiple buffaloes, but in some cases,
buffaloes can also be given away in gotr for elderly individuals who are still alive. These
individuals are supposed to remain hidden during the ritual. I was unable to observe this
362 3 Fed and Eaten: Transformations of the Person

mother’s brother is implicated in processes of exchange that extend far beyond his
empirical lifetime; the alternate generation continues the processes that the mother’s
brother initiated with the gift of his sister. These transactions between the mother’s
brother and the group of his sister-takers, however, are for their part not to be under-
stood as the “beginning” of a reciprocal relationship or as a single reciprocal ex-
change relationship, capable of being viewed in isolation – other than for analytical
purposes – but are rather embedded in numerous similar processes of which they
are the consequence (cf. de Coppet 1981, 200; Weiner 1980, 73). The general move-
ment or “formulaic spatiality” (Parkin 1992, 18) of the life cycle leads (for women
by way of a “detour” through a second village) from the house out of the village
and ends, in the appropriate circumstances, in the dispersion of the individual or
his entrails in the form of a generalized gift that ensures the reproduction of the
grain of the dry fields.
In order to understand the ritual system, it is of the greatest importance to note
the connections between the various cycles of reproduction and regeneration and
the multiple transformations that the person undergoes after death. In the event,
as Bloch stresses, the rituals prevent death from becoming a total loss; death “rather
becomes a stage in a long and continuous transformation of taking apart and put-
ting together” (1988, 16 f). While the jibon circulates endlessly between alternate gen-
erations, a person’s social quality is the consequence of the ritual and alimentary
actions of a variety of social categories. The first body is annihilated by cremation
and returned to the god of the dead, but the deceased’s second embodiment (in
the form of a buffalo) undergoes different and varied fates. It is digested in the stom-
achs of the external agnates or ripped apart earlier in the dry fields, its intestines
buried in the earth. In other words, one of the possible sequences of transformation
in the life cycle culminates in the reproductive cycle of the dry fields, revealing the
interweaving of the life cycle with the processes of the annual cycle, despite the dif-
ferences that ritual practice itself articulates. The dead do not appear here as benev-
olent ancestors who guarantee the fertility of the fields from a distance, having been
put in a good mood by sacrificial offerings; rather, they are an immediate part of the
reproductive process, with the help of affinal participation. Their generative potential
is made visible not least through the branches that occasionally grow into trees next
to the stone slabs in the dry fields and – as is in part the case in Gudapada – finally
wrap around the stones at their feet. The bright red flowers of these trees bloom each
year at the time of gotr (cf. Pfeffer 2001a) and recall the fertility that originates in the
dead.

practice, but it was viewed as legitimate by my informants. Kornel (1999, 62) was told of a case in
the distant past in which an elderly couple died in their hiding place during the gotr.
 3.13 Conclusion 363

Another strand of the chain of transformations leads into the center of the vil-
lage, where the silent, stone representatives of all generations assemble, a “represen-
tation of the eternal undivided group” (Bloch and Parry 1982, 34). In this regard,
every village is also a necropolis, where the social person’s temporary shell is cre-
mated outside the village boundaries, but the abstract and collective representation
of the generations is brought to take its place amid the living. This representation of
the ancestors is not part of an elaborate cult and in fact scarcely receives attention,
only sharing occasionally in the village goddess’s food. In their complementary op-
position to the shrine of the village goddess, the megalithic monuments of the sadar
demonstrate the fundamental significance of the village as a local agnatic group and
its superior status as a value-idea, despite its dependence on and high valuation of
its external agnatic and affinal relationships. This village unit is articulated and re-
generated primarily in the tsoru commensality of the Four Brothers, in which the
children are already included, so that they have “seen the Four Brothers” (chari
bai dekla).
In their various forms, food and alimentary processes are at the center of all the
rituals described here. While rice with fish and bamboo shoots (kordi rice) marks rit-
ual transitions and guarantees their auspiciousness, tsoru is used to renew, alter, in-
itiate, or dissolve social relationships. Each person undergoes a series of ritual trans-
formations in this system, from fed to feeder and from eater to food. Food is not only
a conceptual model or metaphor for the Gadaba, but a central mechanism of the
processes of social mediation. Robertson Smith posited commensality’s potential
for social processes when he asserted that “commensality can be thought of (1) as
confirming or even (2) as constituting kinship in a very real sense” (1997, 257), with-
out ever suspecting that this claim would be realized in a society fundamentally dif-
ferent from the Semitic social order.
4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual
Cycle
In a society that does not produce
commodities, but rather goods for use, nature is
not primarily an object of technological
manipulation, but instead is conceived of in
analogy to personal relationships.
Relationships to nature are not independent of
a community’s dominant values; rather, they
are determined by them.
Hans G. Kippenberg (1987, 29)

4.1 Seasons and Festivals

The last chapter was concerned with the Gadaba rituals that constitute or dis-
solve a social person, and it became clear that these transformations are induced
by means of the alimentary processes of feeding and eating. In the rituals to
which I now turn – those closely connected to the seasonal cycle of agricultural
activities and collective festivals – it is also the case that cooking, eating, and
distributing ritual food are of central significance for the regeneration of social
relationships. The “table of the agnates” designates the commensal community
of the Four Brothers, who share tsoru together with the village’s gods in the con-
text of the festivals. Blood sacrifices and offerings of cooked food and alcohol are
a condition for maintaining the gods’ cooperation, on which the good and even
(bol soman) existence of the village depends. The same applies at the level of the
house, where tsoru is prepared for doron deli and the house’s inhabitants, and
lakka’* food is distributed to other houses as “wandering rice” (bulani bat).
Alongside these contexts of tsoru commensality, there exist many other spatial
and social relationships to humans, the dead, and the gods that it is the task
of the various rituals to uphold and regulate. This domain also includes the
fields and the forest, the foundations for subsistence. In the rituals, relation-
ships, borders, and transitions come to the forefront, and the actors try to influ-
ence them in accordance with the proper order of things (niam), so as to guaran-
tee fertility and health.
The Gadaba distinguish three seasons: the hot season (kora, nana din*), the
rainy season (borsa, da’din*), and the cold season (sit, ruo din*). The hot season
begins in late February (phagun) and ends around the beginning of June (landi),
when the rainy season begins. The rainy season lasts through September (ossa).
 4.1 Seasons and Festivals 365

The period from October (dosra) to early February (mag) is considered the cold
season.¹
The transitions between the different seasons are gradual; the Gadaba do
not specify any definite moment at which the rainy season ends and the cold
season begins. These gradual transitions are not marked by rituals. While
there is no word in Gutob that designates a year (boros, borso), to my knowledge,
the period of a month (mas) is referred to with the word for moon (arke*). A
month always ends with the new moon (uas), and the new month begins with
the waxing moon on the next day.² Along with the moon, the phases of which
no one can fail to notice in this unelectrified area, the regular weekly markets
(hat) provide temporal orientation. Their rhythm provides the model for the con-
cept of the week. If a meeting is supposed to take place in a week, this can be
expressed with the words “after one market” (gote hat pore). The Desia word
din means “day,” “season,” and “time” in general and is also used in Gutob
conversations.³
For the structuring of the year, the primary elements are not the months as
such, but rather – together with the agricultural activities – the collective festi-
vals (porbo, porob), which as a rule are named after the months in which they
take place. The three most important festivals are spread across the three sea-
sons of the year. Chait porbo (the April festival) takes place in the hot and dry
season, bandapan porbo (the August festival) in the middle of the rainy season,
and diali porbo (the November festival) in the cold and dry season. In the Gada-
ba’s eyes, these are the three most important festivals celebrated communally by
the village. Only in the context of these festivals is the village goddess’s shrine
opened, and in each Gadaba house, a sacrifice is performed for doron deli and
tsoru is prepared. In addition to these three festivals, festivals of lesser social sig-

 The twelve Desia months may shift considerably from year to year in relation to our calendar.
For example, the full moon in the month of chait fell on March 31 in 1999, on April 18 in 2000,
and on April 4 in 2001. In what follows, I will use the following correspondences: pus (January),
mag (February), phagun (March), chait (April), boisak (May), landi (June), ashad (July), banda-
pan (August), ossa (September), dosra (October), diali (November), and pond (December).
 In other words, the Gadaba use the so-called “amanta” system, not the “purnimanta” system
dominant in most parts of India, in which the months end with the full moon and begin with the
dark half of the month (Fuller 1992, 263).
 The Gutob word for “day,” rom*, like the Gutob names for the days of the week in general, is
used only rarely. Many Gadaba in Gudapada have difficulty reciting the names of the days of the
week in Gutob. The seven days of the week in Desia and Gutob are somar/sarom* (Monday),
monglobar/angarom* (Tuesday), budar/bidarom* (Wednesday), gurubar/birsarom* (Thursday),
sukrubar/su’urom* (Friday), sonibar/sinarom* (Saturday), and robibar/aitarom* (Sunday).
366 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

nificance and lesser demands in time and money are held in the months of
ashad (June/July), dosra (September/October), and pus (December/January).
The question of when the Gadaba year begins can be answered in very dif-
ferent ways and appears not to be of great significance for the people
themselves.⁴ Those Gadaba who can read and possess Oriya calendars point
to the first of January as the start of the year, when the immigrants (goria) cele-
brate the New Year in the small administrative centers nearby and document this
with colorful greetings on the paved road. Most often, my informants indicated
the period after the monsoon, when the cold season and the harvest begin, as
the start of the year. The sacrifice for pat kanda around the end of October is
the first puja of the year, many say. In effect, a ritual takes place as part of
diali porbo in November that is concerned with the span of an entire year. The
pujari places some grains of rice (dan) and millet (suen, mandia) in a small
clay pot, after removing the previous year’s grain, and then seals the pot for an-
other year in his veranda. The condition of the old grain is an omen for the com-
ing year.
Because the rituals and festivals are directly related to the agricultural cycle,
the presentation of the ritual processes will be supplemented as needed with de-
scriptions of the primary agricultural activities. I begin with the hot season, in
order to follow the grain cycle from sowing to harvest. Before describing the rit-
uals and festivals of the annual cycle, I will first briefly discuss the different
forms of labor help, since the cooperation between houses will be mentioned
at various points later in the chapter.

4.2 Forms of Labor Help

Three forms of labor help exist: badul, buti kam, and goti kam. All three forms are
found both within a village and between villages, as well as between different
Desia groups. Badul means the reciprocal exchange of labor help. This form of
cooperation is used especially for activities that would take a household one
to two days working alone but that can be completed quickly with many
hands. These activities include, for example, transplanting the rice seedlings
into the rice paddies and bundling and stacking the millet on the storage plat-
forms. The recipients of the help either provide the workers with cooked rice

 McDougal is similarly cautious in speaking about the beginning of the year among the Juang.
The “subsistence circle” (McDougal 1963, 350) begins in January (pus), while the author writes of
the mango festival in April that it “may be considered the inauguration of the new year” (353).
 4.2 Forms of Labor Help 367

and vegetables and millet gruel – a complete meal – immediately after the work
in the fields or bring the food to the corresponding houses in the evening. When
a task that calls for badul help is performed only by men, such as stacking the
millet, beer is provided along with the food. If the helpers include men and
women who do not accept cooked food from the owners of the fields, they re-
ceive batia, the raw ingredients for a meal, including salt and chilis. Neverthe-
less, badul relationships are most common among the Gadaba (especially the
matia), since the upria groups possess fields only to a small extent, and the
work therefore cannot be reciprocated on a one-to-one basis. In these cases, con-
sequently, buti relationships are more common.
Buti kam refers to a day’s work compensated with buti dan, the prestation of
unhulled rice or millet (one man, ca. 2.5 kg); however, money (two to five rupees)
can also be given. This form of labor help thus does not consist in a symmetrical
exchange, as in the case of badul. It is often preferred when tasks last for an ex-
tended period of time, so that the exchange of help for the same volume of work
is not practical, as in the case of weeding (many weeks) or threshing millet
(around ten days). Someone who works for another house for the entire thresh-
ing period receives two meals each day and a basket (dalek) of millet. If only a
few days are worked, the compensation varies accordingly; it is generally not
postponed, however, but is paid immediately after the work or after the harvest
is concluded. In the case of special projects, such as building a stone wall
around a field, buti work is compensated with a feast. The provision of cooked
vegetables is insufficient under these circumstances, and a goat or pig is slaugh-
tered and eaten. Besides the meal, the helpers also take some raw meat home.
In the goti relationship, the period of labor help lasts a year, usually begin-
ning in January (pus) after the harvest. A woman or a man performs all possible
gender-specific activities for the house of the employer (saukar): field work,
fetching water and wood, repairs, cooking, in short, all tasks that a grown
daughter or a son would perform. The helper either eats and sleeps in the em-
ployer’s house or continues to live in his or her own house and shows up
daily to work and eat. In this way, families with little land can send one of
their children to work for another house, and childless houses have the possibil-
ity of making up for their lack of labor power. These days, the laborers receive
about six phuti rice and/or millet (360 – 450 kg) or money (around
Rs. 2000.00) after the harvest. During the period of my research, two adult
men worked as goti laborers for two Sisa houses in the lower sai, the pujari’s
younger brother and a Ruda’i man who was also active as a gurumai.
368 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

4.3 The Hot Season

After the harvest in January (pus), all the fields lie fallow. The water of the rice
paddies is diverted to the canals at the edges of the paddies in the course of the
harvest, and the paddies then slowly dry out. Buffaloes and cows wander undis-
turbed over the fields and eat the green stubble; the Goudo have no need to
watch over the livestock during this time. In February (mag), there is nothing
to do in the fields, and various other tasks are performed in this season. Many
of the young, married men travel in search of wage labor (kuli kam), often in
the neighboring state of Andhra Pradesh. In small groups, the men look for
work sawing lumber for building houses or constructing rice paddies in river-
beds. If they find enough employment, they spend several weeks away from
the village, which is then very quiet. If weddings or a gotr are planned for
mag, however, outside work goes unsought, and the village experiences an excit-
ing and busy period.⁵
At the end of February and the beginning of March, the days become notice-
ably warmer, and the fields have entirely dried out. A visible marker of this pe-
riod are the blooming mango trees, the still-unripe fruit (aer*) of which will be
ritually eaten for the first time in chait porbo. When scattered thunder showers
pop up, the men take the opportunity to plow (kosbar, sui*) the dry fields
after their passage. In the rice paddies, the water is released from the canals
into the fields, and the moistened earth is then plowed. Subsequently, the
men build fences and so mark off smaller sections of the paddies. In these pad-
dies (palla gari), which are part of the river bed, the young rice plants are raised.
The fences are called aro, the same term used for the gardens established within
the village boundaries during the rainy season.

April Festival

Before describing the individual rituals in detail, I will first give a chronological
overview. The April festival (chait porbo)⁶ lasts about a month in total. The impor-
tant dates and times are set by the village’s astrologer (boro dissari) in advance.
The two most important ritual actors in all village festivals are the sacrificer (pu-
jari) and the ritual cook (randari). They lead the sacrificial rituals, and each stage

 The period between the harvest and the new start of work in the fields is likewise often used
for the construction of new houses. The house’s central post should be set up by chait porbo in
March/April, since otherwise the sacrifices cannot be performed.
 On chait porbo see also Choudhury (1966 – 67), Otten (2001), and Rahmann (1952).
 4.3 The Hot Season 369

of agricultural activity is first ritually performed by this “couple,” then carried

out by the individual houses.
For purposes of comprehension, the festival can be roughly divided into five
phases (see figure 17). 1. Ritual sowing of the rice seeds (bion, sumol*) in the
palla fields. 2. Sacrifices outside the village, including the collective sacrifices
for pat kanda and the bolani jatra. 3. Sacrifices inside the village, including –
on the “festival day” – the collective sacrifice for hundi and the sacrifices for
doron deli in each house. After a day of rest (basi porbo), the pujari distributes
seeds to all the villagers at the village goddess’s shrine. 4. Start of the ritual
hunt (bet, gu’um*). Hunting rituals are first performed in the village and in
the immediately surrounding area, after which the hunt is expanded to the sur-
rounding hills over a number of days. 5. Ritual sowing of the dry fields and trans-
plantation of the first seedlings into the permanent rice paddies.

Ritual Sowing of the Paddy Rice

The pujari and randari are the first in the village to sow (bunbar, biribi*) rice in
the palla fields (palla gari).⁷ In a rice paddy near the village, they prepare a small
earthen platform (pindoli) that they fence with tiny sticks, creating a palla field in
miniature. A figure is drawn in the center of the platform with red and black
earth, representing the river gods (kamni), to whom the ritual is addressed.
After an egg has been sacrificed, the pujari scatters a handful of rice seeds in
the miniature field and places some kordi rice he brought with him on the plat-
form as an offering. The pujari and randari then eat kordi rice at the edge of the
paddy. This ritual is called kandul baja palla bija. ⁸
The individual households follow with the sowing of their seeds in the com-
ing days. Each time, the men perform in one corner of their palla field the same
ritual performed by the pujari earlier. Kordi rice is first offered to the river gods,
then eaten by the sacrificers at the edge of their paddies. After the seed grain⁹
has been initially scattered over the dry earth, the men open the canal at the
edge of the riverbed (nala) and carefully let the water flow over the paddies.
Only starting in mid-May (landi) will the seedlings, by then around forty centime-

 The preparations for fencing the palla fields have already begun when the pujari and randari
ritually sow the first grains of rice. Only after this ritual are the individual households permitted
to do the same.
 Kandul baja means “roasted lentils,” which are not prepared in this context, however. Palla
bija refers to the irrigation of the palla fields.
 The rice grains are first soaked in the river for a day, in a large basket, so that they produce
sprouts (goja).
370 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

ters tall, be transplanted into the permanent paddies, which are regularly plowed
until then.

Planning the Festival

For each festival, before the communal sacrifices are conducted at the various
shrines, the men of the village meet at the assembly plaza to discuss the festival
logistics. The barik calls the men of each sai together for this meeting (miting,
niai). The financial participation of the individual houses is discussed, and de-
cisions are made about potential extraordinary engagements.¹⁰ As for all festi-
vals, it is the barik’s job to obtain the sacrificial animals at the market and to
collect the financial contribution (chanda poisa), as well as a handful of rice
(potri chaul) from which the tsoru will be cooked, from each house.

Sacrifice at the Great House

The sacrificial ritual at the Great House (boro gor, moro dien*) begins the next
phase of chait porbo. The ritual sowing (kandul baja palla bija) can take place
in the previous month (phagun), but the sacrifice at the Great House usually
falls in the first half of chait. The pat kanda deity is of great importance for
the village and is sometimes described as the village goddess’s older brother.
Personal petitions and promises (mansik) to a deity are addressed to pat
kanda, as a rule, and only rarely to the village goddess. Everyone who leaves
the village for an extended period, for wage labor, for example, asks the Great
House for help and protection during this time and presents sacrificial offerings
upon his or her return. In almost all sacrifices to other gods, an additional sac-
rificial site is prepared in the direction of the Great House, and pat kanda is re-
membered with offerings.
The pat kanda shrine is located about a kilometer from the village, at the
foot of Mount Kuku, immediately bordering the rice paddies. In the past, people
say, the shrine was on top of the hill, where traces of it are still to be seen today.
One day, the pujari forgot a brass pot at the shrine after a sacrifice for pat kanda.
When he went back to get it, he disturbed the deity in the middle of eating the
tsoru rice. Enraged, pat kanda threw the brass pot down the hill, and where it

 For example, it must be decided whether and from which village the moira (Dombo musi-
cians) should be brought to the village for the festival days, or whether the village can even
afford to invite an outside theatrical troupe (nat). These assemblies often lead to disputes. The
contributions of different groups and individuals and lapses by the pujari, naik, or barik are
argued about just as vehemently as topics that have no visible connection to the festivals.
 4.3 The Hot Season 371

fell, stones came out of the earth and have been venerated ever since. The new
shrine seen today was erected at the site. It consists of a small house, with short,
thick posts supporting a low roof, covered until a few years ago with thatch (piri,
ulong*) and now with tiles. It is so low that the pujari can only creep in on hands
and knees. Sacrificial offerings are presented at the shrine at three places, or-
dered hierarchically in accordance with the seniority principle. The older brother
is found under the shrine’s roof, the younger brother immediately next to the
shrine. Both gods are represented by the mentioned stones, which protrude
only slightly from the earth. Venerated in absentia are these brothers’ “seven sis-
ters” (sat bouni), who were given to the neighboring village of Komel as “brides”
and are not represented by a stone. Nevertheless, the pujari draws a sacrificial
pattern (bana) for them in the direction of the “bride-takers’ village.”¹¹
Everyone who sets foot in the location must have fasted that day (i. e., he
must be upas), and the Gadaba stress that only “married people” (biba hela
lok) are permitted to participate in the rituals and eat the tsoru. Single young
men and young boys are likewise admitted, but men who live with women with-
out having undergone the full wedding rituals are excluded. Only someone who
has eaten the different types of tsoru at his wedding is qualified for and has a
claim to the tsoru at the shrine of the Great House. Women and Dombo are for-
bidden to enter the shrine as a matter of principle; they are allowed to partici-
pate only by paying reverence to the god from the rice paddies, without setting
foot on the platform on which the shrine stands.¹²

Sequence of the Ritual

The ritual actions at this location consist of three sequences. 1. The activities
begin with the sacrifice of a he-goat and a rooster for pat kanda and the presen-
tation of the tsoru to the gods. 2. The division, preparation, and consumption of
the sacrificial animals follow. Here, three categories of food, three groups, and
three places have to be distinguished. The “head meat” is consumed next to
the shrine by the agnates as tsoru, and the animal’s neck is consumed by the af-
fines, who sit somewhat further away. All the other groups cook and eat the meat

 There is in fact a shrine for the seven sisters in Komel, to my knowledge the only shrine with
this name in the area. Nevertheless, no other affinal relationships between the shrines of
different villages could be demonstrated. The Gadaba in Komel are members of the Cobra clan
and thus brothers of the Gangre, which apparently does not rule out affinal relationships on the
“divine” level.
 While the village’s old barik enforced this rule strictly, I have since seen younger Dombo on
the platform, bowing before the shrine.
372 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

from the animal’s body at a distance from the shrine, in front of the village boun-
dary. 3. The ritual ends with a common entry into the village and a procession to
the dignitaries’ houses.

Sacrifices
The village pujari and randari are the first to set out for the shrine in early after-
noon, after bathing. Gradually, more and more Gadaba men gather at the shrine,
repair the roof, clear the area around the shrine of branches and leaves, and ring
the area with garlands (toron) of mango leaves, unripe mangos (aer*), and white
flowers.¹³ The pujari prepares the three sacrificial sites, spreading a mixture of
dung and water (gobor pani) on the ground and drawing a white pattern
(bana), and some Gadaba begin to drum.¹⁴
Along with flowers, an egg, and numerous individually given coconuts, a he-
goat (cheli, gime*) and a rooster (ganja, gi’sing*) are sacrificed for the village as a
whole (matam). The he-goat can be red-brown (koira, sera*) or black (kala, ide*);
the rooster should be white (dobla, pile*) or red-brown. The observance of these
rules is stressed.
The pujari makes an invocation in front of the shrine house with each indi-
vidual coconut, naming the giver. The rooster and the he-goat are then led in
turn in front of the sacrificial sites by the pujari, the randari, and several senior
Sisa and are consecrated to pat kanda by an invocation. The sequence is as fol-
lows: 1. elder brother, 2. younger brother, 3. seven sisters. After the sacrifice of the
coconuts and the egg, the rooster is killed in the usual way, the sacrificer clamp-
ing a knife between his toes so as to be able to hold the animal with both hands.
Its head is cut off and immediately placed before the stone under the roof. Care is
always taken that the heads positioned in this way do not fall over, because that
would be a bad omen. The pujari lets the blood drip onto a platter of hulled rice,
but also onto the posts of the shrine, both stones, and the patterns on the three

 Garlands of these flowers – together with mango leaves and mangos – are fastened to every
threshold of the village’s houses and yards in chait porbo. The tree is called hojar phul gocho
(“thousand-flower tree”) or sohe tonka gocho (“one-hundred-rupees tree”) by the Desia.
 Normally, the Dombo musicians play on such occasions. One year, music was also played
from a cassette tape. In any case, music is an important component of the ritual. In 2000, a brief
dispute arose between some older and younger Gadaba at the conclusion of the ritual. There had
been no music of any kind during the sacrifice, and the older people lamented that the young
people today no longer knew how to conduct a ritual of this kind beautifully (sundoro). One of
the older women began to lament loudly, and she explained to me later that without music “the
god does not listen” (maphru sunbo nai). The young men did not accept the criticism, being of
the view that they did know how such things are done.
 4.3 The Hot Season 373

sacrificial sites. Immediately thereafter, the he-goat is beheaded with an ax

(tangi) by a Sisa, the head is placed before the stone in the shrine, and the ani-
mal’s blood is caught. The body is dragged away from the shrine to the place
where it will soon be butchered.
The randari first prepares a small amount of tsoru for the betisong. For this
purpose, the goat’s liver is first removed via a small slit, and the opening is
roughly sewn up again. In a new clay pot, the randari cooks first rice, then a
small amount of liver and meat from the gullet (sok). As soon as the cooking
is done, the betisong takes place. Tsoru is offered to the gods first by the chief
actors (pujari, randari, sacrificer of the he-goat), then by all others present.
The sequence here is the same as in the invocations, beginning with the elder
brother.¹⁵ All men who have fasted offer the gods tsoru and bow down on
their knees (duli kori) in front of the three sacrificial sites, which are soon over-
flowing with leaves and tsoru. They also give themselves blood tika on the fore-
head with the bloody rice from the platter.

Butchering and Commensality

As soon as the gods have received their portion, the pujari removes the heads of
the sacrificial animals from the elder brother’s stone. The preparations are now
made in parallel at three locations. At the shrine, the randari with the help of
others prepares the tsoru or “head meat” (mundo manso, bob cheli*), which
only the Four Brothers, that is, the agnates of the village, are permitted to eat.
After the rice, they cook the he-goat’s head (with brain, without eyes), blood
(rokto, yam*), a piece of the liver (koloj, gire*), and a piece of the back muscles
(bim), together with the rooster, the meat of a coconut, and some mango, in a
metal pot (noki). Somewhat off to the side, several representatives of the affinal
groups (Ruda’i, Messing, Mundagoria) prepare meat from the neck (gala), previ-
ously cut from the he-goat’s body. This dish is also known as “junior” tsoru (sano
tsoru), in contrast to the “senior” (boro) tsoru of the agnates. A few meters past
the affines, men (only Gadaba) who will not participate in the tsoru later and
therefore do not have to be fasting butcher the he-goat. As soon as this task is
done, the distribution of roughly 115 identical portions¹⁶ – according to the num-

 Unlike in the case of offerings to the dead, leaves of the jackfruit tree are not used as
“plates” for the gods, but instead those of the jam koli tree.
 A portion (bag, kundra) includes some meat from each category. Seven to ten men – the
“cutters,” katkia – each cut specific parts of the goat into small pieces and then distribute the
pieces across the leaf plates containing the individual portions. The individual parts are the front
legs (podia), rear legs (sati), ribs (buk), intestines (atin), stomach (pet, pota), vital organs (liver
374 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

ber of participating houses – begins. The barik often takes the lead role in this,
but many other watchful eyes supervise the process, which usually sparks multi-
ple disputes. The names of the men – or the houses – are called out in turn, al-
ways in approximately the same order. The list starts with the Bilaputia Kirsani,
who live high up on the hill, and continues group by group down the hillside,
until the houses of the various Sisa groups are finally named. This “rump
meat” (gondi manso, gondi cheli*) is prepared by the individual groups in
front of the village boundary. It may neither be cooked at the shrine nor enter
the village.
Just like the raw rump meat, the cooked “head meat” is also shared out into
portions by the agnates. The cooked rice from the potri chaul is served onto about
thirty leaf plates, according to the number of participating agnates. The randari
adds some of the rice cooked in the clay pot for pat kanda to each plate, and
then the meal begins.¹⁷ The pujari sits directly next to the shrine, the randari
sits next to him, and everyone else looks for a free spot somewhere on the nar-
row platform (see photos 9 and 10). Only after the pujari has started to eat are the
other agnates permitted to begin, and the affines only after that. The barik, who
has received his food from the affines, eats right at the end of the platform, at the
furthest distance from the shrine. Several hundred meters away, the preparation
of the rump meat begins at a multitude of cooking hearths.
The pujari is the first to stand up after the meal, and after bowing again be-
fore the gods, the men leave the Great House, accompanied by the beating of
drums. No tsoru rice and meat should be left over; it must be eaten on site
and may not be brought back to the village. On the way to the cooking hearths
of the rump eaters, passing through the dry fields, the pujari stops briefly, places
a twig and a knife on the path, and pours water over both. He takes back his
knife and is the first to step over the branch, followed by all the others. This
is intended to prevent malicious beings (duma daini) from being able to follow.
In the shade of large breadfruit trees in front of the village boundary, the
rump eaters have prepared their meal. They include both the non-Gadaba
groups, barred from tsoru as a matter of principle, and those Gadaba who either
are not ritually married or did not fast.¹⁸ In principle, it is said, the individual

[koloj], kidneys [bati], heart [dunda], lungs [phophsa]), muscle along the spine (bim), bones
(har), and leg bones (gor har).
 The clay pot from the last festival (in October) is taken by the randari’s group after the
conclusion of the ritual; the current pot is stowed at the shrine.
 If a Gadaba is excommunicated (jati), because he has married a Dombo woman or been
struck by a Dombo, he can no longer share in the tsoru. Only after commensal reintegration
through the tsorubai does renewed participation become possible.
 4.3 The Hot Season 375

kuda should each eat on their own. In other words, the Sisa should cook over
one fire, and the Kirsani, Dombo, Goudo, and so on each over separate fires;
supposedly, this is how it was done in the past. In actuality, the kuda sometimes
split into several groups, and the rules of commensality are generally less strict
for the rump meat than for the tsoru. I was able to observe that some Sisa cooked
and ate their rump meat together with their internal affines, and that the Gadaba
(Messing) ate together with the Kamar. This last case makes clear that neighbor-
hood is also important, since both the Messing and the Kamar live in one of the
hamlets (put). That spatial proximity is significant for commensal relationships
will also be seen later in the exchange of bulani rice. The boundaries of general
commensality are not crossed, however; in other words, the Gadaba cook and eat
separately from the Dombo and Goudo. Active disputes can also lead to splits
within the commensal community. In 2000, the Dombo were divided into five dif-
ferent commensal groups due to internal conflicts, and the next year into only
two, corresponding to the division between Upper and Lower Dombo.

Procession to the Village

After all the groups have finished eating, all the men assemble for a joint en-
trance into the village. The pujari again leads the way and marks the passage
into the village on the main road in the same way as before on the path through
the fields. All the village dignitaries are then raised on the affines’ shoulders. The
pujari, randari, boro naik, sano naik, and the sacrificer of the he-goat are carried
into the village in this way (see photo 11). The procession first goes to the pujari’s
house, where his wife and other married Sisa women greet the carried dignita-
ries, the carriers, and the drummers with tika and wash their feet. In the
house, the pujari performs libations with liquor for his house god and at the
threshold of the house. After the contents of the cups have been mingled, the
dignitaries drink beer together with some senior Gadaba, including affines.
The barik is served beer on the veranda. Accompanied by music and dancing
by the young men, the procession then moves on to the house of the senior
naik, then to that of the randari. The journey through the village ends on the
upper side in the house of the junior naik. Beer, ritually brewed about three
days earlier, is drunk in the houses of all the dignitaries; the libation is made
only in the pujari’s house.¹⁹

 The ritual brewing of beer is called landa bija. Landa refers to a drink similar to pendom and
consumed more by the Joria than by the Gadaba; bija means “pouring out on” or “watering” (as
in the case of the fields: palla bija).
376 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

Photos 9 and 10: Tsoru rice for the Four Brothers

After the gods of the Great House have been provided their sacrificial meal, the rice for the Four
Brothers or “earth people” is cooked and distributed on leaf platters. The sacrificer (left in
photo 10) and the cook are the first to begin the meal, immediately next to the shrine.
 4.3 The Hot Season 377

With the sacrifice at the Great House, chait porbo becomes “visible.” The rit-
ual sowing of the seeds was performed by the village ritual specialists among
themselves; the sacrifice for pat kanda, in contrast, attracts a great deal of atten-
tion and participation. It is considered one of the most important sacrifices in the
annual cycle. From this day on, mangos can be eaten, and demsa, the Gadaba
circle dance, is danced on the village plaza in the evenings. Until the chief fes-
tival day about ten days later, the Gadaba themselves do the drumming, since the
Dombo musicians are not brought to Gudapada until that “festival day” (porbo
din). On the evenings before the festival day, it is primarily girls who dance,
not adult women and men, and even very young girls have an opportunity to
practice the dance steps. The village young people are left to themselves
under the light of the waxing moon, for which reason there is also an opportu-
nity for joking and flirtation between girls and boys.

Sacrifice on the Path

A week after the sacrifice at the Great House, another ritual – bolani jatra – takes
place outside the village boundaries, differing from the former in significant as-
pects. The location of the sacrifice is the path heading west, at the foot of a hill
378 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

named Agam Korok, not a visible shrine as in the case of the Great House.²⁰ Bo-
lani jatra takes place several times a year: in chait, ashad, and pus porbo. How-
ever, the sacrifices at the same place and with the same name in ashad porbo
and pus porbo are distinguished from the ritual in chait porbo by the fact that
only in this context is the ritual considered obligatory according to niam (tradi-
tion or law), while the sacrifices in the context of the other festivals are collective
mansik sacrifices, vows that the pujari makes for the well-being of the village and
later fulfills. This difference is given visible form in the fact that in ashad and
pus, the rituals begin at the closed shrine of the village goddess and then go
out to the path (as is typical of healing rituals), while bolani jatra in chait,
now described, begins directly on the path outside the village boundaries.
The sacrificial animals are a red chick (koira peti) and a goat or sheep. Al-
though rams were ritually killed on the occasions I observed, female animals
can also be sacrificed. For pat kanda or the village goddess (hundi), this
would be out of the question. The distribution of the meat is likewise less strictly
regulated. All men of the village can eat the meat from the head, and the rump
meat can be consumed by women and children in the village.

Sequence of the Ritual

Around midday, only a few participants head to the place of sacrifice on the
path. Along with the ritual specialists and the sacrificer (a Sisa) of the ram,
an older Goudo, who is also a dissari and often determines auspicious times
for the village, generally participates in this ritual. The barik brings the sacrificial
animals. The pujari prepares two sacrificial sites: one in the middle of the path,
the other in the fields off to the side, in the direction of the Great House. Together
with the Goudo, the pujari begins the invocation in front of this sacrificial site for
pat kanda, holding the chick as he does so. The same procedure is then followed
with the ram at the sacrificial site on the path. The sequence of killing is likewise
the same, a manifestation of pat kanda’s seniority. The chick is first killed for the
Great House, then the ram on the path.
Immediately afterward, the participants have a drink of liquor. Some rice
and meat from the gullet is then prepared in a leaf and presented at the sacrifi-
cial sites as the first offering (betisong). Subsequently, the sacrificer takes the
ram’s head from the sacrificial site and cuts off parts of the lips, one ear, the
tongue, and a tooth, which he leaves there. After bowing before the sacrificial

 Some informants said that the sacrifice was for the mountain; people also spoke of bolani
maphru.
 4.3 The Hot Season 379

sites, all participants move to the shade of the nearby trees, where the butcher-
ing and cooking take place. Other men gradually arrive to help with the work.
The randari – as previously in the sacrifice for the Great House – first cooks a
small amount of rice and meat in a new clay pot as tsoru for the gods, and as
soon as it is ready, he and the pujari perform betisong again.²¹ Only the pujari,
the randari, and the sacrificer eat this tsoru. While the meat from the head is pre-
pared for immediate consumption, the men divide up the rump meat in accord-
ance with the number of participating houses, and these portions are later
cooked in the individual houses in the village and consumed by men, women,
and children. The head meat consists of the same components as the tsoru at
the Great House. All men who have fasted on this day are permitted to eat it,
not only agnates. The Dombo eat the head meat cooked by the randari, and spa-
tial divisions are also less sharp than usual. Gadaba and Dombo sit relatively
close to one another, and only the Goudo sit off to the side. They receive raw
rice and meat and cook their share over a separate fire.
At another cooking hearth, the “cutters” (katkia) of the rump meat prepare a
category of meat named tsipani. This term refers to the animal’s genital area but
is not identical with the testicles (dimbo, utob*). Tsipani is the prerogative of
those who butcher the animal and is either prepared and eaten immediately
on site, as in this case, or taken home and cooked later. Women of childbearing
age should not eat any of it, since it is feared that complications at birth may
result.

Sacrifices by Various kutum

Sacrifices take place as part of chait porbo at various levels of the village struc-
ture. The rituals for pat kanda and bolani concern the entire village; the sacrifice
for doron deli, which will be described shortly, is a matter for each individual
house. On the kutum level as well, rituals are conducted, and I will now describe
briefly the sacrifices by the Kirsani and Dombo groups in Gudapada.²²
In 2000, two of the Kirsani groups – the Bilaputia and Kodomguria (see fig-
ure 3) – held sacrifices for their kutum a few days before the festival day. The Ko-
domguria (Kirsani) sacrificed a black he-goat, chicks, and coconuts for their kar-
andi maphru, kept in one of their houses. The deity was represented by small,
round stones, placed on a platter normally found in the house’s big room. In

 Two leaves of tsoru each are placed in the direction of the sacrificial site and of the Great
House, and one leaf each in the direction of the village, on the cooking hearth, and on the
remaining rice that all the men will eat.
 These sacrifices take place either every year or in an alternating rhythm.
380 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

Photo 11: Procession into the village

After the sacrifice for the Great House, the dignitaries of the “earth people” are carried back to
the village by their local affines. The barik is walking at the far right, and some of the “earth
people” are playing the drums.

the course of the ritual, the householder and sacrificer placed this platter next to
doron deli and there made a brief invocation with the sacrificial animals. The
men then moved with the sacrificial animals – but without the deity – to a
path outside the village, where the ritual killing took place. The he-goat’s
head was immediately cooked in a new clay pot on site as tsoru and eaten by
the men of the kutum only.²³ Women ate the rump meat. Subsequently, the Ko-
domguria invited members of all the groups in the village to their sai and served
them rice and meat.
The Bilaputia (Kirsani) performed their sacrifice at the same time. This ritual
was addressed to pat kanda, but had the same structure as that of the Kodom-
guria. After the invocation in front of doron deli in one of the Bilaputia houses,
the men went to the path south of the village that leads to the shrine of the Great
House. At this location, they constructed a larger sacrificial site for pat kanda
and a smaller one, off to the side of the path, for an important shrine in one

 Both ritually married and unmarried men could eat it.

 4.3 The Hot Season 381

of their affinal villages (the bardani deity in Tukum). For pat kanda they sacri-
ficed a black he-goat and a red rooster, for the other deity a white rooster. The
meat from the head – as in the Kodomguria case – was immediately eaten on
site as tsoru, and the rest was taken back to the village, prepared there, and
eaten first by the kutum and then by other village groups.
In 1999, the Lower Dombo performed their sacrifices on the festival day, the
Upper Dombo the day before. Each year, one of the two groups sacrifices he-
goats and rams, the other chicks and roosters, and vice versa the following year.
The houses of the Upper Dombo are located higher on Mount Kisor than
most of the others in Gudapada. At chait porbo, they sacrifice together at a loca-
tion on the hill, not far behind their houses, marked by a “thousand-flower” tree
(hojar phul gocho). They call the god simply “great god” (boro maphru). The ritual
began with the invocation in front of the house god (doron deli) in one of the
houses. All the sacrificial animals – two roosters, two he-goats, and a ram –
were consecrated here, after which the men departed for the external sacrificial
site. The women remained behind, although young girls accompanied the pro-
cession. A sacrificial site was prepared in front of the tree, and the sacrifices
were performed in the same way as those of the Gadaba. A coconut was first sac-
rificed for each house, then the roosters, finally the he-goats and the ram. The
meat from the animals’ heads (mundo manso) was prepared later in the village
and eaten by men, women, and children. No one outside the kutum shares in it,
not even the village’s other Dombo group, which was to be invited on the festival
day and given hospitality with rump meat. This group – the Lower Dombo –
communally sacrificed roosters for each house in the kutum on the festival
day, on the path north of the village.

Feast for the boro dissari

Each village arranges to have the most important dates and times for the collec-
tive rituals in the annual cycle determined by an astrologer (dissari), who gener-
ally does not live in the same village. These “great astrologers” (boro dissari)
often belong to a different Desia category; the specialist for Gudapada, for exam-
ple, is a Rona.²⁴ His forefathers are said to have been commissioned for this re-
sponsibility by the Gangre long ago, and after the old boro dissari’s death in
2002, his grandson took over the task. In times of catastrophe, such as drought

 A member of the Joria tribe is the boro dissari for the village of Gorihanjar. Although the Joria
have a lower status, according to the Gadaba, the boro dissari is highly honored in Gorihanjar. In
contrast to the pujari, who are often criticized, the boro dissari enjoy absolute ritual authority.
382 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

or many deaths, the pujari conducts sacrifices for the village goddess together
with the boro dissari. ²⁵
In general, the naik visits the astrologer in advance of a village festival, to-
gether with the barik, in order to have him determine the auspicious (sub) dates
and times. At issue are the days of the week, the times of the sacrifices, and the
names of specific ritual actors. Once a year, before the chait porbo festival day, a
large delegation from the village goes to the boro dissari’s village to pay him
honor and hold a feast for his group. The men bring rice, vegetables, and even
firewood to his village, and their wives fetch water. The cooking is done by
the Rona, so that everyone can eat from a single pot. Before the meal, however,
the boro dissari first determines the times and actors for the village festival by
studying his palm-leaf manuscript (talo potro).²⁶

Bringing Down the Seeds

On the eve of the festival day, a small quantity of seed grain is ritually brought
down from the loft (raso) of each Gadaba house and placed in front of doron deli.
The seeds receive sacrificial offerings here on the next day and are later sown in
the dry fields with the remaining seeds. Although objectively an undemanding
ritual, the “bringing down of the seeds” (bion utrani) is of great significance

 Some years ago, some of the stones of the shrine had come loose, and the boro dissari was
called in to fix them, together with the pujari. Previously, there had been much sickness in the
village, caused by the village goddess on this account, the inhabitants say. As part of the ritual,
the boro dissari and the pujari set up a second stone in the inner part of the shrine.
 Before the chait porbo festival day in 1999, the dissari gave the delegation from Gudapada the
following guidance, which his grandson wrote down in Oriya script and gave to the barik (who
could read):
“Small hunt. Kesebo will begin the hunt on Friday. Komla will cast the dung. The hunt will
begin in the direction of Komel […]. The dung will be cast toward the west, in the evening, [when
the shadows are] five feet [long]. – Friday: casting the seed at 5:30 a.m. Komla will hold the
water, look in the direction of Jeypore [with her back to the road?]. – Saturday: Jogubond will
begin the great hunt, in the direction of Chopari. Neuna will cast the dung, look in the direction
of Komel; start at five feet. – Tuesday: bringing down the seed grain, looking in the direction of
Jeypore at five o’clock. The tsoru will be eaten at nisani [hundi] at seven feet; look in the direction
of Jeypore.”
Tingribet: sukrobaro Kesop betku bahariba. Komla goboro maribo. Komelo bate muho kori
bento baharibo. […] Pachimor digorku goboro maribo. Sondhya panch pau. – Sukrobaro biono
pokhaibo 5:30 biono pokaibo. Komla pani rokaibo. Jeypur bate muho kori (pithi batoru). – Sani-
bare borobeto Jogubondu bahariba Chopari bate muho kori beto behariba. Neuna goboro maribo
Komelo bate muho kori goboro maribo pancho pau. – Monglobare biono utraibo pancho gontabele
Jeypur bate muho kori. Nisanire tsoru khaibo sato pauku Jeypur bate muho kori.
 4.3 The Hot Season 383

for the fertility of the fields. As in all agricultural activities, the pujari performs
the ritual first. At the time when the livestock are led back to the stable (“cattle
dust time,” goru duli bela), the Gadaba (for lack of the Dombo musicians) begin
to drum in front of the pujari’s house. After bathing, the pujari goes to his loft
and places small quantities of the various seeds (rapeseed, finger millet, proso
millet, rice) into a winnowing fan, which he then places in front of the house
god, before later transferring its contents to a leaf platter. The pujari’s wife hon-
ors the drummers with tika, and they make their way to the assembly plaza,
drumming as they go. The barik goes throughout all parts of the village and an-
nounces that all other houses may now follow the pujari and bring down their
seeds from the loft. The seeds in the pujari’s house initially remain at doron
deli and are ritually sown in the dry fields on the festival’s last day (baura
porbo). The ritual sowing thus precedes the agricultural cycle and anticipates
the coming course of events, since the dry fields are sown only at the beginning
of the rainy season. The seeds brought from the loft correspondingly remain in
the individual houses until June, tied around doron deli either in a small basket
or – after the sacrifice on the festival day – in a folded leaf. Later, they will be
mixed with the remaining seed grain and sown in the fields. Following bion utra-
ni, crabs are sacrificed for the dead (duma balo’*) in each house.
A striking characteristic of all festivals is the exchange of cooked food be-
tween houses, as well as reciprocal invitations and visits by individuals and
groups. As soon as no rituals are at hand, the entire village seems to be on
the move. Children and women carry platters of rice back and forth between
the houses, and people go from house to house and are everywhere invited to
eat and drink. Cooked rice, which need not include any particular accompani-
ment (sag, ma*) and which is called bulani bat, a name that could be translated
as “wandering rice,”²⁷ is distributed between houses on three days during chait
porbo: first on the eve of the festival day (nita bat), then on the festival day itself
(porbo bat), and finally on the day of the great hunt (boro bet bat).²⁸ Strictly
speaking – it was said – all Gadaba houses in the sai should be provided bulani
bat, but the houses have become too numerous, and now people give to those
who give in return. In fact, both vicinity and the quality of the current relation-
ships play a role in the distribution. The Olek house is also included in the trans-
actions, although that house gives and receives only vegetarian food.

 Bulibar is “strolling.” In Gutob, this rice is called lai al’al lobe*, where al’al* again means “to
saunter around, to stroll.”
 Rice is also distributed in the village on the occasion of major life-cycle rituals and is also
called bulani bat in that case.
384 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

“Festival Day”
The “festival day” (porbo din) is the highpoint of chait porbo and the start of an-
other phase of the festival.²⁹ This can be discerned from a variety of indicators:
the ritual purification and beatification of people, houses, and objects and the
special protection of and special emphasis on boundaries, crossings, persons,
and the earth through temporary prohibitions and restrictions. These include a
prohibition on wounding the earth’s surface, as in plowing, and prohibitions
on millet consumption and violent conflicts. In addition, the village is closed
off against all “strangers.”
From the perspective of individual houses, the sacrifices for doron deli and
the consumption of tsoru within the house community are of the greatest signif-
icance on this day. Previously, the pujari and randari have performed a sacrifice
for the village goddess. Each household requires various sacrificial animals, and
to the extent that the financial situation permits it, the entire family should be
dressed in new clothes. This also means that the weekly markets that precede
the festival day are especially busy.³⁰ The prices at these “festival markets”
(porbo hat) are considerably higher than usual, and far-sighted Desia have al-
ready purchased their sacrificial animals previously. On the festival day itself,
the village is busy from early in the day. The women and girls repaint the houses
inside and out. The inner room, where the sacrifices take place, is permitted to be
painted only on this day. While each woman has a free choice of colors in paint-
ing all other walls of her house, the inner room and doron deli itself – I know of
no exception to this rule – are painted the red earth color (rong tubo*), as a mat-
ter of principle. In addition, the women wash the rice for the tsoru in the river
and also fetch the water for cooking from there. Water from the hand pumps
is not used for this purpose on this day.
The men also go to the river, to purify all the house’s “tools” – spears, bows,
plows, axes – there. In addition, they set up swings, which the girls soon perma-
nently occupy. Boys are supposed to use the swings only after the festival period,
when the rituals and the hunt are over.³¹ All thresholds in the house and yard are
decorated with garlands³² of mango leaves, mangos, and flowers (of the thousand-

 As a rule, the festival day takes place in Gudapada on a Wednesday or a Sunday, depending
on which day of the week is closer to the full moon.
 Although not all villages celebrate this day at exactly the same time, there are considerable
overlaps.
 Swinging by the boys is forbidden (dos, umrang*) during the festival, but this scarcely stops
the small boys.
 The ties for the garlands must be taken from the siardi vine (lando gei*); anything else is out
of the question.
 4.3 The Hot Season 385

flower tree), and the hunting and agricultural implements purified in the river are
also decorated in this way, along with all posts in the house and stable.
The village boundary receives even more attention than the entrances and
exits of the houses and yards. The village borders are not adorned with garlands,
but guarded. Young women and girls (occasionally also young men) roll stones
across the paths that lead through the village or block them with taut cords or in
other ways. A toll (pajor) is demanded from “strangers”³³ of all kinds before they
are permitted to continue on their way. In exchange for this small sum of money,
the visitors receive flowers in their hair or a song. If a traveler refuses to pay
pajor, earth and mud are thrown at him, and he must take to his heels.
This sensitivity to boundaries and places of transition also applies to the
body and the earth. The treatment of both is subject to specific rules. From
the festival day to the start of the hunt (dongor mandini) – that is, for about
five days – the consumption of millet³⁴ is forbidden. Turning up the earth with
tools, as in plowing, for example, is prohibited until after the hunt (and especial-
ly during the hundi sacrifice and the hunt), and public conflict – especially phys-
ical violence – is punished. The naik fits out two men (often from the affinal
groups), called dandia, ³⁵ with a bamboo staff each to ensure peace during the
festival days. They are also supposed to guarantee that no one plows his fields.
Violations are punished with fines in money or kind.³⁶
The pujari and randari perform the first sacrifice on the morning of the fes-
tival day in front of the village goddess’s shrine. The tsoru is initially distributed
to the boys of the agnates (Cobra); part of it is also eaten in the pujari’s house
later, in the evening. In the afternoon – once the preparatory washing and dec-
orating has been completed – the individual houses begin their sacrifices and
cooking preparations. After the tsoru has been eaten in each house, the distribu-
tion of bulani rice begins in the neighborhood, and the Dombo are “called” (dak-
bar) by particular Sisa kutum. Within the Dombo groups, the Upper Dombo invite
the Lower Dombo, who also perform the rituals for their kutum on this day.

 This does not include relatives who come to the village as gotia. They do not come on the
festival day itself, however, when everyone stays in his or her own village, but only on the
following days.
 This applies to millet gruel (mandia pej), not to beer, which also contains millet.
 Dandi refers to long pieces of wood of various kinds, the plowshaft or the bier for the dead,
for example. Dandia can be translated as “staff bearer.”
 Items with which the earth or the body could be “wounded” in this way should in any case
be bundled up, decorated, and removed from use following their ritual purification in the river.
386 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

Sacrifice for the Village Goddess

The sacrifice for the village goddess (hundi puja) begins early in the morning, at
the time prescribed by the boro dissari. ³⁷ Other than the two naik, the barik, and
the village’s two ritual specialists, only a few people participate in the rituals.
The pujari first opens the wall that surrounds the shrine and then removes the
stone slabs that serve as the “doors” of the shrine itself. As in the case of the
Great House, the inner and outer areas of the shrine are cleaned, goboro pani
(water and dung) is applied, and the area surrounding the shrine is decorated
with mango garlands. The shrine’s two inner stones, its doors, and the wall
are likewise decorated in this way. Opposite the goddess’s shrine, two of the
stones belonging to the assembly platform (sadar) are adorned in the same
way: the large standing stone and another stone that is said to have first been
set in place by the ancestors of the Four Brothers, thereby establishing the sadar.
The pujari draws a pattern around the two stones inside the shrine with rice
powder and draws another one in front of the shrine. Off to the side of the village
goddess, a sacrificial site is prepared in the direction of the Great House. The
barik meanwhile brings liquor, coconuts, and the sacrificial animals: a red-
brown rooster for hundi and a white chick for pat kanda. Like the two naik, he
stays outside the wall; only the village’s two ritual specialists are active in the
inner space. The pujari and randari move back and forth between the sacrificial
sites for hundi and pat kanda. They first perform the invocation for the Great
House and then go back to recite the invocation in front of the village goddess’s
shrine. Back at the sacrificial site for the Great House again, they kill the chick
and smash a coconut. They then sacrifice the rooster, an egg, and another coco-
nut in front of the village goddess’s shrine. Even in the context of sacrifices for
the village goddess, therefore, the Great House receives its sacrifices first. Sacri-
ficial blood is also dripped on the two previously marked stones in the assembly
platform, along with the doors of the shrine and the surrounding wall. In addi-
tion, the pujari goes to a location about fifty meters distant, off to the side of the
road, and lets blood fall onto the earth there as well. A long time ago – no one
can remember it any more or say how many generations have passed since – this
was the location of the village goddess’s old shrine, later moved.
Directly next to the shrine, the randari immediately begins to prepare the
tsoru, and as soon as it is ready, he and the pujari perform betisong for the

 The right time is determined by the clock or by the length of a person’s shadow. The boro
dissari indicates, for example, that a ritual should begin when a shadow is “five feet” (panch
pau) long.
 4.3 The Hot Season 387

gods. All the important places³⁸ are provided first with tsoru, then with liquor,
including the site of the old shrine. The pujari and randari subsequently venerate
hundi and pat kanda by kneeling in front of the sacrificial sites and then remove
the heads of the sacrificial animals from them. One of the animal’s eyes and its
beak are left behind in each case. The two specialists close the village goddess’s
shrine, and within the surrounding wall, they eat some of the tsoru and drink
liquor together.
Late in the morning, around fifteen to twenty boys – however many turn up
– assemble within the wall around the hundi shrine. The boys are roughly be-
tween five and twelve years old and are exclusively members of the village’s ag-
natic Cobra group, that is, Gangre.³⁹ The pujari and randari serve the boys tsoru
(adults do not eat), and they consume the sacrificial meal as the future Four
Brothers, so to say. Although as unmarried agnates they cannot yet represent
the village, they already form a tsoru community and “have seen the Four Broth-
ers” (chari bai dekla). After the meal, the pujari closes up the outer wall with
stone slabs as well and brings the remaining tsoru to his house, where it will
be eaten in the evening.
Other than the pujari, the randari, and the Cobra boys, men, women, and
children abstain from eating until after the sacrifice for their house god. The in-
habitants of the village are busy until early afternoon with the activities descri-
bed above; by around two o’clock, the village and people have been spruced up
and adorned, and each house community turns its attention to its sacrifices.

Sacrifice for the House Deity and the Seed Grain

Each year in chait, two roosters are sacrificed at a house’s central post (doron
deli): a red rooster for doron deli and a black rooster for the seed grain (bion).
In addition, “once in three years” (tini borso tore) – that is, every other year –
a he-goat should be sacrificed. One house each year takes on this responsibility
as a representative of the kutum. In times of financial difficulty, this sacrifice can
also be postponed. The ongoing neglect of this obligation, however, leads to ill-
ness and misfortune, in the Gadaba’s eyes.
Independent of whether a house sacrifices a he-goat or not, each house’s rit-
uals consist of two parts. The first part is a sacrifice for the Great House, outside
the village, in the direction of the pat kanda shrine. At this location, white roos-

 The two stones in the inner part of the shrine, the sacrificial sites, the assembly platform, the
location of the old shrine, the paths in every direction, and the cooking hearth.
 As a rule, affines and non-Gadaba do not enter this inner area in any case.
388 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

ters and chicks are sacrificed, along with the he-goat. The second part, the sac-
rifices for the house deity and the seed grain, then takes place in the inner room
of the house.⁴⁰
The householder and sacrificer first performs an invocation in front of doron
deli with the animals that will be sacrificed outside the village. He then – often
accompanied by his children – takes the adorned he-goat and the rooster to a
place immediately beyond the village boundary. He prepares a sacrificial site
for pat kanda on the path leading to the Great House and another one “for
the affines” (bonduke), or rather for their gods, on the right-hand side of the
path (to the west). The he-goat is sacrificed for the Great House, the rooster
for the affines. Since many houses perform the ritual at the same time, the sac-
rificial sites are lined up along the path as if on a string. The sacrifices follow the
usual pattern. After the invocation at both sacrificial sites – first for pat kanda –
the animals are killed and the heads placed on the platforms. Rice and meat
from the gullet, placed in a leaf, are briefly held over a small fire and then dis-
tributed as an offering to the gods. The sacrificer picks up the animals’ heads,
kneels before the sacrificial sites, and then returns home, where the second
part of the sacrifices takes place.
At the foot of doron deli – where there is a small, permanent clay platform –
the householder draws a sacrificial pattern, lights incense (dup), and begins the
invocation of the deity. After the animals have pecked rice, they are beheaded
(katbar, go’*) with a knife, and the heads are placed on the site of sacrifice.
The sacrificer lets some of the blood fall onto the platter of different seeds
brought down from the loft the previous evening. Blood is also smeared or drip-
ped on various locations: doron deli, the bundled objects (plow, bow, ax), the
cooking hearth, and the thresholds of the house, the yard, and the stable. All
members of the family receive blood tika on the forehead.
The wife begins to cook rice in the inner room, while the husband butchers
the animal. It is significant that many houses use for this tsoru only the rice
brought into the house in November as the first fruits of the paddy rice harvest.
Moreover, a mango is indispensable as an additional ingredient during chait
porbo. ⁴¹ Usually, only the house community eats this tsoru, but the brothers of
the kutum could theoretically also participate in the sacrificial meal. The remain-
ing sacrificial animals are cooked on the ordinary cooking hearth in the big room
as lakka’*, which can be offered to all guests or distributed to other houses as
bulani bat. The heads of all the sacrificial animals, including the he-goat, are

 I have also observed these actions performed in the opposite order.

 As a rule, tsoru is prepared only from the red-brown rooster killed for the house god.
 4.3 The Hot Season 389

left lying at the foot of doron deli and removed only on the next day. The same
rule applies to them as to the tsoru: only members of the house (and kutum) are
permitted to eat them.⁴²
Before the members of the house eat their first meal of the day, the duma are
provided for at the cremation site. It is already late in the afternoon when the
mostly older women make their way there, lamenting as they go. The dead re-
ceive liquor, beer, hulled and cooked rice, and meat, but no tsoru, rather
lakka’*. Offerings are made at the ritual village boundary (bejorna) on the way
to the cremation site, as well as at the cremation site itself, where pieces of
cloth are also burned, among other things, and some women smash their
glass armbands, as they do after a death. On their way back from the cremation
site, the women clean their teeth and continue on to the other side of the village,
to a crossroads where they likewise place food for the duma, before washing in
the river and returning to their houses.
As soon as the tsoru is ready, the sacrificer first presents the gods with liquor
and tsoru (betisong), which all members of the household then consume at the
same time and in the same place. In other words, the women do not wait
until the rest of the family has eaten, as is usual in daily life, and older members
of the family do not eat their rice on the veranda, as sometimes happens. Every-
one sits in the house and ideally in the inner room. They first drink beer or liquor
together, then eat the tsoru rice.

Visits and “Wandering Rice”

After the meal, by which time it is already dark, the “wandering rice” (bulani bat,
given the special name of “festival rice,” porbo bat, on this day) is distributed,
and those who have sacrificed a he-goat give portions of raw meat to the houses
of their kutum. Reciprocal visits then begin, in which all guests are offered beer
and rice with meat. Alongside the individual visits, entire groups are also issued
invitations. In 1999, I witnessed how a Sisa kutum (Garsa Gor) invited the Lower
Dombo – their tsorubai – to their sai. The host had sacrificed a he-goat for pat
kanda that year and gave hospitality to the Dombo with beer, rice, and meat
in front of his house. He distributed rice from his plate to those of his guests,
a gesture that could not be reciprocated for status reasons. The Upper Dombo
are considered the tsorubai of another Sisa group (Chamru Gor) and are likewise
invited on such occasions.

 The heads are no longer prepared as tsoru, however, but simply cooked or roasted on the fire.
390 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

Tsoru Commensality of the Four Brothers

After darkness has fallen, the barik calls people to the meal in the pujari’s house.
One man from each Gadaba group should be present, agnates and affines. Who
comes as the group’s representative is relatively unimportant; unmarried youths
can also be sent, if their fathers still have other obligations to meet as hosts or
guests or are already too drunk. As soon as the men have gathered one by one in
the house, beer is first distributed to all, and it is confirmed that the Four Broth-
ers are present: “the four persons should eat the potri chaul together” (potri
chaul gote chari lok kaiba kota). As leaders of the rituals, the pujari and randari
go around the group asking whether there are any objections to how the rituals
were performed. If not, the beer is poured from cup to cup, and all present drink
together. After that, they divide into two groups: the affines and those who can-
not eat tsoru, on the one hand, and the Four Brothers who eat the tsoru, on the
other.⁴³ The affines are served lakka’* rice by the pujari’s wife.
Once the tsoru has been eaten in the pujari’s house, and the phase of recip-
rocal visits has concluded, the demsa begins on the village plaza; the Dombo
musicians have meanwhile arrived, and the dancing continues far into the morn-
ing.

Festival of the Leftovers

The following day is known as basi porbo, the festival of the leftovers.⁴⁴ Since
every household sacrificed animals on the festival day, and meat is abundantly
to hand, it is now cooked and eaten. Dancing demsa, singing oili git, ⁴⁵ eating,
and drinking are the primary activities on this day; excessive consumption is
the plan, and no sacrifices take place.
Each house that killed a he-goat on the festival day invites the men of the
village to eat and drink on basi porbo. In 1999, four Sisa houses, one belonging

 For example, the deceased naik’s son is excluded from tsoru because he is not ritually
married.
 The reference in this case is not to leftovers from a portion (a “plate”) from which someone
has already eaten (ointa bat, tori’lai*), but rather to rice of which too much was cooked and not
all served (ogla bat). The word basi is not usually used in the context of daily life. In the North
Indian Brahmanic context, Khare (1976b, 294) describes it as follows: “The left-over foods from a
previous food cycle, technically including both eaten as well as uneaten left-overs that have
gone cold, and hence also ‘stale.’”
 This type of song is sung by men and women at all festivals. Two individuals, of the same or
different gender, take turns singing “against one another,” in the course of which the melody
remains constant, but the lyrics are basically improvised. The lyrics often include ironic remarks
and abuse of the other singer.
 4.3 The Hot Season 391

to each of the four kutum (see figure 3), had sacrificed a he-goat. Late in the
morning, about thirty men assembled in the yard of the first host house. Gadaba,
Dombo, and Kamar sat together without distinction and were served first beer
and a portion of meat (chakana), then rice and meat. After about half an
hour, the next host pressed for the group to move on to his house. There the
same procedure was repeated, after which came the next house and another
kutum. The group gradually decreased in size, became visibly sluggish, and
could only with difficulty be motivated to move on to the next house. After
the third meal and a lot of beer, their stomachs were probably full.
Nevertheless, the eating, drinking, and visiting continued without a break.
After the calls – that is, the invitations – of the sacrificers have been responded
to, individual houses within the village begin to visit one another, especially
their internal affines. For example, a man invites his saru (WZH) or the family
of his susuro (WeB) to his house or goes there with his family as a guest
(gotia) with beer and food. Along with such intentional visits, opportunities
for celebration also appear all over. On this day, the demsa begins already at
midday and seems to want to never end. Men and women, Gadaba, Goudo,
and Dombo, all equally drunk, dance together; everyone knows the demsa’s var-
ious steps.

“Small Hunt”
The opening of the village takes place in stages with the beginning of the hunt-
ing rituals, when the men leave the village. On the day of the small hunt (tingri
bet), which follows the basi porbo, the paths are still closed, and the girls de-
mand pajor. Visits between villages begin only with the “great hunt” (boro bet)
on the following day. Besides the ongoing visiting and celebrating, two ritual
events take place on the day of the small hunt. First, the village’s small boys
act out a hunt and bring down a “leaf stag” (dal somor); second, the pujari dis-
tributes seeds at the shrine of the village goddess.
The hunt complex is inaugurated by a staged ritual performance; both the
time and the actors are designated by the boro dissari. An unmarried young
woman (“village sister,” ga bouni) throws dung at a Gadaba man as he leaves
his house with his ax and so drives him out of the village to hunt. The young
boys then “arm” themselves with axes and sticks and leave the village to ascend
a hill, accompanied by drumming. They act out beating the bushes for game,
“bring down” the game in the form of some branches and shrubs (the “leaf
stag”), and parade triumphantly into the village, their prize tied to carrying
poles like real game. The wall around the hundi shrine is opened, and the
boys dance around the village goddess in the inner space and finally lay their
392 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

prize down before the shrine. Likewise in the inner space is the pujari’s wife, who
lights incense and greets the hunters with tika. On the plaza in front of the vil-
lage goddess, the men begin to dance demsa, soon joined by the women.
Late in the afternoon, the pujari goes with a winnowing fan of seeds⁴⁶ to the
village goddess’s shrine, where many men and women have already gathered
with new cloths and are crowding around the shrine’s outer wall. Within the
wall, there remains only the village sister who had earlier cast dung to press
for a hunt, along with the pujari. She now carries a new clay pot of water on
her head.
In front of the closed shrine, the pujari sacrifices a red chick, after which he
squats in front of the girl, who pours the water over him. As soon as he climbs on
top of the village goddess’s shrine, still dripping with water, and picks up his
winnowing fan, the people in the crowd spread out their cloths. The pujari
takes the seeds from the fan and throws them in all directions, and the men
and women try to catch them with their cloths. Whoever succeeds returns
home and ritually buries the seeds in the fields or gardens behind his house
or scatters them on the manure pile (which later fertilizes the millet fields).

“Great Hunt”
The day of the small hunt is followed by that of the “great hunt” (boro bet). Hunt-
ing rituals take place at the level of the houses and at that of the entire village,
without actual hunting. In addition, a sacrifice, also significant in connection
with the hunt, is performed for the karandi ⁴⁷deity in the morning on Mount
Agam Korok. Karandi is supposed to persuade the Herder of the Forests (bon
goudo) so that animals can be brought down in the hunt. Bon goudo also receives
sacrificial offerings directly, insofar as the Goudo (or the Goudo dissari) release a
white chick for him on Mount Kisor. For the inhabitants of the village, visits be-
tween villages and the distribution of bulani bat (called boro bet bat on this day)
within the village are at the forefront on this day, alongside the hunting rituals.
In many villages, affinal relatives are visiting from neighboring villages for stays
of several days, and many people from Gudapada depart for other villages. In
order to meet the need for meat to be consumed and given away, different house-
holds within a sai sometimes join together and slaughter pigs.

 The following seeds are included: squash (kumda), rice (dan), millet (mandia and suen), and
Niger seed (olsi). The seeds are supposed to come from the pujari’s house (not from bion utrani)
and also from the houses of the Munduli.
 This deity is associated with the village as a whole and is not identical with the stones kept
in individual houses that bear the same name, as described above for the Kirsani.
 4.3 The Hot Season 393

The karandi puja is not performed by the pujari and randari, but by a mem-
ber of the Bilaputia (Kirsani) each year, and no one other than the sacrificer par-
ticipates or is present. The shrine consists of an assemblage of small stones at
the foot of a tree. A white chick and an egg are sacrificed here in the morning,
and betisong is performed; the rest of the chick is consumed later in the sacrific-
er’s house.
After some households have performed individual hunting sacrifices on the
paths outside the village, the collective hunting rituals begin in the late after-
noon, led by the village’s ritual specialists. A number of men gather in front
of the pujari’s house, along with the Dombo musicians, and hunting horns (sing-
turi) are blown. The pujari’s wife throws rice onto the roof, washes the musicians’
feet, and gives them and the instruments tika. The pujari and randari leave the
house with a shouldered ax, are bid farewell by the pujari’s wife in the yard
in the same way, and go to a field outside the village to the south, accompanied
by the musicians.
In the individual houses, all other men gather together their weapons –
bows, axes, and spears – which their wives sprinkle with water. The men of a
kutum sometimes assemble in the house of the most senior brother and set
down their weapons in order to drink together before leaving the village. The
women again consecrate the weapons with water before they bid the men fare-
well from the house. Crowds of women and girls wait at the village boundary,
where they bid the hunters farewell with tika and demand in exchange small
sums of money as pajor. These demands are made in a joking atmosphere. In
a field immediately beyond the village boundary, the hunters (including many
boys) sit down in two rows, facing each other, and lay their weapons in the mid-
dle. The pujari sacrifices a chick for pat kanda, while the randari breaks an egg at
the head of the two facing rows. Immediately thereafter, he stands up and walks
over the weapons between the rows in the direction of Mount Kisor. All the hunt-
ers at once grab their weapons and charge after him. The subsequent proceed-
ings are like those of the small hunt (tingri bet); a dal somor is “brought
down” by children and brought to the shrine of the village goddess.
Semi-professional theatrical performances (nat) arouse great enthusiasm
among all the Desia. On small stages set up in the village plazas, elaborately cos-
tumed men act out plays that recall the Mahabharata or the Ramayana. The per-
formances usually begin late in the evening and do not end before around seven
o’clock in the morning. The generators are loud, and the microphones poor, but
this does not stop hundreds of people from the entire surrounding area from sit-
ting in front of the stage the whole night, raptly attentive. Such shows are regu-
larly part of the festivals in the small administrative centers in the area. Individ-
ual villages also hire such theater groups for special occasions, however, such as
394 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

during chait porbo. In the three years in which I experienced chait porbo in Gu-
dapada, a performance of this kind twice took place on the day of boro bet. Some
people objected to the fact that posts were rammed into the earth in building the
stage, even though such injuries to the earth’s surface were prohibited at the
time, but the majority paid little attention to the complaints. Although the the-
atrical performances are not part of the ritual sequence of events – and are
not financed by the village as a whole – they have an influence to the extent
that only a few people attend the rituals at midday on the following day. How-
ever, many other collective rituals, such as hundi puja on the festival day descri-
bed above, arouse just as little public interest.

Veneration of the Mountain

The day after the great hunt is known as dongoro mandini. ⁴⁸ On this third day of
the hunting complex as well, hunting rituals take place, but no actual hunting
expeditions. At midday on the path leading west – the same place as the sacri-
fice for bolani – the pujari and randari perform a ritual addressed to pat kanda
and the village’s adjacent hills. In front of the sacrificial site for pat kanda, the
pujari twists off the head of a red chick and throws the body aside. Its position
indicates the direction he will take on his walk over the hill. On the path, an egg
is sacrificed for the pujari’s ax. After the puja, the pujari goes to the hill alone
with his ax, descends a certain distance, and then returns.
This day marks the definitive end of the village’s period of closure. Since the
festival day, the village has been turned inward and focused on itself. The sacri-
fices for hundi and doron deli and the associated consumption of tsoru, the ex-
change of cooked food, reciprocal visits, and community dancing have character-
ized the social life of these days.⁴⁹ On dongoro mandini, the village opens itself
again. Pajor is no longer demanded from strangers, and on each of the following
days, the men of the village go out to hunt in the surrounding area, after the
hunting rituals – tingri bet, boro bet, and dongoro mandini – have been per-
formed, initially for the village’s own hills. On dongoro mandini, the pujari ritual-
ly sets millet gruel (pej) on the fire to cook for the first time, after which the pro-
hibition on millet consumption is lifted. The men take millet gruel with them to
eat on the hunts of the following days.

 The participants in the ritual were unable to explain the name. Mandini could be an allusion
to the fact that the participants kneel (mandi) before the mountain (dongor), that is, venerate the
mountain.
 In 1999, the Dombo musicians hired from the neighboring village were also dismissed on the
afternoon of dongoro mandini, and the demsa dancing thus also came to an end.
 4.3 The Hot Season 395

Hunting
In the “real” hunt (bet, gu’um*) as well, the men initially linger in the village’s
adjacent hills. Not counting the various tree plantations that the government
has established in the area since the 1950s, large parts of the hills are covered
only with scrub. Not much game worth hunting is to be expected in these
hills, so that the hunt in the surrounding hills more closely resembles brief rec-
reational excursions. Nevertheless, the proper sequence must be observed; only
after the hunt in the village hills do the hunting trips extend to more distant
areas.⁵⁰
Late in the morning, men and boys from all groups in the village assemble at
a crossroads outside the village boundary. Old women urge the men on to hunt
and occasionally add force to their words by throwing dung at the men. Before
the hunt begins, however, a sacrifice must be made for the Herder of the Forest,
since he does not permit the killing of animals otherwise. In a brief ritual on the
path, one of the hunters sacrifices an egg or chick over the weapons, after which
the group departs for the hills, and the hunt begins. The hunters return in the
afternoon.
Up to forty men and boys hunt for several days with spears, bows, and axes.
The men divide into several groups on the hill. Some men (the chapnia or moja
gatia) drive the animals to the middle of the hill or flush them out; others (the
sira kanchia or domkea) hide behind bushes at the peak of the hill in order to
bring down the startled game. A third group (the gat kanchia) on the lower slopes
informs the others about the direction the animals are headed. All men of the
village may participate in the hunt, but the Dombo should not touch an animal
after it has been brought down. In smaller villages, where there are not enough
men, women are supposed to be able to participate in the hunt as well, but I have
not witnessed this myself. The animals killed are butchered at a specific place,
an island (dipa) amid the rice paddies. The man who brought the animal
down receives a front leg and part of the back muscles, and the hunters cook
and eat the head meat on site. This meal is not considered tsoru and can be
eaten by all the hunters, except for those men whose wives are pregnant.⁵¹

 I had already witnessed this in 1996 in another Gadaba village about twenty-five kilometers
away, in the Onukadilli area. In that case also, the hunt initially took place on a relatively
treeless hill belonging to the village and was then expanded in the following days to the forested
hills of the Machkund Valley.
 Men whose wives are pregnant eat the peritoneum (pet palla) instead. In addition, they
should not kill any animals and should keep their distance from animals that have been shot or
not cross the trail of blood they leave behind. This would delay the animals’ death, it is said, and
lead to their escaping and being brought down by other villages.
396 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

The rest is distributed to everyone equally in raw portions, ideally also to those
houses that did not participate in the hunt. When large animals (such as wild
pigs [bon baria] or mountain goats [kotra]) are brought down – which is rare
these days – the prize is first brought to the village goddess’s shrine, where
the pujari or his wife gives the hunters tika. In this case, the butchering at the
mentioned location in the rice paddies begins only on the next day.⁵²
After the hunt has dominated chait porbo for a scant week, the last phase of
the festival is again concerned with the earth and the fields. The festival’s two
parts – beto taso (hunting and agriculture) – are far from unconnected with
each other, however: without hunting, there can be no good harvest, people
say. About a week after the “festival day,” the pujari is the first to ritually
make use of a plow (nongol, sunui*) again, a ritual called “bringing out the
team” (hol bahariba). He plows a small piece of land inside the village, behind
the houses, thereby lifting the prohibition on plowing for all. In the festival’s
final ritual, on the following day, he sows seeds and plants seedlings in the per-
manent fields. However, it is only weeks after these symbolic acts by the ritual
specialists that the seedlings will actually be transplanted to the rice paddies
and the seeds sown in the dry fields.

Last Day
The last day (baura porbo) begins with a hundi puja at around 7:00 a.m. The sac-
rifice proceeds largely in the same way as in the ritual on the morning of the fes-
tival day. A white chick is killed at a separate sacrificial site for pat kanda, then a
red-brown one for hundi. A significant difference is the fact that this time, both
the outer wall and the shrine itself remain closed. The randari roasts (“cooks,”
randbar) some rice and meat in a leaf and makes food offerings at the places pre-
viously mentioned. After the betisong, the village ritual specialists drink liquor
inside the shrine’s outer wall, followed by the boro naik and the sano naik on
the wall’s other side. The sacrificial animals are taken to the pujari’s house,
where his wife prepares kordi rice and fish for the following ritual. The barik

 In the three years between 1999 and 2001, only wild fowl, some birds, and rabbits were
killed. The rabbits were butchered on the island in the rice fields, and the meat from the heads
was eaten there. Other villages had better luck and brought down wild pigs. Until a few years
ago, the Gadaba of Gudapada also went hunting in chait on a particular hill to the west of the
village, about six kilometers away. The two groups of the Goudo and the Mundagoria (affines)
each released a chicken there before the hunt, and the hunting was often good, it is said. Since
the hunt these days comes at the same time that work begins for the cashew harvest, many men
decline to participate in extended hunting trips.
 4.3 The Hot Season 397

again collects rice (potri chaul) from all households in the village, which he
brings to the pujari’s house.
Around midday, the rituals in the fields begin. The pujari first prepares a
miniature field in one of the dry fields (poda, langbo*). Over an area with a di-
ameter of half a meter, the dry earth is broken up, and manure (goboro, i’tang*) is
spread over it. An egg and a black chick (for the seeds) are sacrificed, and beti-
song is performed with the previously cooked kordi rice. The pujari then scatters
the seeds in the prepared field. The second part of the ritual moves to the rice
paddies and the parcels fenced off there for the seedlings (palla gari), which
have now reached a height of about thirty centimeters. Here as well, a miniature
rice paddy (bera, liong*) is prepared. A circular area is smoothed out, and two
stalks of chatreng grass are set into it.⁵³ The pujari plucks some of the seedlings
from the palla field, breaks an egg, and presents betisong with kordi rice. Finally,
he plants the first seedlings in the prepared field and then eats some of the kordi
rice, together with the randari.
In the evening, several men from the Four Brothers gather in front of the pu-
jari’s house for the festival’s last commensal act. All the chicks sacrificed on this
day are prepared together in the house, and tsoru rice is cooked from the potri
chaul collected by the barik and eaten by the men on the veranda.

Activities from May to June

In the weeks between the end of chait porbo and the beginning of the rainy sea-
son (the beginning or middle of June, landi) the Gadaba in Gudapada are chiefly
occupied with preparing the rice paddies, transplanting the seedlings, and har-
vesting the cashew apples and nuts.

Planting the Rice Paddies

Following chait porbo, the men plow their rice paddies several times and finally
smooth out the surface of the earth. The dry fields are plowed after the occasion-
al thundershowers; the fenced fields with the seedlings have meanwhile taken
on a deep green hue. A week or two after chait porbo, the women uproot the
seedlings from the fields (palla saksar), clean the roots, and tie the individual
plants into bundles. Each house performs this task for its own fields. In 2000,

 The same type of grass is used in the name-giving ritual (sutok sorani) and the harvest
rituals, for example. Passage through a chatreng gate removes ritual impurity (sutok).
398 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

the planting of the rice paddies (bera ropbar, liong on’on*)⁵⁴ began in mid-May
(boisak), and the last houses had completed this task a month later. If the seed-
lings are transplanted too late, there is a danger that they will be carried away by
the first heavy monsoon rains (as soon as the river rises), since they will not yet
have put down strong enough roots.
On the day of transplantation, the owner of the field performs a puja for the
river gods (kamni) at the canals (nala) that border the paddy, sacrificing an egg.
His family eats kordi rice, known in this context as gotna bat, ⁵⁵ at the edge of the
paddy. The paddy’s owner (saukar) and men from his kutum then bring the bun-
dled and stacked seedlings to the corresponding rice paddy. The majority of the
planting is done by women, but the men of the kutum also help. This work is not
done by one household or kutum by itself, but instead forty to seventy adults and
children from the entire village – not only the sai – participate, although only
Gadaba are involved. Within about an hour, a paddy is planted, and the work
often then continues immediately with another one.
A fixed part of the activity is throwing mud at one another. Near the end of
the work, one person suddenly starts to throw mud at another, from which a gen-
eral mud fight develops. Children and adults participate, but older people tend to
hang back and issue warnings when the already planted rice is threatened with
harm. The joking fights take place between both members of the same sex and
members of the opposite sex. It appeared to me that favorite “victims” were the
wives of a man’s older brothers and, reciprocally, the younger brothers of a
woman’s husband, along with the saru (WZH). The attacks are not directed
only, and perhaps not even primarily, at such relatives, however, but potentially
at anyone who happens to be “in the way.” In the evening, the house distributes
cooked rice to the houses of the kutum, the affines, and other houses in the
neighborhood.⁵⁶

 Some households also sow paddy rice directly in the bera fields. This takes place earlier,
before the festival day in chait. This broadcast sowing is less labor-intensive in the beginning,
but weeding is significantly more demanding, since the rice plants do not stand in rows and are
more difficult to distinguish from weeds.
 This could suggest that the family visits the field as guests (gotia or got), in a way compa-
rable to visits by affines while negotiating for a bride or at festivals. As a rule, guests are affinal
relatives.
 Until a few years ago, it was said, all helpers were invited and given hospitality with rice in
the evening by the house whose field was planted.
 4.3 The Hot Season 399

Cashew Harvest
Beginning in the 1950s, the Indian government has laid out cashew plantations
in the area between Machkund and Lamtaput, and two of Gudapada’s three hills
are covered in large part with cashew trees. The Gadaba report that until about
fifteen years before the time of my research, the government aimed at making a
profit itself by selling the nuts and employed the area inhabitants solely as day
laborers for the harvest.⁵⁷ As a consequence of high losses due to theft, however,
the government then switched to leasing the individual plantations to the area
inhabitants for the harvest period. Since then, all the work and the sale, as
well as the potential profits and losses, fall to the group of lessees. In the months
between April and June – that is, parallel to the work in the fields – many of the
inhabitants of Gudapada are therefore occupied with the plantations. Already at
the same time as the hunt during chait porbo, guard huts are built in the hills,
where a number of men are always on watch. The cashew apples (balia phol)
ripen at this time, and thieves and bears pose a danger to the harvest. In
2000, twenty-three houses leased Gudapada’s Mount Kisor, including Gadaba
from the lower sai and some Kirsani.⁵⁸ In order to pay the leasing fee, the
women’s gold rings and chains were brought to a money lender in Jeypore as se-
curity; the gold was redeemed later.
The cashew apples are picked or collected from the ground, brought to the
individual camps, and separated there from the nuts (moji). The nuts are stored
in sacks, brought to the village, and later sold to traders. The Dombo are not in-
volved in this trade as middlemen, as they usually are, but are active in the sale
of stolen nuts and private harvests, that is, the yield of cashew trees not on gov-
ernment land. Cashew nuts therefore also dominate the Dombo’s activities at the
weekly markets for a certain period. The Gadaba distill liquor from the cashew
apples, except for a fraction eaten by the children. In 2000, all those involved
made considerable profits. After the last sack had been sold, the men assembled
in one of the houses, and the money was sorted and shared out into correspond-
ing portions (bag) in the same way that raw meat is distributed after a sacrifice
on other occasions.
In May, thunderstorms grow increasingly frequent in the afternoons, while
the mornings are largely clear. The men in their guardposts in the plantations
are regularly plagued by severe thunderstorms at night, and by the end of
May, rainshowers are a regular occurrence, and the days grow noticeably cooler.

 A local police officer, later employed on the DFG research project, spent two months in
Gudapada in 1987 to monitor the harvest work.
 The other Kirsani leased Mount Kuku, and some Dombo leased Agam Korok, on which only
smaller plantations had been established.
400 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

In 2000, the rainy month of landi began in early June, and a few days later, the
monsoon arrived in full force.

4.4 The Rainy Season

Both in terms of agricultural activities and in terms of rituals, the rainy season
(da’ din*) is a period in which the fields not watered by the river gain in
importance.⁵⁹ Two festival periods and an additional collective ritual fall in
the time of the monsoon rains and are the focus of the descriptions that follow:
ashad porbo, bandapan porbo, and moka biru. Especially noteworthy are the sac-
rifices of cattle, which are not sacrificed in the context of village rituals in any
other season of the year.
Ashad porbo in July serves primarily to protect the livestock and the village
in general and is less important than bandapan porbo in August. The latter is on
the same level as chait porbo in the hot season and diali porbo in the cold sea-
son, since the village goddess’s shrine is opened only for these important festi-
vals. Before the sacrifice to the village goddess come two rituals at shrines out-
side the village, bag puja and jakor, in which cattle (or a head of cattle and a pig)
are ritually killed. In bandapan porbo, there is no hunting as in chait; rather,
games, competitions, and singing dominate parts of the festival. Between the
two festivals of the rainy season is a ritual, moka biru, connected to one of the
chief activities at this time of year: weeding. The ritual specialists send young
dry-field plants (moka) out in a wagon in order to decrease the growth of weeds.
Alongside the mentioned rituals and festivals, many villages in the area con-
duct additional cattle sacrifices during the rainy season, which in Gudapada –
for financial reasons, it was said – are no longer performed. I will briefly de-
scribe some of them here. Kira biru, for example, is intended to prevent caterpil-
lars or grubs (kira) from damaging the harvest. In urukuda biru, a head of cattle
is likewise sacrificed. I observed this sacrifice in the village of Soilpada in August
2000. It was performed on the same day as the jakor and bag puja rituals, and a
total of three cattle were sacrificed. Urukuda biru took place at the village sadar,
where the animal’s head was immediately prepared and eaten. In Gudapada, in-
formants said that urukuda biru is performed so that the refuse (kosra or

 While I had the opportunity to spend large parts of the hot season in Gudapada three times,
and the cold season twice, I spent only one rainy season there and was correspondingly able to
observe the rituals and festivals only once.
 4.4 The Rainy Season 401

urkuda ⁶⁰) that has collected in the natural depressions at the edge of the paths
since the last rainy season will be carried away by the water. In Soilpada, on the
other hand, it was reported that the ritual is addressed to uru but, a kind of spirit
(but) considered responsible for skin diseases (gau), among other things.⁶¹ Jakor
and bag puja were likewise associated with illness in this village. The offerings to
jakor are supposed to prevent pox and leprosy, and the cattle sacrifice for bag
puja is supposed to prevent stomach flu (jara banti). In Gudapada, these gods
are not linked with specific illnesses.
In the village of Auripada, several sacrifices were performed on one of the
hills outside the village during the rainy season. The pujari drew four sacrificial
patterns on the ground, one after another, and sacrifices were made for four dif-
ferent gods, demons, or intentions (kira biru). For the demons soni and rau, ⁶² a
head of cattle and a white chick were sacrificed. The head of cattle for soni
should ideally be black (kali gai); the animals sacrificed to the two demons
are distinguished by the black/white contrast in other contexts as well. Another
head of cattle was sacrificed for the harvest (joni biru), and finally a sheep was
sacrificed as the kira biru mentioned above, intended to keep agricultural pests
away.

Agricultural Activities in June

In the rainy season as well, the cultivation of the earth determines both the ritual
activities of the village as a whole and the activities of the individual houses.
Some weeks after the seedlings have been transplanted to the rice paddies,
the women begin to weed the paddies (ghas bachiba ⁶³), a task from which the
men are excluded. Each paddy is weeded once, and paddies sown broadcast
have to be weeded twice. Not counting this work, which requires quite some
time, attention turns increasingly to the dry fields and the gardens with the ar-
rival of the rain.

 Mahapatra and Gustafsson define urkuDa as “litter rubbish, a ghost who catches children”
(Mahapatra 1985, 191) and “a rubbish heap for sweepings” (Gustafsson 1989, 62).
 The spirit (but) receives food, among other things – like a duma – on leaves of the breadfruit
tree (ponos gocho).
 The sacrifice was referred to locally as somki biru, and the sacrificial offering of a white chick
is unambiguously associated with the rau demon. Pat kanda does also receive white chicks, but
not in this kind of context (together with soni).
 Literally, “to select grass” or “to sort grass” (cf. Mahapatra 1985).
402 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

In the second half of June (landi), finger millet (mundia, sa’mel*) and dry-
field rice (bata dan) are sown, and the gardens are prepared. The men dig up
the manure piles (kot gadi) and carry the manure to the fields where millet is
to be sown. Directly before sowing, the field in question is plowed for the last
time. Five or six teams often plow one after another, and the Gadaba of one
sai help one another reciprocally in this task. Women then spread the manure
evenly over the field, while the male helpers and the field’s owner (saukar) are
already eating rice and drinking millet gruel at the edge of the field. The accom-
paniment to rice in this period is most often breadfruit (ponos).⁶⁴ The women
then eat at the edge of the field, while the owner conducts a ritual for the millet’s
protection and growth, in which he sacrifices an egg, cuts knotted dab grass, and
sows the first grains of millet. Afterward, a total of roughly a dala (25 – 35 kg) of
millet is scattered in the field, and artificial fertilizer (saro) is also spread. Bushes
are then dragged over the field to cover the seeds with a light layer of earth. Un-
like in the case of the millet, no rituals are performed when the dry-field rice is
sown, and manure is not spread on the fields. The seed grain is scattered in the
field, fertilizer (saro) is then applied, and finally, the field is plowed.
The gardens (bogicha, aro*) are planted inside the village at the end of June.
Behind the houses are open spaces that are used in the dry season to hold feasts
and as playgrounds for the children. Once the rains begin, access to these spaces
is restricted by newly built fences that separate the individual gardens from one
another. The stone walls of the yards are also rebuilt during the rainy season in
order to keep the livestock out of the gardens. Various types of beans (jurung,
semi, tundri), bottle gourds (lau), corn (jona), tubers (nongol kanda), cucumbers
(kakri), and squash (kumda) are the main crops grown. Within a few weeks, the
previously open spaces are entirely overgrown, so that a way has to be cleared
through the vegetation. Only the houses of the village founders plant gardens;
the affinal groups in Gudapada have no land available for this purpose.

July Festival

Ashad porbo at the beginning of July (ashad) is the first festival of the rainy sea-
son and is a collective mansik ritual. In other words, the pujari promises a sac-
rifice in the village’s name to preserve the health of people and livestock. The

 Breadfruit is the dominant produce throughout the entire rainy season. The large fruits ripen
in May and are picked in such large amounts that the excess is sold. Other produce is also scarce
at the weekly markets; the last stores of squash have been used up, and the first beans (jurung)
can only be harvested about six weeks later.
 4.4 The Rainy Season 403

festival only lasts about ten days and is also less demanding – in comparison to
chait porbo – in other respects. The financial contribution (chanda) to be made
by each house is smaller, because fewer collective sacrifices take place, and a
delegation does not visit the boro dissari in the neighboring village. The auspi-
cious dates and times are determined by the Goudo dissari in Gudapada.
The festival begins when the pujari sacrifices a coconut on a path outside the
village a few days before the “festival day” (porbo din). The structure of the fes-
tival day itself recalls in simplified form the sequence in chait: the sacrifices
begin outside the village and continue inside the village at the collective level.
The sacrifices in the individual houses follow.

Bolani jatra
According to the pujari, the bolani jatra in July is a type of healing ritual: ora
biru. ⁶⁵ Like ora biru at the level of the house, this ritual is intended to guarantee
the health and protection of the village, meaning not only the people, but also
the livestock. The pujari promises a sacrifice that he will redeem as part of the
bolani jatra in January (pus porbo). The two collective mansik rituals in July
and January thus each refer to the other; a vow made by the pujari in July is re-
deemed in January and vice versa.
On the morning of the festival day, the village’s livestock is driven to the
open area between the village goddess and the assembly platform. The pujari,
the randari, and the Goudo dissari perform invocations with the sacrificial ani-
mals (coconuts, red-brown and white chicks, red-brown he-goat) at a sacrificial
site prepared separately for pat kanda and then in front of the village goddess’s
shrine. The shrine remains closed on this occasion. The boro naik and the sano
naik, as well as the barik, remain outside the surrounding wall. The village’s rit-
ual specialists, together with the Goudo dissari, go in turn with the animals to
the sacrificial sites. The pujari breaks open the coconut and sacrifices the red
chick for hundi. They then leave the village goddess’s shrine and force their
way through the crowd of cattle and buffaloes assembled in the plaza. The ran-
dari carries a goad, the Goudo carries incense, and the pujari sprinkles water on
the animals’ backs.
All six men involved take the direct route to the site of the bolani jatra, the
path leading west from Gudapada where a ram was sacrificed back in chait.
Three sacrificial patterns are drawn: for bolani, for pat kanda, and for the affines

 The word ora is possibly connected to or, “to watch over, protect” (cf. Rajan and Rajan 2001a,
39), but it is also part of the name of a kind of fever (ora somoykor).
404 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

or their gods. As always, the invocation for the Great House comes first, followed
by the invocations of the other gods. The Goudo breaks open another coconut for
bolani, at the same time that the pujari sacrifices the black chick for pat kanda.
Finally, a Sisa sacrifices the he-goat. After betisong has been offered and all the
gods venerated, the randari prepares the tsoru at the same place as in chait,
under a nearby row of mango trees. The rump meat is again distributed in por-
tions to the houses of the village, and the head meat is eaten on site as tsoru. The
participants should have fasted beforehand, but they need not be ritually mar-
ried. All men of the village have the right to participate, but on one occasion,
only Gadaba and the barik were present. Tsipani was also cooked and consumed
on site by the men who cut up the rump meat.⁶⁶
The collective sacrifices are followed by the rituals of the individual houses.
Either on the festival day or two days later on the last day (baura porbo) of the
festival, each house sacrifices for pat kanda on the path outside the village and
subsequently lights incense at doron deli. In the house itself, no animals are sac-
rificed; the type of sacrifice for pat kanda depends on the promise previously
made by the householder. There are no regular and generally obligatory animal
sacrifices. On the evening of the festival day, bulani rice is distributed within the
neighborhood.
After ashad porbo in the middle of July, the dry-field rice and the millet are
about ten centimeters high in the fields. Old men and the boys of each house, in
particular, take over the pasturing and guarding of the cattle, buffalo, and goats
during this period, since not enough Goudo are available for this task. They lead
the livestock out to the hills and keep it away from the newly planted fields. The
young plants are referred to as moka, and a ritual, moka biru, is performed for
these plants.

Ritual of the Young Plants

The ritual of the young plants (moka biru) is concerned exclusively with the dry
fields, where weeding can start only after it is performed. It is intended to pro-
mote the growth of the plants and decrease the number of weeds. The grain
and the weeds (gas) – an informant said – are born together (jonom hela),

 On the mentioned occasion, no new clay pot was available for the tsoru, and the randari
cooked in a metal pot. The possibility of such a deviation and its silent acceptance by all
participants point to the relatively low status either of this sacrificial ritual (bolani jatra) or of
ashad porbo in general. In the context of pat kanda or hundi puja, for example, cooking the tsoru
in a metal pot would be unacceptable.
 4.4 The Rainy Season 405

and the gods are requested at moka biru to take away the weeds and leave the
rice and millet behind. Others said that moka biru has to do only with the flour-
ishing of the young plants, not with the weeds.
The pujari makes the preparations for the ritual in the morning, at his house.
He makes a small wagon (sogor) out of wood and bamboo, with a circular railing
(dudi) in the wagonbed, in which the plants will be placed later. He shapes a pair
of draft oxen and the wagon driver from black earth (sikot mati, ki’misir tubo*).
When the preparations have been completed, he and the randari head out of the
village along the path that leads south to the main road. The wagon is set down
here, so that it appears to be leaving the village, the oxen are “hitched,” and the
figure of the driver is set in place. The pujari draws a small pattern with rice pow-
der in front of the team, from the driver’s perspective, and places an egg in its
center. A mango branch is stuck in the path behind the pattern. Behind the
wagon driver’s back, a larger pattern is drawn, and the small railing from the
wagon is placed here. The randari brings some millet and rice plants from the
dry fields and sets them inside the railing. After a joint invocation, the egg is bro-
ken, a red chick is sacrificed, and meat from the gullet and some rice are imme-
diately prepared in a leaf by the randari and then placed at various locations.
After the two actors have knelt before the larger sacrificial site, they jointly
place the wagon with the oxen in front on the small pattern – intended for
the affines – and the pujari places a millet or rice plant from the wagon on
the small sacrificial site. This marks the wagon’s departure; where it is going,
no one knows.
In the pujari’s house, the randari cooks rice and the meat from the chick,
which the participants – another Sisa was also present – subsequently eat.
After the meal, the pujari’s wife washes the men’s hands, and the pujari and ran-
dari wash each other’s mouths and bow deeply to one another, so that their
hands touch the floor.
After the performance of moka biru begins the seemingly endless work of
weeding the dry fields, done by men and women. For many weeks, each
house is separately busy with this task; the millet fields in particular must be
thoroughly cleansed of weeds. Besides the tasks of weeding and pasturing the
livestock, the men plow the hill fields (dongor jumi, podu jumi) and the poda
fields, where rapeseed (olsi) will be sown later, in August and September. In ad-
dition, gardens are planted, in part also outside the village, where chili (morij) or
sweet potatoes (mali kanda) are grown, for example. The garden fences inside
the village are occasionally destroyed by bears, which rip them down at night
on their way to the breadfruit trees, in which the ripe, sweet fruits are hanging.
The dogs then immediately start to bark, and the invaders are driven out of the
village.
406 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

The rainy season is also marked by illness and shortages. Many people come
down with gastro-intestinal infections (jara banti, stomach flu), and small cuts
quickly become inflamed wounds (gau). If the last harvest was poor, stores
can run short in the rainy season, especially in houses with little land. Today,
savings from wage labor in February and March and profits from the cashew
plantations can tide people over, and I did not observe any houses in which
gruel was made from mango pits, as is said to have been common in this period
in the past. Nevertheless, the lack of grain can become threatening, and the pos-
sibilities for finding wage work during the rainy season itself tend to be poor;
each house needs its labor power for its own fields. Bandapan porbo in August
celebrates, among other things, the new produce in the gardens, marking the up-
coming end of the period of shortage.

August Festival

Bandapan porbo in August is the most important festival of the rainy season. It
begins with sacrifices at shrines outside the village,⁶⁷ includes hundi puja on the
festival day, and ends with a ritual called dalgada. Despite a structure similar to
that of chait porbo, this festival is fundamentally different from that of the hot
season. First of all, sacrifices are performed not for pat kanda, but for jakor
and bag puja, and it is pigs and cattle, not goats and sheep, that are sacrificed.
The rituals focus on the dry fields, the gardens, and the forest (along with the
village and its houses). In this festival, the rice paddies are not an object of at-
tention. Correspondingly, it is the produce of the gardens and the forest that is
permitted to be consumed and brought into the village only after the rituals.
As in chait porbo, there is a prohibition on millet (from the festival day to dalga-
da), but the village is not closed off, nor are conflicts punished, making the func-
tion of the dandia likewise unnecessary. Finally, there is no hunting; instead,
competitions, games, and songs set the mood of the times in which rituals
and sharing food are not at the forefront of attention. In what follows, the sac-
rifices will not be described in detail, since the actions are the same as in
chait, but divergences and particularities will be noted in each case.

 Opinions varied on whether the sacrifices for jakor and bag puja were already part of
bandapan porbo (just as in the case of diali porbo).
 4.4 The Rainy Season 407

Pig and Cattle Sacrifices (jakor and bag puja)

Just as every village has a Great House – either pat kanda or/and boiro – most
villages have shrines with the names jakor and bag puja. As I have stressed ear-
lier, the village gods are only rarely ascribed specific functions and traits; in con-
trast, their food preferences and the time of the rituals are significant and the
same in all the villages with which I am familiar. For bag puja, a head of cattle
is sacrificed each year; for jakor, cattle sacrifices alternate on an annual basis
with the ritual killing of pigs. In Gudapada, jakor and bag puja were described
to me as mountain gods (dongoro maphru); the two shrines are located at differ-
ent sites on Mount Kisor. They provide for the growth of millet, rice, and the gar-
den plants (bundo malo) by guaranteeing rain (borsa palon korba), as well as for
the village’s general good fortune, and they are also supposed to prevent hu-
mans and livestock from being attacked by tigers (bag).
Like the sacrifice for the Great House, the sacrifices for these gods are also
performed on Sundays; in 2000, the date was a week before the bandapan porbo
festival day. As usual, the barik had acquired the sacrificial animals and collect-
ed the festival contributions – chanda poisa and potri chaul – from all the
houses. The ox sacrificed for the bag puja deity is paid for by the barik each
year from his own money, in exchange for which he receives a share of the har-
vest (sari kadi) in November (diali).

Sequence of the Rituals

The ritual activities begin in front of a stone that protrudes about half a meter
from the ground in a hollow of the hill and represents the bag puja deity.
First, the pujari and randari prepare the sacrificial site, together with the sacri-
ficer of the ox (a Sisa). The stone is surrounded by a drawing made with millet
powder, and a smaller pattern is also drawn in the direction of the Great House,
some meters away. The pujari places on the stone a small model of a rain hat
(satori), the kind otherwise used only in mortuary rituals.⁶⁸
In front of the sacrificial site for pat kanda, the three men begin the conse-
cration of a white chick, which they kill there after having also performed the in-
vocation with the animal at the other sacrificial site. An egg, a coconut, and fi-
nally the ox are then sacrificed for bag puja. First, the sacrificer cuts off a piece of
the animal’s ear and places it under the rain hat on the stone. He lets the caught

 My informants stressed that this miniature satori is not associated here with mortuary
rituals, but rather serves the purpose of communication: “the one on whom you place the hat [a
duma or maphru] listens.”
408 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

blood drip on the same place and then kills the ox with several blows to the
head. As soon as the animal is dead, the sacrificer separates the lower jaw
(tora) and places it on the stone. A dozen men then begin to butcher the animal,
while the pujari and randari go to the jakor shrine on the other side of the hill.
At this shrine, the Kirsani lead the sacrificial activities, as a matter of prin-
ciple, but they nevertheless cannot take place without the pujari. The jakor
shrine consists of an assemblage of around fifteen stones protruding from the
earth and surrounded by a low, round stone wall. After the sacrificial sites
have been prepared, the Kirsani leading the ritual first sacrifices a red chick
for the Great House; after that, a coconut, an egg, a white chick, and a young
pig are sacrificed in front of the jakor shrine with the pujari’s help.
After the first betisong, the sacrificer separates the pig’s lower jaw from its
head and places it on the sacrificial site, and the randari begins to prepare
the tsoru at the cooking hearth behind the shrine. The head and half of the
pig, cut the long way, are cooked with the chick as tsoru and eaten later exclu-
sively by married men of the Four Brothers. The same rules thus apply here as for
hundi and pat kanda. Only a few men participate in this tsoru, however, since the
butchering and preparation of the imposing ox at the bag puja shrine attract
more attention, and the events on the other side of the hill are in part simulta-
neous.
In the years in which cattle are sacrificed both for bag puja and for jakor, the
rituals take place on two consecutive Sundays, beginning with bag puja. I was
unable to observe this variant myself, but according to my informants, the
way of distributing the meat at the jakor shrine remains the same for cattle sac-
rifices as well. That is, the animal’s head is cooked in a pot as tsoru and eaten
only by the Four Brothers, the men of the other groups cook meat from the ani-
mal’s belly (pet palla) separately as lakka’*, and the remaining meat is distribut-
ed raw to all houses in equal shares. This is not necessarily the usual form for
cattle and buffalo sacrifices; often the head meat – unlike in goat and pig sac-
rifices – is distributed raw to all the groups of the village, who cook it separately
on site. I saw it done this way at the boiro puja in Gorihanjar, and this is also how
the head meat is distributed at the cattle sacrifice for bag puja, to which I now
return.
The men sit in several groups around the stone representing the bag puja
deity and cut up different parts of the animal: head meat (together with the
rest of the pig), innards, legs, and rump. Part of the ribs (panjra) and part of
the stomach (pota) are added to the lower jaw on the stone and taken to the pu-
jari’s house later. The division of a large animal as part of a collective sacrifice is
a public event with offensive comments and much conflict. It also happens over
and over that men try to set pieces aside for themselves during the butchering,
 4.4 The Rainy Season 409

with the consequence that general mistrust and watchfulness dominate the
mood.⁶⁹
The ox’s rump, entrails, and legs are distributed to all the houses in equal
shares and taken back to the village later. Those responsible for the division,
the sacrificer, the barik, the pujari, and the randari each receive an additional
portion. Near the stone, the randari cooks the tsoru, which only married agnates
are permitted to eat, in a new clay pot. The pujari receives two platters, one for
himself and one for the deity. Rice and meat are taken from the latter for the sec-
ond betisong, which the pujari, the randari, and the sacrificer perform together.
All other groups of the village likewise receive portions of the head meat,
which they can either cook on site or take back to the village.⁷⁰ At collective rit-
uals, it is generally only the randari who cooks in a clay pot and hence cooks
tsoru in the strict sense, also called “great” or boro tsoru. In this case, the re-
maining head meat is prepared at the other fireplaces in metal pots and can
be eaten by unmarried men as well, although all participants are supposed to
have fasted.
After the head meat has been eaten, the participants return to the village
with their portions of the rump meat. There is no procession into the village
like the one following the sacrifice at the Great House in chait. In the evening,
a number of men assemble in front of the pujari’s house, where he distributes
raw portions of the meat previously set aside (ribs, stomach, lower jaw) to the
village dignitaries and to affinal groups. Bulani rice is distributed between indi-
vidual houses on this day, since meat is available in abundance.⁷¹

“Festival Day”
In 2000, the festival day (porbo din) took place a week later, on the day before the
full moon. As far as the sacrifices are concerned, it differs in only a few points
from the ritual activities of this day in chait. As in that month, the festival day
begins with the sacrifice for the village goddess and within this framework

 For example, the barik had to unroll the oxhide one more time in everyone’s sight before he
was allowed to take it home, so that he could not hide anything in it.
 In 2000, the Kirsani cooked in their subgroups (kutum), spread across five different cooking
hearths; the Sisa were divided into two groups. Of the affinal groups, only the Messing cooked
their portion in the vicinity of the shrine, so that there were a total of ten cooking hearths. Four
groups took their portions back to the village: two affinal groups (Mundagoria and Ruda’i) and
the two Dombo groups.
 Since beef is no longer eaten in many houses, this distribution has become rather disordered
(enne tenne), as an informant said.
410 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

also for the Great House. However, neither the boys of the “earth people” nor the
adults gather at the village goddess’s shrine to share tsoru. Following the sacri-
fice, the randari cooks a small amount of tsoru for the earth goddess and per-
forms betisong. Subsequently, he and the pujari eat some of the same food,
but the rest will be prepared only in the evening, in the pujari’s house.
Throughout the day, it is primarily the women who are busy with prepara-
tions in the individual houses. The inner room is painted, the tsoru rice is washed
in the river, and the women fetch water from there in a new clay pot. The mango
garlands that are a striking element of the festival day in chait are absent in ban-
dapan porbo. The house’s implements are likewise not purified in the river.
In the afternoon, each man performs the sacrifice for doron deli, in which
only a red-brown rooster is ritually killed. Since there is no sacrifice for the
seeds, an additional black rooster is not needed. The goat sacrifice that a
house performs every other year in chait is also absent in bandapan. After the
sacrifice, in the inner room, the woman of the house cooks the tsoru, this time
also including the rooster’s head, which is not left to lie overnight in front of
doron deli as in chait. Before the tsoru is consumed by all members of the
house, the women provide the dead with lakka’* food (rice and meat), unhulled
rice, and beer at the cremation site. It was already possible to distribute bulani
rice on the preceding evening (nita bat), and the women give it away again on
the evening of the festival day (as “festival rice,” porbo bat). In the evening,
the barik summons representatives of all groups to the pujari’s house, where
the Four Brothers eat the tsoru from the hundi sacrifice, and the affines eat
lakka’* rice, previously prepared by the pujari’s wife.

Songs and Competitions

The afternoons and evenings of the festival period center around singing songs
(bandapan git) and organizing competitions (kel). The bandapan songs are sung
by the women and girls; the participants in the competitions are mainly men. In
2000, girls and women already gathered in the village plazas of the different sai
to sing bandapan songs on the evening before the actual festival day. The lyrics
of these songs have to do in large part with the different types of rice and millet,
the gardens, and the work in the fields.
Some of the songs are accompanied by games, in which young girls especial-
ly participate. In one of these games, two girls in the role of “wild pigs” (bon
baria) circle a group of other girls, who stand in a circle that represents a tuft
of sindi grass. Inside the circle – in the role of a sindi tuber – stands a girl
whom the circle protects. The “wild pigs” circle the “sindi grass” until they sud-
 4.4 The Rainy Season 411

denly try to break through the circle and drag the “tuber” out.⁷² Another variant
of this game is accompanied by the baya git, the “crazy song” or “trance song.”
The song has a very repetitive and simple melody. The brief lyrics are addressed
to a bear, pointing out a crying child and urging him to pluck a tuber for himself.
The song has such an effect on some women that they immediately leave the
place where it is being sung for fear of falling at once into a trance. Otherwise,
the action is similar to that of the game previously described. In this case, the
girls sit in a circle so that their backs form an unbroken wall directed outward
and their legs point inward, where the “child” (pila) sits who is the object of
the bear’s designs. A girl goes on hands and knees around the outside of the cir-
cle and continually butts her head against the backs of the other girls, who sing
the baya git and egg the “bear” on. After countless rounds, the “bear” is beside
herself, breaks into the circle of girls, and uses her elbows to hit their hands as
hard as she can as they stretch them out toward the center. A new “reversed
song” (ulta git) is supposed to make sure that the “bear” calms down again.⁷³
Men and boys do not participate in these songs and games. On the day after
the festival day, as a rule, they engage in various competitions requiring
strength, speed, and dexterity, such as the dudu kel, a kind of wrestling compe-
tition. In 2000, no men’s competitions were held in Gudapada, since according
to the inhabitants of the village, injuries in previous years had often led to con-
flicts that were then settled with the help of the police; in other words, bribes
had to be paid in order to withdraw complaints previously made. In order to
avoid this inconvenience, the men were said to have given up the games, but
in other villages, the men’s competitions and games were supposed to go on
as before.
The village boys nevertheless held games and competitions on the lower
sai’s assembly plaza on the evening of the festival day. In a form of the game
of tag – generally also played by adult men – a line is first drawn on the ground,
separating two groups from one another. Four or five boys are on each side, and
one at a time makes an expedition to the other side to target the other side’s

 Sindi buta (sindi grass), the tubers (kanda) of which are highly prized as food, is only to be
found outside the village, that is, “in the forest.” Before the harvest, the stalks are used to make
cords with which the sheaves of grain are tied. Sindi grass also plays a role in the wedding
rituals.
 When I had the opportunity to observe the game, some older women saw to it that the
Goudo girl who had played the bear, and who was thoroughly beside herself, slowly calmed
back down. Later, the thoughtlessness of the girls was criticized, as they apparently knew only
parts of the baya git and were unfamiliar with the calming part of the song. The trance state was
judged potentially dangerous by the older women.
412 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

players. During his foray into the opponents’ half, the invader must repeat “ka-
badi” – the name of the game – over and over in a clearly audible tone and with-
out a pause, thereby demonstrating that he is not taking a breath. In the brief
time he has available, he has to tag one of the opponents without letting himself
be caught. As soon as he has tagged someone, he has to try to escape to his own
side, while the others try to catch him. If he succeeds in making it back, the
tagged person is “dead” and leaves the game. No girls participated in this
game, which is played only at this time. They did have the opportunity to test
their strength against the boys in a tug-of-war the same evening, however.

Ritual for the Dry Fields

Bandapan porbo ends about a week after the festival day with dalgada biru, con-
sidered sutok sorani for the dry fields and thus associated with the life-cycle rit-
ual that ends the ritual impurity (sutok) caused by birth.⁷⁴ It is also considered a
first-fruits ceremony (nua kai or saida) for the first garden produce, as well as for
various forest fruits and roots. Dalgada refers to edible leaves (dal ⁷⁵), in this case
from the forest, that are planted (gada, gadbar) in the earth and describes a part
of the ritual, performed by the pujari.
On the morning of the day, the pujari goes to the forest to collect various
leaves, grasses, and roots and bring them back to the village.⁷⁶ In the yard in
front of his house, he lays down the leaves, prepares a sacrificial site, and sac-
rifices a pig or a black rooster (alternating each year). After the betisong, the ran-
dari begins to prepare the tsoru on site, adding some of the leaves brought back
by the pujari. The latter takes the blood-sprinkled leaves, exits the village, and
goes to the dry fields. There, he digs a small hole between the millet plants,
into which he places ebony (kendu dang) and a wild cashew (bon balia) and
in which he stands up all the grasses and leaves. He fills the rest of the hole
with earth, so that the plants stick out, and returns to the village. Tsoru is
eaten there in the pujari’s yard, with the participation of only some “earth peo-
ple” along with the ritual actors in the years in which a rooster is sacrificed. If a
pig is sacrificed, the barik collects potri chaul in advance, the Four Brothers eat

 This ritual fell on the day of my departure at the end of August 2000, and although I was able
to observe parts of it (the sacrifice in front of the pujari’s house), I had to reconstruct the majority
later in conversation.
 Dal thus does not refer to lentils, as it does in the plains, where these leaves are called sag,
which in Desia refers to any accompaniment to rice (ma* in Gutob).
 Including balia dal, mandru dal, chatreng, deobarni, kendu dang, kotua phul, and targai
kanda.
 4.4 The Rainy Season 413

the head as tsoru, and the men of the other groups eat the rump meat as lakka’*.
In that case, the same rules apply as at the earth goddess’s shrine.
While there were the usual divergences of detail in their descriptions of the
rituals, all informants said that dalgada was the sutok sorani for the grain of the
dry fields, that is, for the dry-field rice and the millet, and explicitly not for the
rice paddies. When I asked to what extent the fields needed a ritual of this kind,
one answer was that the plants were like small children, since they did not yet
bear ears of grain (ker, gile*). Since a state of ritual impurity (sutok) existed until
dalgada, it was said, none of the produce of the gardens and the forest could be
eaten before the ritual; otherwise, no ears of grain would develop, due to the
transgression. Only after the ritual was it permitted to collect and eat the leaves,
fruits, and roots. The impurity would only end completely, however, according to
my informants, when all the houses had carried out this ritual individually.
It is striking here that the ritual impurity of the dry fields has its effect as a
prohibition on eating the produce of the gardens and the forest. Food prohibi-
tions also exist during periods of ritual pollution in the context of the life-
cycle rituals. During the period between a death and the second phase of the
mortuary rituals, for example, the members of the house are not permitted to
eat meat. Analogously, the prohibition on the consumption of forest and garden
produce applies before the sutok sorani of the dry-field plants. This implies that
these plants are classified as the village’s “own,” since the entire village is affect-
ed by the ban.
However, the meaning of this analogy between the life cycle and the annual
cycle is not exhausted by the ritual’s “message”: Millet and dry-field rice are like
children. Further consideration of the significance of this pattern of relationship
must wait until after another analogy between the life cycle and the annual cycle
has been described, that between bringing home the bride and harvesting the
paddy rice. The subsequent millet ritual is also important for the interpretation
I will advance later, and I will discuss its implications in the conclusion of this
chapter.

“Millet Ritual”
As already mentioned, the individual houses repeat the pujari’s dalgada ritual in
their own millet fields, and the individual “millet rituals” (mandia biru) are more
elaborate than their collective model. The millet rituals take place within a week
after dalgada, in immediate relation to bandapan porbo, even if no longer part of
it, according to my informants. Only after the millet rituals have been performed
is the ritual pollution said to be entirely removed.
414 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

Like the pujari, the householder collects the various leaves and grasses in
the forest in advance and then goes to one of his millet fields, bringing the nec-
essary implements with him from home. No ritual activities of any kind take
place at the house. A small hole is dug, into which is placed a staff of ebony
(kendu dang), chatreng grass, and a banner (siral), intended to ward off harmful
magic (nosto) and the evil eye (disti). The banner remains in the field until har-
vest, almost three months later, when it is tied to the millet storage platform. The
householder sets up forked sticks in the ground to the left and right of the sac-
rificial site and lays another stick on top as a crossbeam.⁷⁷ A stone wrapped in a
piece of cloth is tied to this crossbeam. The millet stalks should become as heavy
with grain as a stone, it is said. The grasses and leaves that the householder
brought with him are placed in the hole, as in the pujari’s ritual, and the house-
holder begins an invocation in which he promises sacrifices after the millet is
threshed. While speaking, he holds two crabs in his hands. He then ties one
crab to a millet plant and lets the other one go.
One of the steamed millet cakes (mandru) prepared for this purpose is
placed in the hole, and some crumbs are placed on the sacrificial pattern as beti-
song. The sacrificer then walks across the field with other mandru, alternately
scattering mandru crumbs and eating the cake. As he does so, he calls out,
“Evil spirits (duma daini), mother-father (mata pita), share [the offering among
yourselves] and eat. Eat from the leaf or eat from the hand.”⁷⁸ He then returns
home.
By the time of this ritual, the work of weeding is largely finished, or at least
ought to be finished according to some informants. Following bandapan porbo in
August/September, finally, the quick-growing rapeseed (olsi) is sown on the re-
maining fields, which are harvested last. A few fields are left fallow until the fol-
lowing year. The rice paddies are visited only for fishing⁷⁹ and catching crabs.
Pasturing the livestock and collecting wood are among the chief activities in
this period; in the gardens, the only thing left to do is to harvest the produce.
By the end of September, the garden plants are taller than a man, and various
climbing plants, including squashes, cover a large portion of the roofs. In
terms of seasonal rituals as well, this is a quiet month. No collective rituals
take place, although the Ganesh festival is celebrated at the school, in accord-
ance with the official holiday calendar.

 This construction recalls the millet storage platform, which is built shortly before the har-
vest.
 Duma daini, mata pita sobu bata kori ka, potre ka ki hate ka.
 Fish are caught with traps (dondor) and nets (jal). When the rice plants have grown tall in the
riverbeds in October, the men hunt fish in the rice paddies with bows and arrows.
 4.5 The Cold Season 415

4.5 The Cold Season

Almost the entire period of the cold season (ruo din*), which lasts roughly from
October (dosra) to February (mag), is characterized by continuous harvest labors
and the rituals and festivals associated with them. Three village festivals are
celebrated during this period, dosra porbo, diali porbo, and pus porbo, and as
in the rainy season, one festival is clearly more important, in this case diali
porbo. The harvest lasts into January (pus), and the months of field work are fol-
lowed by months of ritual work. The mortuary rituals (bur) in January overlap
with the last of the field labors and are succeeded by the weddings and gotr rit-
uals in February (mag), which are followed in turn by bato biba in March (phag-
un), when the hot season has already begun. The following table of the period
from October 1999 to January 2000 is intended to provide an initial overview
of the various activities, festivals, and rituals.

Table 12: Agriculture, Rituals, and Festivals during the Cold Season (1999/2000)

Time Period / Desia Months Agricultural and Other Rituals and Festivals
Activities

early October  siardi expedition

(ossa, September  – October ,
full moon September )
from October  to ca. October 
October 
(dosra, October  – November ,
full moon October )
October 
October 
October 
November  to ca. November 
November  to ca. November 
(diali, November  – December ,
full moon November )
November 
November  to ca. December 
sindi expedition
dry-field rice harvest preparation of the threshing
floor
dosra porbo
diali porbo
sacrifice for pat kanda
delegation to the boro dissari
pujari/randari:
– measurement of the rice
– bringing home the first ear
of grain
reaping, binding, and
stacking the millet
bringing home the first ear of
grain (each house)
sacrifice for hundi
paddy rice harvest: each house:
– burial of the plowshare
416 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

Time Period / Desia Months Agricultural and Other Rituals and Festivals
Activities

– reaping the rice – preparation of the thresh-

– bringing the rice to the ing floor
threshing floor
– threshing the rice
– sacrifice at the threshing
floor
– tsoru at the threshing floor
– bringing the harvest – bringing the “bride” home
into the village
– pholoi to Kamar,
Dombo, Goudo
starting December  – buti rice for the
helpers
– sari kadi to barik,
pholoi to Kumar
– cutting roof thatch
from December  to ca. January , threshing the millet – preparation of the thresh-
 ing floor
(pond, December  – January , full – sacrifice for the millet (after
moon December ) threshing)
(pus, January  – February , full
moon January )
from December  to early January – reaping and threshing preparation of the threshing
the rapeseed floor
– repairing the rice
paddies
middle of January end of the harvest
season
in January mortuary rituals (bur)
January  pus porbo
from January  to ca. March  wage labor
(mag, February  – March , full
moon February )

Preparations for Harvest

While September is marked by heavy and persistent rain, storms decrease in Oc-
tober. However, frequent and heavy rains may still occur until late in October,
complicating or delaying the start of the harvest. Before the harvest of the differ-
ent types of grain and the associated festivals can begin, two necessary items
 4.5 The Cold Season 417

must be obtained from the surrounding hills: siardi leaves (siardi potro, lando
ola*) for making plates or platters and sindi stalks for binding the sheaves.
Both raw materials are not to be found in sufficient quantities near the village,
so that group expeditions to known locations for them are undertaken. Since
binding the sheaves is exclusively the men’s task, women are also not involved
in acquiring sindi stalks. After the stalks have been dried in the sun, they serve as
a very strong cord for binding the rice and millet. The siardi leaves are acquired
by men and women, who then spend days sitting on the verandas and village
plazas making the deep plates (dona). Over a hundred of these platters at a
time are nested inside each other and tied into wheels (dona beti), which then
dry on the roofs. This supply of platters has to last for an entire year’s festivals.
As soon as the rains end in October, the dry-field rice harvest begins. The
women do the reaping, and the men bind the sheaves into large balls (bara)
and carry them to the threshing floor (kotar, tinil*). Threshing floors are often
shared by houses that have fields bordering on them, and the work is done in
turns. The dry-field rice harvest thus extends over a number of weeks in the vil-
lage. Not much ritual effort is expended on the dry-field rice. The householder
merely buries some fruit (pita bodi and bon balia ⁸⁰), medicines, or an egg in
the middle of the threshing floor and outside of it in each of the compass direc-
tions. He sacrifices a crab, and on the path through the fields, he cuts in half a
bottle gourd and a figure (putla) made from dab grass.⁸¹ This prophylactic don
puja – performed each time that work is to begin at a threshing floor – is intend-
ed to protect the harvest from the evil eye and harmful magic. After the work has
been completed, the fruit is dug up again. The rice is threshed with the help of
oxen, cows, and buffaloes, which are driven over the grain. Once the rice has
been winnowed, it is brought into the village and stored in large baskets
(kolki) in the loft; the straw (pial, saga*) is recovered later and stored in an
open loft (kupa, turang*) near the house.

 The juice of this forest fruit heals wounds, such as cuts on the feet, but it can cause serious
skin inflammations in those who are not accustomed to it. This fruit is also used to ward off
harmful magic and demonic attacks and is therefore also used in the dalgada biru, described
above.
 The figure is not anthropomorphic, but rather consists of two knotted stalks of grass. Ma-
lamoud (1996, 45) mentions a possibly similar figure made from “darbha grass” in the context of
Vedic sacrifice, where it symbolizes the sacrificer, thus implying self-sacrifice. Such figures are
also used by the Bondo, and a drawing of an instrument of this kind is found in Elwin (1950,
184). My informants were very vague about its meaning; some said that it represents the person
who wants to harm their harvest.
418 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

October Festival

The October festival (dosra porbo), which in Gudapada is celebrated for only one
day, the tenth day after the new moon, falls in the time of the dry-field rice har-
vest. I have discussed the significance of the Dasara festival in the context of
kingship in the first part of the book, so I limit myself here to the Gadaba rituals
during dosra porbo. The sacrificial rituals of the kings in Nandapur and Jeypore
and the associated raja beti may have had significance for the Gadaba in the
past, but in the context of the village rituals and festivals, dosra porbo is relative-
ly unimportant, and sacrifices are presented to neither hundi, pat kanda, nor
doron deli. ⁸²
The festival is characterized by sacrifices of catfish (mangur mach) and cu-
cumbers (kakri) on the paths outside the village. The pujari is the first to perform
the sacrifice in the morning, and all the houses of the village follow him in the
course of the day. The sacrificial sites are thus lined up one after another along
the narrow paths that lead out of the village in all directions, and the picture is
the same in all the villages in the area. The Dombo and Goudo also sacrifice
chickens on the paths, alongside fish and cucumbers, but the only Gadaba
who kill chickens are those who have previously made a vow in this regard.
Only after the rituals are performed do the men begin to eat the cucumbers
from their gardens; women and children need not wait for the sacrifices.
Although no figurines (murti) of the goddess are produced in the Desia vil-
lages, the connection to Durga is evident. The Desia primarily associate this god-
dess with iron and weapons that ward off evil influences. The “iron gods” (luar
maphru) found in some houses are Durga, it was most often explained to me. The
blacksmith in Gudapada sacrifices a rooster for Durga in his smithy at dosra
porbo, besides a fish and a cucumber. In the week before the festival, all the dis-
sari in the area collect the roots and herbs that they will need as medicine for the
year. On the festival day itself, in the course of the sacrifice on the path previous-
ly described, they consecrate this medicine and their iron weapons (jupan) with
the fish blood. The blood gives the medicine and the weapons life (jibon).
In 1999, dosra porbo was followed only a few days later by the start of the
cold season’s most important festival, diali porbo.

 In the few administrative centers in the area, largely occupied by immigrant settlers from the
plains, the Durga puja is celebrated on a large scale, and the nighttime theatrical performances
(nat) attract many indigenous visitors.
 4.5 The Cold Season 419

November Festival

In diali porbo, the Four Brothers come together as a commensal community for
the festival’s most important sacrifice, the “cooling off of the village goddess”
(hundi sitla), and the pujari and randari begin the paddy rice harvest by bringing
home the first ear of grain. As in chait porbo, the festival begins with a sacrifice
for the Great House, but in comparison to the other major feasts of the annual
cycle, diali porbo ends apparently abruptly with the mentioned veneration of
the earth goddess, which is otherwise “embedded” in the middle of the festival
period. Hundi puja is likewise not followed by the usual sacrifices for doron deli,
which are entirely absent (except for incense), and tsoru is correspondingly not
prepared in the houses. Opinions therefore vary as to whether the day of the
hundi sacrifice can in fact be described as a “festival day” at all.⁸³ As I will
show later, however, the individual sacrificial rituals at the threshing floors in
the context of the paddy rice harvest can be considered homologous to the
usual sacrifices in the houses, and the day of the paddy rice harvest also man-
ifests many characteristics of the usual festival days.
In November, the weather finally changes; the rains stop, the days are clear,
and the nights are cold (low temperatures around 5 °C). Fires burn in front of the
houses and in the plazas already in the early morning hours and then again after
sunset, so that the smoke cloaks the entire village. The finger millet (mandia) has
turned brown, and the rapeseed flowers cover the fields in yellow. The paths be-
tween the fields and within them can no longer be made out from a distance, the
gardens are overgrown, and the ripe squashes lie heavy on the rooftops. The
heads of the rice stalks swell and droop with grain in the riverbeds, and the
men hunt fish with bows and arrows among the tall plants at midday, when
the fish are sluggish. Every morning, the Goudo drive the livestock out of the vil-
lage to the green hills, as the Gadaba are too busy with the harvest to do this task
themselves. Along with their harvest labors, the men will regularly plow the har-
vested fields in the coming weeks.

 Opinions already begin to diverge with the question of whether the sacrifice for pat kanda,
which often takes place before the end of the month of dosra (October), belongs to diali porbo.
Some informants were of the view that the festival began with this ritual, others saw no con-
nection between them, and still others indicated that diali porbo was not in fact celebrated in the
Gudapada area, but rather on the plain (podarasi) east of the Goradi River. There, collective
sacrifices for the dead in November are called diali porbo.
420 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

Sacrifice at the Great House

For many people in Gudapada, the pat kanda sacrifice some days after dosra
porbo is the first ritual of the new year. According to informants’ statements,
this sacrifice is less important than the one in chait, as various empirical indica-
tors also suggest. The sacrifice is not a he-goat, but rather – along with coconuts
and an egg – a white rooster, few people participate, and the triumphal entry
into the village is absent. Since only a rooster is sacrificed, the possibilities for
distribution are limited. The distinction between the agnates’ tsoru and the af-
fines’ meal is indeed maintained, but no rump meat is distributed.
First, the roof of the shrine is replaced. It is significant here that before the
tiles are set in place, the Gadaba thatch the roof with a layer of piri grass, which
they commonly use to thatch their houses. Only when the Great House has been
thatched in this way is it permitted to cut the piri that grows between the dry
fields and use it in the village. The pujari hangs dried sindi stalks over the
Great House’s low entrance, drawing a connection to the harvest, in which
these stalks are used to bind the sheaves.
The sacrifice itself proceeds according to the same pattern as already descri-
bed for chait porbo. The randari cooks the tsoru for the Four Brothers next to the
shrine; the affinal group cooks lakka’* (or sano tsoru) separately somewhat fur-
ther away. Unlike in chait, when it is made explicit that only Gadaba (with the
exception of the barik) eat in the area around the shrine, I observed on this oc-
casion that a Goudo was present and did the cooking for the affinal group. Along
with him, the Gangre’s affines and the barik ate there, as in chait.
On the day after the sacrifice at the Great House, a small delegation from the
village – boro naik, sano naik, and barik – goes to the boro dissari’s house to
have him determine the auspicious dates and times for the festival’s most impor-
tant collective events: the ritual rice measuring (mandara), the ritual fetching
home of the first heads of paddy rice (ker anbar, gile re ring*), and the sacrifice
for the village goddess (hundi sitlani).

Ritual Rice Measuring

The mandara ritual includes the ritual measuring out of rice and millet with the
help of dry measures and a divinatory investigation (porikia) into the situation of
the village and the fields in general for the coming year. As part of the same rit-
ual the year before, some grains of rice (dan) and millet (suen and mandia) were
placed in a small clay pot (kondi) and shut up in a niche in the pujari’s veranda
after the ritual. The vessel is now brought out, and the state of the grain is exam-
 4.5 The Cold Season 421

ined. If the grains are softened or broken, it is considered a bad sign.⁸⁴ In addi-
tion, the pujari mimetically initiates the work on the threshing floors and that of
pounding rice, as well as the activity of measuring the grain. We again see here
that the pujari stands for the entire village as pars pro toto, just as his house rep-
resents all the houses of the village. Moreover, the pujari’s yard apparently be-
comes a threshing floor in this ritual.
When the rooster has crowed for the second time – those were the boro dis-
sari’s instructions – the ritual is to begin in front of the pujari’s house.⁸⁵ At this
early hour, only the village dignitaries are present; observers gather only in the
course of the morning. In the yard, the pujari places a dry measure (man) in a
winnowing fan filled with unhulled rice, which may be either from the last har-
vest or the new one. He first takes a single grain of rice, lets it fall into the vessel,
and salutes it with his hands clasped before his forehead. He then fills the dry
measure to the top, pours its contents out on the ground of the yard, in front
of the winnowing fan, and places the measure upside down on top of the
mound of rice. Another name of the ritual is correspondingly “setting down
the man” (man bosaibata). The procedure is repeated with a second man, after
which the pujari fills a smaller dry measure made from bamboo (ara) with
proso millet (suen) and pours it out in the same way. The three mounds created
in this way are surrounded by a sacrificial drawing (bana), and the small clay pot
with the grain from last year is placed on the mound of millet. The pujari sacri-
fices a black chick and sprinkles the blood on the rice, the millet, and the meas-
uring vessels, and the randari immediately begins to prepare the tsoru in the
yard. The barik has previously collected potri chaul, as usual.
Before the pujari and randari begin the betisong, the old grain from the small
clay pot is poured onto the other heaps. Offerings of tsoru are then placed in
front of the rice and on the dry measures, as well as in the pujari’s house. Liba-
tions with liquor follow. The pujari subsequently bows before the dry measures,
sets them aside, returns the rice to the winnowing fan, and places new grains of
millet and rice in the small clay pot. The pot is brought into the house’s inner
room, together with the winnowing fan, and is later shut up in the veranda
again.

 According to one informant, an additional inquiry is made, one that possibly escaped my
observation or was omitted in the ritual actions I saw. According to this informant, rice and
millet are supposed to be measured out before and after the sacrifice, and differences in the
results are considered a bad omen.
 In another village, the mandara was performed next to the hundi shrine, in the boro dissari’s
presence.
422 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

The measuring of the rice and millet, the formation of the heaps of grain,
and the sacrifice for the harvest in the pujari’s yard imitate and anticipate the
actions on the threshing floor, which I will describe in detail shortly. After the
sacrifice, the pujari brings the grain into his house, more precisely to the
house deity in the inner room, as also happens after the harvest, when the
yield is brought into the house. In addition, the pujari makes for the mandara
a small broom (barni) of the kind used only on the threshing floor and a rice
pounder (musol) of the kind used by the women. To conclude the mandara ritual,
the pujari digs a small hole with an iron rod in the ground of his yard, like a pit
for milling (kutni), and imitates the pounding of rice. All threshing and milling
activities are already permitted before this ritual, and the dry-field rice has in
any case already been harvested; the only restriction is that no goboro sara
(the layer of dung and water) should be spread on the threshing floors before
this. For the paddy rice and millet harvests, which take place in the coming
weeks, this is indispensable.

Fetching Home the First Ear of Paddy Rice

Immediately following the mandara ritual – it has become light in the meantime
– the pujari and randari go to the rice paddies to cut and “bring home the first
ears of grain” (ker anbar, gile re ring*). This ritual, which will be repeated by the
entire village (gulai ga) later, is also called kerong sitla, “cooling off the rice.” The
river with the rice paddies is only about fifty meters away. At the edge of the rice
paddies, the pujari makes a round platform out of mud and draws a pattern on it
in red and black. He makes two sitting anthropomorphic figurines (putla) from
earth and places them on the platform. These are the river gods or water gods,
jal kamni and patal kamni. These figurines are made for many sacrifices for
the river gods, and the head of each figurine is typically adorned with a yellow
“sheep flower” (menda phul). This flower can be found in every garden at this
time of year and is present at all harvest rituals. The pujari breaks an egg for
the gods and lets some drops fall onto the platform and the fields. He then
cuts two ears of grain and returns home with the randari. One ear is fastened
over the entrance to the house, on the inside of the roof, and the other is fas-
tened to doron deli. The pujari and randari again offer betisong and tipali in
the house and then begin to eat the tsoru cooked previously, in which all married
“earth people” may in principle participate. Since only a chick was sacrificed,
however, participation is scant.
 4.5 The Cold Season 423

Reaping and Stacking the Millet

In the winter of 1999, the rains lasted, with breaks, until the end of October, and
the Gadaba were concerned about the delay in the millet harvest. The men began
in the meantime to construct the storage platforms (kupa, turang*) for the millet
at the threshing floors. When the sun came out at the beginning of November,
the work in the fields began everywhere at the same time.
The millet harvest is a collective task, organized primarily within the sai. In
the upper sai, the Dombo, Munduli, Kirsani, and Messing work together; in the
lower sai, the Sisa, Ruda’i, and Challan, the smith, and the Goudo. The harvest
initially consists in two stages of work, reaping (katbar) and stacking (kuraibar,
bo’bong*).
On the first day, twenty to forty women from the sai reap the millet of one
house, the men of which also help with the reaping.⁸⁶ In this way, a sai reaps
the millet fields of four or five houses a day, one after another.⁸⁷ Each house pro-
vides the helpers with rice (bat), curry (sag), and millet gruel (pej), either imme-
diately after the work in the field or at the house in the evening. The food is
brought to those who do not come to the house in the evening.
The reaped sheaves of millet dry in the fields for about four days, after which
the men of the sai tie them into large balls with sindi grass and carry them to the
threshing floor in the second stage of work. Boys and girls walk through the
fields and gather fallen ears of grain. With long bamboo poles (suldang), the
men spear the individual balls of millet and toss them up onto the storage plat-
form, where two other men catch them, untie them, and stack them with the ears
of grain on the inside. The result is an entirely closed, conical shape that even a
rain shower cannot affect, since the ears are protected. To ward off harmful
magic, the white banner that has protected the millet fields since the mandia
biru in August is fastened to the top of the cone. The men are compensated
not only with rice, but also with a beer feast. Either at the threshing floor or
in the house in the evening, beer is first drunk and chakana eaten, in this context

 As in the transplantation of paddy rice, the men only help their own houses or those of the
kutum.
 Along with finger millet (mandia), proso millet (suen) has previously been sown in many
fields. This type of millet, which is eaten as “rice” (suen bat), but which is not highly regarded,
has long stalks, and when the mandia is reaped, the scattered suen plants are initially left
standing and only reaped later.
424 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

most often bamboo shoots. Cooked rice – the type of curry varies here – is
brought to all the houses of the sai in the evening, not just those of the helpers.⁸⁸
There is consequently much coming and going in the village in the evening,
as on a festival day; the men go from one beer feast to another, and after the sec-
ond or third round of drinks, begin to sing the festival songs (oili git). The women
of the hosting houses distribute the rice platters within the sai and are not at all
excluded from the beer consumption.
The reaping and stacking of the millet happens simultaneously with the
paddy rice rituals of the individual houses – the fetching home of the first
ears of grain – and the collective sacrifice for the earth goddess, hundi sitla or
hundi sitlani, meaning the “cooling of the village goddess.” The goddess was
not previously “hot,” however, in the Gadaba’s eyes; the “cooling” refers to
the appeasement of hundi. Only after she has received the sacrificial offerings
can the Gadaba harvest the produce of the rice paddies. The ways in which
the different pholoi recipients are involved in the sacrifices for the village god-
dess was described earlier.

Sacrifice for the Village Goddess

Already on the eve of hundi sitlani (or hundi sitla), the barik calls the inhabitants
of the village to the goddess’s shrine. The pujari and randari clean the area
around the shrine and, as usual, prepare a separate sacrificial site for pat
kanda. They begin the invocation here with a black rooster, then turn to the vil-
lage goddess; the same sequence is maintained afterward for the invocation with
a young pig. Only the door in the wall surrounding the shrine is open while this
takes place; the shrine itself remains closed until the next morning. Multiple
small wooden pegs (kuti), to which the sacrificial animals of recent years were
tied, stand in the earth immediately next to the shrine. The pujari and randari
venerate the pegs with a brief bow and then hammer another one into the
ground, to which they tie the pig – which they also greet with the usual gesture
– and the rooster. Finally, the animals are covered with a basket. If anything hap-
pens to the animals overnight, or if they free themselves from the basket, this
would be considered a bad omen for the village.
The sacrifices begin before sunrise the next morning. Despite the biting cold,
the pujari is wearing only a loincloth, as is usually the case during his official

 A house does not always give rice to all the houses of the sai. Nevertheless, at least selected
houses – for example, those of the somdi – receive rice, along with those of the helpers. Giving is
based on reciprocity.
 4.5 The Cold Season 425

activities; the barik and the two naik outside the surrounding wall, in contrast,
wrap themselves in blankets. After the shrine has been opened and the bana
drawn, the pujari first sacrifices a white chick at the external sacrificial site for
pat kanda, then an egg, the black rooster, and the pig in front of the village god-
dess’s shrine. The procedure with blood and rice is the same as in the sacrifices
in chait and bandapan. ⁸⁹
An important difference from the veneration of the village goddess in the
other months consists in the fact that only in diali is the inside of the shrine re-
paired with earth, after the rains of the past months have washed some of it
away. The pujari first covers the two inner stones with clay, while the randari be-
gins the cooking next to the shrine. After the betisong and tipali, the layer of clay
is removed from the stones again, and the ground inside the shrine is built up
with earth until a level surface results and the stones protrude about ten centi-
meters. The two ritual actors subsequently close the shrine’s stone doors, eat
some of the tsoru rice for the goddess together, and drink liquor.
The distribution of the meat and the rules of commensality at hundi puja fol-
low the same pattern as at the pat kanda ⁹⁰ and jakor sacrifices. Immediately next
to the shrine, the randari cooks the potri chaul and the head meat – together with
the pig’s liver and blood and part of the rooster – in a new clay pot as tsoru. This
time, it is not the sons of the Four Brothers who sit inside the outer wall as soon
as the tsoru is ready, but the adult men.⁹¹ As in the sacrifice for the Great House,
only married men may eat here. Rump meat is distributed to various groups,
which prepare it separately as lakka’*. The unmarried agnates cook and eat
next to the sadar, the Dombo behind hundi, separated from the goddess and
the Four Brothers by a low stone wall. The Gangre’s affines likewise cook and
eat at a separate location, and the barik receives his food from their pot, as at

 As already described in the case of other sacrifices, parts of the sacrificial animal are left on
the sacrificial pattern after the ritual killing. In this case – before the shrine was repaired with
earth – an eye was pressed out of each of the roosters, and a piece of the pig’s ear, lips, and tail
were cut off, and the parts were placed in the inner part of the shrine (and at the sacrificial site
for pat kanda).
 A difference from the pat kanda sacrifice consists in the fact that in the context described
here, there is no intermediate meat category (the neck) that is prepared by the Gangre’s affines
as “small” (sano) tsoru.
 Some hantal youths may also be included, however. For the children in general, hundi sitla is
a special day. The herders do not work on this day, and the village children take over their job. In
return, they receive from the herders rice and squash for a feast (boji). The children do the
cooking themselves, outside the village. In addition, the children enjoy a kind of “carnival
freedom” on this day. They can steal chickens or wash on the line, and the owners must “buy”
them back.
426 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

the Great House. The Goudo receive hulled rice and some meat from the rooster,
and the Kamar receives rice and pork (from the rump). Both take their share and
cook it in their hamlet. Except for these portions, all of the rice and meat must be
consumed on site. Individuals are not permitted to take anything back to their
houses, and there is no additional meal in the pujari’s house in the evening,
as on the bandapan porbo festival day. As at pat kanda puja, there can be no left-
overs, and women are excluded from the commensal community. After the meal,
the randari removes some of the shrine’s outer stones on the side where the
cooking hearth is located. He takes the pot from the last festival (bandapan
porbo) out of the hollow thereby revealed, puts the new one in, and replaces
the stones. This pot will reappear only at chait porbo. An unspecified person
from the group of the Four Brothers takes the old pot. Unlike in chait and ban-
dapan porbo, a sacrifice for the house deity does not follow hundi puja in diali in
Gudapada; incense is merely lit in each house. Tsoru is not cooked again until it
is prepared at the threshing floors in the context of the paddy rice harvest.
In order to ensure a complete picture of diali porbo as it is celebrated in the
region, I will now briefly describe two rituals that are not celebrated – or in one
case, no longer celebrated – in Gudapada, but are important in neighboring vil-
lages: first, the buffalo sacrifice for boiro or boirobi, and second, a communal
sacrifice of cattle or buffaloes for a village’s duma.

Sacrifice for boirobi

Buffalo sacrifices for boirobi are performed every two years in diali. ⁹² Boirobi puja
takes place at the time of the full moon, about two weeks after hundi sitlani,
which is performed at the beginning of the month and is therefore oriented to
the new moon. As in the case of sacrifices for the other gods, each village per-
forms boiro puja only on certain days, the village of Raipada on Sundays, for ex-
ample, and Gorihanjar on Tuesdays. I observed the buffalo sacrifice in both of
these villages, but I describe here the ritual in Gorihanjar, from which the one
in Raipada did not fundamentally differ.
Each year in diali, the village of Gorihanjar sacrifices for various gods of the
village, including a he-goat for pat kanda, which is considered the Great House.
Every two years, the sacrifice of a male buffalo for boirobi also takes place, in

 The villages that perform the boiro puja include several that have agnatic ties to Gudapada
and are counted among the Twelve Brothers, such as, for example, Alangpada, Guneipada
(Bayaput), Deulpada, and Auripada. Others have affinal ties to Gudapada, including Gorihanjar
and Raipada. The boiro puja takes place in chait in the village of Auripada only, in diali in all the
others.
 4.5 The Cold Season 427

which case it marks the high point of the day and is correspondingly the last sac-
rifice performed. I will limit myself to describing this ritual, since the other sac-
rifices match the corresponding ones in Gudapada already described.⁹³ The sac-
rifice for boirobi is led not by the “village” pujari (ga pujari) or “great” pujari (pat
pujari), who performs the sacrifices for pat kanda, but by another boiro pujari,
who likewise belongs to the Sisa. As in other sacrifices at important shrines,
like the Rona’s buffalo sacrifice in Badigor previously mentioned, countless co-
conuts and chickens are first ritually killed for individual houses, with the ani-
mal for the village as a whole (matam) coming last.
Boirobi shrines, which are located outside the village boundaries, as a matter
of principle, most often have inner areas consisting of upright stone slabs (sil)
surrounded by the roots of massive trees, which overshadow the entire area
and encircle the stone slabs. This inner area is protected by a stone wall, possibly
surrounded by a larger stone circle that also marks the area where women and
Dombo are permitted. In Gorihanjar, however, there is only one stone circle.
Before the buffalo sacrifice, a pig was ritually killed outside the shrine by the
village’s Boronaik group. This – likewise collective – sacrifice was addressed to
duma daini, that is, to malicious powers in general.⁹⁴ Within the shrine, a (fe-
male) gurumai from the area (not from Gorihanjar) knelt and danced, shook
her unbound hair, and communicated as a “deity” with the boiro pujari. ⁹⁵
With an ax that he referred to as Durga, the sacrificer killed the buffalo, the
head of which had first been fixed in a forked stick, outside the stone wall. As
soon as he had cut off the animal’s head, with several blows, women pressed
through the crowd of observers to give themselves tika with the fresh blood.

 Tsoru is prepared from the he-goat’s head on the hill of the pat kanda shrine. The mode of
distribution and commensality corresponds to the rules followed in Gudapada. The head is
eaten as tsoru by the married men from the group of the Four Brothers. In Gorihanjar, this group
includes both the three kuda – Sisa, Boronaik, Munduli – of the Monkey clan (golori) and the
Kirsani (likewise of the golori clan) who live in the neighboring village of Raipada, which forms a
ritual unit with Gorihanjar. Like all agnates, they contribute potri chaul and money to the rituals.
Those of the Four Brothers who have not fasted on this day or are not married, as well as the
men from other village groups (affinal groups, Dombo), can cook their portions of the rump
meat on site or take them raw.
 In the village of Raipada, where I was able to observe the boirobi puja a few days earlier, the
pig sacrifice (for the goddess joria dokri) was conducted by the resident Gangre, the affines of the
Raipada “earth people.”
 For example, she gave him advice on the locations he should avoid in the upcoming period
of time. The brief dialogue could be understood only with difficulty, however, since the gurumai
spoke in trance, and the pujari – although he had fasted – was relatively drunk. In addition, the
Dombo were drumming not far from the shrine.
428 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

Within a few minutes, the large crowd of observers dispersed, and the butchering
of the sacrificial animals and the cooking preparations began.
As usual, the buffalo’s head was first placed on the sacrificial site, then re-
moved and cut up near the shrine, and its meat was distributed to various village
groups. Similar to the procedure at bag puja in the rainy season, described pre-
viously, the groups cooked at separate fireplaces in the immediately surrounding
area. The Four Brothers – including the boiro pujari – cooked the tsoru in a new
clay pot. The men have to have fasted to participate, but they need not be mar-
ried. The affines of the “earth people,” the Dombo, the Dombo musicians, and
the “Goudo”⁹⁶ prepared their shares of the head meat in metal pots at other cook-
ing hearths as lakka’* food. The meat from the pig sacrifice was not prepared
near the shrine, although informants said that this would have been possible
(and this was the case in Raipada). In this case, men from all village groups
could eat it, I was told; no tsoru would be prepared. Women could eat the
meat at home, but not at the shrine.
On the following day – after a night spent in dancing and celebration – the
distribution of the remaining buffalo meat and goat meat (from the pat kanda
sacrifice) was the dominant event. Already during the night, part of the goat
meat had “gone missing,” so that it was no longer available for distribution.
The mood in the village’s harvested dry fields was cheerful and tense in equal
measure, and conflicts broke out repeatedly between different individuals.
Those doing the butchering frequently tried to pilfer meat by letting it disappear
among their clothes, casting it aside in order to gather it up later, or sitting on it.
If they were discovered – as regularly happened – strife ensued, with reproaches
exchanged on both sides and bones deployed as weapons to back up threatening
gestures. The conflict did not reach the point of physical violence, however. Fi-
nally, the raw portions were distributed to all the households in Gorihanjar,
plus a number of portions to its associated villages (four portions to Raipada)
and hamlets. The pujari, the naik, and the Dombo musicians received additional
shares, and the tsorubai were also “remembered” with several portions as china
manso.

 In Gorihanjar, a number of Gadaba houses do the work of the herders and are therefore
referred to as “Goudo.”
 4.5 The Cold Season 429

Collective Sacrifice for the Dead

In some villages in the region, communal sacrifices for the dead (duma) are part
of diali porbo. ⁹⁷ The village does not act as a community, but rather each kuda
group – sometimes also individual kutum – sacrifices (male or female) cattle
or buffaloes for their own duma for whom no gotr has yet been held.
In the village of Cheliamenda, a number of old men from a local line led the
animal from their sai into the open fields and had it killed by a Dombo, after a
brief invocation. The same sacrificer then went on to the next group to perform
the killing there as well. He later received a share of the meat in return. Four
heads of cattle and a buffalo were killed in this way for five groups in the
village.⁹⁸ Tsoru was prepared within the groups and first brought to the crema-
tion site for the dead, after which the members of the kuda groups ate. Accounts
of the rules of commensality varied. Some said that women could also eat the
tsoru; elsewhere, I later heard the opposite. When I was present for the consump-
tion of tsoru in the context of this ritual in another village, however, only men
and boys of the kuda group ate.
In comparison with the proceedings for the boirobi puja – addressed to the
gods – the course of this ritual for the dead is significantly simpler, more flexi-
ble, and less “ceremonial.” The sex of the sacrificial animal is unimportant, buf-
faloes can substitute for cows, and the animals are killed without great prepar-
atory measures and by a Dombo. In the boiro puja, by contrast, the sacrificial ax
is venerated, the pujari – the only one permitted to kill the animal – is carried to
the shrine on the participants’ shoulders, and the animal is adorned before the
sacrifice. The Four Brothers share jointly in that tsoru, while in the context of the
duma puja, the individual kuda eat separately, and no meat is exchanged be-
tween them.

Paddy Rice Harvest

The most striking aspect of the paddy rice harvest, which is embedded in ritual
in a significantly more elaborate fashion than the dry-field harvest, consists in

 These sacrifices for the dead are themselves referred to as diali porbo. To my knowledge, only
a few villages east of the Goradi River still perform these rituals today; in Gudapada, they are
said to have still taken place around forty or fifty years before my research. In 1999, I had the
opportunity to observe the ritual actions in two villages, but I was able to obtain only a relatively
superficial impression of the events.
 1. Munduli, 2. Munduli, 3. Kirsani, 4. Naik (presumably the naik’s kutum), 5. Sisa and Bo-
ronaik.
430 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

the analogy to marriage or to fetching the bride. The Gadaba conceive of rice in
this context as a young girl (dangri, onop*), and they bring the harvest into the
village like a bride. The river gods kamni are considered the rice’s parents, and
the suit for the bride is addressed to them.⁹⁹ The phase of “making suit” (raibadi)
begins each year in January (pus), following the previous harvest, when the bor-
ders of the fields (iri) are repaired. Each additional visit to the field, each ritual,
is part of the process of marriage negotiations. Liquor, beer, and food are brought
to the affinal rice field. When the ears of grain are reaped in November and the
rice is brought to the threshing floor, the suitors (raibadia) bring the bridewealth
(jola) to the rice field, in the form of sacrificial offerings, and hold a feast for the
“bride-givers’ side.” The requirements are thereby fulfilled, and the girl can be
fetched to the village. A small basket (joni tifni) represents the bride and is
placed next to doron deli. This rice is consumed by the inhabitants of the
house as tsoru during the upcoming chait porbo.

Fetching Home the Ears of Grain

In the days before and especially after hundi sitla, the individual houses (gulai
ga) complete the ritual fetching home of the first ears of grain (ker anbar, gile
re ring*) that the pujari and randari have already performed in an abbreviated
form for the village as a whole (matam).
Late in the morning, the field owner (saukar)¹⁰⁰ and sacrificer prepares a
cooking hearth on the upper bank of the river and a sacrificial platform lower
down in the rice paddy itself, with the two figures of jal kamni and patal
kamni. One of the figures is provided with a fragment of a glass armband and
so marked as a “woman.” Bidi (cigarettes), which are more often smoked by
men, are also sometimes laid on the platform. Most of my informants describe
jal kamni and patal kamni as a married couple. The pattern is drawn in red
and black, differentiating it from the patterns for hundi and pat kanda, which
are exclusively white. After an egg has been broken and a white rooster sacrificed
for the river gods, the sacrificer cuts the ears of grain from two rice plants and
goes to the nearby threshing floor. The ears are briefly laid down there, together

 The Gadaba take the “bride” from kamni, but they do not ritually give a bride in return, at
least explicitly. I heard from a number of men, however, that in a certain Gadaba village, a young
Gadaba girl was given alive to the river as a bride every other year. She would be laid down at
the edge of the riverbed in the rainy season, they said, and swept away by the water. Inde-
pendent of the truth of this story, it makes clear that the gift of a “bride” to the river gods is at
least conceivable.
 The real saukar of the field are the river gods, the Gadaba say.
 4.5 The Cold Season 431

with a bottle gourd and a sickle, and after a brief invocation, the sacrificer hacks
the gourd in half in order to ward off potential harmful magic. At the cooking
hearth, the sacrificer – here pujari and randari in one – breaks several grains
of rice off of the ears and adds these grains to the rice that is already cooking.
The rice and some meat are prepared at the edge of the field in a new clay
pot and then, after the betisong, taken back to the house, where the rooster is
fully cut up and cooked, and the tsoru is consumed by the members of the
house.¹⁰¹ The two ears of grain are fastened to doron deli and over the entrance
to the house, where they remain until they fall apart.

Burying the Plowshare

While the first ears of grain of the paddy rice are brought home at the time that
the millet is reaped, the actual harvest begins after the majority of the millet has
been stacked on the storage platforms. Before a rice paddy is reaped, its owner¹⁰²
goes there alone, lights incense, and “buries an iron plowshare” (pal topbar) in
the field. This is intended to prevent many grains of rice from falling off and so
being lost when the sheaves are transported from the field to the threshing floor.
The owner reaps two sheaves of rice (korop) with his sickle in the same location
and leaves them lying there. After all the rice has been reaped – starting imme-
diately next to the pal topbar – these two sheaves will be the first and last
brought to the threshing floor (see below).
Women and men of the house do the reaping, outside helpers being compen-
sated with buti rice, as previously described, if the help is not reciprocal. The
reaped sheaves remain in the drained paddies one or two days to dry. In the
meantime, the women of the house clean the threshing floor and spread cow
dung mixed with water, creating a smooth, flat surface (goboro sara). The re-
maining work – the binding and threshing – is then done by men only. The
owner of the field (saukar) can count on the help of his own brothers and his
father; in some cases, other men of his kutum and affinal relatives (ZH, WB)
also participate.

 The ritual is often simplified by cooking only the rice in the field, the meat having already
been prepared in the house. In this case, only rice “cooked” in a folded leaf (purunge) and some
meat from the gullet are prepared and served to the gods as betisong.
 As a rule, each house harvests its own fields and conducts the rituals at its own threshing
floor, which is different from the one for the dry fields. Brothers sometimes carry out the harvest
and the rituals together, however, in which case the eldest brother is the sacrificer.
432 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

Fetching the Rice Sheaves: korop chogaiba, korop obdai*

When the reaped sheaves of rice have dried in the field, the saukar – who must
be fasting, like all his helpers – makes a brief invocation to the gods with incense
at the place where he previously buried the plowshare, in the morning, and car-
ries one of the sheaves he cut first to the threshing floor, where he lays it down in
the center. After this sheaf – the “new” or “head sheaf” (time korop* or bob
korop*) – has been brought to the threshing floor, the men can eat. One of
them has cooked rice and curry on site, and the owner first offers betisong in
the paddy and at the threshing floor, before the group begins the meal. After
that, the men tie the remaining sheaves into large balls (bara) and carry them
to the threshing floor. While his brothers and helpers fetch the last balls from
the paddy, the owner washes himself and then pulls the plowshare out of the
ground in the paddy. Finally, he carries the “last sheaf”¹⁰³ (tirgi korop*), the sec-
ond of the sheaves he reaped first, to the threshing floor, where the entire harvest
is now found.
From now on, until the time that the first rice reaches the house on the next
day, special rules are to be observed: women may not set foot on the threshing
floor, and all those who work there should cook and eat only there. No tobacco,
millet gruel, or beer may be consumed at the threshing floor, and the rice of the
house should also not be consumed by non-members or given to others during
this time. During the work at the threshing floor (kotar), conversation with all
non-participants is forbidden.¹⁰⁴ Failure to observe these rules (niam) is consid-
ered a transgression, and the vengeance of kamni is feared in this case.

Ritual Purification and Protection of the Threshing Floor

Before threshing can begin, the owner performs a purification ritual for himself
at the river in order to remove sutok (ritual pollution). This ritual purification is
similar to the procedure in sutok sorani, but no parallels are drawn to this life-
cycle ritual in connection with the paddy rice in the way that they are in the con-
text of the millet ritual, where purification rituals of this kind are nonetheless
absent. It is apparently not the grain that is ritually impure here, as it is in
the case of the dry fields, but the householder who has to remove sutok before
he again sets foot on the threshing floor.

 Rajan and Rajan (2001a, 53) translate tirigi* as “after.”

 Similar prohibitions apply to the harvest of the important mountain rice among the Juang
(McDougal 1963, 363).
 4.5 The Cold Season 433

At the edge of the river (nala), where the water flows rapidly past the fields,
chatreng stalks are set up to the left and right of the canal so as to create a
“gate.” In addition, a platform is constructed on the bank, on which a black fig-
ure is drawn “for kamni” (kamni pai) and a crab is sacrificed. A brass pot is filled
to overflowing with water and set down there. The threshing implements¹⁰⁵ are
shouldered, and the owner sprinkles water on his head with another chatreng
stalk as he goes through the gate. Purified in this way, he continues on to the
threshing floor, while the pot of water remains behind. It will be examined
later to see whether the water level has fallen, considered a bad omen for the
current harvest.¹⁰⁶ Next, the don puja, already described in the context of the
dry-field rice harvest, is performed in the center of the threshing floor to ward
off evil influences, and then the threshing (gai mandaibar) begins.¹⁰⁷

Threshing and Winnowing the Rice

The rice plants are placed in a large circle on the threshing floor with the ears of
grain on top and then threshed with eight or ten buffaloes or cattle of both sexes
(gai mandaibar).¹⁰⁸ The livestock’s first rounds over the harvest are perilous,
since the rice at the top of the stalks easily falls victim to the animals. For this
reason, the saukar holds a branch of the angla tree in his hand for several
rounds, along with the goad, in the effort to get the rice grains to fall quickly.¹⁰⁹
Excessively gluttonous animals occasionally have their mouths tied shut later.
After multiple cycles of alternately threshing the rice and tossing it with a
rake, so that the grains fall to the ground, the straw is gathered next to the
threshing floor. All the animals are honored with tika, and some hairs are pulled
from the tail of one of the animals and plaited with straw (pial, saga*). This bun-
dle of straw (joni pial) is set aside before the rest of the straw is heaped next to
the threshing floor. In the middle of the threshing floor, all the rice is gathered

 The rake (akuri) for turning the straw and the ropes (dai) with which the buffaloes and
cows are tied together.
 The examination is conducted after the sacrifices at the river and the threshing floor.
 If men participating in the work leave the threshing floor before the work is done and enter
the village, they must ideally perform the purification ritual again before returning.
 The livestock, which are not tied to a central stake, are driven around the threshing floor in
a counterclockwise direction. As a general principle, this is considered the “correct” direction for
all movement in a circle.
 The angla tree or shrub grows wild and produces yellow-green fruit used to quench thirst in
the hot season. The fruits are smaller than lemons and taste very sour at first, then sweet. In
addition, rings are made from the twigs in the context of weddings and of the paddy rice harvest
(in the kamni puja).
434 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

into a mound (gadi), and the joni pial and the threshing implements are placed
on top. This begins the next phase of work, the winnowing of the grain (kerong
udalei*).
To separate the chaff (phot) from the rice with the help of the winnowing fan
(kula, kisop*), the Gadaba are dependent on the wind (pobon, bau, oioi*), which
they call with the cry of “Wind, come!” (oioi ulo*) in the event of calm. If there is
no wind at all, hand fanning (pobon marbar, oioibu*) is used. In multiple
rounds, the unmixed rice (mul dan, “root rice”) is separated out from various lev-
els of mixing with chaff, until after several hours, the entire harvest has been
freed from chaff. Late in the afternoon, the harvest is separated into piles on
the threshing floor, usually three of them.¹¹⁰ The largest pile is the house’s
yield, a significantly smaller one is reserved for the clients as pholoi, and a
tiny pile consists of a mixture of rice and chaff (tsondi) gathered together at
the end of the winnowing. One or more lines (reka) are drawn around all the
piles with the ashes (uksong*) of burnt straw, in order to protect the harvest
from attacks by harmful magic, soni rau, or kamni during the coming night.
Before twilight, the owner of the field briefly goes to his house in order to
perform duma balo’* there – as before every significant ritual event – and sacri-
fice crabs for the dead. On his return, the others have already cooked, and all the
helpers eat together. Next to the threshing floor – often underneath the storage
platform where the millet is stacked – they have made beds for the night with
plenty of straw, and the ones who are not watching over the rice lie down
there to sleep.¹¹¹

“Day of Fetching Home the Rice”

The “day of fetching home the rice” (dan ana din) has the ritual status of a “fes-
tival day” (porbo din).¹¹² The auspicious dates are determined by the dissari, with

 Under favorable circumstances, threshing and winnowing can be done in a day; otherwise,
it is completed on the following day.
 In principle, according to my informants, the rice should be watched over starting on the
day it is reaped, and the men should spend the night at the threshing floor. This is no longer
necessary, however, they said, since less is stolen today than in the past. For this reason, a watch
is usually only kept over the rice for one night, between the day it is threshed and the sacrificial
ritual on the following day. Some of the helpers can also sleep in their houses, but they are not
allowed to eat there, and they must ritually purify themselves before setting foot on the
threshing floor (see above).
 The stages of the paddy rice harvest and its accompanying rituals appear to be similar
among the Bondo, but Elwin’s descriptions contain few details (1950, 49 f; see photographs
 4.5 The Cold Season 435

the consequence that twenty to thirty village households bring in their rice on
these days. Although all the rituals take place outside the village at the river
and the threshing floors, the houses are newly painted in the village as they
are on festival days, a sacrifice for the dead is made on the eve, the consumption
of millet gruel is forbidden, tsoru is prepared and eaten within the house com-
munity (at the threshing floor), and bulani rice is distributed to other houses
in the evening. After the sacrificial rituals for kamni and the rice, the harvest
is measured at the threshing floor, and the first basket of rice (joni tifni) is set
aside. The members of the house then eat tsoru next to the threshing floor,
and the other helpers eat lakka’* rice. After the first basket of rice has been rit-
ually sent to the house, the men bring the rest of the harvest into the house, ex-
cept for the share assigned as compensation to the clients. The herders, the
smith, and the Dombo visit all the threshing floors to receive their pholoi. In
the evening, a festival mood dominates the village, and the yields are announced
to the accompaniment of large quantities of beer.

Sacrifice for the River Gods

Once the rice has been neatly heaped up on the threshing floor and the imple-
ments (rake, rope, winnowing fan) laid on top and adorned with flowers, the sac-
rifice for the river gods (kamni puja) begins at the edge of the harvested rice
paddy. As in the previous sacrifices for kamni, clay figurines representing the
river gods are again made. Glass bracelets, rings made from sindi stalks, and
angla wood are other requirements for the ritual, along with bidi (cigarettes).
In this ritual, the owner of the field sacrifices a pig (or a duck) and a white roos-
ter (or a chick) in alternate years, as well as an egg, mandatory for kamni.

Sacrifice at the Threshing Floor

Immediately after the kamni puja at the river comes the sacrifice at the threshing
floor (kotar puja). The sacrificer draws a white pattern in front of the large heap
of rice and another somewhat off to the side in the direction of the Great House.
A white chick is most often sacrificed for the latter, and a rooster (red, black, or
white) for the rice. The blood of the sacrificial animals is let drip on the rice, on
all the baskets (kula, dala, tifni), on the joni pial from the previous day, and in a

XXXIII and XXXIV). There is no indication of an affinal conception of the rice paddies among the
Bondo.
436 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

circle around the threshing floor. The wing of a chick or rooster is tied to a stick
for rau, who manifests as the wind.¹¹³

Measuring the Harvest

In this phase of the harvest, the same thing happens at the individual threshing
floors as the pujari foreshadowed in the mandara ritual: the rice is measured out
(napibar). The first winnowing fan is ritually filled with rice by the sacrificer and
poured out in front of the raibadia. In the context of marriage, the raibadia lead
the delegation to the bride’s house and negotiate the bridewealth; here, a person
who takes on the supervision of the measuring process is referred to as raibadia.
A basket (dala) is placed on the small mound of rice that the sacrificer poured
out, and the men fill it with rice. As soon as it is full, the raibadia pours it
out and has the others fill it again. In this way, the entire harvest is measured,
and it is the raibadia’s responsibility to count the dala and officially announce
the number of baskets harvested in the house in the evening. This function is
often carried out by affines of the owner; as on other occasions, here too they
act as witnesses (saki bai). As soon as the rice has been measured, the new
mound is again smoothed out and adorned. Sometimes, furrows are made
with a rake in and around the individual mounds of rice and traced with ash.
These patterns presumably have the same significance as the earlier ash circles
and serve to protect the harvest.

Tsoru Commensality and Bringing Home the Rice as a Bride

While the measurement takes place, one of the helpers prepares various foods
on a cooking hearth next to the threshing floor. Tsoru is cooked in a new clay
pot, containing not the heads of the sacrificial animals this time, but rump
meat or small fish and crabs caught in the river the evening before. One or
two additional accompaniments are also prepared, consisting of fish, squash,
or the rump meat of the sacrificial animals. These dishes are needed on the
one hand to host the external helpers and on the other hand as bulani bat in
the evening. The sacrificer first takes tsoru to the river, in order to perform beti-
song there for kamni, then to the different sacrificial sites at the threshing floor.
He is the first to eat tsoru, some of which he then offers to one of the cattle – or to
a buffalo, one of the working animals – which is then led into the center of the

 At some threshing floors, bamboo fish traps (dondor) have already been hung on poles in
the wind in order to ward off rau. Severe winds can lead to considerable harvest losses.
 4.5 The Cold Season 437

threshing floor. There, a fish is sacrificed, after which the animal is led around
the threshing floor. The sacrificer once again plucks some hairs from its tail
and adds them to the joni pial, which he lays on top of the heap of rice. This
is intended to honor the cattle and buffaloes for their important role in the har-
vest process.
Before the sacrificer fills the small basket (joni tifni) that is brought to the
house first, he honors the rice and handles it in a painstaking way.¹¹⁴ Sitting
in front of the rice, he gives himself tika on his feet, knees, shoulders, and fore-
head, after which he fills the basket. He places the heads of all the sacrificial an-
imals, the knife, and the joni pial on top of the basket, and after two intermediate
stops – that is, briefly setting down the basket – he places the whole thing out-
side the threshing floor. As an offering for the wind (bau), rice chaff – the “rice of
the wind” (bau bat) – is strewn around the threshing floor (kotar) from a win-
nowing fan, the rest is poured out on the path, and betisong is offered to the
wind at the same place.
Meanwhile, the other members of the house have arrived to eat and drink
beer, and everyone sits down next to the threshing floor for this purpose.
Tsoru is eaten only by those who belong to the house, while the helpers from
other houses eat lakka’* rice. Immediately afterward, the women and children
depart again, leaving behind only one daughter to carry the joni tifni to the
house. On the way there, she should not speak to anyone or touch anyone. At
the house, she is greeted by her mother with tika, and the basket is set down
next to doron deli; some informants said that doron deli is the rice’s bridegroom.
The entire harvest is brought to the village by the men and poured out in the
inner room (gondi dien*), so that the rice stands almost a meter high in the nar-
row space. In the following days, it is put into large bamboo baskets (kolki) in the
loft and sealed as protection against rats.¹¹⁵
In the evening, a festival mood is abroad throughout the village, but first, the
distribution of pholoi continues to those who did not come to the threshing
floors. Many external affines, come to help or just to celebrate, are guests in
the houses that have brought in their rice. These houses keep “open house”
with eating, drinking, and singing. As at every festival, oili songs are sung, but

 Individual grains of rice are placed on one corner of the winnowing fan (kula), tossed up,
and caught with the reverse side, following which the saukar gives himself tika on the feet,
knees, shoulders, and forehead. The process is then reversed, with the rice placed on the reverse
side of the kula and caught with the deep side. I observed this harvest ritual many times, and in
some cases, the rice was handled in an even more elaborate manner.
 A rice paddy – depending on field size and the harvest year – yields roughly ten to twenty
phuti (1 phuti = 60 – 75 kg).
438 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

the song appropriate for this special occasion is the “rice-fetching song” (dan
ana git, kerong re ring seser*), which is identical to the “bride song” (dangri
git, onop seser*). Each raibadia announces the yield achieved in the house for
which he was responsible, and the women and girls take bulani bat from
house to house in their half of the village. There is much movement between
the houses on the following days as well, since the harvest helpers receive
their wages (buti dan) brought to their houses in winnowing fans. Those who al-
ready have their rice in the house need only bring the straw into the village, and
they help at other threshing floors. Over the course of a few days, most of the
houses bring their rice in, and the village is in a state that swings back and
forth between exuberant celebration and hard work.
While the last houses are still bringing in their rice, the first are already start-
ing to reap their rapeseed and thresh their finger millet. From an individual
house’s perspective, only a few days separate these tasks. During this period,
thatch for the roofs is cut along the edges of the dry fields, and some field
rats (karam musa) are killed in the process and gladly eaten. Even more appre-
ciated is a kind of quail (gundri) hunted with large nets on the harvested dry
fields. Fishing and gathering wild roots (e. g., pit kanda) are other side activities
pursued by men and women in these days between the major tasks.

Rapeseed Harvest and Threshing of the Millet

For the individual houses, bringing home the rice is followed first by the rape-
seed (olsi) harvest, then by the threshing of the millet, but both tasks are
done at the same time in the village as a whole.
The rapeseed harvest is undemanding both from the ritual perspective and
from that of the labor required. Each house – usually without outside help –
reaps the grain, lets it lie in the field for a day, and threshes it on the following
day. Other than the don puja, no rituals of any kind take place for the rapeseed,
presumably because it plays no significant role in the diet – despite being the
source of an esteemed cooking oil – and is cultivated primarily for sale. In con-
trast, threshing the millet demands a great deal of time and is accompanied by
rituals, although these are less elaborate than for the paddy rice.
Before the threshing of the millet begins, the threshing floor must again be
cleaned, and the don puja must be performed. The majority of the threshing is
done with long sticks, and the entire family participates in the work, which
lasts roughly eight to ten days per field. A house is often assisted by one or
two outside helpers, who eat in the house every day in exchange and receive a
large basket (dala) of millet at the end of the work. Each day, part of the millet
 4.5 The Cold Season 439

is tossed down from the storage platform and threshed, the straw is moved to the
side, and the grain is winnowed and sifted. The white banner that was planted in
the fields in the millet ritual during the rainy season still waves over the storage
platform to prevent evil influences from decimating the harvest. A piece of iron –
for example, a plowshare – placed at the bottom of the pile on the threshing
floor when the grain is sifted is said to have a similar effect.¹¹⁶ In the evening,
the householder carries a yield of around two baskets (dala) of millet back to
his house. Each day, he adds a handful of the day’s yield to a small basket
(joni tifni) that remains at the threshing floor and will be brought back to the
house only on the last day.

Sacrifice at the Threshing Floor

Before the last day of work – when only a small amount of grain usually remains
to be threshed – the householder performs a sacrifice at the threshing floor
(kotar puja). As in the case of kamni, a young pig (or a duck) is sacrificed for
the millet every other year. The sacrificer draws a white pattern, before which
the small basket of millet is set, in front of the now empty storage platform,
and another one in the direction of the Great House. He sacrifices a chick or a
rooster for the latter and a pig in front of the millet. A wing of the former animal
is fastened to the storage platform for the wind (bau). The sacrificial animals’
blood is let drip on the joni tifni and around the threshing floor for rau and
other malicious powers. The largest share of the pig’s blood is collected, cooked
on site together with the head, and consumed by the inhabitants of the house.
Outside helpers receive a different accompaniment to their rice and are not per-
mitted to eat this meat.¹¹⁷ Platters of rice and rump meat (or vegetables) are
brought to the neighboring threshing floors and, in the evening, to the houses
of the sai. After the meal, the remaining work is completed, and in conclusion,
the householder brings the rest of the harvest and the joni tifni to his house. The
millet from the small basket should be eaten only by those who belong to the
house, but a particular time – as in the case of the joni tifni of the paddy rice
– is not prescribed. Only when the last of the millet has left the threshing
floor are the medicine and fruit buried at don puja removed. Leaving them at
the kotar could bring misfortune (bada), it is feared.

 A female informant said that the millet was increased by the iron.
 It is unclear whether this meal is considered tsoru, but the restrictions on consumption
suggest that it is.
440 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

Although pigs are sacrificed at the paddy rice harvest as at the millet har-
vest, and the joni tifni plays a special role in both cases, differences between
the two processes are clearly evident, pointing to the unequal status of rice pad-
dies and dry fields in general and rice and millet in particular.¹¹⁸ First of all, mil-
let is not conceived of as a bride, and the dry fields have no direct connection to
kamni. The various prohibitions in effect during the paddy rice harvest need not
be observed for millet, and ritual purification is also absent. In addition, men
and women work together at the threshing floor during the millet harvest, and
the joni tifni reaches the house not before the rest of the harvest – as in the
case of the paddy rice – but last.
The end of the harvest period in January coincides with a clear alteration in
the landscape and the temperature. The nights gradually become less cold, and
the days warmer. The hills and fields give evidence that the last rains fell more
than two months past: green has largely disappeared from the landscape, and
the red earth again dominates the view. In the gardens, the plants have dried
up and will soon be entirely cleared away, and in the riverbeds, water flows
only in the narrow canals at the edge. The rice paddies are likewise withered,
and the livestock eat the last remaining grass.
In the preceding weeks, the harvest of the different types of grain has also
dominated the weekly market, on the one hand through the offer of the imple-
ments and tools needed for the different types of field work and the harvest
(ropes, winnowing fans, plowshares, sickles, and large baskets for storage are
not for sale at the weekly market in other seasons), and on the other through
the flood of harvest produce onto the market, since the landholders (roit) sell
some of their yield to the Dombo in order to obtain cash. Rapeseed, which brings
in significantly more money than rice or millet, is generally sold entirely to
middlemen, who are very busy at this time. Outside the sale of surpluses to
the Dombo and the purchase of luxury goods, such as tobacco or jewelry,
grain largely displaces money as the means of payment after the harvest. The Ga-
daba women go to the market with rice and millet and exchange small amounts
for the Mali’s vegetables.

 The Joria go to great lengths to articulate the contrast between rice and millet in the form of
two great festivals. In the ganga puja or ganga budia in January, rice is the dominant grain; in
the nandi festival a month later, millet (mandia) dominates. The god ganga is considered the
elder brother of his sister nandi, with the consequence that the grains themselves have the
corresponding relationship.
 4.5 The Cold Season 441

January Festival

Pus porbo falls during the last phase of the harvest in January (pus). This festival
lasts three days and is considered by the Gadaba one of the smaller seasonal fes-
tivals, like ashad and dosra porbo. Along with the length of the festival, the rel-
atively light financial demands of the rituals also underline this, as does the fact
that the inhabitants of Gudapada generally refrain at this festival from hiring the
Dombo musicians from the neighboring villages in order to be able to dance
demsa properly. The distinguishing element of pus porbo is bolani jatra as a col-
lective mansik ritual, tied to the largely identical ritual of the same name in July
(ashad porbo). Ritual begging (sirsera mangbar), a special staff dance (katinat),
and the feeding of the cows (gai kuaibar) are other characteristic components of
this festival.

Sacrifice for the Village Goddess and on the Road

Together with the old Goudo dissari – who also participates in bolani jatra in
chait and ashad porbo – the pujari and randari go to the village goddess’s shrine,
the inner and outer doors of which nonetheless remain shut. The pujari performs
an invocation with a black chick, but does not kill it, merely breaking open a co-
conut. Accompanied by the barik and the naik, the three chief actors then go out
of the village to the usual site of bolani jatra, on the road leading west. The chick
for pat kanda and a he-goat for the bolani deity are sacrificed here. The randari
then prepares the tsoru, which all men of the village who have fasted can eat in
the afternoon, on site. The raw portions of the rump meat are distributed to all
households.
Individual houses perform private mansik rituals for the protection of people
and livestock on the morning of the same day, and coconuts are sacrificed on the
paths outside the village. There are no mandatory (i. e., necessary according to
niam) sacrifices in pus porbo, either at the level of the village or at that of the
house, and incense is merely lit at doron deli. The relatively slight importance
of the festival and the absence of obligatory sacrificial rituals do not necessarily
make it less attractive for the participants, however, and the beer brewed in ad-
vance is consumed in correspondingly large quantities.

Sirsera Demands
Already on the day of bolani jatra, the children of the village, including older
boys and girls, begin their rounds of begging through the village, known as sir-
sera mangbar. Disguised in various ways, they demand sweets, rice, or coins from
442 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

the individual houses. In the following days, adults also visit the houses of the
neighborhood, and in some cases those of the neighboring villages as well, to
demand money or rice. In most houses, they are offered beer, and some of
these “beggars” end up incapable of making their way back home before sleep-
ing the alcohol off somewhere else. Everyone is free to demand sirsera, but only
the village’s clients – the pholoi recipients and manti givers – are permitted to
demand the gifts known as piai from all houses, which they visit in turn.

Staff Dance
Alongside people asking for piai and sirsera, who go from house to house and
sometimes also to other villages, travelling dance groups that perform previously
rehearsed dances in all the villages of their region increase the impression of mo-
bility associated with this festival. The performance is a staff dance – called ka-
tinat – by sometimes elaborately costumed and adorned young men. Each of the
dancers holds two “wooden swords” in his hands, and the choreography calls for
them to strike their swords against one another in specific rhythms and with spe-
cific movements. Musically, the dance – performed only during pus porbo – is
accompanied by the usual set of Dombo musicians.
When a dance group of this kind from the neighboring villages visited Gu-
dapada, the people gathered at the dance plaza next to the sadar and the village
goddess to watch the performance. The dancers were given money, which was
fastened to their costumes, and after the performance, the women and men
took advantage of the presence of the musicians to dance several rounds of
demsa together with the outside visitors. Afterward, the ensemble moved on to
the next village.
In katinat, the performance character of the dance is at the forefront. The
dance is learned and performed in “tours” through the villages for a number
of years, always during pus porbo. ¹¹⁹ The demsa dance, on the other hand, is
danced on all village occasions, and everyone knows the steps. Neither dance
– demsa or katinat – has any direct relationship to ritual activities, although
both are embedded in the context of the festivals and rituals.¹²⁰

 The dancers said that they would dance the katinat only three years in a row and then take
a break. The katinat is not tied to a particular Desia category, meaning that Gadaba learn the
dance just as much as Mali or Rona.
 This distinguishes demsa and katinat from the “stilt dance” (goro boga) of the neighboring
Joria, which – even if comparable to the katinat in its performance aspect – is the climax of a
multi-day festival (the ganga puja). Certain groups dance on wooden stilts tied to their legs on
this occasion. It is equally a dance of the gods, who take possession of the dancers, and a dance
 4.5 The Cold Season 443

Feeding the Cows

In Gudapada, only the Goudo and the Upper Dombo – who hold land – ritually
feed sikri bat to their cows and buffaloes at pus porbo. This dish may consist of
some or all of the elements of cooked rice, lentils (biri), beans (dongorani), wild
tubers (pit kanda, nongol kanda), squash (kumda), fish, and unhulled rice. Some
Gadaba in Gudapada even indicated that they ought not to honor their cattle in
this way, since the cows would die if they did.¹²¹ As a rule, the Goudo and Dombo
conduct this feeding of the cows (gai kuaibar) on the festival day, following a
brief puja (sacrifice of a coconut) in front of the stable. The cattle are herded to-
gether in front of the house, and the cooked and raw food is served to them in a
winnowing fan.¹²²
With the end of the harvest in January, the season of the great life-cycle fes-
tivals begins, occupying a relatively fixed place in the course of the year. In the
month of pus, the mortuary rituals (bur) are celebrated.¹²³ In mag, depending on
the circumstances, wedding rituals or gotr may take place, or in other words, rit-
uals celebrating either the integration of a bride into the community or the final
exclusion of the duma from it. In phagun – when the cold season ends – individ-
ual houses redeem their promises to soni rau and celebrate bato biba, which re-
leases the girls and boys concerned from their special relationship to the demons
and opens the way to complete personhood through marriage. Those men not
tied down by their responsibilities in one of these “great works” (boro kam)
take to the road after pus porbo in search of wage labor (kuli kam). Four to six
weeks later, they return to prepare for the sowing of the new paddy rice. In
chait, the women pound the rice from the joni tifni, brought into the village as
a bride four or five months before and now consumed by the house’s inhabitants
as tsoru. Shortly thereafter, the young rice plants are transplanted into the per-
manent fields, and the suit made for the new, future bride continues. It began

for the gods, since the gods – in the form of the sacred objects that have been carried through
the village in procession over multiple days – are likewise the most prominent members of the
audience. The rituals and dances have been documented by Amrei Volkmann and myself (cf.
Volkmann, unpublished).
 I heard that in other villages – east of the Goradi River, where the duma puja is also
celebrated – the Gadaba likewise feed their cattle during pus porbo. However, I was unable to
verify this information.
 When the Upper Dombo’s cows were fed, a woman of the Goudo group was present who
took away with her the unhulled rice (dan) that the cows left in the winnowing fan. In later
conversations, my informants confirmed that the Goudo eat the cows’ leftovers on this day.
 The month of pus also marks the start of the employment relationships between the Goudo
and a particular sai of the village, as well as those employment relationships (goti kam) in which
an individual is bound to work in another household for a year.
444 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

back in the cold season (in January), when the walls around the rice fields were
ritually renewed.

4.6 Conclusion

Economy, Environment, and Society

The Gadaba annual cycle demonstrates that in this society, economics and ecol-
ogy are part of the general cultural system. The processes for ensuring subsis-
tence are not necessarily conceived of differently from the processes that provide
for a society’s physical or social reproduction, and the relationship to nature, as
Kippenberg (1987, 29) writes, is likewise governed by “a community’s dominant
values.”¹²⁴
In his comparative study, Gudeman (1986) analyzes very different “modes of
livelihood” (28 f) and understands each of these forms and theories as construc-
tions or models (vii, 37). Economic theories originating in the European intellec-
tual tradition are in his view just as much social constructions as the ideas about
economic processes developed by the African Bisu or the Melanesian Dobu, for
example. The way the models function is the same in every case and consists in
the transfer of a schema to an object. The most varied aspects of social life or of
nature can be used as schemata to be transferred to the realm of the “economic”
(as an object). For example, the physiocrats used the body as a schema for ex-
plaining economic processes. In the same way, dominoes can be used as a sche-
ma for describing the linkages among national economies (as objects). Each of
these models is characterized by contingency, selectivity, and a specific relative
ontological status. In other words, the models are arbitrary constructs that take
up only certain aspects of the schema in order to transfer those aspects to the
objects and that are to varying degrees only conceptual aids (“as if” models¹²⁵)
or else worldviews with ontological status (“as being” models; 37ff). Even onto-
logical models do not have absolute status: “The problem is to show how the Do-

 The epigraph at the start of this chapter includes a sociocentric component in that Kip-
penberg speaks of “personal relationships” and thus assumes individual relationships a priori,
excluding classificatory and collective relationships. “Social relationships” would consequently
be a more neutral expression.
 With regard to the examples, it could be said that economic systems are not “really” bodies
and do not “really” behave like dominos, but that individual characteristics of these systems
(such as the interdependence of their elements) can be highlighted in this way.
 4.6 Conclusion 445

buans arrange their lives such that yams are and are not people and the Bisa ar-
range their lives such that lions are and are not chiefs” (42).
An additional characteristic of these models consists in their use of one or
more primary metaphors or “‘root metaphors’” (Pepper in Gudeman 1986, 40),
around which the model is constructed. Among the African Bemba, according
to Gudeman, this metaphor concerns the ancestors: “Because the ancestors
‘are’ the environment, gaining a livelihood is guaranteed only by maintaining
proper relations with them” (Gudeman 1986, 108).
Bird-David (1990) applies Gudeman’s approach to the South Indian Nayaka
or Jenu Kurumba and formulates the primary metaphor of this gatherer-hunter
society’s economic model as “forest is parent” (191). In her judgment, this
idiom stresses the forest’s caring role as giver. For the Nayaka, sharing is both
the central value and the fundamental norm, in contrast to their farming neigh-
bors, who conceptualize the environment not as “giving,” but as “reciprocating”
(cf. 192). Correspondingly, it is not the concept of sharing that dominates rela-
tionships there, but rather the exchange of gifts, both within the community
and between the living and the ancestors. Gatherer-hunter societies, in Bird-
David’s generalization, have a “distinct economic system” (194), within the
framework of which the environment is described through metaphors derived
from “primary kin relations” and conceptualized as “giving.” The author does
not make the form of subsistence (gatherer-hunter or farmer) the fundamental
distinguishing characteristic, but rather the conceptualization of the relationship
between the community and the environment.
If we apply this approach to the Gadaba, we find, following Gudeman, that
they apply an economic model that uses the social order as a schema. Part of the
environment (the rice paddy) is conceived of affinally, and this model is certainly
selective or partial, since only certain aspects are emphasized, and the rice is not
treated in accordance with the bridal schema in every respect. The model has an
ontological status, the rice “is” the bride, but this is again partial or limited to
certain domains. The rice is not always a bride to the same degree, and the
bride in other contexts is milk, just as a head of cattle can be treated as a
bride. The statement “the paddy rice is a bride,” like the Nayaka’s conception
that “forest is parent,” is a metaphor with connotations, but ones that have
less to do with care, as in the South Indian example, than with the regular, re-
ciprocal relationships between affines, as I will show later.¹²⁶ The Gadaba use

 Bird-David’s characterization of the relationship of farming societies to their environment

as a “reciprocating environment” is thoroughly appropriate, since gifts to the gods of the earth
and the rivers are considered a prerequisite for the harvest, and the environment does not
guarantee nourishment to human beings merely out of caring. Alongside this reciprocal aspect,
446 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

multiple metaphors for different aspects of their environment, however, and the
relationships and oppositions between the concepts are just as important as
their content. While the paddy rice is conceived of as a bride and the paddies
as her parents, and thus as parents-in-law from the village’s perspective, the
earth – especially the local earth goddess – is referred to as mother or
mother-father. The environment, like the social order, is thus structured through
the opposition between consanguineal and affinal categories.
My analysis of the rituals of the annual cycle and the agricultural activities
differs from the approach taken by Gudeman and Bird-David in that I do not as-
sume an economic sphere or an economic system. Gudeman (1986, vii) too, who
starts from a basic position of the constructedness of all models, explicitly rejects
in his foreword the view that the economy encompasses “a separate sphere of
instrumental or practical action.” In his critique of Polanyi’s distinction between
“embedded” and “unembedded” economies, which Gudeman traces back to the
differential application of social models (44), this position likewise becomes evi-
dent. Nevertheless, he – like Bird-David (1990, 194), who speaks of a “distinct
economic system” – holds fast throughout to “the economic” as a term and de-
scribes the general goal of his approach as the understanding of “economic pat-
terns” (Gudeman 1986, 29).
In the Gadaba social system, in contrast, “the economy,” like “kinship” and
“religion,” dissolves into a ritual structure of reproductive and transformative
processes (cf. Barraud and Friedberg 1996; Pfeffer 1991). In this social order,
the idea of reciprocity – independent of the completeness with which it is put
into practice – is viewed as just as fundamental for balanced, responsible,
hence moral¹²⁷ relationships as eating together and distributing food.¹²⁸ The ap-

however, the sharing of tsoru with the gods is likewise a condition for the maintenance of these
relationships.
 I use the term “moral relationship” to indicate partnership, cooperation, and interdepen-
dence, similar to Valeri’s (1994, 120) use of the term to describe the relationship between human
beings and the animals of the forest – and their lords.
 Unlike in gatherer-hunter societies, sharing takes place within strict boundaries (house,
village, Four Brothers, Twelve Brothers), as a rule. The absence of “demand sharing” (Bird-David
1990, 189; Woodburn 1982), the obligation to share food (with only a few items excepted), among
the Gadaba is made evident by a small detail. The doors of the houses generally remain open all
day, as long as someone is nearby or inside the house. When I asked why the door was not
closed, an informant replied, “If I closed the door, people would come to me and say, ‘What are
you doing closing the door? Do you think that we would demand some of your food?’” The
example illustrates that sharing food is not the norm in daily life, and an “imputed demand” is
an insult. Independent of this, certain products, such as tobacco, are constantly demanded and
given, and the rejection of a request of this kind would be considered extremely rude.
 4.6 Conclusion 447

propriate analytical framework – since derived from indigenous ideas and prac-
tice – is provided by the rituals and festivals, because in them, relationships of
all kinds are generated, transformed, or perpetuated, and they encompass all so-
cial facts. Domains and boundaries are determined by ritual practice itself,
which thereby differentiates contexts and value levels.
In what follows, the rituals and festivals of the annual cycle are the subject
of a structural analysis; in other words, I examine the explicitly and implicitly
articulated relationships that exist within a ritual and between rituals (and fes-
tivals) on various levels. My analysis is concerned with the rituals and festivals of
the village of Gudapada, since despite fundamental commonalities in the ritual
structure and the local pantheon, each individual village forms a ritual whole
that must be analyzed in its specific configuration. It would only be possible
to make meaningful comparisons to other villages if the entire ritual cycle of
those villages were documented. Since that requirement cannot be met within
the framework of a single study, I focus on the ritual practice of a single village,
even though individual rituals of neighboring villages, similarities, and differen-
ces have been mentioned in the description of the annual rituals.
The aspect of movement, discussed previously, is also of special importance
for the analysis of the rituals of the annual cycle. Movements through space and
time lead to shifting constellations of social categories and relationships. Oppo-
sitions are articulated or dissolved, and the new ordering of relationships or re-
versal of opposites points to a change in the level of meaning or value (cf.
Barnes, de Coppet, and Parkin 1985; Dumont 1986). In my analysis, I consider
not only the movements of actors and objects within the ritual, but also the
“movements” between rituals, the syntagmatic forging of connections between
ritual processes. One movement of this kind, which occurs in different ways in
the rituals and festivals, is the movement between part and whole, so that the
rhythm of the ritual processes reproduces on an ongoing basis (on the ideolog-
ical level) the hierarchical opposition between the village as a whole (ga matam)
and its parts (gulai ga). The codes used to articulate hierarchical relationships
are multifarious and have the potential to be formulated simultaneously through
food, meat distribution, temporal sequence, and spatial organization.
My analysis will move from observable relationships to abstract ones and
will address more inclusive levels at each step. The analysis of the structure of
individual rituals paves the way for the analysis of the festivals composed out
of these rituals. In analyzing the structure of an individual ritual, I take the sac-
rifice for the Great House as an example; at the level of the festivals, I concen-
trate on chait porbo and contrast it to the other festivals against the background
of this analysis. For their part, the three festivals stand in a specific relationship
to one another, so that the structure and dynamic of the annual cycle as a whole
448 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

finally become visible. Like individual ritual actions, festivals and seasons are
also syntagmatically linked to one another and follow on one another. Moreover,
paradigmatic relationships and isomorphies appear, like those between the
house and the village already described, or analogies between the syntagmatic
sequences of sacrifices in the different festivals. The table of the agnates, mean-
ing the tsoru commensality of the “earth people” or Four Brothers, takes place –
sometimes more than once – in the festivals in November (diali), August (banda-
pan), and April (chait), but is absent from the other festivals. All men of the
“earth people” (matia) ideally sit down together at three shrines to consume
the head of the sacrificial animal – together with the blood and the liver – as
tsoru, while all “latecomers” (upria) make do with the rump as lakka’* food.
The chief sacrifices for the three deities hundi, jakor, and pat kanda fall in differ-
ent seasons, and the sacrificial animals are different as well, as the following
table shows.

Table 13: Main Sacrifices in the Annual Cycle

hundi jakor pat kanda

Festival diali porbo bandapan porbo chait porbo

Season cold season rainy season hot season
Sacrificial Animal pig (annually) head of cattle or pig (alternate years) he-goat (annually)

In other contexts, such as bolani jatra or bag puja, the sacrificial animal’s head is
either cooked in a pot and eaten by all the men of the village (bolani jatra) or
distributed in raw portions and cooked on site over various fires (bag puja,
boiro puja). In these cases, the randari cooks tsoru separately, before the others
or in parallel with them, offers it to the gods, and eats it together with the pujari
and the sacrificer of the animal. In these cases as well, consequently, “earth peo-
ple” alone eat tsoru (in the strict sense), but not as the Four Brothers, and the
rest of the head is permitted to all men. Different contexts and the relationships
renewed within them are thus assigned different values through these modes of
distribution, something also discernible in the fact that the men participating in
bolani jatra and bag puja do not have to be ritually married. For tsoru commen-
sality with hundi, jakor, and pat kanda, only ritually married men (biba hela lok)
are qualified, those who have become ritually complete persons by being fed
tsoru at their weddings.¹²⁹ In no other ritual is the village’s social order manifest-

 I was unable to document the cattle sacrifice at the jakor shrine, since 2000 was the year
for a pig sacrifice there, and this sacrifice received relatively little attention, due to “competition”
 4.6 Conclusion 449

ed more clearly than in the sacrifice for pat kanda as part of chait porbo, ana-
lyzed in what follows.

Sacrifice at the Great House

The sacrifice at the Great House, which is associated with dorom, the sun/moon
sky gods, begins outside the village, at the location of the shrine. The (male) vil-
lage community subsequently enters the village as a body, after having been seg-
mented in connection with the sacrificial activities and the associated tsoru com-
mensality. The parts have again come together into a whole, one which is not
homogeneous, however, but takes into account the senior status of the “earth
people.” Within the village, the hierarchical relationships between the dignita-
ries and the kuda groups are expressed in a “beer procession.”
The sacrifice differentiates gods from human beings, the pujari from the ran-
dari, the pujari and randari from the other “earth people,” the “earth people” as
a whole from their affines (somdi), the Gadaba from the other Desia, and finally
men from women. In this process, temporal sequence, spatial distance, and the
food order are the differentiating characteristics.
As in all other sacrifices, the gods receive three offerings in this context: 1.
the animal’s life, 2. raw food, 3. cooked tsoru. The offering of life (jibon) consists
in the blood that flows directly from the animal’s body into the earth and in the
head that is placed on the site of sacrifice, where the animal’s life gradually de-
parts. “Blood rice” (rokto chaul) is the usual raw offering (first betisong), and
tsoru (second betisong) is finally offered to the gods by all men present. The pu-
jari, the randari, and the sacrificer begin the offering, followed by all other Ga-
daba. Temporal sequence as an expression of seniority structures human beings
just as it does the gods, who receive the offerings in accordance with their status
(elder brother, younger brother, seven sisters). The gods’ relative locations are in
accord with the same principle. The elder brother is located in the center, his
younger brother is outside, and the sisters are absent. Conceptually, they are
twice removed, since they are outside the “outside” that the pat kanda shrine
represents for the village. The hierarchical relationships brought out by the ritual
process in this phase can be visualized with the help of figure 14 (cf. Dumont
1980). The inclusive categories have senior status in each case and can represent

from bag puja. This is said to be otherwise in the years in which jakor puja is “stressed” and
takes place on a different day from bag puja.
450 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

the included junior categories. The presentation is thus concerned with the ideo-
logical level and does not depict spatial relationships.

Figure 14: Oppositions in the First Phase of the Sacrifice at the Great House: Invocation, Food
Offering, and Veneration

After the veneration of the gods and their provision with tsoru, the different
groups begin to prepare and eat their own food. The “earth people” consume the
head, blood, and liver as tsoru, and each participant receives a share of the por-
tion originally cooked for the gods. Their position relative to the gods is charac-
terized by their spatial nearness to the shrine, the part of the sacrificial animal’s
body they receive (head), and the food prepared from it (tsoru), as well as their
place in the temporal sequence of eating. They eat after the gods, but before all
other groups. Within the matia, the pujari and randari occupy a special position.
The pujari sits immediately next to the shrine, begins to eat first, and is the first
to stand up, when all present (“earth people,” their affines, barik) are finished.
As the most senior person in the village, the pujari represents the village as a
whole vis-à-vis the gods and is subordinate to them alone. The randari sits
next to his senior partner, separated from the deity by him.
Some meters distant from the shrine, representatives of the affinal groups
eat the sacrificial animal’s neck as junior tsoru. This term is a euphemism,
 4.6 Conclusion 451

and the ritual unambiguously indicates that their meal is lakka’*.¹³⁰ They eat on
the shrine platform, however, where ideally all male Gadaba (agnates and af-
fines) eat, with the barik at the far end. The fact that many Gadaba do not eat
at the shrine due to their lack of ritual qualification (not fasting, not married),
but rather prepare their portions of the rump in front of the village boundary
with the other Desia groups, does not diminish the clarity of the general message
– the Gadaba contrasted to all non-Gadaba. The distribution of the raw portions
of the meat from the animal’s body traces a movement from the upper part of the
village (the Kirsani) to the lower sai (the Sisa), the houses of which are the last to
receive the meat. The process of distribution and commensality articulates in this
phase of the ritual the oppositions depicted in figure 15.

head (tsoru) neck (lakka’*) rump (lakka’*)

at the shrine further away still further away
first subsequently last
fasting/married fasting --

pujari randari o. a. > affines barik > non-Gadaba

group 1 group 2 group 3

Figure 15: Oppositions in the Second Phase of the Sacrifice at the Great House: Distribution and
Commensality. The abbreviation “o. a.” in the figure refers to the “other agnates” (in addition to
the pujari and randari).

After the meal, the pujari stands up, followed by all the others who have
eaten on the shrine platform, and the pujari and randari take their leave of
the gods. On the way to the rump-eaters’ location in front of the entrance to
the village, the pujari ritually marks a transition on the path through the dry
fields. According to the participants, this serves to keep out evil spirits (duma
daini) that might follow. However, the pujari also thereby marks a boundary
(and a transition) between groups 1 and 2 (Gadaba [agnates and affines] and
barik), who have eaten at the shrine, and group 3 (non-Gadaba).

 They cook in a metal pot and do not receive any of the rice cooked for the gods, and the
neck is cut from the rump, not from the head. In addition, not all the affines are ritually married,
which is apparently not a problem and likewise characterizes the status of this meal.
452 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

In the next stage, the men (participants in the sacrifice) of all groups assem-
ble and are contrasted to the village as “outside.” The men, but also pat kanda as
dorom, are associated with the outside, in contrast to the women in the village
and the village goddess. This boundary is emphasized first of all by the prohib-
ition against bringing meat from the sacrificial animal into the village, some-
thing that is permitted in other contexts (bolani jatra, bag puja), and again by
the pujari, who ritually marks the new transition in the same way as before
and is the first to step over the ritual boundary.
The opposition between the “earth people” and the affines is stressed during
the men’s entrance into the village by the fact that the affines carry the Four
Brothers’ dignitaries and the sacrificer on their shoulders as far as the pujari’s
house. As the pujari in his person ritually represents all the inhabitants of the
village, so his house stands for all the houses of the village.¹³¹ At the pujari’s
house, his wife (along with others) greets the carriers and those they carry. I
would like to point out here something that will come up again, the fact that
a crucial role of women (those who ritually cross the village boundaries during
their lifetime – at marriage – in contrast to men, who do so only after their death)
consists in greeting men and driving them out of the village. The women regulate
entry into the village and legitimate the men’s return, just as they press for their
departure from the village and legitimate that action.
After the ritual greeting, the first station of the beer procession begins. The
route taken to the dignitaries’ houses is a reversal of the movement imagined in
the distribution of the rump meat, since the beer procession proceeds not from
upper (the Kirsani) to lower (the Sisa), but rather from lower to upper. At the
level of the distribution of rump meat, a process subordinate to tsoru commen-
sality, a temporary reversal of seniority between Sisa and Kirsani can take place,
as expressed through the temporal sequence of distribution, but after the en-
trance into the village, the Sisa’s seniority is once again confirmed. The sequence
of visits underlines, first of all, the hierarchical opposition between Sisa and Kir-
sani and second, that between ritual and secular dignitaries (see figure 16).
The different phases of the ritual bring different social categories into rela-
tionship with one another; more precisely, they bring hierarchical oppositions to
the fore, that is, relations between parts and a whole. Senior elements (pujari,
tsoru, head) stand in a special relationship to the whole, represent it, and in-
clude junior elements (randari, lakka’*, rump). The agnates’ food, tsoru, repre-
sents the whole in a special way. The sacrificial animal is financed equally by

 For example, the pujari cannot replace his thatched roof with tiles, because his house must
correspond to the proper order (niam) in all ways.
 4.6 Conclusion 453

Sisa Kirsani

first house third house

pujari randari

second house fourth house

boro naik sano naik

Figure 16: Sequence of the Beer Procession

all the households of the village but distributed unequally. The head, standing
for the entire animal, belongs to the “earth people,” who also receive their shares
of the rump like everyone else. The rice (potri chaul) of the agnates comes from
the stores of all the houses and is consumed only by them and their god, from
one pot. The parts come together into a whole. The rump and the meal prepared
from it lack this unity. It is divided up and consumed separately, from different
pots.

April Festival

A festival like chait porbo, lasting roughly four weeks, links together multiple rit-
uals like the pat kanda sacrifice just described and is therefore of considerably
greater complexity. In the context of chait porbo, three interdependent aspects
come to the fore: tas (agriculture), bet (hunting), and tsoru commensality.
These motifs associate different spatial categories – the fields (liong*, langbo*),
the forest (birong*), and the village (ungom*) – and the social relationships con-
nected with them. In other words, a festival of this kind is a regeneration of so-
ciety and at the same time a reflection about its foundations.
Spatially, the festival moves from outside to inside, from the Great House to a
village turned in on itself, in order then to charge forth into the outside again.
The men go into the forest, driven by the women. The spatial processes also
structure the temporal dimension. The period of the rituals located outside
can be clearly distinguished from the phase focused on the center, and this
phase in turn from that of the hunt. Moreover, the festival (like the life cycle
as well) is structured by means of periodization and synchronization. The pro-
454 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

hibition on plowing in effect during the sacrifices for the earth goddess and the
hunt, for example, marks a specific segment of time. The entire festival is
synchronized with the growth of the paddy rice, beginning with sowing and end-
ing with transplantation into the permanent fields.
The paddy rice is clearly distinguished from the plants of the dry fields in the
rituals. While the sacrifices for the paddy rice are directed to the river gods
(kamni), the dry-field seeds are more strongly associated with the earth deities.
These seeds receive sacrificial offerings in front of doron deli and are distributed
to the entire village by the pujari at hundi. The sowing and transplantation of the
paddy rice is linked to the offering of kordi rice to the river gods, a food that
marks auspicious ritual transformations, especially in the context of the life
cycle, at birth and death, for example.¹³² Not only in the context of chait
porbo, but throughout the entire annual cycle, correlations are evident between
human reproductive cycles and agricultural ones, correlations that are of funda-
mental importance for the understanding of the rituals and the value-ideas
transmitted by them. Figure 17 provides an overview of the most important rit-
uals in chait porbo.

Sacrifices outside the Village

The phase of the rituals located outside the village begins with the sacrifice for
the river gods (kamni) on the occasion of the sowing of paddy rice in the palla
fields by the pujari and randari. The offering and the commensality of kordi
rice signal a ritual transition entailing a transformation in status. This transfor-
mation concerns the seeds and the young rice plants. Other than the pujari and
randari (and possibly the naik and the barik), no one else is present, and the rit-
ual (kandul baja palla bija) receives no public attention. It is the prerequisite for
sowing the individual palla fields, however, something that takes place in the
period between kandul baja palla bija and the pat kanda sacrifice. With the sac-
rifice at the Great House, the Four Brothers meet for the first time as a tsoru com-
munity in the context of the festival, and starting on this day, demsa is danced at
the assembly plaza each evening.
The following sacrifices also take place outside the village. The collective bo-
lani jatra contrasts the men who consume the head of the sacrificial animal out-
side the village boundaries to the women who eat the rump inside the village. In

 Kordi rice is also offered in the context of the ritual sowing of the dry fields by the pujari.
This food is absent from the individual rituals for the dry fields, however, while it is an ob-
ligatory part of the rituals for the paddy rice.
 4.6 Conclusion 455

Figure 17: Overview of chait porbo

456 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

the following days, individual kutum sacrifice for different gods outside the vil-
lage, where in each case the Gadaba groups consume the head of the he-goat,
distributing the rump (cooked and with rice) in the village.

The Village Closes

After the rituals that stress external relationships, the village draws back upon
itself and closes its borders, which are guarded by girls and women. No wounds
should be made in the earth’s surface during this period. These circumstances
point to an analogy between the village and the house, already demonstrated
previously, and especially to a birth context. At all other times of the year, the
village is open, just as the doors of the houses are always open, as long as peo-
ple are there and awake. The only reason to close a house door during the day is
the birth of a child inside. In the case of a birth as well, the women monitor entry
to the house, and wounding the earth’s surface is a delicate enterprise; rather,
what is needed is the veneration of hundi. The earth goddess plays a significant
role in the reproduction of domesticated plants – especially those of the dry
fields, as will become evident below – and of human beings, and the full
moon¹³³ is the auspicious time for births, as it is for the veneration of the
earth goddess in chait porbo.
In all houses, a handful of seed grain (rice, rapeseed, millet) is ritually
brought down from the loft on the day before the festival day, receives blood sac-
rifice on porbo din – blood is let drip on it, thereby “bringing it to life” – and is
later sown with the other seeds in the dry fields. The seeds from the pujari’s
house are distributed to all the villagers at hundi at the end of the village’s se-
clusion – after water has been poured on the pujari by a village sister – and scat-
tered in the gardens or on the dungheaps (the dung is brought to the millet fields
later).¹³⁴ The swinging by the young girls is just as much associated with fertility
as the pelting of the hunters with dung by the women, who in this way drive the
men out of the village into the forest. A successful hunt is the signal of a good
harvest; beto and taso go together.
The festival’s three sequential days – nita din, porbo din, and basi porbo –
are connected to food and commensality in different and contrasting ways.

 That is, the day on which moonrise immediately follows sunset, and the moon entirely
banishes darkness throughout the night. The sun and moon are then equally balanced and fully
opposed to one another.
 The seeds from the pujari’s house are either distributed at hundi or sown by the pujari in
the dry fields on the last day of the festival.
 4.6 Conclusion 457

The preparatory nita din ¹³⁵ is associated with abstinence from food, as is re-
quired before sacrifices, even though people in fact do not fast on this day. On
the other hand, all the inhabitants of the village go without meals (i. e., without
rice and millet gruel) for the first half of the following festival day; the tsoru in
the individual houses is the first food taken, after the sacrifices for hundi and
doron deli. Before that, only the sons of the village have eaten tsoru with the vil-
lage goddess and have thereby “seen the Four Brothers” (chari bai dekla). The
recently deceased (duma), for whom gotr has not yet been celebrated, do not re-
ceive this honor. Old women merely bring them lakka’* food at the cremation site
before tsoru is eaten in the individual houses. After the house’s tsoru commen-
sality, the young women bring lakka’* food to their (living) neighbors as “wan-
dering rice” (bulani bat). The day ends with the tsoru commensality of the
(adult) Four Brothers in the pujari’s house.¹³⁶ After the “fasting” of the first
day and the ordered distribution and consumption of tsoru and lakka’* food
on the festival day, the following “leftover day” (basi porbo) is one of relatively
unstructured feasting. Those who sacrificed he-goats on the previous day do in-
vite the men of the village to their yards and offer beer and chakana, as well as
lakka’* food, but it is otherwise left to the individual to decide where, what, and
with whom he or she eats and drinks.

Opening through the Hunt

After the phase of seclusion, the village opens in stages, until all the prohibitions
are lifted again on the day of the veneration of the mountain (dongoro mandini).
The outward movement is ritually initiated by the women, who drive the hunters

 Nita refers to a pure ritual status (as in the nita boy and nita girl in bato biba and the
wedding rituals) and is correspondingly linked to abstention from meals (upas).
 The choice of this location for tsoru commensality is particularly significant. As previously
described, tsoru should only be cooked and eaten at the location of the sacrifice. The fact that
the table of the agnates properly meets in the pujari’s house points to his house’s special status.
The structure of Gadaba houses is generally isomorphic with that of the village, as I have
previously demonstrated. In the case of this house, which represents all the houses of the
village, just as the pujari represents all the members of the village, and his stock of seed
represents that of the entire village, the relationship seems to go far beyond a structural analogy,
in the direction of an equivalence between house and village, doron deli and hundi. Hundi’s tsoru
is eaten in the pujari’s house, and the pujari’s seed grain, conversely, is distributed by him as he
stands on hundi’s shrine.
458 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

out of the village by pelting them with dung.¹³⁷ Just as the sons of the village
were the first to eat tsoru with the village goddess on the festival day, the boys
begin the hunt period (after the ritual of dung throwing, however) with the tingri
bet (small hunt). They bring their prize (the “leaf stag”) to the earth goddess and
are ritually received (with tika) by the pujari’s wife at hundi. ¹³⁸ The movement of
breaking out from the village into the forest is repeated on the following days.
The ritual hunting expeditions of the boys, the men (boro bet), and the pujari
(dongoro mandini) concern only the hills belonging to the village; more distant
hills are sought out in the hunts of the following days. The hunters thus expand
their radius step by step and begin, as a matter of principle, with the village’s
immediate periphery.
The dominant relationship for the hunting excursions is that between the
village and the “Herder of the Forest” (bon goudo). Various collective and individ-
ual sacrifices are directed to this guardian of the mountains in order to legitimate
the killing and eating of wild animals. The forest is no “wilderness,” empty of
social relationships; rather, reciprocal relationships between the village and
bon goudo exist in this context as well. Humans sacrifice chicks and eggs and
set chickens free in the forest, thus offering domesticated life in exchange for
life from the forest. Along with bon goudo’s permission, the karandi deity
helps humans in the hunt by leading the hunters to game and vice versa. This
deity consequently receives sacrificial offerings from the village on the day of
the great hunt.
The forest is a realm of dangerous beings, but also of medicine and the “orig-
inal” food of game, roots, and berries, from the mythical time when the Gadaba
(coming from the Godavari) were not yet familiar with agriculture. At least the
large animals brought down (wild pigs, mountain goats, and stags) are laid be-
fore the earth goddess and consecrated to her, although she does not accept any
wild animals as food. Wild animals are butchered only outside the village boun-
daries, where the heads of the animals taken are cooked and eaten by all the
hunters.
As already noted, women and girls monitor the village boundaries during the
festival. While the entering men were greeted by the women at the pujari’s house
after the sacrifice for pat kanda, and the village boundaries were then closed to

 Dung is thrown at the men on multiple occasions and not only in predictable contexts
(such as the time prescribed by the boro dissari), but also spontaneously, when the men take too
long departing for the hunt, for example.
 In no other festival is the active ritual role of boys (as tsoru eaters and hunters) and girls
(driving the men out, guarding the borders, and swinging) of greater significance than in chait
porbo.
 4.6 Conclusion 459

strangers and passable only with payment of a toll (pajor), in the phase of the
village’s opening the women monitor the outward movement. On the one
hand, the men are driven out of the village with dung; on the other hand,
they have to pay pajor in order to be let out on the day of the great hunt. Before
the men depart, the women consecrate their weapons and give them a ritual fare-
well with tika, in the same way that they will receive them on their return. Luck-
less hunters, nevertheless, can expect the women’s scorn and mockery after re-
turning home. Women thus seem to be particularly suited to act as guardians of
the village boundaries, perhaps because women are themselves beings who
cross these boundaries at marriage and have ties to two villages during their
lives. The facts that the hunters are driven into the forest with dung and that
the women consecrate the instruments of killing point to the correlation between
bet and tas indicated by my informants. The taking of life in the forest is linked to
the growth of the fields, but it is also potentially hazardous for human embryos,
for which reason men whose wives are pregnant should not eat the meat from
the animals’ heads.

Return to Village and Fields

The conclusion of the festival returns to the commensal village community of the
Four Brothers, to the earth goddess, and to the fields. The first ritual plowing by
the pujari marks the end of the hunt and the continuation of agricultural activity.
On the morning of last day of the festival, the village goddess receives sacrifices,
but the shrine is opened only once in each festival season, and so the offerings
are presented before the closed shrine. After that, the pujari and randari sow
seeds in the miniature dry fields they have set up and finally transplant some
of the now roughly thirty-centimeter-tall rice plants from the temporary fields
for seedlings into the permanent paddies. Kordi rice is again offered as food,
marking the ritual transition. At the beginning of chait porbo, the paddy rice
plants were “born,” and on the festival’s last day, they are taken from the
palla fields and gardens (aro*) belonging to the village and turned over to the
river and kamni. Once the rice has become a “young woman” in the cold season,
it will be brought back into the village as a bride. In the evening, the table of the
agnates meets for the last time in the pujari’s house, where the randari has pre-
pared tsoru from all the chickens sacrificed during the day.
460 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

Structure of the Festivals: chait, bandapan, and diali porbo

Over the course of a year, the Gadaba celebrate six festivals (porbo), three of
which are considered the central festivals of the annual cycle. This status can
be inferred from the Gadaba’s own estimations, but it is also clear from the char-
acteristics of the festivals themselves. Only in the context of the festivals in April
(chait), August (bandapan), and November (diali) is the shrine of the village god-
dess opened, and it is exclusively at these festivals that the commensal tsoru
community of the Four Brothers makes an appearance. Each of these festivals
extends over multiple weeks, and the village is put to a great deal of expense
to sacrifice various animals for the gods at the village’s different shrines. The fes-
tivals in July (ashad) and January (pus) are collective mansik rituals, in which the
pujari makes a vow (mansik, titi leno’*) for the village’s well-being, and animals
are sacrificed on the path. These festivals are not mandatory according to divine
order or tradition (niam), but have the status of prophylactic healing rituals. The
festival in October (dosra) lasts one day. Cucumbers and catfish are sacrificed in
the rituals associated with Durga on the paths outside the village, but no rituals
take place within the village. In the days when the king of Jeypore still held his
office and dignity, the raja beti, the duty of showing reverence to the king, was
possibly a matter of great significance, but in the ritual context of the village,
dosra porbo is relatively insignificant. For these reasons, the following analysis
of the structure of the seasonal festivals and rituals concentrates on three festi-
vals: chait porbo, bandapan porbo, and diali porbo.
The three festivals fall in the three seasons that the Gadaba distinguish, the
dry, hot season (chait porbo), the rainy season (bandapan porbo), and the dry,
cold season (diali porbo); the festivals accompany or anticipate the processes
of the agrarian cycle. As I have shown above, chait porbo is concerned with
the “birth” and growth of the grain. In separate rituals, the seeds for the dry
fields are made fertile or “brought to life” and sown, on the one hand, and
the paddy rice is sown and ultimately transplanted, on the other. The entire fes-
tival is ritually synchronized with the growth of the paddy rice. The implicit anal-
ogy to the process of “birth” can be discerned, I have argued, in the village’s
movement to close itself in and in the role of women as boundary guards,
both of which are analogous to human birth at the level of the house. In banda-
pan porbo – the feast of the rainy season – the relationships to the dry fields
dominate. The festival’s last ritual is explicitly designated as sutok sorani for
the rice and the millet of the dry fields; in other words, it is equated with the
life-cycle ritual that ends ritual impurity (sutok) after birth. Diali porbo in the
cold season returns to the theme of the paddy rice, which is brought into the vil-
lage as a bride following the festival.
 4.6 Conclusion 461

Periodizations of Growth
The year is structured by means of discontinuities, ritually created and marked,
in the process of growth and harvest. These periodizations are not limited to the
context of the festivals, but reach beyond the boundaries of the individual festi-
vals and in part link ritual activities associated with different festivals to one an-
other. So, for example, moka biru (the ritual of the young plants) in the rainy sea-
son initiates the weeding phase, which concludes only with the dalgada ritual,
the last ritual of bandapan porbo. In the case of chait porbo, the period in which
the paddy rice develops from sowing to transplantation coincides with the time-
span of the festival. Further, the discontinuities emphasized by the rituals desig-
nate transformations or changes of status by the plants that are not dissimilar to
the changes undergone by human beings in the course of the life cycle. The
transformations undergone by millet can be taken as an example. The first
phase begins in chait porbo with the “bringing down of the seeds” (bion utrani)
and ends on the last day of the festival with the ritual sowing by the pujari. In the
next ritual concerned with millet, among other things, the seed (bion) has meta-
morphosed into young plants (moka), and after the last ritual of bandapan
porbo, the Gadaba speak for the first time of millet (mandia). In a similar way,
paddy rice goes from seed (bion) to seedling (palla) to rice plant (dan). The peri-
odizations of the growth of paddy rice and the plants of the dry fields are depict-
ed in figures 18 and 19.
The view of the rituals and festivals as events and processes following one
upon the other, that is, as diachronically connected, is a perspective immediately
accessible even to external observers, but it is not the sole component in the
structure of the annual cycle. The “synchronic-diachronic structure” that Lévi-
Strauss (1963, 229) sees as characteristic of myths is also characteristic of the
structure of rituals; in other words, the syntagmatic dimension is supplemented
by the paradigmatic ordering of constitutive units. Both in myth and in ritual, as
Lévi-Strauss argues, conceptual oppositions are stressed by means of redundan-
cy. The hearers of a myth who are familiar with many myths and versions, or the
actors in a ritual who have experienced the annual ritual cycle many times,
grasp the “messages” they contain both with their intellects and with their bod-
ies, in which, as Bourdieu (1999, 106 f) describes, the “objective sense” of insti-
tutions is inscribed as “practical sense.” The value-ideas transmitted in this way
are accessible to the anthropologist through his or her analysis of ritual practice.

Structure of the Sacrifices

The diachronic sequence or movement of the festivals points to an analogous se-
quence of collective sacrifices, emphasizing two oppositions: outside/inside and
462 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

Figure 18: Paddy Rice Cycle

whole/part. The festival movements lead from the outside to the inside and then
from the whole to the parts. The individual elements in this sequence may vary,
but the relationships or movements remain relatively constant.
Chait porbo and bandapan porbo are almost identical in their syntagmatic
structure. The sequence of collective sacrifices begins at two shrines outside
the village boundaries (respectively pat kanda and jakor), where the Four Broth-
ers assemble as a tsoru community, and the external sacrifices are followed by
the collective hundi puja in the center of the village on the festival day. The fes-
tival day itself manifests a movement from the village as a whole (ga matam) to
its parts (gulai ga), that is, from the collective hundi puja and the Four Brothers to
the individual house deities (doron deli) and each house’s inhabitants. At least in
the fact that the second step is absent, diali porbo deviates from this pattern. At
first glance, this festival does not appear to have a festival day, and this fact is
also probably the reason that my informants expressed divergent opinions on
 4.6 Conclusion 463

Figure 19: Dry-Field Cycle

the question of when the festival day was within the festival or whether there
was a diali porbo in Gudapada at all.¹³⁹
However, the movement from outside to inside is also apparent in diali porbo
with regard to the collective sacrifices: the sacrifice for pat kanda is followed by
hundi puja, as in chait porbo. The movement from the whole to the parts initially
appears to be missing, since the sacrifice for hundi is not followed by sacrifices
for the house gods, as in chait and bandapan porbo. The individual sacrifices
by each house in diali porbo are located temporally outside the festival proper
and spatially outside the village. This time, the site of the rituals is not the
house, and the relevant deity is not (at first¹⁴⁰) doron deli; instead, the places

 In other villages, collective sacrifices for boirobi and other gods (including hundi) take place
after hundi sitlani (at the new moon); these sacrifices are oriented to the full moon and therefore
fall within the usual time period of the festival day.
 The first basket of the new harvest (joni tifni) is placed in front of doron deli, and the rice is
consumed there as tsoru in chait porbo. Immediately on the next day after the harvest, the heads
of the animals sacrificed in the harvest rituals are cooked and eaten in the house by its in-
habitants.
464 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

are the river and the threshing floor, and the deity receiving the sacrifice is
kamni. The day of the hundi sacrifice (hundi sitlani) is not considered a festival
day, but the bringing home of the paddy rice harvest as a bride is celebrated
as one.¹⁴¹ The relationship between whole and part in this case is between
hundi sitlani and the day of the paddy rice harvest, which may be several
weeks distant. The sequence of sacrifices and the paradigmatic relationships
(to be read horizontally) in the three festivals can be displayed graphically in
the form presented in figure 20.

Oppositions in the Annual Cycle

The Gadaba conceptualize the time period of a year in cyclical (i. e., periodic)
form. True, they do not have a Gutob term for year, to the best of my knowledge,
but use the Desia word borso (or boros). Nevertheless, the mandara ritual, part of
diali porbo, is a ritual recognition of this period of time and its recurring charac-
ter. In this ritual, last year’s seeds, which had been sealed in a small clay pot, are
examined for their condition – from which prognoses for the coming year are de-
duced – and new kernels of grain are put in.
Alongside the cyclical perspective, however, another conception of time’s
movement exists, one that Leach calls alternation or oscillation and defines as
the “‘discontinuity of repeated contrasts’” (Leach 1977, 134), a “back and forth”
instead of a “round and round” (126). An oscillation of this kind between villages
and generations has already been described in the context of the ritual ex-
changes of the life cycle – the oscillation of buffaloes and brides and the struc-
tural identity of alternate generations – and this pattern is also found in the
exchanges between the village and the rice paddies. Rice (palla plants) is
given, and rice (dan as bride) is received. The festivals that effect the paddy
rice’s ritual transformation – chait and diali porbo – are correspondingly con-
trasted to one another, while bandapan porbo is not concerned with the rice
paddies. Chait porbo, which begins with the sowing of the paddy rice and
ends with the transplantation of the palla plants into the permanent fields,
and diali porbo, which begins the paddy rice harvest, are contrasted by the
hot season vs. cold season opposition, in addition to the opposition between
giving rice and bringing in rice.

 A sacrifice is made for the dead on the eve, as is usual on the eve of festival days, and the
entire house is painted on the day itself. Tsoru is cooked within the house community (at the
threshing floor), and lakka’* food is distributed in the evening as “wandering rice” (bulani bat).
Like the usual festival days, the day the rice is brought home may fall only on certain days of the
week, and many houses perform the corresponding rituals on this day, not isolated houses.
 4.6 Conclusion 465

a) chait porbo b) bandapan porbo c) diali porbo

pat kanda bolani bag puja jakor pat kanda

village boundary village boundary village boundary

doron doron
deli hundi deli hundi hundi

threshing floors / kamni

Figure 20: Outside/Inside and Whole/Part Oppositions in the Sacrifices of the Three Festivals

Both festivals are jointly opposed to bandapan porbo. ¹⁴² Diali porbo and chait
porbo fall in the dry seasons, both festivals begin with the sacrifice for pat kanda
(dorom) outside the village, and both festivals are concerned with the seeds and
plants of both the dry fields and the rice paddies. In addition, diali porbo and
chait porbo both fall in seasons of relative food security, and no cattle sacrifices
are performed in either festival. In other villages that sacrifice buffaloes for the
deity boirobi, this happens in most cases as part of diali porbo, more rarely in
chait porbo. In the rainy season, no buffaloes should be sacrificed; in the dry sea-
son (diali porbo and chait porbo), conversely, no sacrifices of cattle take place as
part of the collective village rituals. In villages, like Gudapada, that do not have a
boirobi shrine, this contrast between buffaloes and cattle in the context of the

 However, the opposition between the seasonal categories does not entail any empirical
marking of the transition from one season to another, such as through rituals, and the seasons
flow more or less gradually into one another.
466 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

annual cycle cannot be articulated, and the opposition here is between cattle
sacrifices and the absence of cattle sacrifices. These distinctive characteristics
set up a series of oppositions between diali porbo and chait porbo on the one
hand and bandapan porbo on the other, as the following table shows.

Table 14: Oppositions in the Annual Cycle

chait porbo / diali porbo bandapan porbo

ritual link to fields
season
external sacrifices
sacrificial animals
subsistence
rice paddies and dry fields only dry fields
dry season rainy season
pat kanda (dorom) bag puja / jakor (bosmoti)
[buffalo sacrifice] cattle sacrifice
relative abundance relative scarcity

Relationships between the Life Cycle and the Annual Cycle

Plants and Harvest as Children and Brides

In the rituals and festivals of the annual cycle, the opposition between the rice
paddies and the dry fields is of the greatest significance, since this opposition
does not merely contrast categories of grain and of the landscape, but is also
concerned with relationships and value-ideas that affect the reproduction of
the society as a whole: consanguinity vs. affinity and good and balanced rela-
tionships vs. threatening and unpredictable ones. Alongside the balanced and
ideally reciprocal relationships on which the reproduction of society rests, the
opposition between the types of fields – and hence between the seasons and
the festivals – also points to those types of relationships that pose a danger to
life and how they are handled. In this regard, it is not surprising that the rituals
of the annual cycle have links both to life-cycle rituals and to healing rituals. The
rituals of the annual cycle set up analogies between the growth of plants, their
fruits, and their source, on the one hand, and the growth of human beings, their
“fruits,” and their foundation, on the other. Moreover, plants and humans are
equally threatened by the demons’ arbitrary incursions and the sorcerers’ will
to destruction.
As I have already remarked above, I argue, in contrast to Gudeman, that the
processes of reproduction should not be split up into distinct domains, as the
distinction between schema and object suggests. I do not interpret the Gadaba
agrarian cycle as a local economic model that applies a schema drawn from
the social order. Rather, both aspects are part of an encompassing ideology in
 4.6 Conclusion 467

which regeneration is guaranteed by ritual processes (the circulation of milk,

blood, and rice) and the acts of commensality included within them. Affinal cat-
egories occupy a central place in this system, since their participation is a pre-
requisite for reproduction. This ideology distinguishes categories like tas and
bet, but not the “social” and the “economic.” The reproduction of humans
and fields is subject to the same principles, and the mechanisms for the preser-
vation of life, like life’s sources and the threats against it, are the same in both
cases.
In order to bring into clearer focus the opposition between the rice paddies
and the dry fields and the corresponding opposition between the seasons and
the festivals – diali/chait porbo vs. bandapan porbo – I will now take up again
for a closer examination the two processes of growth and the relationships es-
tablished along the way.

Dry Fields
The plants of the dry fields – millet, dry-field rice, and rapeseed – are closely
associated with the representations of the earth deity (doron deli, hundi). The
phase of “birth” in chait porbo, when the village closes itself off, is concerned
only with the seeds of the dry fields, for which the process of growth is initiated
by the blood of the sacrifices. Before the festival day, the seeds are brought down
from the loft, and on the day itself, they receive their sacrifices in front of the
domestic representation of the earth, doron deli. On the day on which the village
begins to open again, at the shrine of the village goddess, the pujari distributes
the seeds of his house to the villagers, who scatter the seeds in their gardens (or
in the manure pile, which will later fertilize the millet fields). This phase of se-
clusion is concerned with these seeds alone, not the rice paddies. On the last
day of chait porbo, the pujari sows the seeds in a miniature dry field, many
weeks before the entire village does the same. At that time, the rainy season
has already begun, in which the work and rituals having to do with the dry fields
are at the forefront. As part of the ritual for the young plants (moka biru), some
plants are sent out of the village in a wagon, so that the rest of the dry-field har-
vest flourishes and the phase of weeding begins. Unlike the rice paddies, in
which it is exclusively women who do the weeding, both sexes participate in
this task in the dry fields. The activity of weeding also brings with it the end
of the ritual impurity (sutok) of the plants of the dry fields with the collective dal-
gada ritual and the subsequent individual millet rituals (mandia biru). The dal-
gada and the millet rituals are considered sutok sorani for the dry-field plants.
Sutok sorani in the context of the life cycle is the first step in a newborn’s
integration into the village community. The period of impurity ends with this rit-
468 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

ual not only for the child, but for the entire local line (i. e., the agnates and the
in-married women). The infant also receives his or her first tsoru and a name,
with the consequence, among other things, that he or she is now susceptible
to sorcery attacks. A few days after this ritual, a cord is tied around the child
to protect him or her from such attacks and from rau, and a vow is also made
for the child’s protection. The child is only at the beginning of the road to becom-
ing a social person, and his or her existence is seen as threatened.
The period of impurity for the millet and the other plants of the dry fields
ends with the mentioned rituals, and the prohibitions on eating the produce
of the forest and gardens, affecting all inhabitants of the village, also end at
the same time. These prohibitions imply an agnatic relationship between the
plants of the dry fields and the inhabitants of the village (who are ideally all ag-
nates), on whom the plants’ status apparently has a direct effect, as in the case
of the birth of a child. As in the case of a child, the plants appear to be subject to
potential danger from attacks by rau and harmful magic after sutok sorani, since
it is only now (in the millet ritual) that the small banner (siral) that serves to
ward off such attacks is set up in the fields to accompany the millet until thresh-
ing is over. Previously, the plants (called merely moka) had no names and were
correspondingly immune to these malicious practices.
Although the parallels to the sutok sorani of the life cycle are clearly evident,
the millet ritual includes aspects that cannot be reconciled with this and possi-
bly point to another context, one that also has a connection to the rituals for
newborns, however: the context of the dead or the ancestors. The verbal formula
that accompanies the distribution of the millet cakes in the millet ritual is itself
addressed to two recipients who are supposed to share the offering: “Duma
daini, mata pita, share [the offering among yourselves] and eat. Eat from the
leaf or eat from the hand.” Duma daini refers to evil spirits in general and
also includes those beings that have become a fundamentally malicious category
of spirits as a consequence of a bad death, the so-called “forest” or “tiger” duma.
“Mother-father” (mata pita) can refer to doron deli or hundi in the context of the
house or village, but here probably means the forefathers (duma), those who
have undergone the normal ritual cycle and become ancestors. The circumstan-
ces of eating, “from the leaf” or “from the hand,” underline this contrast be-
tween the “domesticated” and the “wild” dead. The type of offering – millet
cakes and crabs – supports the thesis that the millet ritual is concerned with
the dead, as well as with the protective functions of sutok sorani. Neither gods
nor demons receive food (cakes, gruel) or beverages (beer) made from millet,
which belong to the domestic sphere – this is why doron deli occasionally also
receives libations of pendom – and are brought to the cremation site for the
 4.6 Conclusion 469

dead.¹⁴³ Crabs are the typical offerings for the dead.¹⁴⁴ I will return to the connec-
tion between the dead and the dry fields shortly.
In summary, we can say that the rituals for the plants of the dry fields are
concerned with the growth of the village’s “children,” from “birth” in chait
porbo to sutok sorani in bandapan porbo, and various indicators demonstrate
the consanguineal classification of these plants.¹⁴⁵ Their growth depends directly
on the earth deities, who are conceptualized as procreative parents: as village
mother (hundi), as father (doron deli), or as mother-father (hundi, doron deli),
that is, as parents. The millet rituals, described together with the dalgada ritual
as sutok sorani for the dry fields, are addressed on the one hand to evil spirits
and other negative influences, in order to protect the young plants – which
have now become part of the community, so to speak – and on the other to
the “good” dead who have become ancestors. Unlike the case of the dry fields,
neither the element of danger nor the association with the dead is articulated
during the growth process of the paddy rice, and only at harvest are measures
to protect the paddy rice undertaken.

Rice Paddies
The rice paddies are conceived of affinally, and the recipients of the sacrificial
offerings are not hundi, doron deli, or the seeds themselves, but the river gods
(kamni), with whom tsoru commensality is practiced (in contrast to the dead
and the evil spirits in the millet ritual). The river gods are considered the parents
of the rice, which is brought into the village as a bride. It is said that the phase of
making suit for the bride (raibadi) begins with the repair of the field boundaries

 Newborns, who still belong to the community of the dead, are rubbed with millet powder
immediately after birth, and as a rule, millet gruel is a human being’s first meal. In addition, the
way the food is offered in the millet ritual is noteworthy. The fact that the sacrificer takes turns
throwing bits of the cakes and eating them himself can be interpreted as a sign of nearness; this
alternating consumption is impossible with gods and would be undesirable with demons. This
taking turns in eating in the millet ritual recalls the behavior of the buffalo-takers at gotr, when
they consume beer and rice together with the buffaloes.
 However, crabs are usually killed in the rituals for the dead (as also in those for the
demons), not tied up alive and let go. Tying up crabs is usual as part of the so-called “crab” gotr
(ungon gotr*), in which these animals replace the buffaloes. I observed this ritual once in the
Onukadilli area, since it is not celebrated in the area around Lamtaput. It is nonetheless possible
that tying up crabs during the millet ritual has a similar significance, and it points in any case
toward the duma as addressees.
 The fact that men participate in weeding the dry fields (unlike the rice paddies) is perhaps
an additional indication of the consanguineal status of these fields.
470 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

(iri) in January, but the conception of the rice as a bride first becomes explicit in
the context of the harvest.¹⁴⁶
Sacrifices are performed for kamni at sowing, at the beginning of chait porbo,
and again at the end of the festival, when the seedlings are transplanted. The
next rituals concerned with the paddy rice are mandara and ker anbar many
months later in diali porbo, when the pujari anticipates the harvest rituals,
and the first ear of grain is brought into the village. The river gods receive sacri-
ficial offerings in this context as well, and finally, they are presented sacrificial
offerings as bridewealth for their daughter at each individual harvest. In this
context, tsoru is prepared and is eaten by the bride-takers only once the river
gods have received their appropriate portion. Only at the end of the growth
cycle is the paddy rice brought into the houses as a bride and set down next
to doron deli – some say that he is the bridegroom – where it will be cooked
and consumed as tsoru five months later in chait porbo. On that day, sacrifices
are also performed for the seeds of the dry fields, which remain at doron deli
until sowing. The end and the beginning of the two reproductive cycles of the
paddy rice and the plants of the dry fields thus meet in the inner room of the
house on the chait porbo festival day, although the two processes of growth
run largely parallel in time.

Paradigmatic and Syntagmatic Relationships

At this point, additional connections and analogies to the transformations de-
scribed in the life-cycle rituals become evident. On the day a bride is brought
into the village, she first eats kordi rice and then at night “eats” her husband’s
semen in order to bear children. Only later, at her wedding, when the “world”
(dunia) has been invited, will she eat tsoru in her new house: in February, before
the harvest cycle begins again. Moreover, she not only “eats” semen when she

 Due to its asymmetry, the exchange between kamni and village does not correspond to the
exchange of brides between villages. The transformation of the paddy rice nevertheless has
similarities to women’s change of residence in the context of marriage. They grow “in the
village” (in the palla fields conceptualized as belonging to the village) and leave the village as
young plants. The “fruits” (ears of grain) of the young plants given away are brought into the
village as a bride. The plants of the dry fields do not undergo any of these transformations, but
remain in the “village” (like agnates). The seeds of the dry fields are sown directly by men, and
these plants are not conceptualized as leaving the village, since they grow on “consanguineal”
soil. For this reason, it is also the case that this grain needs no rite of passage at harvest, as
paddy rice does. Millet, dry-field rice, and rapeseed are not ritually greeted at the house.
 4.6 Conclusion 471

enters her husband’s house, she also brings some with her.¹⁴⁷ The rice that she
carries in a basket (tifni) on her head when she crosses the threshold is referred
to with the same word (bion), implying its subsequent use as seed (taken from
the house out to the fields). Conversely, the rice bride (the joni tifni) is brought
into the village after the harvest – as yield, joni (i. e., brought from the field
into the house) – and set down next to the house deity, to be consumed as
tsoru sometime later: at a time when the earth is giving birth to new life and
the village is shut away from the world.
The Gadaba do not have at their disposal any explicit theories (Lukes 1985)
that would explain how the rice bride, consumed as tsoru, makes the people of
the house or the house itself “fertile.” Nevertheless, in my view it is significant
and not at all coincidental that the transformations of the paddy rice – the joni
tifni, which stands for the entire harvest as pars pro toto – end in this way, as
tsoru in the bodies of the house’s inhabitants. This is something that the actors
can also experience in terms of implicit theories or practical sense, just as the
“fertilization” of humans through the rice bride becomes clear as an objective
sense from the structure of the rituals. In the context of the mortuary rituals,
moreover, we can observe an additional reversal of this motif, since in gotr, a buf-
falo that I have interpreted as the second bride given by the mother’s brother is
brought by the affines to the sponsors’ village. Unlike the rice bride, the fertile
part taken from the rice paddies to end in human stomachs, the fertile part of
the buffalo, corresponding to the entrails of the resurrected dead, is ripped
out in the fields and buried in the dry fields, once again before the eyes of the
“world.” The “fertilization” here runs in the opposite direction (“humans”
make fields fertile), but affinal categories are necessary participants in all the
processes of reproduction described.¹⁴⁸ The significant paradigmatic and syntag-

 In Desia and in Gutob, bion and sumol* mean both the seed of plants and male semen (cf.
“bian” in Gustafsson 1989).
 It cannot be unambiguously determined to what extent rain (borsa), the “water of the
clouds” or “water of the heavens” (tirip da’*), which obviously contributes to growth in the dry
fields and gives the corresponding season of the year its name (da’ din*), is conceived of in
affinal terms. Elwin (1954, 80 f) reports two Gadaba myths on the subject of rain. In one myth,
the sky god (here called “Bhima Raja”) collected all the water in a container after the flood that
destroyed the first world, and the earth dried out. A courageous Gadaba went to him to ask for
rain, and the queen agreed that when she bathed after menstruation in the month of ashad
(July), she would sprinkle water so that it would fall to earth, and she counseled the Gadaba to
sow at this time. Among the Sora as well, the wife of the sun god (“Uyungboi”) is responsible for
rain, among others; in this case, rain is identified with milk, a synonym for affinal reproduction,
at least among the Gadaba: “‘As a mother gives milk to her child, so Uyungboi draws milk from
472 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

matic relationships among these transformations can be summarized in the fol-

lowing table.

Table 15: Paradigmatic and Syntagmatic Relationships between the Reproductive Processes

Paradigmatic Relationships Bride Rice Bride

(horizontal)
“eats” kordi rice / male semen / is eaten as tsoru
tsoru
rice as “seed grain” (from the rice as “yield”
house to the field) (from the field to the house)
Bride Buffalo Bride
restricted exchange of generalized exchange of
fertility fertility
is fetched is brought
Buffalo Bride Rice Bride
stomach to field from the field to human
stomachs
duma give fertility to dry fields paddy rice gives fertility to
human beings
Syntagmatic Relationships Rice Bride è Human Stomachs
(horizontal) Intestines of the Buffalo Bride è Dry Fields
(stomach of the earth goddess)

Against the background of this interpretation, the invocation addressed to

“mother-father” (mata pita) and the offerings in the context of the millet ritual
(dalgada biru) previously described are easier to understand. This ritual is pos-
sibly a veneration and feeding of those dead who contribute to the growth of the
plants, not the duma who are still waiting for their gotr to be performed (for
whom crabs are sacrificed in duma balo’), nor those who have already been di-
gested in the stomachs of the panjabai (who merely participate in the earth god-
dess’s sacrifices), but those whose stomachs were “distributed” over the fields in
“go’ter*.” Perhaps it is to mark this difference that the crabs are not killed in the
millet ritual, but tied up like buffaloes or set free. Finally, I would like to explore
additional implications of the millet ritual as sutok sorani for the dry fields.

her breasts and gives it to men in the form of rain,’” Elwin (1955, 126) writes, apparently quoting
an informant.
 4.6 Conclusion 473

Feeding and Devouring

The second aspect of the millet ritual made evident by the name of sutok sorani –
alongside the association of the plants and the dry fields with children and the
dead – is revealed in the contrast to the homology between the paddy rice and
the bride and so points to the type of relationships involved and their valuation.
The plants of the dry fields are similar to children in the potential danger
they face. Despite the contribution of the dead, the plants are susceptible to im-
ponderable influences (rau, duma daini, nosto), and the produce of the dry fields
is at risk of being devoured (kai debar) by these powers, as the idiom of destruc-
tion has it. In the reproduction of the dry fields, then, unpredictable influences
play a large role, influences that are outside the realm of regular (soman), recip-
rocal exchange relationships and that take without giving.
The annual cycle opposes the sutok sorani of the dry fields to the bringing
home of the bride in the context of the paddy rice harvest. Relatively threatened
existence (one-sided taking) is contrasted to relatively secure existence (recipro-
cal giving). Sutok sorani is performed by the dissari, and demons receive sacrifi-
ces to placate their “gluttony,” but not tsoru. The milk relationships between af-
fines, on the other hand – despite all conflicts and broken-off individual
relationships – are balanced and a matter for the tsorubai, the Four Brothers,
the Twelve Brothers, and the mother’s brother, who make the bridal couple com-
plete persons by feeding them tsoru. The type of ritual actors involved in a wed-
ding – ideally a necessary part of the marriage process – shows that the society
as a whole perpetuates the lasting relationships of reproduction within the
framework of the traditional order (niam). This valuation of the affinal type of
relationship is articulated with reference to the rice paddies, which are a
“place of water” (pani jaga) and, like the milk relationship, guarantee reproduc-
tion.
The homologies between different categories of fields and sutok sorani, on
the one hand, and the bringing home of the bride, on the other, not only asso-
ciate environmental categories with specific phases of the life cycle: the paddy
rice is a bride, the plants of the dry fields are children. The analogy between
these homologous pairs also reveals the general differentiation of relationship
types, characterized in terms of various oppositions: reciprocal/one-sided or pre-
dictable/unpredictable. The Gadaba distinguish relationships that are good and
balanced (bol soman) from those that, as a matter of principle, bring misfortune
(bipod, bada). These contrary modes of relationship are also expressed in ritual
in the alimentary mode. Sharing tsoru at the “table of the agnates” and feeding
tsoru among tsorubai or affines are expressions (as well as consequences and
causes) of these positive relationships. One-sided consumption and devouring,
474 4 The Table of the Agnates: Rituals of the Annual Cycle

in contrast, characterize negative relationships, such as those between demons

and human beings, for example, and are not a basis for tsoru commensality.
5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”:
The Rituals of Healing
Each illness is a reminder of a relationship.
Piers Vitebsky (1993, 89)

5.1 The Social Meaning of Illness: Precarious Relationships

Illness refers not only to physical pain or disturbances in the body’s function,
but also to the cultural meaning ascribed to such occurrences. Who is considered
“sick” is a matter of definition and interpretation that is socially determined, but
also depends on individual disposition. With regard to this cultural and individ-
ual acknowledgment of illness, Vitebsky writes about the Sora:

Fevers are frequent and people of all ages may continue to work strenuously and cheerfully
in a state in which most of today’s Westerners (and middle-class Indians) would not even
attempt to sit up in bed. Most people carry most of these ‘diseases’ in their bodies most of
the time. Yet they are ‘ill’ only sometimes. (Vitebsky 1993, 81 f)

Vitebsky describes how the Sora’s dead pass their own experiences of illness and
suffering on to the living and so cause in their offspring the illnesses of which
they themselves died. The dead make themselves noticeable in an individual’s
life by causing illness on multiple occasions, but it depends on the living to per-
ceive and interpret the symptoms and take ritual steps or to ignore them (88).
Healing rituals are thus in themselves the acknowledgment of a symptom and
hence also of a relationship to a deceased individual who is causing the symp-
tom and thereby wants to establish or demonstrate a relationship to one of the
living.

[T]he Sora word for ‘healing’ the patient also implies ‘acknowledging’ the claims of the per-
son who is causing the illness. […] Each illness is a reminder of a relationship and each is
temporarily satisfied, or blocked off, by the performance of an acknowledgement [a ritual]
which addresses itself to that relationship. (89)

Without going into detail about the Sora’s complex practices and ideas, I would
like to focus on two aspects that are also significant for the understanding of ill-
ness and healing among the Gadaba. First, illnesses are not objective and nec-
essarily perceived facts, but depend on the acknowledgment and interpretation
of those affected, the healer, and public opinion (cf. Lévi-Strauss 1963, 179). Sec-
476 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

ond, many illnesses have social relationships as a theme and in the eyes of the
participants also as a cause. Illnesses are thus generated by society, and their
healing makes reference to society; they are social and relational.¹ In the broad-
est sense, illness can be described as a precarious or destroyed social relation-
ship, and healing, correspondingly, as the activities aimed at bringing this rela-
tionship back into balance or getting rid of it entirely. This broad definition
makes it possible to avoid focusing exclusively on individual states of health
and to locate phenomena of illness in areas not restricted to those with which
we are familiar.
For the Gadaba, the domain of illness and health in the sense of precarious
relationships contrasted to balanced and good ones often includes the entire vil-
lage and even beyond. The gods of the village protect the people (lok) and ani-
mals (gai goru ²) who reside within it. “Fever-pain/sorrow”³ (jor duka) is the most
common idiom for the things and beings that the gods keep away from the vil-
lage and is an extremely broad category, including attacks by leopards just as
much as those by harmful magic (nosto). Regular sacrificial rituals and the com-
mensality of the Four Brothers ensure the gods’ support in keeping illness away.
A hypothetical question about the consequences of the neglect of these duties is
answered with misfortune (bada, bipod) and illness (bemar) or more drastically
with the complete destruction of the village (ga sapa). Less hypothetical are er-
rors that may creep into the performance of the rituals or transgressions by the
pujari, which can have an impact on the village’s health.⁴ Among the terms that
characterize the domain of health are good (niman, bol, nik), happy or carefree
(suk ⁵), right (tik), and even, correct, and balanced (soman). An excerpt from the
invocation to the house deity, given earlier in full, makes clear the encompassing
character of the protection sought from the gods.

Greetings, Great God

The earth below, the heavens above […]
See [protect] the children, the daughters
The cattle, the sons, the agriculture, the harvest

 These remarks on the double relationship between illness and the social draw on Steven
Lukes’s explication of Durkheim’s collective representations: “Durkheim wanted to say both that
représentations collectives are socially generated and that they refer to, and are in some sense
‘about’, society” (Lukes 1992, 7).
 Literally, “cows-cattle,” meaning all domestic animals.
 “Fever” (jor, sorong*) is often used as a synonym for “illness.”
 Mistakes and transgressions by others, in contrast, result in harm only for their own houses.
 The word most often occurs paired with its opposite, sorrow/grief (duk). Duk suk describes
emotions in general.
 5.2 Causes of Illness and Misfortune 477

[We] hurry to bow down

[Protect us] where [we] walk, where we go
Maintain [it] good [and] even

The Gadaba’s readiness to recognize a phenomenon as illness is also linked to its

intensity and the suddenness of its appearance. A symptom that makes a severe
and unexpected appearance attracts attention and sparks speculation about its
cause. Nevertheless, apparently mild pains can also be categorized as signifi-
cant. In one case, a woman’s stomach pains were the subject of lively interest,
while a child’s inflamed burns were largely ignored. In such and similar
cases, medicine (oso, sindrong*) is sometimes smeared on, but no further meas-
ures are taken or causes sought at first. In what follows, I will concentrate on
occurrences and symptoms that were judged significant by those affected. In
these cases, a symptom is perceived, a cause is sought, and finally, a measure
is taken. In “Western” medical terminology, there is a diagnosis and a therapy.
As a rule, the interpretative authority belongs to the specialists, who discover
causes and suggest and carry out ritual steps. In the following section, I will dis-
cuss the causes of illness, after which I will turn to the processes of diagnosis
and treatment and the distinct participation of the various specialists. After de-
scribing the healers’ most important means in another section, I will discuss var-
ious forms of precarious relationships, each of which will be illustrated with ex-
amples.

5.2 Causes of Illness and Misfortune

Harmful magic, the dead, and demons have already been mentioned individual-
ly as causes of sickness and misfortune, but the various causes must be further
differentiated.⁶ Although my classification is guided by the Gadaba’s statements,
a list of this kind is inevitably an artificial construction, since in concrete cases,
causes may be bound up with one another, and ritual practice is concerned at
times with an entire bundle of causes. The different causes that are distinguished
are transgressions, attacks by demons, neglect of the dead and the gods, destruc-
tion (nosto) by human beings, fate, and illnesses that come of themselves (nije).
If the proper order of things (niam) is violated by transgressions (niam pit-
bar, niam bangbar), misfortune and illness may be the consequence. Transgres-
sions are called dos or umrang*,⁷ terms that refer both to the forbidden action

 Cf. for the Rona of Koraput Otten (2007, 2008).

 Additional synonyms are pap and tapu.
478 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

and to its consequence or sanction. Dos lagibar means the attachment (lagibar)
of the transgression/consequence to the person concerned. Incest is considered
the most severe violation, the consequences of which cannot be lifted by any rit-
ual. I know of no case of marriage within the bonso, but the village randari mar-
ried a woman from the Murjia group, about which it is said that they were once
members of the Cobra clan, and the Twelve Brothers had not taken wives from
them. They became Tigers through the unauthorized consumption of tsoru, but
marriages with the group are nonetheless considered questionable. My inform-
ants linked the randari’s loss of sight in one eye to this marriage alliance.
More often than blindness, however, pox is mentioned as the consequence of in-
cest, as is also evident in the myths.
What needs to be kept in mind is that misfortune is the automatic conse-
quence of a transgression and is not caused by the gods or other powers. A
man described to me how his head suddenly turned back on his neck while
he was far from the village doing wage labor. He later found out that an unau-
thorized person had entered the inner room of his house in his absence. In this
case, the misfortune happened simultaneously with the transgression, but it is
also reported that this can happen with a considerable delay. Along with pox,
fever, and blindness, a typical consequence of transgressions is vomiting, espe-
cially vomiting blood (rokto banti). In such cases, the attempt is made, through
healing rituals and vows, to reestablish order and make balanced (soman korbar)
what has become unbalanced; the ritual actors under these circumstances are
usually the tsorubai.
Not only human beings, but animals as well can act contrary to right order,
something that is perceived as a bad omen or a sign of an unacceptable state of
affairs, on the one hand, and can unleash misfortune, on the other. Dogs and
goats that get onto the roofs of houses have their ears and tails cut off in
order to prevent negative consequences. It also happens that chickens crow or
lay unusual eggs.⁸ The chickens are then wrapped in a net, tossed over the
roof multiple times, and eaten after a brief ritual. This is supposed to keep the
house from experiencing misfortune. The appearance of wild animals may
also be perceived as a bad omen or a transgression. If a chameleon (alang tend-
kar) skitters across the path on which a person is walking, he will kill it and fas-
ten it to the path with a stick. If such bad omens accumulate, specialists are con-
sulted in order to find out the cause. For example, gods can send such signs as
an expression of their dissatisfaction, something that in itself illustrates the con-
nectedness of different causes.

 Such eggs may be either small and hard (rai dim) or small and soft (sam dim).
 5.2 Causes of Illness and Misfortune 479

Human neglect of the gods or the dead is also considered dos. In such cases,
however, those neglected are seen as causes of the evil, and not the transgres-
sion itself. In general, the gods are considered more patient than the dead,
who take possession of living relatives without warning and can kill them.
Gods first send the signs just described as signals of their dissatisfaction and
then wait. Eventually, they cause small misfortunes, injuries, the deaths of do-
mestic animals, and only if the guilty party ignores these signs does he himself
become the victim. Like the dead, gods are in a position to enter human bodies,
which they do, for example, in a controlled form in the seances of the ritual me-
diums (gurumai); only rarely do they attack without warning.⁹ The dead, like the
gods, also communicate their requirements in the dreams of the living, but it is
often the specialists who transmit their desires.
Entirely unforeseeable – and only in a very limited way to be traced back to
errors by the individuals concerned – are the attacks of demons and sorcerers
(pangon lok). Accidents are most often linked to the rau demon. Fatal accidents
are frequent in the collection of colored earth from quarries; rau “eats a person
there every other year” (tini borso tore lok kailani), it is said. Rau has no specific
location, but is associated with the wind; his distinguishing characteristic is his
sudden and, as a rule, death-dealing appearance. Soni – a different demon –
makes his appearance by way of fever, and as a pair, soni rau is a synonym
for unpredictable misfortune. In addition, human beings are often misfortune
for one another. The various forms of malicious activities are called “destruction”
(nosto) as an overarching term. Sorcerers (pangon lok) cause harm to others by
means of the evil eye, the sending of objects into the victim’s body or house,
or the manipulation of rau or the dead. These activities are also considered mo-
rally objectionable and dos.
Finally, two causes should be mentioned that cannot directly be combatted
as such in healing rituals and that play a subordinate role in ritual contexts:
fate and illnesses that come of themselves (nije). The time of birth is decisive
for the future course of an individual’s life. An inauspicious time of birth
(gat) stays with a person for a lifetime. This may have the effect of particular
susceptibility to attacks by soni rau or by the sun. Like rau, the sun can
enter the body and unleash fever, as well as states of unconsciousness (murcha
bemar). These traits, such as the mentioned links to the sun or rau, are written
(leka), that is, determined, at birth, some say by the god of the dead (jom raja),
who also shapes the embryo’s body. Correspondingly, I heard at the time of var-

 Some informants were of the view that village gods like hundi and pat kanda generally did not
possess individuals. These gods’ vengeance, they said, brought misfortune to the entire village.
480 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

ious deaths and in conversation that the time and manner of death are prede-
termined, a perplexing statement in view of the multiplicity of the possible and
in part apparently entirely contingent causes of illness. This arbitrariness ap-
plies, for example, to illnesses of which it is said that they come of themselves
(nije, ape), sometimes also with the wind. In none of the cases of severe illness
I documented did the specialists or others involved identify fate or unmotivat-
ed influences as the cause of the illness, perhaps because healing rituals ap-
pear to have little chance of success against unmotivated illnesses or fated per-
sonal characteristics, while demons, the dead, and sorcerers are at least
opponents who can be driven away or placated.¹⁰ In this way, human beings
remain socially capable of action.

5.3 Specialists, Diagnoses, and Treatments

On the one hand, diagnosis, therapy, and prophylaxis presume communication

between various specialists and gods who help in the search for causes, and on
the other hand, they demand the manipulation of the social relationships con-
cerned, once the dispositions of the causes (gods, demons, the dead) have
been determined. For the village as a whole, the pujari or the boro dissari per-
forms these tasks; for individual clients, three types of specialists are available:
dissari, gunia, and gurumai. In the strict sense, dissari can be described as sooth-
sayers, who perform divination with the help of rice oracles and traditional (talo
potro) and modern (panji) almanacs and who determine, for example, causes of
an illness or auspicious times. Gunia can be described as healers concerned with
combatting the causes of an illness. They extract items from the bodies of their
patients, exorcise spirits, and combat aggressive duma at the cremation site. All
gunia also employ rice oracles, however – and panji as well, if they can read –
and in ordinary usage, people mostly only talk about dissari, not distinguishing
between the functions of soothsaying and healing. The third type of specialists,
the gurumai, are distinguished from those previously mentioned by their func-

 The Rona classify causes of illness in accordance with the idea of seniority. Fate is consi-
dered to be the cause with the highest status, while those illnesses that come of their own will
(“tar monke heba rog,” Otten 2008) – identical to the Gadaba ones that come of themselves (nije)
– are considered subordinate and socially insignificant. The relatively modern concept of ma-
larial fever also belongs to this latter category (Otten 2007, 2008). As the examples will show, the
Gadaba often ascribe malaria to other causes (e. g., soni rau), but they also assume that malaria
is unmotivated and therefore socially irrelevant. In contrast to the Rona, the Gadaba do not
classify the causes of illness according to the principle of seniority.
 5.3 Specialists, Diagnoses, and Treatments 481

tion as ritual mediums. In a seance, a gurumai establishes direct contact with the
gods through her body; she herself becomes the gods. While the functions of pu-
jari, dissari, and gunia are performed only by men, gurumai are often women,
and the syllable mai (as in maita, “female,” maiji, “wife”) itself suggests that
the concept of the ritual medium is closely linked to the idea of femininity.
The gurumai are also sometimes included under the collective term dissari,
and those specialists who work as healers and soothsayers but not as ritual me-
diums are also called tia dissari (the “straight” dissari). With regard to all the
specialists mentioned here, it must be stressed that they perform these functions
alongside their usual agricultural activities and therefore cannot be considered
as something like a priestly class that is distinguished from the rest of society
and lives on its surplus production. Alongside the traditional soothsayers, heal-
ers, and mediums, medical doctors have also recently begun to be found in the
area, expanding the selection of specialists.
In order to have a symptom diagnosed, an individual has three basic possi-
bilities. He can seek out, first, a gurumai, second, a dissari or gunia, or third, a
doctor. This last option is merely a theoretical possibility. Doctors are sought out
for treatment after all other methods have failed, not for a diagnosis. The guru-
mai finds out the causes of her clients’ symptoms through seances. These se-
ances – described in the context of bato biba – take place either in her own
house or in that of her client, and the causes of the misfortune are discerned
through dialogue with the gods. Dissari and gunia, as already mentioned, do
not communicate with the gods in this way and do not fall into a trancelike
state. They can relatively quickly develop an idea as to the likely cause of an ill-
ness by feeling the pulse in the fingers of the left hand (in the case of animals,
the left ear), but in order to determine the precise cause, they always also con-
duct a rice oracle (arkot dekbar).
Once the diagnosis has been established, the gurumai or dissari give instruc-
tions on the manner of treatment. A vow (mansik, titi leno’*) can be made, ani-
mals can be sacrificed, medicine (oso, sindrong*) can be tied on the body with a
cord or ingested orally, items can be extracted from the body, the house, or the
field, and people and places can be protected by magical spells (montor) and
other procedures. Gurumai and dissari sometimes work together for treatment,
and in this case, a clear division of labor exists. The gurumai participates in
the sacrifices, especially the invocations, but she leaves the combat against
harmful magic and the dead at the cremation site to the dissari. The gurumai
has a “white” (sukol) status and keeps away from such dark places and activities,
just as from beef and pork. There is a notable tendency to call in dissari from
other villages in the event of severe illness. This appears to correspond to the
482 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

general pattern that assigns greater ritual authority to what comes from outside,
as a matter of principle.¹¹
The external specialists also include the area’s doctors. Alongside the gov-
ernment hospital founded in the 1960s, Indian Christians set up a hospital in
the area around the mid-1990s. The Gadaba take a skeptical view of both insti-
tutions. In the Christian hospital, they say, treatment is expensive, and in
some cases, it is necessary to spend the night. This increases the danger that
an individual will die there and not in his own house. In addition, this hospital’s
doctors had to amputate the right arm of a boy who had tried to collect birds’
eggs from nests on the high-tension wires along the main road, thereby making
him useless for agricultural work. The amputation may have been justified from
a medical perspective, but it was incomprehensible to the Gadaba. The govern-
ment hospital tends to be preferred, since in-patient treatment is rare there. Nev-
ertheless, there are reservations in this case as well, since the Gadaba consider
the employees corrupt. Medicine that is supposed to be provided free by the gov-
ernment, they say, is never in stock and has to be purchased from stores in town,
alleged to have cozy relationships with the hospital. The most popular “doctor”
in the area is a man known as the Punjabi. He is addressed by the Gadaba as
dada (FyB, eB, FF) and runs a pharmacy in the area. He administers anti-malaria
shots and sells antibiotics, as well as other medicines. In his establishment, pa-
tients are in no danger of having to undergo major operations or being kept over-
night. Treatment is quick, unbureaucratic, and at least no more expensive than
in the hospitals. Of all the modern medical options in the area, the Punjabi is
most similar to the dissari, something that in my view makes a substantial con-
tribution to the trust he is given. He works alone and distributes medicine like a
dissari, even if it is a different kind of medicine.¹² Which medicine works for
which reasons remains for most laypeople – as in the case of treatment by the
dissari – a puzzle.

 The tsorubai and the boro dissari of other villages are of higher status than the corres-
ponding groups and specialists in one’s own village.
 Botika (from “antibiotics”) is the Gadaba’s name for all forms of “modern” medicine that are
taken orally, that is, “eaten” (kaibar); injektschn (from “injection”) is the name for shots of all
kinds. The doctor administers (“hits,” marbar) shots. The dissari do not administer shots – that
is, introduce substances into the body – but rather remove (kadbar) foreign objects from the
body by sucking. Both actions penetrate the body’s surface and are perhaps to this extent
related.
 5.4 The Healers’ Means 483

5.4 The Healers’ Means

The ritual specialists of the village – the randari and pujari – always communi-
cate with the gods in the same way. They draw a white pattern (bana) with rice
powder in front of the sacred sites, speak the invocations (suborna), check the
gods’ agreement by feeding the sacrificial animals (porikia), kill the animals in
the prescribed fashion, and only after the gods have been provided with food
(betisong) and venerated with bows (duli kori), begin their own meal in the im-
mediate vicinity.
Although the dissari and gurumai proceed in the same way in principle, their
ritual activities are distinguished by a high proportion of individualized forms
and techniques. They usually draw the patterns at the sacrificial sites in three
colors (red, black, and white), and no two patterns that I was able to document
were identical. They sacrifice animals for the demons and the dead that no deity
would accept as an offering: speckled chickens, lizards, scorpions, and grass-
hoppers, among many others. The method of killing the sacrifice and the way
of consuming its flesh may likewise vary according to the situation. In addition,
interaction with dangerous powers makes it necessary to bring into play partic-
ular means and procedures, the most important of which I will now briefly intro-
duce.
Along with verbal formulas, jupan are perhaps a dissari’s most important
weapons. They are made exclusively of iron and are therefore produced by the
smith alone. A jupan consists of two individual rings and a chain. The rings
are roughly the size of armbands and are twisted by the smith. The somewhat
smaller one is “male,” the larger one “female.” Various pieces of iron symboliz-
ing daughters (ji), sons (puo), or friends (sango) hang from the rings. A chain, the
length of which can vary from roughly thirty centimeters to over a meter, hangs
from the male ring. Each link in the chain is bent in such a way as to create two
sharp spikes, causing it to resemble barbed wire. A small, toothed disk, imitating
the disk of Vishnu, may be attached at the end. A jupan is both a defensive weap-
on that protects the dissari against attacks by duma, rau, or sorcerers and an of-
fensive weapon brandished by the dissari against his enemies. It also enables
him to make invisible things visible. Through the rings of a jupan, a dissari ex-
plained to me, he sees jontor (items sent by harmful magic) twinkle like fireflies.
Without his jupan, both his spoken formulas and his medicine would be without
effect. After a jupan is made, it is activated in the smithy by the sacrifice of a
white rooster or chick for rau, life (jibon) is blown into it, and it is consecrated
in the name of its owner. Once a year, as part of the sacrifices for the dissari’s
medicine in the month of dosra, a jupan “eats blood” (rokto kaibar) in order to
maintain its effectiveness.
484 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

The dissari’s verbal formulas are called montor, and by means of them – as
by means of the jupan – the dissari obtains power over objects and dangerous
beings. The dissari’s medicine acquires its effectiveness through montor, and jon-
tor can only be sent by means of these ritual formulae. With the help of montor,
the dissari can banish, expel, or make use of duma, for example, but also the
more powerful rau demon. Montor are distinguished from the invocations ad-
dressed to the gods (suborna), and especially from the gurumai’s songlike invo-
cations, by the way they are spoken. Montor are muttered or hissed in a threat-
ening tone and occasionally interrupted by loud and forceful expulsions of
breath or snorts by the dissari, intended to drive off or intimidate the relevant
beings. In these speech acts, the evil powers and sources of misfortune are ad-
dressed: “Sorcerers, human beings with the evil eye, see here [take care] (pangon
lok, disti lok deko),” the dissari demands. He announces which verbal formulae
and procedures he administers or applies (pokaibar) and to whom they are ad-
dressed or are intended to “attach” themselves (lagibar). In particular, he empha-
sizes the asymmetrical relationship between himself and his opponents: “you
are the goat, I am the tiger (tui cheli mui bag),” runs a line repeated multiple
times in the duma montor. Such demonstrations of his power are likewise reflect-
ed in the ritual actions. Rau and duma eat the life or the blood of their victims;
the dissari intends to reverse this situation. The attackers are now the hunted, the
eaters become food, the tiger becomes the goat.
As a rule, montor are difficult to understand, since they are spoken softly,
sometimes whispering. Other people present also do not pause in reverence
when the dissari begins to speak, but continue to converse among themselves.
When the dissari adjures his medicine, which he has dissolved in water in a
brass pot, he sinks the chain of his jupan into it and moves the chain around
in the pot so as to create a rhythmic rustling. Addresses of this kind may last
only a few minutes, but also half an hour or longer in more severe cases. The
fragments that can be still be heard under these circumstances suggest a high
degree of redundancy in the spoken formulas.¹³
Pieces of wood (kato) and roots (kanda), as well as rubber and other mate-
rials used by the dissari in his rituals, are referred to as medicine (oso, sin-
drong*). The dissari collects most of them in the forest, particularly in October
(dosra), when he sacrifices for his medicine and his jupan, so that it becomes ef-
fective (“lives,” bonchbar). With regard to the various substances, only a few of

 Besides the parts of formulaic utterances of this kind that I was able to understand in the
ritual contexts themselves, a dissari of the village recited and explained to me in full a montor
addressed to the duma. I also recorded some montor in the context of ritual activity, but little can
be understood due to the mentioned background noise.
 5.4 The Healers’ Means 485

which I am able to identify, let it simply be noted that many of them bear names
from which their use can be deduced (e. g., disti ¹⁴ kato, tarpa ¹⁵), and that many
of them are distinguished by a striking color, form, or consistency or a strong
smell or taste. The thorns (konta) of various plants are often used to keep un-
pleasant creatures at a distance. Medicine is buried, ingested orally, smeared
on wounds, poured over a sick person’s head, temporarily tied to the body
with cords (suta), or placed in small metal tubes and worn around the neck or
the arm for an extended period.
Iron pegs (luar kuti) are often filled with medicine and hammered into the
ground. The smith makes two different types of these iron pegs; the female
kuti have a hollow part that can be filled with medicine, while the male kuti
are similar to ordinary nails. Both forms have the function of keeping duma
and other beings at a distance or fixing them in place and barring their access
or passage. On the occasion of a gotr, for example, kuti are hammered into the
village paths – the entrances and exits – in order to keep away unwanted
duma of the forest (bon duma). Along with iron pegs, the dissari also use certain
wooden pegs that have the same name.
Another means very often used by the dissari is a mixture of sand¹⁶ and salt,
known as murat. This mixture is also used to banish or drive out malicious pow-
ers and is thrown at or on affected individuals or precarious places for this pur-
pose. One dissari said to me that other dissari or sorcerers could under certain
circumstances find and remove the iron pegs, but no one could remove the
fine grains of murat once it was scattered.
Finally, the use of liquor (mod, ili*) should also be mentioned. In a story told
by the liquor distillers (Sundi), the goddess Kali created the first Sundi and or-
dered him to distill liquor for her, which she then drank, giving her the strength
to defeat a demon (cf. Berger 2002). The Gadaba – who obtain mohua liquor (mul
mod) from the Sundi, among other sources – also ascribe to liquor the effect of
reducing susceptibility to attacks by demons and the dead. Before dissari carry
out potentially dangerous rituals, in which they enter the cremation site, for ex-
ample, liquor is consumed for this reason. Liquor also serves to expel duma and
rau from the bodies of individuals of whom they have taken possession. The dis-
sari spits or blows the liquid as forcefully as possible into the nostrils, mouth,
and ears of the person affected. Ideally – as in the case of offerings to the
gods – mul mod should be used for this, although it is not always available.

 Disti refers to the so-called “evil eye.”

 Tarpa is the name for items of harmful magic that are sent into a house (in contrast to the
body).
 Ash or dried cow dung is also used instead of sand.
486 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

Since other liquors (made from rice, breadfruit, or cashew apples) are produced
in most Gadaba houses, these types serve as acceptable substitutes.
Overall, it can be said about the dissari’s resources that they reciprocally
strengthen one another and are all dependent on the sacrificial complex. The
jupan is brought to life (jibon paibar) by means of initial sacrifices, especially
the consumption of blood (rokto kaibar), and is in its turn necessary in order
to activate the medicine. Medicine, murat, and jupan eat blood at every ritual
that the dissari conducts. Blood is in general the substance that makes things,
beings, and relationships effective and living – also, for example, in the case
of the seed at the sacrifices in chait porbo – and conversely, the loss of blood
as a result of its violent consumption by demons or its alteration causes weak-
ness and illness. As a synonym for the gift of a life, blood is one of the primary
offerings – raw or as part of tsoru – that circulate among human beings, gods,
and the dead in the sacrificial context. The blood of the sacrificial animals is
sprinkled on the millet seeds in front of the house gods in chait porbo, and
the gruel prepared from millet contributes in its turn to the quality and quantity
of human blood. Blood (of animals) is what nourishes the implements and sub-
stances intended to hinder the devouring of blood (of humans) by rau, ongkar,
and daini. In the absence of the necessary verbal formulas, however, the medi-
cine would likewise be ineffective. Medicine, jupan, and magic spells jointly en-
able the dissari’s confrontation with the causes of misfortune. In addition, the
support of the gods is needed. Dissari keep in their houses special gods that en-
able or strengthen their capabilities. In every individual ritual, the help of maph-
ru is sought (maphru mangbar), without which the struggle against the dark pow-
ers would be hopeless. Hence the formula, “Call on the gods, banish rau” (depta
mangibo, rau bandibo).

5.5 Curses

Formulaic utterances are a necessary part of rituals intended to cause destruc-

tion (nosto), just as they are included among the means used by the dissari to
remove the consequences of these harmful activities, as described. In addition,
curses (porman) can be spoken that are effective without special ritual knowl-
edge. Curses of this kind accompany the breaking of clay pots and lead to the
breaking off of the social relationships concerned. Never again, a curse might
run, should a certain person enter the speaker’s house, on pain of suffering mis-
fortune (bipod). I was unable to observe conflictual actions of this kind, but I was
present when relationships dissolved in this way had to be restored in advance of
 5.5 Curses 487

the performance of a mortuary ritual (bur). In order to make such curses no lon-
ger effective, the ritual services of the tsorubai are necessary.
The sponsors of the bur in January (pus) 2000 were the Bilaputia Kirsani of
the upper half of the village (sai), with whom I was only superficially acquainted
at that point, relatively speaking. The sponsors’ houses were on bad terms with
other houses of their kutum. Those responsible for the reconciliation within the
Kirsani group were their tsorubai, the Sisa of the lower sai. They pressed to get
the conflicts resolved, because they felt that the performance of the mortuary rit-
uals would be hindered otherwise. After the Sisa and Kirsani took counsel at the
assembly plaza of the lower half of the village, the Sisa went to the houses of
their tsorubai, where the parties in conflict – especially their wives and widows
– engaged in a vehement verbal altercation from within their houses. For a while,
this spectacle was simply observed, while the tsorubai prepared their rituals. Two
chicks were acquired, and two small pots were made from clay, in order to re-
place the broken pots. Once the preparations were completed, the parties in dis-
pute, still arguing, were made to be quiet, and the tsorubai divided themselves
into two groups, one of which went to each of the sponsors’ houses involved
in the dispute.
Buda Sisa, acting as tsorubai, set up a site of sacrifice under the eaves of the
house of the deceased Gasi Kirsani. The latter had fallen out with his brother and
neighbor Doya Kirsani during his lifetime, and one of them had performed or
spoken porman. The parties now had to be reconciled before the mortuary rit-
uals, for Gasi among others, could begin. Along with other items,¹⁷ the Sisa
placed sindi stalks and one of the new pots in the center of the sacrificial site.
During the invocation, Gasi’s widow and Doya Kirsani stood beside him, one
on his left and the other on his right. Hulled rice was scattered in the pot,
and a chick was sacrificed, the blood of which was made to drip into the pot.
Because the procedure had to be abbreviated on account of the scheduled mor-
tuary ritual, the cooking of tsoru was thus merely suggested.
The Sisa then picked all the implements up off of the sacrificial site, with the
help of the grass stalks, and let water that he poured on the roof run down over
them. The widow and Doya Kirsani were instructed to catch the water dripping
from the roof in their hands and lick it up. Finally, all three – and other witness-
es to the ritual – had a drink of liquor and thus sealed the restored relationship.¹⁸

 Nondol leaves, kendu leaves, and goat droppings (cheli lendi).

 Another Sisa conducted the same ritual in parallel in front of the bur sponsors’ other house.
Along with the two porman disputes, an additional conflict in which the third sponsoring house
was involved was also reconciled. The women of both houses screamed at one another across
the yard and spit in contempt until some men sent them into their houses. Since a pot had not
488 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

The regeneration of these precarious relationships had taken around two hours,
and the cooking preparations for the bur were then very belatedly begun. As a
consequence, it was only possible to begin the feast after darkness fell that eve-
ning.
Excommunication (jati) and curses (porman) are ways of publicly managing
social relationships that have been damaged or broken off. In both cases, the
break is usually common knowledge, and the reestablishment of the relation-
ships concerned is likewise a public matter. The tsorubai, as the most important
ritual actors, mend the broken pots and cook and feed ritual food. Through
shared food, eating, and drinking, the relationships are officially restored; the
tsorubai renew the relationships and thus enable community life to run its
course undisturbed and the festivals and rituals to be successfully carried out.
The animosity between the individuals in conflict in the case of a curse can-
not be removed by the tsorubai, and it is improbable that the enmity is dissolved
by a public ritual. In the case described above, the parties involved agreed to set
their dispute aside under pressure from the tsorubai and village public opinion.
They also had an interest in the successful conduct of the rituals and the feast, at
which many hundred people were served. Suspicion, jealousy, and mistrust may
continue to exist between the houses, however, and in the event of an illness or
other misfortune, suspicion of harmful magic often – as I observed among the
Sisa – falls on members of the immediate social circle, not least those with
whom relationships are already tense.

5.6 Destruction

The fact that illnesses are social affairs in a double sense, since they have soci-
etal causes and refer to the social in healing rituals in particular, is evident in the
set of ideas and practices associated with harmful magic. The Gadaba subsume
under the heading of “destruction” (nosto) an entire cluster of deliberate actions
taken with the goal of harming others, and the perpetrators are as a rule suspect-
ed to be members of the victims’ closest circle of relations. The causes of illness
are thus directly linked to the quality of social relationships, explaining why the
Gadaba are of the view that strangers would have little reason to engage in such
practices. The identification of the perpetrators and their public punishment are

previously been smashed, a Sisa (i. e., a tsorubai) merely sprinkled some water on the roof of the
house concerned and had representatives of the parties in conflict drink some of it. The fourth
incident, at this point already several weeks in the past, had to do with the fight, already
mentioned, between a Gadaba of the Bilaputia group and a Dombo.
 5.6 Destruction 489

generally not pursued; ritual practice concentrates on combatting the conse-

quences of the “invisible” original actions. In this process, the dissari in their
role as healers are the central figures, and they are also the ones with the ability
to carry out commissions to inflict misfortune on specified individuals, since
they are the only ones who have mastered the necessary techniques.
In the anthropological literature, a distinction is generally made between
witches and sorcerers. The latter use verbal and performative techniques to de-
liberately inflict harm on selected individuals. In this context, the terminology
of black magic or harmful magic, proscribed by society, is used. Correspondingly,
specialists counter such attacks with white magic. Witchcraft, on the other hand,
is understood as an immanent power that may be hereditary under some circum-
stances, in any case cannot be learned, and is effective without the witch’s
knowledge (cf. Douglas 1967, 72; Evans-Pritchard 1976; Lessa and Vogt 1979,
332 f).
In view of this distinction, nosto and ongkar, the literal meanings of which
refer to both the effects and the motives of these actions, would have to be con-
sidered harmful magic; nosto means “destruction,” ongkar “envy.”¹⁹ The individ-
uals who engage in such activities have obtained the necessary means, acquired
the relevant knowledge, and pursue their undertakings deliberately. Witchcraft,
understand as an immanent ability without the employment of particular tech-
niques, plays more of a marginal role among the Gadaba. Even women of whom
it is said that they drink the blood of their victims by night – so-called daini –
use verbal formulas and require specific knowledge that they have learned.
The evil eye (disti) alone has its effect without learned techniques. The termino-
logical convention, derived primarily from the African context, is of only limited
help in the context described here, due to the relative insignificance of witchcraft
in this sense,²⁰ and in what follows I will use nosto – or “harmful magic” – as a
general term for all destructive influences, as the Gadaba use it, or will use the
more specific indigenous terminology.
In all the different forms of destruction caused by human beings, the action
is deliberate, and as a rule, the community does not try to identify and punish
the perpetrators. The ritual specialists, such as the dissari and gurumai, who par-
ticipate in rituals against harmful magic, indicate that they know the identity of

 Additional terms used as synonyms are pangon and dusto. The individuals who engage in
these activities are called dusto lok, pangon lok, or pangonia. This terminology – like similar
concepts and practices – is widespread; for example, the Maria Gond also speak of “pangan”
(Grigson 1991, 227), and the Juang of “pangono” (McDougal 1963, 334).
 Various authors have previously stressed that this distinction between witchcraft and sorcery
cannot be meaningfully applied to all societies (cf. Ellen 1993, 6).
490 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

the perpetrators or could at least discover it, but they would never reveal it, since
they would fear bloodshed if they did. As far as the source of the evil is con-
cerned, then, it generally remains a matter of unspoken supposition or of suspi-
cion articulated in whispers, and as the following example shows, public accu-
sations are pursued with only moderate interest.²¹
In this case, it did not in fact come to a public accusation, but an assembly
of the Sisa did result, apparently as the consequence of an “indiscretion” by the
dissari. Two immediately neighboring houses of the same kutum were said to
have already been in conflict for years. Around seven years earlier, Domru
Sisa became a victim of nosto, and since then, he can walk only with difficulty,
due to a movement disorder. All attempts at healing were in vain, and a dissari is
supposed to have named Rogu Sisa, the victim’s neighbor and brother, as the
perpetrator. To my knowledge, however, a public accusation did not result.
The neighbor was himself pursued by bad luck, since his young daughter lost
her sight in one eye, and his only son had to have his arm amputated in the hos-
pital following an accident. The suspicions thus went in both directions, and the
mutual distrust swelled, repeatedly breaking out in conflict, until Domru’s mar-
ried son had had enough of this situation and called a village assembly. Around
twenty men, including Kirsani and Dombo, assembled between the houses of the
parties concerned, and loud arguments very quickly resulted, between the
women of the houses as well. The men’s agitated debates, however, very soon
turned to a different incident that had occurred only a few days before and
that apparently was of much greater interest to public opinion than the re-
proaches and conflict between the houses. Over the course of multiple days,
Rogu Sisa had been observed stealing cashew nuts from the plantations leased
in common; a physical altercation with his sister’s son (a Ruda’i), very much in-
furiated about this, could only with difficulty be prevented by the assembly. The
original reason for the meeting was entirely forgotten, and both the charges of
nosto and the theft were left without consequences. Both were merely spoken
about openly and acknowledged.
The nosto practices that cause misfortune – people say – are performed by
individuals who have mastered the corresponding techniques. If others with in-
sufficient knowledge attempt to engage in nosto, it will backfire on them. If we
try it, “it will just seize and devour us (amku dorle kaidebo to),” a Gadaba said.

 Elwin writes similarly about the Bondo (Elwin 1950, 189, 193) and the Sora, “No one has ever
proved a sorcerer’s guilt, though the accusation of sorcery is sometimes made very lightly and is
not always taken seriously. In practice, action is rarely taken against a sorcerer” (Elwin 1955,
242). In contrast, witchcraft among the Santal is always a public matter, pursued and punished
by the community (cf. Archer 1947, 114– 21; Troisi 2000, 219 f).
 5.6 Destruction 491

De facto, then, it is primarily the dissari and gunia who are at the same time the
practitioners of nosto and the healers of its consequences. Nevertheless, the dis-
sari do not have an evil reputation; as a rule, no one reproaches them with being
sorcerers (pangon lok). The reproach – and the consequences of the transgres-
sion, since nosto is classified as dos – falls on those who have the motive and
intention and who commission nosto.
The nosto practices themselves are “invisible,” insofar as everyone I asked
claimed never to have observed such a ritual, let alone conducted or commis-
sioned one. People cannot see something like that, they said, it is secret.²² Never-
theless, they could describe to me what someone has to do and what is required
in order to engage in these activities. In order to harm someone by means of
nosto, contact with that individual is necessary. For example, some earth on
which the person concerned has stood (kojor mati) is needed, or some millet
from his fields, some hair, or the twigs (daton) he used to clean his teeth in
the morning and then, as usual, threw away. In addition, his name must be
known, in order to determine the day of his birth with the help of the almanac
(panji). One phrase used is jonom, sopod, bipod. If someone is born on a Friday –
a dissari said as an example – his birth (jonom) is on this day, sopod (meaning
unclear) is on the following day of the week, Saturday, and misfortune (bipod)
will then strike him on Sunday. Beyond this, the sorcerer needs to know the
magic spells (montor) that enable him to send objects that, for example, enter
the victim’s body and cause fever or other ailments. The sorcerer may also
make a vow (mansik) and promise sacrifices to be made once the desired out-
come has been achieved.²³

 This aspect as well is found in Elwin’s description of the Sora: “Saora belief in sorcery is
rather vague and confused. Everyone believes that there are sorcerers, but no one has ever seen
one at work, very few have had direct experience of their malice” (Elwin 1955, 242). Unlike the
Sora, in whose system of illness and healing the dead play a more important role than sorcery
(cf. Elwin 1955, 231), most Gadaba are the victims of nosto multiple times during their lives.
 At the same time, it is said that gods cannot be recruited by the dissari for the execution of
nosto, and the specialists must rely only on their own capabilities. Gods support the dissari’s
“positive” capabilities, however, and many dissari have other deities in their houses besides
doron deli. Among these are karandi stones, which are kept in small wooden chests (petia) and
grant the dissari the power of divination, of “seeing rice” (arkot dekba). The dissari also keep the
rice brought by their clients for the rice oracle in these chests and eat it once a year, after they
have sacrificed for their medicines as part of dosra porbo (dosra marmari).
492 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

It is considered especially dangerous when practitioners of nosto come into

possession of human bones (kuari ²⁴), which they keep in their houses and which
are supposed to give them power over the duma of the dead. This can only hap-
pen rarely, since – except for the Lower Dombo – all groups in Gudapada, like
most Desia, cremate their dead. The opportunity is only available in the case of
those who have died from pox or leprosy, who are buried. It was evident from
conversations I had, however, that the bones of small children who died before
sutok sorani could also be misused for such purposes. In other words, even
though the children had not become social persons, had not received any mor-
tuary rituals, and themselves – since they had no names – could not yet become
victims of ongkar, their bones could supposedly be used as part of nosto. This is
said to be a reason why people bury children near the house in this case.
Various objects can be introduced into different places by means of nosto
practices most often referred to as ongkar. They can enter houses and bodies,
and it is the dissari’s job to extract them (kadbar) and thereby remove the evil
they cause. Packets, smaller than a thumb, are sent to different places by
means of magic spells and are called jontor or tarpa. Other items, so-called
kudal or songoni, enter the bodies of human beings and domestic animals.
The victims of nosto are often brothers of the perpetrators, that is, members
of the same village or even of the same kutum. ²⁵ It is true that, in principle, nosto
can target anyone, someone with whom one has had a dispute at the weekly
market, for example, but this is infrequent, it is said. Between affines as well,
as a rule, no harmful magic takes place. One informant remarked in this regard,
“The affines (somdi) couldn’t eat the land [i. e., appropriate the land for them-
selves], so why should they practice ongkar?” In fact, fear or envy concerning
land is a leading motive for nosto and is virulent only within the kutum. A
man who has only daughters fears that his brothers may try to “devour” his fields
(kai debar), if he cannot produce a male heir of his own. One man explained to
me that he was not considering the possibility of bringing a son-in-law into his
house (the so-called goro juai), who would then work his fields on a permanent
basis and settle in the village, because that would just bring down on him the
envy and anger of the brothers of his kutum, who would be glad to take over
the land. Misfortune caused by nosto would thus be highly probable.

 One dissari said that bones of this kind were also sent to sow misfortune. They visited other
houses like a guest (kunia), consumed people’s blood, and returned again immediately upon
being summoned.
 Vitebsky (1993, 38, 42) says something similar about the Sora.
 5.6 Destruction 493

Examples of the Rituals against nosto

In what follows, I describe three different examples of ongkar or nosto, in order

to provide a more precise impression of the actual ritual sequences and their di-
versity. The rituals are not necessarily directed exclusively against one of the
causes I have described. A ritual may thus simultaneously combat the negative
influence of ongkar (jontor, tarpa), the dead, and the demons (soni rau). The first
example describes a case of this kind, in which the immediate trigger for the rit-
uals was fever. In the second example, the rituals were directed against ongkar
aimed at damaging the millet harvest. The third example is a case in which the
affected individual’s body was attacked directly.

First Case: Nosto against House and Inhabitants

In May 2000, Sadep, the roughly fifteen-year-old son of Mangla Kirsani, died,
from a medical perspective probably from cerebral malaria. The fever came on
suddenly, while the youth, like many others at the time, was occupied in the
hills with the cashew harvest. Neither a dissari nor the gurumai was to be
found in the village, and on the next day, the youth seemed to have recovered
to some extent. A day later, the fever reappeared in severe form, and I was
sent to fetch the Punjabi to the village on my motorcycle, but as soon as he
saw the youth, he declined to intervene, saying that there was nothing more
that he could do.²⁶ A jeep was organized to bring the youth to the Christian hos-
pital, where he died the same day. A Sisa – that is, a tsorubai of the Kirsani –
carried him back to the village, a walk of around eight kilometers, and the cre-
mation was prepared the next morning. The women mourned in front of the
house, calling the deceased youth’s name over and over and asking soni why
he had taken him.
A few days after his death, his elder sister also came down with a fever, and
her father turned to a well-known (male) gurumai in a neighboring village to find
out the reason for his son’s death and his daughter’s illness. The gurumai deter-
mined that Mangla’s son had been seized in the hills by rau (in the form of a
wind) and finally killed by him. Mangla should not have brought the youth to
the hospital, according to the gurumai, since they are powerless against rau
there. In addition, the gurumai determined that the demon had not attacked
the youth on his own initiative, but instead, people in the village were practicing

 In no case, on the other hand, has it been my experience that a dissari failed to begin a
treatment for this reason. They start work even in cases that appear entirely hopeless.
494 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

nosto against his house, which was also the reason that his daughter had become
ill.
The gurumai in Gudapada (also male) confirmed the findings of the outside
gurumai and learned with help of the rice oracle about multiple harmful magical
objects (jontor) in Mangla’s house. Shortly thereafter, this gurumai, together with
a village dissari, conducted a ritual intended to make the jontor harmless and
ward off other possible destructive influences. As the ritual actions will show,
the specialists did not rule out the possibility that the duma of the recently de-
ceased youth was also a cause of his sister’s illness.
The ritual activities began in the evening at Mangla’s house and continued at
the ritual village boundary (bejorna) and the cremation site. Along with Mangla,
his wife, and his children, a number of other men were present who assisted the
specialists. The preparations began at Mangla’s house after sunset. The special-
ists made a miniature bamboo mat and two figurines (mosnia) of kendu wood,
which they wrapped with cloth and on the heads of which they fastened
hair.²⁷ In addition, a forked stick was wrapped with cloth and so made into a
torch, and nine holes were made in a new clay pot (jakor handi), into each of
which a wick was introduced; the pot was later painted white. The use of a
pot of this kind is another indication that the presumed illness, the fever, is con-
sidered a consequence of nosto. The pot was later broken, so that “fever and ill-
ness go away” (jor bemar jau). The specialists made murat and crushed various
thorny twigs to a paste with which they filled iron pegs (kuti). Small pieces of a
thorny type of bamboo (katabouns) were also prepared as kuti. The specialists
scraped small bits off of many different roots and then dissolved all the particles
with water in a small brass pot.
The dissari began to draw the sacrificial pattern in red and black in the big
room of the house, and the gurumai added additional lines with white powder.
Next to the pattern, the dissari drew a bier, on which the mosnia was later
placed, and a mirror was laid on the ground, the reflecting side down, and inte-
grated into the pattern. Finally, coins were set out on the pattern as pajor for soni
rau and the duma. ²⁸

 These representations of the dead are generally brought to the bejorna or to the cremation
site in the course of a ritual. They are always used when attacks by duma have taken place or are
suspected or feared (cf. the funeral of Guru Sisa). Troisi (2000) describes similar techniques
among the Santal. In healing rituals there, the specialists (“ojha”) mimic a patient’s funeral, in
order to deceive the gods (“bonga”) causing the illness through this “mock funeral” and induce
them to renounce their victim (212).
 As part of chait porbo, the young girls of the village demand pajor from all non-residents,
who thereby obtain permission to use the village paths. In the same way, the hunters give the
 5.6 Destruction 495

With this, the preparations were completed, and Mangla’s sick daughter took
her place behind the pattern, opposite the dissari, who began the invocation,
standing with a crab for the duma in one hand and his jupan in the other. He
asked the help of the gods (maphru mangbar) to support him in the fight against
malicious powers. He let the crab “eat” a few grains of rice on the platform and
then placed it on its back on the pattern previously drawn. The animal remained
motionless as if hypnotized, a sign of the dissari’s power, often also demonstrat-
ed in this way on chickens. Without interrupting the invocation, he picked up the
next sacrificial animal, a grasshopper (sitka).²⁹ The gurumai now came to stand
next to the dissari and began an invocation of her own, while – taking turns with
the dissari – she had a red, a white, and a black chick peck rice from the sacri-
ficial pattern and from the girl’s hand. The animals each did their part without
delay and were therefore immediately killed by another man of the village (a
Sisa) in front of the sacrificial site.³⁰ The blood was let drip on all the ritual ob-
jects: the medicine, murat, jupan, and kuti. The gurumai and dissari drank liquor
in the house, while other helpers went around the outside of the house, ham-
mered kuti into the ground at the four corners, and sprinkled murat on them.
The dissari then began to locate the jontor. His jupan rustling, he raised the
mirror from the sacrificial pattern far enough to be able to see into the darkness
of the inner room with its help. He jumped up, let the mirror fall back, plunged
into the house’s inner room, threw himself down on the ground, and seized a
jontor in his right fist. The others hurried to join him and poured medicine
over his fist, in which he held the small packet, in order to “blunt” the jontor.
As if the jontor caused him pain, he held his right lower arm with his left
hand and let it fall into the vessel of medicine. He looked into the mirror
again and found that there were no additional jontor in the house, a position
he maintained even when the gurumai contradicted him. She had discerned sev-
eral jontor in the rice oracle, but things were left with the one. To investigate the
jontor, everyone went out into the yard, where the packet was opened and the
contents viewed. The small piece of cloth held a piece of eggshell and something
that no one could identify; the whole packet was burned.

girls and women of the village pajor on the occasion of the “great hunt” (boro bet), so that they
will let them pass into the forest. In general, then, it can be said that pajor purchases the right to
enter a protected area unhindered and unharmed. Pajor is never given on the occasion of
sacrifices addressed to the village gods, so the payment appears to be necessary in the context
described here in order to be able to enter the sphere of soni rau.
 At the same time that this was going on, the gurumai with the help of her jupan addressed
montor to the iron cartridges (kuti) that she had placed in the brass container of medicine.
 An egg and a sorenda root, the crab, and the grasshopper had been sacrificed earlier.
496 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

Before a group of men³¹ set out for the cremation site, the dissari and the gu-
rumai hammered in or buried additional kuti in the center of the sacrificial draw-
ing, at the threshold of the house, and at the exits from the yard. The men had
another drink of liquor and then left the house. Where paths branched off from
the route, the gurumai hammered more kuti into the ground, and at the bejorna –
the village’s ritual boundary, where the duma linger – she turned around and
urinated across the path. At that location, the wooden figures and the raffia
mat were set down, and the painted clay pot was placed on the path with the
opening down. The gurumai had possibly planned additional actions at this lo-
cation, but the more senior and by now completely drunk dissari urged haste and
paid no heed to all the gurumai’s protests. He smashed the clay pot under his
foot as it lay on the path and continued straight on to the cremation site, to
which the gurumai did not follow him, but some of the helpers did.
At the cremation site, the dissari threw himself down on the ashes remaining
from Sadep’s cremation, rolled around in them, and finally lay motionless. The
helpers sprinkled murat in his direction, hammered several kuti into the ground
between his fingers and toes and at his head, and then slowly helped him back
to his feet, after which they returned to the bejorna. There, meanwhile, the guru-
mai had cast all the ritual implements to the side and lit on fire the ends of the
cloth wrapping the forked stick, which she was now waving back and forth in the
darkness while forcefully blowing out air in different directions. She placed a
knife in the middle of the path, poured water over it, and was the first to step
over it, followed by the others. This technique – also used by the pujari – is in-
tended to see to it that no one other than the men can follow. On the way back to
the house, they all had another drink of liquor, and at the house later, they con-
sumed the meat of the sacrificial animals, prepared by Mangla’s wife.
Since the situation in the house did not improve in the days following the
ritual, and Mangla’s older son also became ill, it was supposed that nosto was
still being practiced against him. Two additional rituals were conducted by dif-
ferent specialists, some of them from other villages, after which the situation
eased.

Second Case: nosto against Millet

On various occasions, I was able to observe rituals in which dissari extracted jon-
tor from storage platforms, rice paddies, or dry fields, in order to prevent in this
way a decrease in the harvest by means of nosto. The period during which the

 No one from the house accompanied the group, but a mamu (FZH) of the girl was present.
 5.6 Destruction 497

grain is at or on the threshing floor is considered especially hazardous, and for

this reason, preventive measures (don puja) are taken before threshing, as a mat-
ter of principle, with the intention of warding off the influence of nosto; since
these are a fixed part of the harvest, they have been described elsewhere. If spe-
cial danger is believed to exist, however, because the harvest the previous year
was already poor, for example, and the dissari’s divination has led him to view
the coming harvest as also threatened by negative influences, additional meas-
ures become necessary.
After the paddy rice harvest in December 1999, Biju Challan – from the Mun-
dagoria group in Gudapada – was one of a number of Gadaba from the lower sai
to whom the dissari foretold harvest losses due to nosto practices. By means of
his rice oracle, a dissari had discerned jontor in various places. At this time, the
millet had already been stacked on the storage platforms next to the threshing
floors for about six weeks, and threshing was about to begin. The dissari of a
neighboring village, who often performed rituals in Gudapada – and whose vil-
lage maintained affinal ties with the Mundagoria in Gudapada – began the prep-
arations at his client’s house, again after sunset. The first part of the ritual took
place in the big room of the house, the second at Biju’s threshing floor outside
the village. Not all the sacrificial animals were killed as part of this ritual; a
chicken was only promised to the gods and was killed later in a further ritual
after the threshing was over.
In the middle of the big room, the dissari drew a sacrificial pattern in three
colors, red, black, and white. Around the pattern he placed one of his jupan, over
a meter long, which he would brandish against the jontor at the threshing floor
later. Shortly after the start of the invocation, in which the name of rau was fre-
quently to be heard, complications ensued, which I describe in greater detail, be-
cause they illustrate both the possibilities of flexible signification and the ele-
ment of violence, typical of healing rituals, to which I will return in the
conclusion.
The white chicken – the one for rau – made no move to eat any of the grains
of rice offered to it. It is not unusual for it to take some time before a chicken
begins to peck, and in these situations, the dissari employ a variety of methods
to get the animal to eat. The chicken’s head was repeatedly pressed down on the
rice, and then a black chicken (promised as mansik in the ritual at the threshing
floor later) was brought in, which immediately began to peck and so was sup-
posed to motivate the white chicken to do the same, but in vain. The dissari
then picked the chicken up off of the sacrificial site and spoke a new montor
while standing, without success. The dissari stroked the chicken’s feathers
smooth and placed it on its back across the chain of the jupan. While it remained
in this position, he dropped grains of rice on its head. The chicken did not move.
498 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

After about twenty minutes of unsuccessful efforts, it was obvious that this sac-
rificial animal had not been accepted by rau. Another chicken of the same size
and color was brought in, immediately began to peck rice, and was then handed
off by the dissari before he turned back to the “stubborn” chicken. He placed it
on its side and drove a kuti filled with medicine through one of its eyes into the
middle of the sacrificial pattern – completely shattering the animal’s head – and
then threw the carcass through the door into the yard. Additional kuti were ham-
mered into the ground, ending the ritual sequence in Biju’s house, after which
the dissari went to the threshing floor with a number of men.³²
Upon arriving, the dissari immediately began the search for jontor. He looked
through the rings of his jupan and peered into the darkness under the shoulder-
high, wooden structure on which the millet harvest was stored. He suddenly cast
his jupan into the darkness, sprang after it, and seized a small packet that he
had previous spied and that was immediately thrown into the container of med-
icine. While the dissari grabbed additional jontor in this way, Biju circled the
threshing floor and sprinkled murat along its edge, in order to ward off further
nosto influence. After the dissari had found two jontor, he drew in red and black,
in the center of the threshing floor, a stick figure with a bow and arrow, which he
said represented rau. The dissari placed a jupan on each of the figure’s hands
with its weapons and began the invocation, holding the black chick. A crab, a
grasshopper, and an egg were sacrificed, after which the examination of the jon-
tor began off to the side of the threshing floor.
The small packets, which looked like internal organs, contained tiny pieces
of coal, some ash (from the cremation site, it was said), a long tooth, and some
grains of millet, apparently remains of the rituals to cause misfortune. As usual,
the men did not spend much time on the contents of the jontor, but burned them
in a fire on which they were simultaneously roasting the sacrificed egg, which
they subsequently ate on site. Like the white chicken – which the dissari and
other helpers ate later – this egg should not be eaten by the inhabitants of
the house, it was stressed.

 The violence often inflicted on sacrificial animals before their death as part of healing rituals
is intended, among other things, to make the dissari’s power evident to his opponents, in those
cases in which it does not directly target them. In one case, the dissari cut part of a wing and the
beak off of a chick, and the animal nevertheless continued to peck rice from the sacrificial
platform. He later broke the same chick’s legs and wings, cut its belly open, and removed the
liver from the living animal, burying half of the liver and himself eating the other half. With this
demonstration of violence, the dissari shows the demons and aggressive duma that he is just as
pitiless as they are.
 5.6 Destruction 499

Third Case: Extraction of kudal and jontor

Without having suffered a fall or accident, Bogu Sisa, a young married man, was
suddenly unable to walk or move his legs. A bed was made for him on his veran-
da, and care was taken to avoid moving him, since at every movement – even
sitting up – he felt pains that spread from his back as far as his arms. Immedi-
ately on the same day, I was asked to fetch a dissari from the neighboring village
on my motorcycle. The symptom of sudden inability to move left no one in any
doubt that nosto or songoni had to be the cause. The first part of the ritual activ-
ities that evening consisted in a sacrifice, the second in the extraction of objects
from the sick man’s body and from the house.
The place and time of the ritual were the same as in the examples previously
described, that is, the house’s big room after sunset. The dissari prepared his
medicine, which he adjured with montor, and made a figurine (putla) from red
earth from a termite mound (birom mati), as well as a small bow and arrows,
the points of which he wrapped with cloth. Once the dissari had drawn the sac-
rificial pattern on the ground, set the clay figure in its center, and adjured the
medicine with montor, Bogu was carefully carried into the house and laid on
the other side of the pattern, opposite the dissari. The latter began his invocation
and touched the sick man multiple times with the knotted dab grass,³³ the crab,
and the black chick (for a duma as potential cause) that he held in his hands
during the invocation. The chick pecked rice from multiple places on the sick
man’s body (feet, hands, and head), and he was instructed to spit on the animal.
The same procedure was then repeated with a white chick (for rau).
An egg, the crab, and the white chick were sacrificed, and the black chick
was again moved in a circle around Bogu’s head, noisily blown on by the dissari,
and finally set aside. This animal was to be sacrificed only after Bogu’s recovery.
The dissari lit the fabric points of the arrows on fire, notched the first one on the
bow, moved this once more in a circle around the head of the sick man, who had
to spit on it, and shot the arrow out through the door into the yard. Murmuring
montor, the dissari shot the last two burning arrows into the clay figure, broke the
bow, and had the sick man cut the clay figure. The knotted dab grass was also
cut, and medicine water (oso pani) was dripped on the sacrificial site and all
the implements. Where the clay figure had stood, the dissari hammered the
first kuti into the ground, after which he removed all traces of the ritual. He
threw all the items onto a leaf plate, which he then moved in a circle around
the sick man’s head and had him spit on. He himself blew on the remains of

 Dab grass, it was explained to me at other healing rituals, “sucks the poison (bis) out of the
wound” or out of the body.
500 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

the ritual, sprinkled murat on them, and had another man dispose of the platter
in the river.
In the next step, the dissari sucked kudal, the objects sent by means of ong-
kar, out of the sick man’s body. The small wooden tube used for this purpose was
painted with “medicine water” at both ends, as were the dissari’s fingers that
held it and the parts of the patient’s body that hurt. In order to neutralize the
apparently horrible taste of the objects, the dissari chewed tobacco during the
extraction. The jupan’s iron ring was pressed against Bogu’s body above the but-
tocks, and the dissari set the small wooden tube in its center, sucked, and shortly
thereafter, spit into a platter. The procedure was repeated at two additional sites
on the patient’s back, and finally, the items spit out were briefly inspected. A
fragment of bone from a chicken or pig and some charcoal from the cremation
site were found, both of which were immediately burned in front of the house.
Immediately thereafter, the dissari began to look for jontor in the house. He
clamped a braided string between the jupan’s two rings, which he lit as a wick,
and then peered into the room’s corners through the rings thus illuminated. He
discovered a jontor in the inner room and removed it in the way described.
Touching the object appeared to cause the dissari pain in his hand. Only one ob-
ject was found, and after kuti had been hammered into place in and around the
house, in order to keep away all other dangerous powers and potential attackers,
the contents of the packet were inspected and found to once again consist of ash
and a pig’s tooth. The entire sequence of events had lasted almost three hours,
and the dissari and the helpers ate only late in the night.³⁴
Even if no tsoru is cooked as a consequence of a ritual of this kind, the of-
fering of betisong for the gods before eating is obligatory. As a rule, food offer-
ings are placed at the hearth, at doron deli, and at the threshold of the house,
not at the sacrificial site itself, which is cleared away immediately following
the sacrifice. The demons to whom the sacrifices are addressed do not receive
any share in the cooked food on such occasions. Either they receive raw offerings
only (blood, blood rice, parts of the sacrificial animal’s body), or else a small
amount of rice and meat is warmed (“cooked,” randbar) in a leaf over a fire
and offered to the demons.

 It took about four weeks for the sick man’s condition to improve. Multiple rituals were
performed by various dissari, without success, and Bogu finally resolved to go to the hospital.
His condition quickly improved under the treatment received there.
 5.6 Destruction 501

Evil Eye and Witches

Two additional forms of misfortune caused by human beings are the evil eye
(disti) and the activities of a certain type of witch (daini). Daini are women of
whom it is said that they seek out the houses of their victims at night, especially
at the new moon or full moon, and drink their blood or eat their livers.³⁵ They
have acquired knowledge of secret spells (montor), learned from their mothers,
for example, and in any case, they inflict misfortune deliberately. They enter
houses or let down strings from the roof to the bodies of the sleeping inhabi-
tants, through which they drink their blood. Other people perceive the daini in
dreams and may also see and recognize them under certain circumstances
while awake, but they cannot defend themselves, since no one can move in
their presence. Everyone believes that he knows about various witches, even
within the village, but no one verbalizes such accusations out of fear of retribu-
tion. In order to keep daini away, ashes are mixed with salt (making a kind of
murat) and sprinkled on the thresholds and on the ground at the head end of
the sleeping place at night.
The consequences of daini attacks are weakness, trembling, and pains in the
chest and especially in the belly. No therapeutic or prophylactic rituals are con-
ducted against daini; instead, belly massages (pet sekidebar, suloi ro’roi*) are ad-
ministered. Anyone familiar with the technique can give these massages, in
which the organs that the daini twisted around (pasligola) are returned to their
proper places.
Disti is often translated as the “evil eye,”³⁶ and the Gadaba also say that peo-
ple can be struck by another person’s glance (aki paila ³⁷) delivered with destruc-
tive intent (nosto budi), most often motivated by envy. The time of eating is con-
sidered especially dangerous; disti is most often mentioned in connection with
ingesting food. While someone is eating, he or his food is struck by the evil
eye of an envious person. Disti attaches itself (disti lagichi) to the food and
makes it indigestible; in effect, it causes digestive problems and stomach
pains.³⁸ When a European friend of mine who had spent some weeks in a neigh-
boring village came to our house with stomach pains and diarrhea, the suspicion

 Various ideas exist about their appearance and way of moving, often reversals of normal
behavior: they walk on their hands, have long, matted hair, or are naked.
 Cf. Nayak et al. (1996, 63) and Thusu and Jha (1972, 121).
 Aki paibar literally means “to experience an eye” or “undergo an eye” (cf. Gustafsson 1989).
 The evil eye, among other things, causes the same disturbances among the Santal: “When
directed on a man while eating or rather, on his food, the victim loses his appetite or suffers from
indigestion” (Troisi 2000, 223).
502 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

was expressed that he had become a victim of disti there. On the other hand, oth-
ers thought that he was the victim of a duma; the symptoms are similar. When
symptoms appear, consequently, someone may remember one or another indi-
vidual who passed by the door of the house at mealtime, even though he or
she perhaps lives in a different part of the village. As in the case of the other
forms of nosto, however, the cause is not investigated, but suspicions are left
to smolder.
In view of this potential danger when eating, it might be expected that food
would be consumed in locations protected from the glance of others. As already
described, however, this is not the case; the doors of the houses are left open, as
a general rule, when the inhabitants are eating in the big room, and people occa-
sionally also eat outside the house during the usual course of daily life, as well
as doing so as a general practice during festivals. Closed doors evoke mistrust,
and such behavior is criticized. Eating behind closed doors, it was explained, im-
plies the supposition that other people would ask for food if they saw it. In view
of the connection between disti and food, however, it seems likely that another
implicit accusation would be made by closed doors as well: the suspicion that
another casts the evil eye.
Although disti and daini attacks produce some of the same symptoms, espe-
cially stomach pains, they are treated differently. The effects of the evil eye are
treated by healing rituals conducted by the dissari, although I did not observe
any rituals in which it was explicitly a matter of the consequences of disti
alone. The dissari often combats a bundle of possible causes at once, even
though he has frequently settled on one in advance by means of his rice oracle.
Within the framework of a ritual against nosto, a dissari may target rau, disti, and
duma. The ailments caused by daini are alleviated only through belly massages,
and unlike in all other types of illness, no dissari is called. This lack of a ritual
treatment is an indication of the subordinate role played by daini attacks in the
constellation of illnesses and their causes (cf. Otten 2007, 2008).

Exploitation of duma and rau

Duma peson ³⁹ is the sending of a duma by a person with destructive intentions

and therefore belongs in this section, which deals with nosto caused by human
beings. Whether someone possessed by a duma is the victim of duma peson, or
the duma acts out of its own vengeful motives, cannot be distinguished phenom-

 Cf. Mahapatra (1985, 251): pes, “to send”; peson, “Verbal Noun.”
 5.7 Possession and Exorcism 503

enologically, and the ritual measures to counteract both causes are identical. The
same applies to the treatment of illnesses caused by soni rau, since in this case
also, the demons can either be exploited by humans or attack without motiva-
tion. In every case, those affected show symptoms of possession or the loss of
consciousness as a sign of the presence of external powers and wills (mon).
Since the symptoms, like the forms of therapy, are independent of the element
of human intervention, I will deal with them in the following section.

5.7 Possession and Exorcism

When a duma has taken possession of a person’s body, people speak of duma
dorla. ⁴⁰ The same expression is also used to describe the attacks of the demons
(soni rau) and the water or river gods (kamni). In most cases, the awareness and
will (mon) of the person affected is weakened or entirely overpowered, and the
person acts under the direction of the possessing powers. After recovering full
awareness, when the duma has been expelled from the body, for example, the
person does not remember the time during which he or she was under the
duma’s influence. An advanced and especially dangerous stage of possession
is unconsciousness (murcha bemar), which often leads to death. It is said that
soni rau – unlike the duma – do not invade the body, but rather attach them-
selves to it (lagibar); an invasion of the body by the demons would mean imme-
diate death. In what follows, I will describe the way in which such situations are
handled: the ritual treatments by the dissari and gurumai and the reactions of
others present. I present three cases of possession by duma, one case of posses-
sion by kamni, and finally one example of a ritual targeting soni rau.

Possession by duma

First Case: Attack by a Deceased Brother

I have already mentioned in my discussion of the mortuary rituals the death of
Guru Sisa, who was possessed by his brother after the latter’s violent death and
whose own cremation likewise proceeded with complications. Here I am interest-
ed in the actions of the specialists and neighbors who tried to drive the duma out
of Guru’s body.

 Dorbar means “to catch, grab, hold.”

504 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

A man between fifty and sixty years old, he was suddenly unable to move,
probably lame on one side, and incapable of sitting or speaking. He was placed
on the veranda in a semi-sitting position, and a cluster of neighbors surrounded
him. The village’s gurumai and dissari were summoned, and no one seemed to
doubt that Guru was possessed by his brother’s duma, because the circumstan-
ces of the latter’s death and the deficient performance of his mortuary rituals
were known to all. The two specialists blew water into the sick man’s nose,
mouth, and ears to drive out the duma. They held a jupan and a broom (jadu)
ready as weapons against the duma, but first a blanket was thrown over Guru
and medicine lighted beneath it, so the smoke would drive the duma out of
the body.⁴¹ Nevertheless, Guru’s condition was visibly deteriorating, and after
an attempt to feed him millet gruel, he vomited some blood and lost conscious-
ness. Amid the women’s laments, he was brought into the house to die, but after
a short time, he recovered somewhat, so that he was carried back to the
veranda.⁴² The atmosphere around Guru then became somewhat calmer, and
only his wife and sister mourned over him in the house.
An outside dissari was in the village by chance and came to the house to ex-
amine the sick man. With his presence, the activity around Guru increased again.
The dissari diagnosed the cause as the sending of the duma of someone who had
drowned (gad duma peson) – that is, who had died a bad death – who had pos-
sessed Guru.⁴³ Since he did not have his implements with him, he merely
smeared some of the juice of the wild cashew apple (bon balia) on Guru’s fore-
head, little fingers, and toes, along with kerosene on his elbows and ankles. Bon
balia is a forest fruit usually used to treat wounds and breaks in the skin; the
strong smell of the kerosene was intended to be offensive to the duma. Like
the village specialists previously, the dissari spit water into the sick man’s facial

 Smoke, water, or liquor, blown or spit into the nose, eyes, and mouth of the individual
concerned, are the usual means of exorcism, along with hitting the sick person with a broom. In
one case, iron objects heated in the fire were pressed on a man’s forehead and cheeks.
 The memor here fed Guru a piece of beef ear intended for the duma by which he was
possessed, his brother. The sacrifice of a head of cattle had been omitted during the mortuary
rituals, and the aim was to placate the angry duma by promising a quick remediation of the
omission. The tsorubai carried out a mansik ritual in the inner room of the house and promised
to sacrifice a goat in the event of a return to health.
 This diagnosis should perhaps be seen in connection with the mysterious death of Guru’s BS,
the son of the late naik. He had died some years previously in unexplained circumstances, while
visiting a distant village (possibly drowned, since he was found at the river), and his mortuary
rituals had not yet been completed at the time of Guru’s possession. The dissari thus possibly
supposed that the young man’s duma – gad duma refers to the category of the drowned – was a
cause of Guru’s condition.
 5.7 Possession and Exorcism 505

orifices and threw rice (chaul) at him as he insulted the duma and attempted to
frighten him away verbally. He pushed several grains of rice adjured in this way
into Guru’s mouth and subsequently gave him some millet gruel to drink. He
asked the people at the house entrance multiple times to avoid blocking it, so
that the wind could come into the house.⁴⁴ The dissari then went back to his
nearby village in order to return in the evening with his medicine.
By nightfall, the dissari had returned and began the preparations for the rit-
ual. In the meantime, young men from the neighborhood had acquired the im-
plements, leaves, and sacrificial animals he had ordered: a new pot, red earth
from a termite mound (birom mati), various thorns and thorny leaves, a grass-
hopper, a crab, a black chick, and a young pig. The ritual was conducted at
three places: in the big room of the house, at the bejorna (the ritual village boun-
dary), and at the cremation site.
Before the dissari entered the house, he scattered murat at all four corners of
the house and in front of the entrance. In the house, Guru had to be raised from
his lying position to a sitting one with great effort, and a man sat behind him to
hold him up. The dissari touched Guru’s head with a long iron rod, then rammed
it into the ground in front of him, blew strongly into his face, and sucked his
cheek. Next to the upright iron rod, he drew a pattern in red and black, depicting
an abstract form, and then he made a figurine from the red earth. Cooked rice
and millet gruel were placed on the pattern, along with other items, coins
were set out as pajor, and finally the clay pot was placed on top, upside down.
The dissari then began his “attack” on the duma. With water and dab grass
in his hand, he stood over the sick man, placed his foot on the latter’s shoulder,
called out to the duma, and pressed down multiple times. He again spit water
into Guru’s face, sucked his neck, and spit. The dab grass was rubbed over
Guru’s body from top to bottom, then torn up.⁴⁵ The dissari then stepped back
from Guru in order to leap on him with two steps of run-up. With the first
step, he trampled the clay pot in the middle of the pattern, and with the second
he stood entirely on the sick man’s body, screamed at the duma, and spit out
water. Guru groaned under the weight, but his condition remained otherwise un-
changed. Subsequently, the dissari had the black chick peck rice and fed Guru
cooked rice and millet gruel. Iron nails (kuti) were driven into the ground in var-
ious places, the potsherds and remains were gathered up, and a small group of
men then accompanied the dissari to the bejorna. Guru remained behind.

 Since duma, like rau and illnesses in general, are transported by the wind, the intention was
possibly to offer the duma an opportunity to disappear with the wind again.
 All these methods were apparently supposed to remove the duma, the illness, from the body.
506 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

The pig for the sacrifice at the bejorna died unexpectedly on the way from
the house to the village boundary, a distance of about a hundred meters; the
event was judged to be an indication of the destructive power (nosto) at work.
At the bejorna, the men dug a hole and buried some of the remains of the ritual,
while the dissari bit the head off the black chick, without any further prepara-
tion, and threw the body to the ground. By now somewhat drunk, and armed
with his iron rod, he continued the last few meters to the cremation site and
sprinkled murat before he entered it. He struck wildly with his iron rod at the
mound of white ashes where Guru’s brother had been cremated a week before,
threw himself down in the ashes, rolled around, and then lay motionless. The
men, who had waited at the village boundary until this point, now entered the
cremation site as well, hammered iron nails into the ground next to the dissari’s
body, and helped him slowly up. Back at the bejorna, the figurine made in the
house – which the dissari said represented the duma that was the cause of
the illness – was cut up with a knife, as were the remaining implements, and
cast away at the side of the path. The dead pig was beheaded, and the blood
was allowed to flow across the path. The sacrificial animal’s premature death
did not cause the participants any additional headaches, and no special ritual
measures were taken. The animal’s life – in my interpretation – had already
been violently taken by the duma; all that remained to be done was for the
blood to be spilled as an offering. After the return to the house, the pig was pre-
pared there and consumed by the dissari and his helpers.
Guru died on the evening of the next day. His jibon attached itself to his ZSW,
his next-door neighbor, who gave birth to a son. Guru’s brother was reborn nine
months after his death in the daughter of his classificatory SW.

Second Case: Possession on the Day of a Cremation

On the day that the young man Sadep was cremated (see above), two women
showed symptoms of possession. To the best of my knowledge, no measures
were taken to find out the identity of the duma, possibly because the connection
to Sadep’s death was so obvious; nevertheless, the women concerned did not be-
long to Sadep’s local line. One of them is married to a man from the affinal Tiger
group (Ruda’i), and the other is the daughter of a Sisa and was in Gudapada on a
visit, having married into another village.⁴⁶

 In the course of my research, this woman was possessed by duma multiple times. Her
husband commented to me in this regard, somewhat mockingly, that he could spend the night at
the cremation site, and nothing would happen to him. No one could give me an explanation for
 5.7 Possession and Exorcism 507

The possession of both women was first noticed by a man who encountered
them on the path to the cremation site. Since he was without material aids, such
as thorns, liquor, a broom, or water, he initially threatened the duma merely with
words and dragged the women in the direction of their houses. When I arrived,
one of the women had already recovered, while the other was writhing and
groaning on the veranda of her father’s house. A number of men came and
were trying to drive the duma out with smoke and water when the woman sud-
denly sprang up and ran to the cremation site, where the wood of Sadep’s pyre
was still burning; only there were the men able to grab hold of her. She imme-
diately let herself fall into a squatting position, tried to free herself from the
men’s grip, and spoke agitatedly. I was unable to understand most of what
she said, except for the sentence that she had “returned to her house.”⁴⁷ In
the meantime, a man had brought some thorns that were hammered into the
ground between her toes in order to banish the duma then and there. She was
then brought back to the house, where the village gurumai had now arrived
and was preparing medicine.
After the gurumai had blown medicine mixed with water through her jupan
into the woman’s face, she was made to stand and driven back to the cremation
site with blows from a broom and cries of “disappear” (ja, pola). The gurumai did
not enter the cremation site but only gave instructions on how to handle the
woman from the path.⁴⁸ The woman squatted in the same place as before,
and the men knotted various strands of her hair together and hammered iron
nails (kuti) between her toes and fingers and into the ground. Her condition
was tested by asking her about the identity of those present, and when the an-
swers appeared satisfactory, she was led back to the house, which she permitted
without resistance. On the way back, the helpers hammered kuti into the ground
at every threshold and branching path they passed, and shortly before reaching
the house, one man turned around, looked back along the path, and threw a
split beja fruit⁴⁹ onto the path. “Duma, daini, rau,” he called out, “can you
count the seeds? If not, disappear from the village.”

why many people are often possessed by duma and others are not. The cases I documented
involved men and women, children and the elderly alike.
 The pyre is also referred to as a house (gor).
 The instructions were nevertheless not all followed by the men performing the actions; this
was the case, for example, of the gurumai’s demand to strip the woman naked.
 This yellow fruit (beja phol) contains numerous seeds.
508 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

Third Case: Possession by the Deceased barik

Following the paddy rice harvest in December 2000, the pujari’s daughter-in-law
(buari) was attacked by a duma. Having heard that she had stomach cramps and
was probably possessed by a duma, I was surprised to find her sitting peacefully
in front of her house, without any sign of possession. A dissari of the village had
already been informed and was on his way, and her husband was already pre-
paring the necessary medicines.⁵⁰ As a remedy for the stomach pains, a neighbor
woman tied a cloth around her stomach, pulling it tight until she vomited. Mean-
while, the dissari had arrived and adjured his medicine, which he then blew into
the woman’s ears, nose, and mouth. As usual, he hit her with a broom and com-
manded, “Disappear the same way you came.”⁵¹ The woman – somewhat aston-
ished from what I could see – remained sitting on the ground, held her stomach,
and made no attempt to move. Only after she had been called on to do so multi-
ple times did she get up, but fell back down after a few steps, after which she
was again made to get up and driven on to the cremation site.
The usual signs of possession appeared only shortly before she reached the
cremation site. When asked about the identity of those present, she answered
with a changed voice and bewildered look, “I don’t know, I came to take a
rest [sit down].”⁵² She was further questioned by the dissari and a senior Sisa
man at the cremation site; in the brief conversation, I was able to distinguish
the words sari kadi, among others. It became evident that she spoke as the
duma of the deceased barik. He had died some months before, and his position
had been transferred to his son in November (diali). Some days before the cur-
rent incident, the barik had been given rice in exchange for the annual gift of
a head of cattle at the sacrifice in August, when the old barik was still alive.
This prestation is called sari kadi. The barik’s duma, as I found out later, com-
plained that he had indeed, as prescribed, given liquor and beer to the “earth
people,” but the pujari had forgotten to make the libation (tipali) in front of
his house. After the verbal exchange, thorns were hammered into the ground be-
tween the possessed woman’s toes, and she was given liquor and medicine to
drink. She slowly returned to herself, recognized the people around her, and
was brought back to the house. Together with the dissari and the senior Sisa,
the pujari immediately made good his negligence and made the liquor libation
in front of the barik’s house.

 Including “spirit grass” (but gaso) and sandalwood (sondon).

 Kon bate ailus se bate pola.
 Mu no jane, bosbake asi joiraili.
 5.7 Possession and Exorcism 509

Possession by River Gods

The relationship between human beings and the beings of the waters and the
rivers (kamni) is – despite asymmetry – characterized by reciprocity, expressed
in ritual commensality. Unlike soni rau and the dead,⁵³ kamni are hosted by
human beings with tsoru, which they prepare at the edge of the rice fields. Never-
theless, the river gods are considered potentially threatening, especially at har-
vest time, and it is feared that kamni will take back or decrease a portion of
the rice brought to the threshing floor if the obligatory offerings are neglected.
Kamni can also assault human beings directly, and the state of an individual pos-
sessed by kamni is not distinguishable from a duma’s attack by outward appear-
ance, even if it is by the speech and actions of the person affected. Kamni thus
have an ambivalent status, since they guarantee human beings the valued paddy
rice, but also manifest malicious and dangerous character traits. Most Gadaba
find it correspondingly difficult to classify kamni. Kamni are similar to the
gods (maphru), they say, but have no shrines, instead being venerated wherever
there is water. Although kamni possess human beings, they are not like duma,
but the dissari uses the same verbal formula in the case of possession by
kamni that he does in the case of possession by duma, merely adding an addi-
tional stanza (kenda ⁵⁴).
In December, after the paddy rice harvest, a woman of the Sisa group was
possessed by kamni. ⁵⁵ As in the cases previously described, the woman was
driven with a broom to the cremation site, from where she nevertheless ran to
the rice paddies. There, she cast herself down on a field that by this time had
largely dried out,⁵⁶ and the gurumai hammered iron nails into her shadow and
knotted some of her hair. She – kamni – was asked about the reasons for her ap-
parent anger. She had not received any sacrificial offerings (bog) at the threshing
floor, the woman said. The men offered to make good the sacrifice belatedly,

 The dead do not receive the tsoru that is prepared in the house on festival days (which are
comparable to the harvest day, as argued above), but lakka’* instead. However, they are fed tsoru
that is specifically made for them during death rituals, and in one particular instance described
earlier (during the bur ritual), the living even share tsoru with the recently deceased.
 Kenda has the primary meaning of a small branch (cf. Gustafsson 1989) and in the sense
used here refers to a branching within the formulaic utterance. In the case of songs, one also
speaks of different paths (rasta).
 During my stay, I was able to observe only one case of kamni possession, and I did not hear
about any others, in contrast to possession by duma, which I witnessed or heard about perhaps a
dozen times in the Sisa’s lower side of the village.
 The field did not belong to her house, but did probably belong to her local line (kutum). The
piece of land had just recently been leased (banda) within the Sisa.
510 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

which kamni accepted, but demanded liquor in addition. Liquor not being avail-
able, she was given water to drink, which she spit out, again demanding liquor.
Shortly thereafter, a white chick was brought from the village, and the ritual for
kamni was prepared at the river’s edge. The performance of the ritual went very
quickly. The chick had scarcely pecked rice when the possessed woman grabbed
it, tore its head off, and threw it aside. Immediately thereafter, she climbed out of
the low-lying riverbed and ran to her house’s nearby threshing floor, where she
threw herself into the straw. There, the gurumai tied some straw into her hair,
and she was escorted home. A man explained that the straw is the joni pial,
so that it seemed as if she wanted to bring home the first fruits of the harvest
(the joni tifni). Prior to this, her husband had not performed the sacrifices or
had performed them negligently, the man said, and kamni had attacked his
wife for that reason.

5.8 Attacks by soni rau

My last example is a prophylactic ritual directed chiefly against soni rau. Even
when no acute illness is present, rituals are performed before birth for the pro-
phylactic protection of mother and child. In the first months of pregnancy, vows
(mansik) related to the child’s sex may be combined with these rituals. If the
pregnancy is already advanced, however, such vows are no longer effective,
one woman explained. Doimoti Sisa was roughly three months pregnant, and
the ritual performed for her and her child was intended to have both functions.
She and her husband already had a daughter, and “only” five girls had so far
survived among his elder brother’s children; the boy had died young. Both broth-
ers feared that they would have no male heirs and so would have to either leave
their fields to one of their future sons-in-law or watch as the other brothers in
their local sub-line took the fields over for themselves. The ritual was led by
the gurumai of the village. The preparations began long after midnight on the
night of the full moon, and the ritual ended around five o’clock in the morning.
The preliminary activities, such as the adjuring of the medicine and the making
of the needed implements,⁵⁷ were conducted at the house, after which the small

 In terms of implements, it was a relatively demanding ritual, even if not comparable to a

bato biba in this regard. Along with the widest possible variety of flowers, fruits, and thorns, the
obligatory iron nails, and murat, a miniature bow, arrows, boat, and toys were made, in the way
already familiar from sutok sorani. Small banners and wooden constructions strung with string,
similar to small umbrellas, served to ward off nosto.
 5.8 Attacks by soni rau 511

group of participants⁵⁸ moved to a fork in the river, several kilometers down-

stream from the village.
On the riverbank, a platform was prepared, on which the gurumai drew a
three-colored pattern and spread out the ritual items. In the center, she planted
the shoot of a banana tree and a mango branch. A small figurine, easily identi-
fiable as masculine by its phallus, was formed from clay. Doimoti Sisa sat behind
the platform, looking downstream, with her back to the gurumai. After an invo-
cation lasting twenty minutes, in which the gurumai, among other things, prom-
ised the offering of a goat in the event of the birth of a son, and after the feeding
of the sacrificial animals with rice, the offerings were made and the animals
killed one by one, starting with the coconuts, fruit, eggs, catfish, and various
chicks, the bodies of which were thrown into the river.⁵⁹ After this first phase
of the sacrifices, the helpers warmed some bloody rice (chaul) and meat (from
the chicks’ gullets) in a folded leaf (purunge) with salt and chili over a small
fire and offered it on the platform.
The gurumai next lit the heads of small arrows on fire and shot them in dif-
ferent directions; one shot hit the clay figure, and the bow was then broken. She
found on the sacrificial platform the head of the speckled (chitra) chick, the of-
fering for soni, and placed it on the cords (suta) that were soon to be tied around
the woman. A young pig was then sacrificed, and in quick succession the guru-
mai poured medicine previously collected in a small clay pot, liquor, and blood
over the woman’s head, hammered iron nails into the ground between her toes,
and placed one of the cords around her upper body. The gurumai placed a small-
er cord around the branches in the center of the platform, then cut the clay fig-
ure. She placed the head of soni’s sacrificial animal (the speckled chick) and a
lock of the woman’s hair on a leaf plate (toti), had the woman spit on it, and dis-
posed of it in the river.
After that, the group left the river and, following an act of spatial transition
on the path (stepping over thorns), went to the house’s threshing floor to cook
the sacrificial animals. The food was consumed at the threshing floor; none of
it was supposed to reach the village, and none was brought back to the sacrifi-
cial site along the river as betisong. The other people present at the sacrifice ate
alongside the members of the kutum.

 Along with the gurumai, the husband of the woman concerned and her parents from a
neighboring village were present, as well as the husband’s brother, another man from the local
line, and the pujari, although not in his sacrificial function.
 After this gesture of casting them away, the helpers were at pains to retrieve them from the
shallow river as quickly as possible.
512 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

Almost seven months later, when the labor pains began, the gurumai was
called to Doimoti’s house and cut the cord previously tied, intended to protect
mother and child. A girl was born on the same day, and the parents made
clear their disappointment. The vow thus did not have to be redeemed on the
day of the name-giving, and a duck was sacrificed instead of a he-goat. A few
days after the birth string was tied, the newborn died of a fever.

5.9 Conclusion

The Gadaba mainly associate “being sick” with the violent consumption of their
blood, their liver, or their vital energy (jibon), and the agents of illness are consid-
ered gluttonous.⁶⁰ The examples given reveal the multiplicity of possible causes
for an illness, as well as the relatively slight interest the Gadaba have in determin-
ing the exact cause. More than one cause always appears to fall within the realm
of possibility, and there seems to be little need to reach a public consensus about a
cause. Some of the ritual activities themselves, in which the dissari targets various
powers in his words and actions, also testify to this multicausality or accepted am-
biguity. Misfortune and illness can befall an individual by his own fault or without
it. Illnesses can be part of fate, be caused by the gods, be the direct consequence
of a transgression, or come of themselves. The dead can bring misfortune, but so
can demons and human beings from one’s own village.
A relevant criterion in this plethora of causes is the relationship to the social
and cosmic order, niam, of which it is said that it was created by the gods but has
been independent of them and unchanging since its establishment. Some ill-
nesses result from deviations from or transgressions (dos) against this order; rit-
uals of destruction (nosto) are themselves considered an offense against niam.
The actions of the gods and the dead – the latter insofar as they are not the
tools of living human beings – stand in a harmonious relationship to this
order, and only negligence and error lead to misfortune or bipod. The gods
and the dead are not malicious in principle, but rather enter into reciprocal re-
lationships with human beings: they are fed by humans – they share tsoru with
humans – and offer in exchange universal support or peaceful withdrawal from
the realm of the living, respectively.

 Metaphors of eating in connection with illness and witchcraft are frequently found in the
anthropological literature (cf. Archer 1947; Elwin 1955, 233; Otten 2000a; Vitebsky 1993; Wolf
1996). Elwin collected a number of myths of the Gadaba and the neighboring Parenga that
describe how the consumption of human flesh (especially the placenta) engenders witches
(Elwin 1954, 552– 57).
 5.9 Conclusion 513

These relationships to the gods and the dead, which are in principle bal-
anced and good (bol soman), also find expression in the concrete spatial organ-
ization of village geography, in contrast to the demons, who are not assigned a
place in the village. Those individuals who die a bad death, one especially char-
acterized, as I have argued above, by spatial ambivalence, are considered dan-
gerous and bringers of misfortune, as a rule. I have already noted the close cor-
relation between spatial order and social relationships in various places in this
study, and this correlation is the foundation for the central significance of move-
ment (by objects and persons) in almost all rituals; in healing rituals, this often
takes the form of the prevention of uncontrolled movement. Checking the capri-
cious mobility of demons and malicious duma – by means of iron nails, for ex-
ample – is a primary aspect of their control.
Illnesses provoked by demons (soni rau) are not the consequence of a viola-
tion of niam, but are distinguished by their capriciousness and arbitrariness.
Likewise, the fact of harmful magic (nosto) is not to be traced back to a breach
of order; it is itself considered an offense. Envy, avarice, and greed are consid-
ered the chief motives for destructive activities in which one human being targets
another. From the perspective of the dissari’s and gurumai’s ritual practice, the
phenomena of bloodsucking witches (daini) and the evil eye (disti) appear to
be relatively insignificant in quantitative terms. Destructive ritual practices are
most often concerned with sending objects into the victim’s body, house, or
field or with the exploitation of rau and duma. In other words, the healers’ ac-
tivities combat the causal activities of nosto, which everyone claims never to
have seen. In this regard, in order to be able to evaluate the nosto complex
more precisely, it is useful to distinguish among ideas, rituals causing illness
or misfortune, healing rituals, and the process of accusation and prosecution.
The ideas about daini, disti, and nosto and the certainty of their existence are
shared by all Gadaba and are not questioned. Likewise, most people believe that
they know what materials are needed in order to engage in nosto, but a ritual
practice of harmful magic is not part of general experience, and the possibility
cannot be excluded that the rites in question have never actually been per-
formed. Healing and prophylactic rituals, on the other hand, especially against
the various forms of nosto and attacks by soni rau, are parts of everyday life, fes-
tivals, and agricultural activities. Public charges of engaging in nosto are not
made, and the prosecution and punishment of those accused are corresponding-
ly absent. Blame is generally cast only in secret, and although a man in the vil-
lage was suspected by various parties, for example, a public accusation never
resulted, as far as I know. Aside from these specific accusations, the Kond are
514 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

considered to have dangerous magical skills, as a broad generalization, although

the Gadaba have little contact with them.⁶¹
The widespread absence of public charges and prosecutions demonstrates
that the complex of nosto practices has a different sociological relevance than
in Central Africa, for example, where it appears to be immediately related to
the authority structure of the societies concerned (cf. Douglas 1967).⁶² Phenom-
ena such as rituals of destruction, defense against them, and revenge for them
receive little public attention from the Gadaba, but the ideas about nosto and
the practices related to it are of great importance for individual persons and
houses, in order to classify and control individual misfortune and illness. Any-
one has an equal chance of being the target of an attack among the Gadaba,
and with the dissari as intermediary, everyone theoretically has the possibility
of becoming a perpetrator of harmful magic. Nosto is not the privilege of a par-
ticular group, any more than it is only a particular segment of society that is
threatened. Nosto is decentralized and potentially omnipresent. Unlike death
on the path (bate morla) or in the forest, death by nosto is not considered a
bad or dangerous death, and no special sacrificial offerings are needed in
order to placate the duma, in the same way that the commensality of the Twelve
Brothers is unnecessary. This ritual treatment or non-consideration makes man-
ifest the comparative irrelevance of deaths caused by nosto for the society as a
whole.
It is possible that in earlier periods, nosto accusations were at least some-
times made publicly and also prosecuted. In other societies, relative variability
has been found in this regard, with a link between witchcraft accusations and
social crises and change (cf. Douglas 1970; Ellen 1993). Nevertheless, Mary Doug-
las (1970, xxf) criticizes an axiomatic understanding of this relationship.
In the context of my study, witchcraft and sorcery are not of interest in them-
selves; rather, their relationships to the rituals of the life cycle and the annual
cycle are at the forefront, along with the relationships articulated and manipu-
lated in the healing rituals. For this reason, the next section will examine simi-
larities and differences among the various ritual domains, before I draw some
conclusions in my final remarks. In any event, it is significant that the domain
of nosto suspicions is largely congruent with that of tsoru commensality. As
“earth people” (matia), the brothers of a village share tsoru at their shrines,
the rice for which comes from all of their fields. While the relationship to the

 According to Elwin (1955, 235), this view is also widespread among the Sora.
 In this and other aspects, the witchcraft/sorcery complex as found among the Gadaba shows
greater similarities to Southeast Asian societies (cf. Ellen 1993).
 5.9 Conclusion 515

earth integrates all the matia of the village as a unit, the distribution of land is at
the same time a primary reason for the spread of nosto within the same group.

Comparison with the Rituals of the Life Cycle and the Annual Cycle

In contrast to the rituals of the life cycle and the annual cycle, the rituals of heal-
ing do not form a closed set. The rituals do not necessarily follow one upon an-
other, and their number is indeterminate. There is no “healing cycle,” since the
rituals are begun and continued according to need. In addition, the rituals are
performed by the dissari and gurumai, that is, by individual specialists who
act on behalf of their clients and whose status is achieved, not ascribed. They
are also individualists to the extent that their ritual practices include a high de-
gree of individual initiative and improvisation. For example, the patterns that the
dissari and gurumai draw on the ground during their rituals are in principle dif-
ferent each time, in contrast to the unchanging patterns of the village specialists.
Nevertheless, the ritual actions of the dissari and the gurumai bear strong family
resemblances to one another. The multiplicity of instruments and materials em-
ployed – which no pujari uses – are of the same type, and the practices are also
similar, since each specialist has learned from another. The times and places of
the rituals are often predetermined, and in this, too, a clear difference in compar-
ison to the life cycle and annual cycle is evident. On no occasion in the perform-
ance of his function does the pujari go the cremation site or perform rituals at
night, nor do the tsorubai conduct sacrificial rituals at crossroads, as regularly
happens in healing rituals.
From the perspective of alimentary relationships as well, there are signifi-
cant differences between healing rituals on the one hand and the domains of
the life cycle and annual cycle on the other. In the life cycle, ritual processes
of reciprocal feeding and eating dominate. The relevant relationships are descri-
bed in terms of alimentary idioms (tsoru, milk), at the same time that – according
to my interpretation – it is the relationships themselves that are fed or eaten in
each case. In the context of the seasonal festivals, tsoru commensality on differ-
ent levels plays a central role.
The aspect of commensality is irrelevant or of negative significance for heal-
ing rituals. Food is not shared with demons, and certainly tsoru is not; rather,
their hunger is appeased with blood, liquor, or at most, food cooked in leaves,
after which food for humans is prepared and consumed at a different location.
This latter food is shared with the gods, and betisong is performed for them,
but not for the demons. Although individual people and houses may temporarily
enter into special relationships with demons in the form of vows (mansik), the
516 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

goal of healing rituals, as a general principle, is to keep the demons at a distance

from the realm of human beings and break off existing connections. In this con-
text of rituals and sacrifices intended to ward off the powers addressed, which
Hubert und Mauss (1964) therefore call rituals of desacralization, the individual
concerned – the sick person or the sponsor of the sacrifice, the “sacrifier” in Hu-
bert and Mauss’s (1964, 10) terminology – is as a rule excluded from the con-
sumption of the ritual meal, since it is the manifestation of a linkage to illness
and the beings associated with illness that it is the ritual’s primary goal to break
off. In contrast to the rituals of the life cycle, such as the marriage and mortuary
rituals, in which the persons concerned are the primary eaters of the different
foods offered to them by various groups and individuals, all participants (espe-
cially the specialists) eat in many healing rituals, with the exception of the per-
son for whom the ritual is performed. Since the aim is not “sacralization” but
“desacralization,” the alimentary mode also has to be adjusted.
In addition, the metaphors of eating take on an aggressive and destructive
character in the context of healing rituals. Attacks on humans’ bodies, houses,
or crops are conceived of in the idiom of swallowing them up.⁶³ The individual’s
blood, liver, or fields are devoured (kai debar) by violent beings, in the same way
that the illegitimate appropriation of something – land, for example – in daily
life is described as eating it up. Aggression and violence are expressed by the
dissari in healing rituals both verbally and in his actions. He counters violence
with violence, seeking to reverse the roles of attacker and victim. “You are the
goat, I am the tiger,” he threatens repeatedly in an invocation of the duma –
the duma montor – and mutilates the sacrificial animals, brandishes weapons,
and tramples on clay pots into which his opponents have previously been lured.
While aggression against the gods is never an acceptable means and would
put the seal on a person’s ruin, violence against soni rau or duma is thus some-
times legitimate. Initially, the attempt is made to persuade the powers causing
misfortune with promises of sacrificial animals, surrogates for the sick. The
wooden or clay figurines, which often appear to represent the individuals con-
cerned, are brought to the cremation site or “killed” with arrows in order to
make the work of the demons or duma superfluous or to deceive them. The ritual
activities may also target the attackers directly, however, by means of threats or
physical action. The dissari attempts to trap demons in clay pots, sacrificial an-
imals, knotted grass, or clay figurines and to banish them through the destruc-
tion or killing of these hosts. Such material representations can in this case
stand for the dissari’s non-human opponents, and what is signified by these an-

 The word kaibar (kai debar) is also used in this sense in Desia.
 5.9 Conclusion 517

imals and objects may even vary over the course of a concrete ritual process. The
identifications are only rarely verbalized by the actors, but are instead revealed
by the ritual actions; direct questions on my part rarely produced satisfactory re-
sults. In my second example of nosto practices – against a man’s millet – the
meaning of the white chicken changed in the course of the ritual as a conse-
quence of its ongoing refusal to peck at the rice offered it. Initially a gift for
rau, it finally became the enemy power itself, the target of the dissari’s violence.
As a consequence of these variable processes of identification, it becomes prob-
lematic to assign an absolute meaning to the items used, such as the clay figur-
ines; rather, they are semiotic placeholders that allow for multiple
significations.⁶⁴
The powers combatted by the dissari in healing rituals regularly target
human beings’ bodies, and the ritual treatment of those bodies makes it possible
to draw some conclusions about the characteristics ascribed to them.⁶⁵ The en-
trance of foreign objects and powers into the body is a leading cause of physical
illness. The dissari extracts glass splinters or knotted cords from the body and
violently drives out duma and demons that have taken possession of it. In the
process, liquor or water is spit or smoke blown into the facial orifices. In each
case, it becomes clear that the body is permeable, like a house or a village. Unin-
vited powers can force their way in and feed violently on the body, and they must
be driven out in order to limit the damage. The vital energy (jibon) remains in the
body even in the case of illness, and if the demons consume it, the person dies.
Possession may lead to unconsciousness (murcha bemar), however, in which the
body appears lifeless. This is an alarming symptom, on the appearance of which
the sick individual is usually brought inside the house – in preparation for death
– and fed millet gruel in order to revive his vital powers. Along with his vital en-
ergy, the will or consciousness (mon) of a possessed individual is also influenced
or overshadowed by the attacker’s personality. As an extension of the body and
the personality, hair is also of ritual significance, as has already been noted in
the context of birth. Letting down and binding up the hair reinforces the perme-
ability or impermeability of the body.⁶⁶

 Lévi-Strauss (1987, 63 f) uses the term “floating signifier” for a “zero symbolic value” that can
carry different, even contradictory meanings (significates).
 Tina Otten (2000a, 2000b, 2007, 2008) has studied the relationship between illness and the
body among the Kond and Rona in Koraput.
 Shaving off one’s hair also signifies a change in status, a break with the old and the creation
of new ties, and it goes along with the consumption of corresponding foods, as has already been
described in the cases of bal utrani and bato biba. Georg Pfeffer (1997b) has analyzed the
518 5 “You Are the Goat, I Am the Tiger”: The Rituals of Healing

Powers and objects that invade the body also alter the body and its organs.
The organs associated with the vital energy (the liver and the blood in the first
instance, but also the lungs and the heart) take on a black color, especially as the
consequence of nosto. Some say that blood can also become white or watery or
decrease in quantity as a consequence of fever or illness; these changes in the
blood are ascribed to the insufficient consumption of millet gruel, as well as
to the causes of the illness. Certain types of attacks, such as the evil eye
(disti), are considered to have a special link to digestive disturbances (ajirno),
while stomach pains (pet duka, suloi isi*) are sometimes ascribed to the influ-
ence of duma. The interpretation of a symptom largely depends on the special-
ists, as has been said, and the sick person is often relatively uninterested in find-
ing out the exact cause; the dissari’s comments are sufficient, and his services
are satisfactory if they are successful.
After emphasizing the differences between the healing rituals on the one
hand and the rituals of the life cycle and annual cycle on the other, I must con-
clude by pointing out the overlaps between their domains. It is not at all the case
that precarious relationships are the subject of healing rituals only and that dis-
sari alone concern themselves with such problems. All areas of life are threat-
ened by the aggression of unpredictable powers and take this fact into account.
Both at harvest and at festivals, prophylactic measures against harmful magic
are taken that can be seen as healing rituals, precisely because they are con-
cerned with these precarious and destructive relationships. Mortuary rituals
are generally concerned with the potentially threatening duma and attempt to
obtain the deceased’s peaceful withdrawal through a mutual agreement induced
by commensality and appropriate ritual measures. Errors and omissions can lead
to misfortune, thus making the dissari’s healing rituals necessary. With regard to
the life cycle, it has already been noted that the rituals following birth, up to bato
biba – in the case of sutok sorani and bato biba at least the first part of the rit-
uals, before the sharing of tsoru – are de facto healing rituals. They are led by
dissari and gurumai, held at corresponding locations and appropriate times,
and are concerned with the manipulation of generally threatening relationships.
Only with marriage are the rituals dominated by collective social relationships of
feeding and eating; before that, it is primarily a matter of avoiding one-sided
consumption, of being devoured.
Although dissari and gurumai are the specialists in precarious relationships,
others also engage in such relationships. As part of the annual cycle, the pujari

cultural significance of hair among the Bondo and summarized the theoretical debate about hair
in anthropology.
 5.9 Conclusion 519

performs mansik rituals in July and December that are intended to keep certain
types of fever (ora, somoykor) away from the village. Rituals of this kind can be
described as healing rituals, but since they have a fixed place in the context of
the festivals, they were not discussed in this chapter. Since the rituals intended
to put an end to an individual’s exclusion from the community (jati) are also
concerned with the consequences of transgressions of the proper order, they
might also be understood as rituals of healing. In these and other cases, such
as curses (porman), the tsorubai are called on to restore niam (niam korbar)
and reintegrate the precarious relationships into the socio-cosmic order by pre-
paring and feeding tsoru.
6 Conclusion
“The idea of food underlies the idea of sacrifice.” This apparently simple sen-
tence by Mary Douglas (1977, 1) has far-reaching implications and brings together
the two social phenomena that are the focus of this study: food and sacrifice (or
ritual). At the center of these phenomena, moreover, are the processes of ex-
change and transformation, or in other words, the gift of a life for the preserva-
tion of life – as Douglas explicitly notes – and the metamorphosis from raw to
cooked (in the case of food), for example, as well as from living to dead (in
the case of sacrifice). Contemplation of the phenomena of food and sacrifice
and the cycle of life, however, remains at the level of a philosophical exercise
divorced from social life if it is not embedded in concrete cultural contexts.
For this reason, an anthropological treatment, like the one that has been my
goal in this study, should start with the indigenous concepts and seek to deter-
mine their framework of meaning, rather than taking the opposite approach of
“adjusting” specific cultural representations to the discipline’s preexisting con-
cepts, which are indeed necessary aids to the comparison of cultural patterns,
but always insufficient ones.
The Gadaba’s most significant meal is immediately linked to the taking of
life and the gift of life, that is, to sacrifice: tsoru or go’yang* is always prepared
as part of a sacrifice and includes the sacrificial animal’s blood and liver, asso-
ciated with life (jibon).¹ Through the act of sacrifice, the blood, and the process
of cooking, tsoru obtains its effectiveness. The effect of this meal, induced by
consumption, consists in the regeneration or transformation of social relation-
ships. Two forms of tsoru consumption can be distinguished, even if they
often occur in combination: first, the commensality of the sacrificial meal (shar-
ing), and second, the feeding and eating of tsoru (exchange).
The sharing of the sacrificial meal – eating together – characterizes com-
mensality in the strict sense. This commensality among agnates takes places
on different levels of the social order, on the level of the Four Brothers (the vil-
lage community) and on the level of the Twelve Brothers, the maximal ritual unit
of twelve agnatically related villages. The community of the Twelve Brothers,
which (extended to include the complementary affines) is synonymous with Ga-
daba society as a whole, in invocations of the gods, for example, was founded in
the mythical past by tsoru commensality. Those who ate the tsoru at that time

 The Gutob word for this meal possibly itself points to this connection, since go’* means “to
cut,” “to split,” and especially “to sacrifice,” including the sacrifice of the most important
sacrificial animals, chickens.
 6 Conclusion 521

thereby became the Twelve Brothers. The fundamental significance of the sacri-
ficial meal is not limited to the Gadaba’s myths, however, but can be observed on
an ongoing basis in present ritual practice. The village’s Four Brothers regularly
gather at the village shrines to share tsoru and regenerate their relationship as
“earth people” to the village gods, on whose cooperation their existence is
based. Only those men are qualified for the table of the agnates who are ritually
married, that is, who shared tsoru in the circle of the Twelve Brothers at their
weddings. This fact underlines the fundamental significance of marriage for
the society as a whole, and forbidden matrimonial liaisons are correspondingly
a matter for the Twelve Brothers. A man who marries a woman from a lower so-
cial category loses the status of his community (jati). Reintegration can only be
achieved through the Twelve Brothers’ consumption of tsoru as part of a feast in
which the excluded man repurchases (kiniba) his status. Tsoru is thus the foun-
dation for the process of societal integration and at the same time a symbol of
the society itself – Sahlins (1999, 415) speaks of “epitomizing symbols” –
which takes concrete form in the assembly of the Four Brothers or the Twelve
Brothers.
The second mode of tsoru consumption consists in sacrificing, cooking, and
feeding tsoru to others. Tsorubai is the term for the relationship between agnati-
cally linked local groups who perform this service for one another when needed.
In this case as well, the connection to the general social order is evident, since
the tsorubai often act as representatives of the Twelve Brothers, and it is also said
of them that they restore order (niam korbar) through their actions. Separately
from the renewal of disturbed social relationships, as in the mentioned reinte-
gration into the community, in which feeding by the tsorubai is a central aspect,
alongside sharing food, the tsorubai are among the most important ritual actors
in the life-cycle rituals. Integration into and separation from the community, the
accumulation and dissolution of social relationships, are effected through the
feeding of the individual with tsoru. Alongside the tsorubai (the Four Brothers
and the Twelve Brothers), an individual’s mother’s brother is the most important
giver of sacrificial food, at the person’s wedding and in the various mortuary rit-
uals.
The analysis of the rituals has shown that food and eating are objects of
classification and at the same time the material and the elementary mechanism
of ritual action. These two sides are also evident in the titles Food for Thought
(Ortner 1970) and Eating Culture (Scapp and Seitz 1998). On the one hand, pat-
terns of meaning and symbolic thought (“culture”) are crystallized through ali-
mentary processes; on the other hand, culture and society become realities
that can be experienced and shaped in the form of food.
522 6 Conclusion

Transformation and Constitution of Social Relationships

through Alimentary Processes
Tsoru consumption constitutes social relationships, relatedness, or “kinship.” By
being fed tsoru at her marriage, a woman is incorporated into a new village com-
munity and, together with her husband, establishes a house that forms a com-
mensal and sacrificial community. The wife cooks the tsoru from then on, and
the husband acts as sacrificer. Unlike men, women do not cook tsoru for others,
but only for sharing within their own group. The fact that a woman becomes a
member of her husband’s local group after her wedding is evident, among
other places, in the fact that the group’s members accept the sacrificial meals
she cooks; nevertheless, she does not become a member of her husband’s ag-
natic group, since she retains the descent category (bonso) of her birth group
throughout her life. The transfer to her husband’s consanguineal group is not
merely formal in nature; not only does she become an official member of this
community, but its alimentary processes also alter her social body. She is from
now on subject to the group’s ritual impurity at times of birth or death, like
all agnates, just as the ritual pollution caused by her own death will apply to
the entire local group. Her body will be cremated at the agnates’ cremation
site, and their external brothers will ingest her body (in the form of the gotr buf-
falo).
The ritual processes are not limited to the tsoru complex, however, but rather
encompass myriad alimentary transactions and transformations that also con-
nect various ritual levels and domains. On the one hand, the Gadaba ritual sys-
tem differentiates life-cycle rituals from those of the annual cycle and of healing,
as can be seen, for example, in the leading actors in each case. On the other
hand, these domains are partially overlapping, and significant correlations be-
tween the life cycle and the annual cycle are established in the rituals them-
selves. These correlations are revealed, among other places, in the movement
or circulation of the ritual elements. Within the framework of the social order
(bai/bondu), the pathways of ritual transformation run from fields to human be-
ings and vice versa. The paddy rice, conceived of in affinal terms, is brought into
the village as a bride and consumed by the house community as tsoru; converse-
ly, a village’s dead are brought to the ritual sponsors’ fields as brides (in the form
of buffaloes) by their affines. The buffaloes (alias the brides, alias the dead) are
first fed by the affines for days, and upon their arrival in the fields, their entrails
– filled with the finest foods – are ripped out and buried in the earth (or con-
sumed). Each individual, then, in the course of his life is first fed and finally
eaten. The transformations that a person undergoes are not restricted to the do-
main of the life cycle in the strict sense, however, but are rather part of a more
 Symbolic Classification in Alimentary Processes 523

encompassing structure of regeneration and reproduction in which affinal cate-

gories are central exchange partners.

Symbolic Classification in Alimentary Processes

That alimentary ritual processes also manifest intellectual states of affairs and
that food classifications correspond to those of the spatial and social order is
seen once again in relation to tsoru and can perhaps be most simply demonstrat-
ed in the construction of the house. The house’s two rooms are contrasted to one
another in the same way as tsoru and lakka’* food. In the big outer room, the
daily activities of cooking, sleeping, and eating take place; guests are received
here, and affinal relatives may come this far into the house. In contrast to the
outer room, the color of which is not subject to any explicit rules, the inner
room is only painted the color of the earth, and the central house post (doron
deli) is considered a representation of the earth deity at the level of the house.
This room is entered only by agnates and women who have married into the ag-
natic group, those who have become part of the “own” group through tsoru com-
mensality. Sacrifices are carried out there for doron deli, and tsoru is prepared.
Just as only agnates are permitted to enter this room, the tsoru cooked there en-
ters only their bodies. The complementary lakka’* meal is prepared at the cook-
ing hearth in the outer room and can be distributed in the village as “wandering
rice” (bulani bat). The pairs of opposites tsoru/lakka’*, inside/outside, agnates/af-
fines are in analogical relationship to one another, and the category of food,
place, and social relationship listed first in each case is in this context senior
(boro) in comparison to the junior (sano) category listed second. In other
words, a central characteristic of these categories consists in their hierarchical
relationship to one another, articulated in the idiom of seniority. This classifica-
tion is thus also an ideology, a configuration of value-ideas (cf. Dumont 1986). In
the words of Marshall Sahlins (1999, 415), “classification is a moral judgment:
what is so distinguished is good, and right to be so distinguished.”
The value-ideas that articulate space at the level of the house also find ex-
pression at the level of the village. The inner area – the place of sacrifice and of
tsoru – stresses the significant connection between the agnates and the earth
and assigns a subordinate, outside position to the affines. The village ideally
consists of a group of agnates – the Four Brothers – who as “earth people”
(matia) share tsoru with the local earth goddess (hundi) in the village center;
the affines live in other villages, that is, outside. The relationship between
house and village is thematized in multiple ways in the rituals of the annual
cycle, especially through the sequence of ritual events, and corresponds to the
524 6 Conclusion

hierarchical opposition between a part (house) of the village – or the sum of the
parts (gulai ga, all the houses of the village) – and the village as a whole (ga
matam). This relationship is again embodied in the person of the sacrificer (pu-
jari) as he is contrasted to all the other inhabitants of the village: he has the most
senior status in the village, his house stands for the village, and his house god is
synonymous with the village goddess. In the festivals of the annual cycle, he is
the first to perform the ritual actions – such as the fetching home of the first ear
of grain – acting as a representative of the whole; the individual houses then
complete his collective actions. Likewise, the pujari’s transgressions always af-
fect the entire village. The village’s ritual cook (randari) is contrasted to the sac-
rificer. He is conceived of as a “wife,” is subordinate to the pujari, and is consid-
ered the second-most-senior person in the village. The status and the functions
of these village dignitaries reveal the fundamental significance of sacrifice and
food – or the sacrificial meal, tsoru – for the Gadaba.
Alongside relationships oriented inward, toward the territory and the earth,
external relationships are also vital for a village. While the relationship between
house and village is primarily characterized by processes of collecting, sharing,
and redistributing, the relationships between a village and its environment are
primarily marked by reciprocal exchange. A village exchanges brides for brides
(milk) and sacrificial offerings for rice (bride) with external affines, and it ex-
changes buffaloes (duma) and tsoru with external agnates. The exchange part-
ners here are either other villages or gods localized in the environment, like
the affinal river gods kamni. Other relationships, like the one between the village
and the forest, are likewise reciprocal, although the Herder of the Forest (bon
goudo), to whom the Gadaba present sacrificial offerings in order to legitimate
the hunt, is not conceived of in either affinal or agnatic terms. An additional ex-
ternal relationship, ranked by the Gadaba as the most senior (sobu tu boro), is
the relationship between “liver” (koloj) or “divine” (takurani) moitr.
Other than this ascription of the most senior status to the moitr relationship,
the different external relationships are not explicitly ranked, either in compari-
son to one another or in comparison to the internal relationships of sharing.²
However, it is clear from the wedding ritual, for example, that the commensal
unit of the Twelve Brothers is assigned higher status; its tsoru is more important
than that of the Four Brothers or the mothers’ brothers. In my view, the signifi-
cance of the tsoru complex allows us to draw the overall conclusion that the ag-
natic relationships of eating together and sharing food are more highly valued

 In the event that a local group maintains the same type of relationship with two other groups,
however, these relationships are differentiated through the idiom of seniority.
 Symbolic Classification in Alimentary Processes 525

than the exchange relationships between different local groups, even if the artic-
ulation of this valuation varies according to the ritual context.
Despite – or perhaps precisely because of – their high status, the “liver”
moitr take on no ritual function. They do not participate in the processes of re-
generation, reproduction and transformation; tsoru is not shared with one’s
moitr (although one eats from the same plate), and neither brides nor buffaloes
are exchanged. Although they most often belong to other descent categories,
they are not affines, and at the same time that they are not affines, they are
also not agnates. Unlike affinal and agnatic relationships, which are accumulat-
ed in the bridal couple at a wedding by tsoru feeding and commensality, the
moitr relationship is not activated in any similar way. The collective moitr rela-
tionship was established at some former time by the gods, has existed undimin-
ished outside all ritual processes ever since, and apparently needs no regenera-
tive measures; only “memory meat” (china manso) is given to the moitr.
The tension between “self” and “other,” a motif that surfaces in the rituals
and myths in myriad ways, characterizes this relationship to a very particular de-
gree. Moitr are identical, and nevertheless there exists between them a relation-
ship that prescribes absolute veneration and selfless giving. Moitr are displaced
alter egos for one another; perhaps we should even speak of transcendental alter
egos, since they are like gods for one another. For the Gadaba, the moitr relation-
ship represents the ideal case of a relationship, perhaps because it denies the
usual forms of relatedness. No reciprocal exchange takes place between moitr,
as it does between different affinal and agnatic groups, and neither do moitr
share food, as happens within an agnatic group. The moitr’s selfless giving
and “eating from one plate” stand to a certain extent outside the ritual system
and the bai/bondu classification. While, normatively, a high-caste Hindu in the
last phase of his life, having refined himself through a series of rites of passage
(samskara), seeks to bring an end to his inner-worldly existence, the Gadaba ap-
pear to have integrated a collective quasi-outer-worldly element into their system
in this life.
Equally external and one-sided in their relationship, but nevertheless con-
trasted to the moitr, are those threatening categories that fundamentally take
and never give. The most prominent representatives of this category are the de-
mons soni rau, who stand outside the moral order and are conceived of neither
as agnates nor as affines. Also included, however, are fellow human beings who
inflict destruction (nosto), who in most cases belong to the commensal tsoru
community as agnates. They also try to devour the lives or the land of their broth-
ers, and their dark activities are contrary to the social order (niam). The despised
but feared category of the one-sided eaters intervenes without warning in all
areas of life, for which reason healing rituals are found both in the rituals of
526 6 Conclusion

the life cycle and in those of the annual cycle. One can negotiate with the one-
sided eaters, pay them tribute, provide them with surrogate victims, or try to use
violence against them oneself, to turn prey into hunter, or goat into tiger, in the
Gadaba’s rendition of Maurice Bloch’s (1992) felicitous phrase, but these crea-
tures have no place at one’s own table. The different relationship types are sum-
marized in figure 21.

demons
harmful magic
witches
one-sided devouring

12 brothers, 13 seats
(baro bai tero gadi)
moral order
(niam)
good and even
(bol soman)

reciprocal
feeding/eating

agnates Four Brothers affines

share
regeneration tsoru reproduction
transformation transformation

one-sided feeding
(liver moitr)

Figure 21: Model of the Alimentary Relationship Types

The relationship of eating together and sharing tsoru is indicated by the two
circles. The “twelve brothers, thirteen seats” represent the encompassing ritual
unit. The tsoru commensality of the Twelve Brothers is a signifier of the social
order (niam) par excellence, and the sharing of tsoru within the framework of
the house community is ultimately also a reminiscence of this community. How-
 Symbolic Classification in Alimentary Processes 527

ever, the Twelve Brothers do not share tsoru with their affines; rather, each group
eats tsoru on its own. From the perspective of the Four Brothers – a village – var-
ious external relationships result: 1) agnatic and affinal reciprocal relationships
of feeding and eating, 2) a positively one-sided relationship to the moitr (giving/
feeding without demanding), and 3) negatively one-sided relationships to de-
mons (soni rau), sorcerers (pangon lok), and witches (daini).³ The relationships
of devouring exist outside the moral order of the baro bai tero gadi, but are
part of the ritual processes. Conversely, the moitr are part of the moral order,
but do not actively participate in the ritual system. Like the commensal relation-
ships within the village, the first two relationship types are described by the Ga-
daba as good and even (soman) and exist in concord with the social order
(niam); in contrast, the third relationship type brings misfortune (bipod) and
is correspondingly devalued in comparison to the others.
The properties of food and eating seem to make them especially suitable for
shaping and representing social life. Food is the foundation of life, difficult to
obtain, and most often a scarce resource. Obtaining food compels cooperation,
and the need to eat is just as much a cause of feuding as it is of reconciliation
that makes exchange and trade possible. The raw materials of nutrition are ca-
pable of endless alteration and shaping as food, but they keep for a limited pe-
riod of time. The ideas of transformation, change, and continuity – through pres-
ervation processes – are immediately entailed in the matter of food. In addition,
food passes through the body and thereby offers a foundation for concepts of the
person and of identity (cf. Meigs 1997, 104 f). Participation and kinship are equal-
ly generated and symbolized by the shared ingestion of the same food (cf. Rob-
ertson Smith 1997, 257). Food is bound up with each individual’s primary expe-
riences. Already at the mother’s breast, consumption is linked to cultural
patterns, insofar as the mother, as part of a society, imposes a “feeding regime”
(Freud 1997, 109) on the child, and already at this stage, eating and drinking go
beyond the mere ingestion of nourishment and include processes of significa-
tion. As a consequence of the child’s early experiences with the ingestion of
nourishment, also, food is an emotionally charged symbol, equally capable of
expressing love and aggression. This emotional, psychological, and libidinous
potential of eating and food does not determine their cultural significance, but
it gives the symbol its dynamism and effectiveness.

 The Gadaba relationship types are a specific expression of far more general patterns of
exchange. Sahlins’s (1965, 147 f) distinction among “balanced,” “generalized,” and “negative”
reciprocity characterizes the relationships described here between agnates/affines, moitr, and
the demons, respectively.
528 6 Conclusion

In highland Odisha, these universal characteristics of food and eating have

assisted in expressing a specific cultural pattern. Feeding, sharing, and devour-
ing are alimentary modes that are articulated in the Gadaba’s rituals and that
make reference both to relationships and processes and to value-ideas. They des-
ignate types of relationships based on reciprocal exchange, sharing food, or vio-
lent consumption, with food elements sometimes also being used as metaphors
for the relationships: milk in the case of the affines and tsoru in the case of the
tsorubai. In addition, feeding, sharing, and devouring are central processes in
the formation of social relationships. As alimentary activities, they transform a
person’s status, regenerate a group’s solidarity, or destroy someone’s body,
life, or harvest. Finally, these terms stand for the valuation of different forms
of relatedness and distinguish the balanced relationships of sharing and ex-
change from the unpredictable and destructive relationships of one-sided con-
sumption.
Appendix
Epilogue
No human culture is inaccessible to
someone who makes the effort to understand, to
learn, to inhabit another world.
Henry Louis Gates (in Shokeid 1995, 15)

Why do anthropologists talk about themselves so much when they speak about
their fieldwork?¹ Ethnographers’ reports about the simplicity of their living ar-
rangements “in the field” or about the apparently unappetizing things they
ate there point to a tension that runs through every experience of fieldwork:
the reciprocal interaction between self-knowledge and knowledge of the other.
For the most part, an ethnographer perceives the society or social group that
he wants to study only by way of his own self; he himself is his most important
instrument. With his body, his emotions, and his mind, he tries to open up a
world alien to him.
For this reason, my report on my experiences doing fieldwork in India will
also be a personal testimony. Accounts of this kind are not without risk, since
when an ethnographer talks about himself, he walks a fine line between neces-
sary reflection and navel-gazing. The sociologist and anthropologist Pierre Bour-
dieu (1995) therefore distinguishes between “narcissistic reflexivity” and “scien-
tific reflexivity.” Following a long period in which the researcher as a person
received no attention at all, the 1980s saw the spread of an “epidemic of wild
reflexivity” (365), according to Bourdieu, in which ethnographers succumbed en-
tirely to the “allure of self-investigation” (366), and the researcher’s emotional
dispositions and psychological sensitivities moved to center stage. If objectivity
is impossible, the best thing to do is to study oneself, seemed to be the motto.

 This epilogue was first published under the title of “‘Sozialer Tod’ und ‘Wiedergeburt’ des
Ethnografen: Erfahrungen aus der Stammesregion Orissa,” Mitteilungen der Berliner Gesellschaft
für Anthropologie, Ethnologie und Urgeschichte (2004). I thank the Berliner Gesellschaft for
permission to republish the essay here, with some changes. A shorter version was originally
given as a lecture to the Freundeskreis des Museums für Völkerkunde (Friends of the Museum
for Ethnology) in Munich on July 4, 2002, and to the Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie,
Ethnologie und Urgeschichte (Berlin Society for Anthropology, Ethnology, and Prehistory) on
March 10, 2003. Both the lecture and the essay were explicitly intended for a general audience.
Although a sketch of the history of fieldwork is surely unnecessary in a book addressed in the
first instance to specialists in the discipline, I nevertheless consider the essay a useful sup-
plement to my ethnographic and theoretical findings.
Like the previously published version, this epilogue is dedicated to M. D. Hussain, a friend
and colleague on the research project, who helped me take my first steps in the region, ac-
companied almost the entire process of my research, and has since died.
532 Epilogue

For Bourdieu, however, reflexivity does not mean giving up the responsibility of
objectivity, but rather “turning one’s scientific weaponry against oneself” (372).
In other words, the scholar must first become conscious of the ways he has him-
self been determined by his own society and culture and must investigate the
conditions of his knowledge. The researcher too is a social person, one who
has been socialized in a specific context and works within a scholarly framework
in which certain axioms and perspectives are prescribed and considered “natu-
ral.” The greatest care must be taken with matters of “common sense,” since
these seemingly self-evident patterns of thinking and acting arise from what is
conventionally learned and automatically accepted as correct and are blind to
their own culturally conditioned character and cultural contingency.
Anthropologists have thought about their own role in the field since before
the age of “reflexive anthropology.” The introductions to the monographs by Mi-
chael Moffatt (1979) and Gerald D. Berreman (1999 [1963]) are examples of this
from the Indian context and have also inspired this essay. All ethnographers
have probably had the experience that their personal experiences and scholarly
activity are difficult to separate. What I hope to examine in what follows is the
process of fieldwork, a process that also entails a metamorphosis of the ethnog-
rapher’s social identity. First, I will sketch the history of fieldwork. Next, I will
describe the process of my own fieldwork in Odisha (India), paying special atten-
tion to the aspects of “participant observation” and the stages of my integration.
Undoubtedly, what I will be portraying is a specific case, but it is one that is
probably not so very unique, but rather something that has happened in similar
ways many times. The aim of my reflections is, to quote Bourdieu (1995, 369)
once more, “to discover the social in the heart of the individual, the impersonal
behind the personal.”

Brief History of Fieldwork

Simplifying the history of the discipline somewhat, we can distinguish four

stages in anthropology’s approach to fieldwork.
1. “armchair anthropology” (late nineteenth century)
2. the institutionalization of fieldwork (early twentieth century)
3. the “flowering” of ethnographic practice (late 1920s to 1950s)
4. finally, the crisis of ethnography (1980s to 1990s)

The time before 1900 can be seen as a “golden age” in which anthropologists did
not yet have to worry about the slippery nature of ethnography. The discipline
had not yet established itself in the universities, and learned men like Sir
 Epilogue 533

James G. Frazer practiced anthropology on the basis of other people’s reports.

Working at their desks, they had contact with the “other” only by way of the ac-
counts of adventurers, travelers, traders, or missionaries. For this reason, they
were later described as “armchair anthropologists.”
It was Bronislaw Malinowski, a native of Poland, who established the
method of fieldwork in the discipline, under the influence of British social an-
thropology. For about two years during World War I, he lived in the Trobriand
Islands, north of Papua New Guinea. The circumstances of his fieldwork have
themselves achieved mythological status among anthropologists (Kuper 1993,
10). In the preface to Malinowski’s best-known book, Argonauts of the Western
Pacific, first published in 1922, the “armchair anthropologist” Frazer (1932, vii),
mentioned above, wrote that Malinowski had “lived as a native among the na-
tives.” What is certain is that from this time forward, the dogma of fieldwork
was set in place for the coming generations. In the introduction to Argonauts,
Malinowski set out the fundamental ideas of his method. The researcher should
live directly among the “natives” for an extended period of time, learn their lan-
guage, observe them, and participate in their daily life. This method has become
both famous and infamous under the name of “participant observation,” and we
will return to this aspect in greater detail later.
The collection of “data” was now part of the researcher’s profession and part
of his psychology. The fear of not having “found” enough material, or enough
usable material, to provide empirical evidence for one’s theses haunts every
one of Malinowski’s heirs until today (cf. Gellner 1981, xxiii). From the 1930s
to the 1950s, Malinowski’s students conducted fieldwork with great energy
and great success, especially in colonial Africa. In this period, ethnographic
data were considered relatively unproblematic; they were collected as “hard
facts,” and the researcher’s role in the field was not the subject of too much re-
flection. The British anthropologist Evans-Pritchard described how before his
fieldwork among the Azande in what is now Sudan, he asked Malinowski for ad-
vice on what an ethnographer should be particularly careful about. He should
not be a “damned idiot,” was the answer he received (Evans-Pritchard 1988,
327). However, I would not interpret this piece of “advice” as a call for the use
of “common sense” – previously found to be dangerous and not epistemologi-
cally “sensible.” Rather, as someone for whom fieldwork had become second na-
ture, Malinowski probably took for granted that an ethnographer would question
his own way of thinking.² In any event, the issue remained implicit.

 However, Malinowski does not demonstrate too much skepticism about his own rationality in
534 Epilogue

Exactly when the fall from grace took place in which we lost our ethno-
graphic innocence is difficult to say, and many elements must be taken into ac-
count in this regard. Malinowski was not uninvolved in the deconstruction of his
own dogma, even if not by his own will. If he was considered the ideal model of
a researcher during his lifetime, his diaries, posthumously published in 1967, re-
veal a different Malinowski. We discover a man with aggressions, desires, and
contradictions. We read about his longing for “civilization,” his erotic fantasies,
his feelings of guilt as a reaction to such impulses, and his imposition of new
standards on himself in order to raise his working morale in the field. The
book did not change anything about Malinowski’s scholarly significance, but
it demythologized the former image of the ethnographer. In the introduction to
the diary, a loyal student wrote that the diary was also the researcher’s attempt
at “guiding and indeed rectifying his personality” (Firth 1967, xviii). It became
clear how closely the researcher’s personality and his scholarly activity are inter-
woven.
From the 1980s to the 1990s, the crisis of ethnography flourished. Many and
various debates developed about the representation of the other, the researcher’s
status, the natives’ role, and the status of ethnographic data (cf. Berg and Fuchs
1995). Are the researcher’s findings objective? Aren’t ethnographies much more
like works of art or literature? Shouldn’t the individual voices of the “natives”
be given much more space in ethnographers’ books? In fact, aren’t the “natives”
the better ethnographers? Doesn’t ethnography just serve the cause of Western
hegemony by over and over sketching portraits of the “other” and so perpetuat-
ing existing hierarchies? And finally, aren’t the categories of “self” and “other”
themselves beginning to dissolve?³
This last question about the validity of the concept of the “other” and the
“othering” of the object of investigation should also be seen in connection
with a shift in the topics and regions of research. “Exotic” societies were no lon-
ger the sole or primary object of interest. More research was conducted in Europe
as well, investigating topics of migration, for example. If an ethnographer was
born in Russia, grew up in Germany, and studies ethnic Germans from Russia
now living in Berlin, how do the boundaries between self and other shift?

his theoretical writings; his utilitarian, need-oriented interpretations of culture correspond all
too closely to Western “common sense.”
 Adam Kuper (1994) takes up questions about the researcher’s status, the “native voice,” the
ethnographic text, and the discipline in general in his critique of postmodern and politically
correct approaches in American cultural anthropology.
 Epilogue 535

Aren’t both modern researchers and their subjects equally hybrids, or “halfies”⁴
(Abu-Lughod 1991)?

Participant Observation and Integration

The example mentioned may be an extreme one, but the question does arise of
whether ethnographers are not by definition hybrid beings or become such in the
process of research. In Malinowski’s diary, this is evident. The mirroring of the
other in the self and the self in the other were and are central epistemological
conditions for anthropological research (cf. Kramer 1984). Malinowski asks him-
self in his diary:

What is the deepest essence of my investigations? To discover what are his [the native’s]
main passions, the motives for his conduct, his aims. […] His essential, deepest way of
thinking. At this point we are confronted with our own problems: What is essential in our-
selves? (1967, 119)

The ethnographic method of participant observation also itself defines the re-
searcher as an ambivalent subject. The term sounds contradictory, paradoxical.
Is it possible to participate while observing? And is it possible to observe while
being part of what is happening? In my experience, the two aspects cannot al-
ways be united, at least in a single concrete situation. But maybe in sequence:
observe now, participate later? What Malinowski calls for with the idea of partic-
ipant observation is the linking together of two claims. The researcher should
collect data, observe, and be as neutral and objective as possible. This is insuf-
ficient, however, and if he does no more than this, his ethnography will remain
“bloodless.” The ethnographer must therefore also sometimes put down his pen,
as Malinowski says, and “plunge” into the society. He should not only describe
the alien culture rationally, but also experience it. Malinowski speaks of acquir-
ing the “‘feeling’” (1932, 8) or of “being really in contact” (1932, 7). I quote from
the introduction to his ethnography:

Out of such plunges into the life of the natives – and I made them frequently not only for
study’s sake but because everyone needs human company – I have carried away a distinct
feeling that their behaviour, their manner of being, in all sorts of tribal transactions, be-
came more transparent and easily understandable than it had been before. (1932, 21 f)

 Abu-Lughod (1991, 137) defines “halfies” as “people whose national or cultural identity is
mixed by virtue of migration, overseas education, or parentage.”
536 Epilogue

Plunging into the society being studied is accordingly not only required for qual-
ity research, but also an emotional necessity for the researcher as a person.
This brings me to the second focus of my observations: the process of inte-
gration. A high degree of integration is surely a condition for plunging into an
alien society. Obviously, the researcher does not immediately plunge into the so-
ciety, as soon as he has unpacked his suitcase. He undergoes a lengthy process
that is often described as an initiation. Since early in its history, anthropology
has analyzed so-called “rites of passage,” in which the youth of a tribe, for ex-
ample, are made full members of society. Such rituals, which may extend over
very long timespans, have three phases, according to van Gennep (1960): a sep-
aration phase in which the novice is removed from his old context, a transition
phase, and finally a phase of reincorporation into society with a new status. An-
thropologists have also not failed to notice in their analyses that such transitions
are often staged as passages from “death” to “rebirth.” Paradoxically, the ethnog-
rapher himself undergoes exactly this metamorphosis: one life ends and another
begins, and this transformation can certainly be described as a social or cultural
death and rebirth. Malinowski vividly describes the experience of his separation
phase for the readers of Argonauts:

Imagine yourself suddenly set down surrounded by all your gear, alone on a tropical beach
close to a native village, while the launch or dinghy which has brought you sails away out
of sight. (1932, 4)

A castaway of this kind is not surrounded by members of his own culture, as a

rule, and he knows and understands only a little of this new life. In almost all
respects, small children are far superior to him. The cultural novice understands
only a little of the language, or nothing at all, and blunders through his new sur-
roundings like an oaf, since the rules of behavior are strange to him. The “na-
tives” assign the researcher to one of the known categories of strangers: traders,
missionaries, spies, census officials, or even anthropologists, in areas where
these are more frequently found. If he is lucky, the researcher succeeds in divest-
ing himself of the all-too-suspect and dubious roles ascribed to him and explain-
ing what he is doing. He is then indeed a human being, but not a social person.
He is ultimately an impossibility within the conditio humana, since human be-
ings define themselves always and everywhere as social beings. The ethnogra-
pher is initially an isolated being, an alien, without social relationships.
 Epilogue 537

My Research in Odisha

First Steps and Liminality

After these general prior reflections, we can now “plunge” into my experiences in
the tribal area of Odisha. My doctoral supervisor Professor Georg Pfeffer has
worked since the late 1970s on the tribal societies of Central India, many of
which live in the state of Odisha.
Not very much is heard or known about these societies, even though their
numbers for India as a whole come to around 80 million people. Through Pro-
fessor Pfeffer’s good offices and with his encouragement, I visited the tribal
area in southern Odisha, the Koraput district, in 1996, while I was still an under-
graduate. At that time, it was a matter of gathering first impressions, learning a
little of the language, and essentially finding out whether I felt capable of living
and working in the area for a longer period of time. Together with another stu-
dent, I did not live in one of the tribal villages, but rather spent two months in a
small industrial settlement founded in the late 1940s as a consequence of a gov-
ernment hydroelectric project, the social and cultural order of which has been
studied by a colleague (Strümpell 2001) as part of the DFG project (see below).
This town had also previously served Professor Pfeffer as a base of opera-
tions on his trips to the villages. The residents are Hindu, Christian, and Muslim
immigrants from the plains, with a small percentage of inhabitants drawn from
the indigenous population. The town is located in the center of the tribal area,
but the workers who came to the area on account of the hydroelectric project
have almost no interaction with the indigenous people. An important informant
and go-between for Professor Pfeffer and later for me was a Muslim, M. D. Hus-
sain, who was born in the town and held the poorly paid position of village
policeman. He was important for the good contacts he maintained among the
different tribal groups. The locals liked him because he was not as arrogant as
high-ranking police officers and other government officials are usually perceived
to be, and he stood by them in difficult situations, such as conflicts, acted as a
mediator, and was happy to share a bottle of liquor with them. Both the town
and Hussain as a person are typical transitional phenomena, of the kind
found in many field situations. The town is located on the threshold between
“civilization” and “tribal society,” and Hussain constantly crossed the bounda-
ries between the two realms. As an ambivalent figure, the ethnographer sticks
close at first to people and places of the same kind.
My real research began in January 1999. I lived in Odisha for twenty-one
months, divided into three phases, almost the entire time in one village, where
538 Epilogue

the majority of the inhabitants are members of the Gadaba tribal group.⁵ Inves-
tigating their rituals and festivals was the goal with which I set out. Naturally, it
was Hussain who stood by me for my first steps. He was well acquainted with the
village that Professor Pfeffer had suggested to me as a research site. He had also
given me the name of a Gadaba whom he knew and who was supposed to be an
important man in the village, which I will call Gudapada from now on. However,
since this man was falling-down drunk on our first visit, no rare occurrence, as I
would learn later, we ended up talking to his neighbor, named Buda. He was fi-
nally the one who declared himself willing to prepare a room for me next to his
buffalo stable. We subsequently met him at one of the weekly markets, which are
visited by all the locals, and set a day for me to move to his house. I was eager to
finally leave the workers’ colony and start my research. My plan for this first
phase of my research was first of all to improve my knowledge of the language.
The second goal was to integrate myself into village life, to the extent possible,
and look for suitable informants among the inhabitants of the village.
Initially, however, I was not the one who sought people out, and I was also
primarily not the one who observed and asked questions. I was observed and
had questions to answer. Every step I took was followed by some friendly and
many distrustful eyes. In the first days, the men’s questions principally revolved
around the value of my watch, my pants, my glasses, and all other objects I pos-
sessed. I tried to be patient and made an effort to commit to memory the prices I
had thought up for my glasses and watch, since the real prices would have been
incomprehensible in this context.⁶
I quickly got used to unfamiliar external circumstances, such as the absence
of toilets, electricity, and running water. It was more difficult to deal with peo-
ple’s demands. Adults asked for five rupees, as a rule – about an eighth of a
euro – the price of a bottle of homemade rice liquor. The children had learned
to ask for “chocolate.” Buda was not entirely without responsibility for this
fact, since he was one of the key figures in the village tourist trade, which
must be imagined at a very rudimentary level. It was surely no coincidence
that I had fallen in with him. Tourists on so-called “tribal tours” through Odisha
always visit the industrial settlement previously mentioned, where the famous
Bondo throng the market every Thursday in loincloths and carrying their axes

 The research for the present book included a final fieldwork period of one month during
December 2002 and January 2003.
 Explaining the society in which I live in Germany to the Gadaba, who have no conception of it,
was an ongoing challenge. It may at first appear dishonorable that I thought up other prices for
my valuables. In fact, it was a matter of putting things in the correct proportion and not
distorting the image by a misunderstood and naive honesty.
 Epilogue 539

and bows. On the way back, the tourists often pass through Gudapada to see the
Gadaba women’s circle dance, which Buda organizes at the tour guides’ bidding:
he was also jokingly called the “dance guru” for this reason.
Buda was thus also a go-between and mediator of Gadaba culture. He had
an ambivalent reputation in the village, but was a central figure in all ritual
and collective matters. Nevertheless, my initial time with him was difficult. He
was often silent, had little interesting to say, and had a tendency to present
me to others as “his white man.” He showed me off in neighboring villages,
held conversations in front of me that were about me or over my head, and
asked me to give this or that person five rupees. He tried to influence me to
go to certain places and not others, and it quickly became clear to me that I
had to try to make myself independent of him. After my first rather frustrating
days with Buda and after a number of rounds of questions about the prices of
my personal effects, therefore, I tried to expand my radius of action to the houses
of the wider neighborhood.
With about 140 houses, Gudapada is a large village. The earthen houses
stand close to one another and are sited at all angles, with few straight streets.
The situation of being under constant observation and drawing constant notice
to myself was very stressful and something to which I was not at all accustomed.
Added to this was the enormous effort it took to engage in conversation, without
understanding much. Most conversation partners also quickly lost interest, since
I had to constantly ask for what had been said to be repeated more slowly. De-
spite my inhibitions and shyness, I forced myself to creep out of my little earthen
house and face ethnographic reality. I developed the habit of always carrying
some chewing tobacco and Indian cigarettes with me, which I could offer
when the opportunity arose. Everyone soon knew that I almost never refused re-
quests of this sort. Wherever something happened to be going on in the village, I
attached myself to it. In the mornings, for example, there were often rounds of
drinks in front of the houses where liquor was distilled. I accompanied men to
the fields to plow and to the river to fish, or I watched women pounding rice.
In general, I tried to show the village in general that I was ready to join in every-
thing and was interested in everything, no matter what it was. That sounds easy,
but it is a really difficult message to get across, since most people could scarcely
grasp why someone would be interested in such self-evident things. Relatively
quickly, I got to know men of my own age, who naturally all had wives and sev-
eral children already. Some of them happened to be building new houses, which
was likewise a good opportunity for visits and conversation.
540 Epilogue

The Village Festival in 1999

My first two months in the village, when I was living with Buda, also fell at the
time of a village festival, chait porbo. The cold winter was over, and it was the
season of dry heat. The festival was concerned with the sowing of rice, the trans-
plantation of the seedlings, and a ritual hunt, and lasted a total of almost four
weeks in March and April. It offered a very good opportunity to get to know the
structure of the village better, since the different groups appear as such in the
rituals.
I had the opportunity to document this festival almost in its entirety, both
the collective rituals at the village level and the rituals and sacrifices that took
place in Buda’s house. I would like to briefly describe a ritual in which I partici-
pated three years in a row and that provides a quite good indication of the de-
gree of my integration and of the way my position in the village remained am-
bivalent to the end. The sacrificial ritual takes place at a shrine outside the
village. A he-goat is killed there, and the division of the animal and consumption
of the meat are subject to strict rules. The head is eaten directly at the shrine by
the married men of the group of the village founders, who must also have fasted
on that day. The he-goat’s neck is prepared and eaten by the group of their rel-
atives by marriage. The animal’s rump is cut up and distributed raw to men from
every household. The men cook and eat these portions at another location out-
side the entrance to the village. Here, the fasting rule does not apply, and all men
of the village can participate.
Buda, who belongs to the group of the village founders, had told me that I
should also not eat rice that morning. I observed the ritual until the afternoon,
but was sent away from the shrine when the men began to eat. I should go to the
others who were eating the rump, the men said. Somewhat insulted, I left, feel-
ing discriminated against, in a typically Western way. For everyone else, these
rules were self-evident and not an expression of personal devaluation. However,
I considered it a sign that I had not yet gotten very far in terms of integration.
Another reason for my exclusion from the mealtime company was the fact that
the Gadaba knew that I lived with a woman without being fully married. I had
previously explained that I was engaged, but not yet married. I therefore had
to eat with the other unmarried men.
In the course of daily life, on the other hand, the Gadaba often warned me,
because I was one of them or lived with them, under no circumstances to eat at
the houses of the village’s lower-status groups. Integration in this everyday con-
text nonetheless did not necessarily guarantee integration in all ritual situations.
This example makes clear that the process of integration advances at different
speeds on different levels.
 Epilogue 541

Integration in the First Phase

How is this first phase of research to be evaluated in terms of “social death” and
participant observation? When I read my diary entries from this period, it is clear
that my mood swung back and forth. I often felt that I was exploited and not
taken seriously. Then simple conversations and occurrences would make me eu-
phoric and optimistic again. I wrote about a bicycle excursion that the landscape
was wonderfully “empty of people,” probably a sign that the positive as well as
negative scrutiny I felt from the village inhabitants was sometimes too much for
me.
The everyday reflection of our selves in our environment is decisive for our
self-image. While this is a normal process of daily life, however, it is almost en-
tirely absent in the early stage of fieldwork. Since my person, my characteristics,
my strengths and weaknesses are unknown to my fellow human beings, I also
cannot recognize myself in them. This leads to the irritating situation that not
only is the environment strange, but the researcher increasingly appears to
grow estranged from himself. In addition, I also unfortunately received almost
no mail during these first two months, due to a change in the Indian postal sys-
tem. However, Professor Pfeffer visited me during this period, and one of his stu-
dents spent six weeks about twenty kilometers away, near the industrial town.
Such contacts and occasional news from the “West” did therefore provide a wel-
come opportunity to make sure of my “old identity.”
Over these first two months, the strange faces gradually became people to
me, with names and characteristics. I also was no longer a stranger, at least
on one side of the village; people knew why I was there and that I planned to
come back for a longer stay. I hinted to my new acquaintances that I did not in-
tend to live with Buda again, and I immediately received multiple offers for the
future. I also had the impression, however, that many were not entirely sure that
I would really return.
The degree of my integration can be seen in various indicators. First, the
form of address: at the beginning, everyone addressed me with terms of respect,
like a police officer: “Sir” or the Oriya equivalent agiya, or saibo, the local version
of “sahib.” Gradually, however, my name started to be used, and many men re-
ferred to me as their “brother,” independent of clan membership.⁷ Most of the
children also no longer ran away screaming after some weeks, others had
given up asking for sweets, and for those who were born during the time of

 “Brothers” are not only genealogically related individuals, but all those who belong to the
same clan category.
542 Epilogue

my first stay, I later became part of normal life. A man of the village was called
the “crazy one” – Baya – and apparently fit the description. He was allergic to all
strangers and reacted aggressively. Each time he saw me, he correspondingly
began to swear loudly, dance, and sing, making a somewhat intimidating im-
pression. I do not believe that he got used to me in my first two months.
Later, he would become my “father-in-law.”
After this first stay, I spent four months in Germany. The Orissa Research
Project supported by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG, German Re-
search Foundation) began in May 1999, and my colleagues and I prepared the
official first research phase. Along with my research on the rituals of the Gadaba,
my colleagues were to study the industrial settlement and another tribal village
near the town. The research project made it possible for me to afford a motorcy-
cle and had the advantage that other scholars were at least in the region; as men-
tioned, the industrial settlement is located about twenty-five kilometers from Gu-
dapada, a forty-five-minute trip by car.

Second Phase of My Fieldwork

In September 1999 – the last month of the rainy season – I arrived in Odisha for a
year’s stay. The first four weeks were taken up with visits to our partner univer-
sity in western Odisha, with many organizational tasks, and with purchasing the
motorcycle.
My return to the village was a positive experience, and my sense was that for
the Gadaba, it was a sign of my seriousness. It quickly developed that the house
of a widower named Rogu was to be put at my disposal. During my previous stay,
his son had become my most important informant. From now on, Rogu slept on
the veranda. Like him, I ate every day in the house of his son and his daughter-
in-law, Jomna.
I had my own house, to which I could invite guests, and a motorcycle, which
gave me a very great degree of mobility. Those were significant technical novel-
ties at the beginning of my second research period. Along with the fact that the
motorcycle expanded my radius of activity, made many undertakings more effi-
cient, and ensured that I could temporarily escape village life at any time, it
served yet another important goal. I set up a kind of emergency service. Other
than dressing small wounds with iodine, I refused for various reasons to distrib-
ute medicine.⁸ On the other hand, it quickly became public knowledge that I

 First of all, I am not a medical professional and was afraid of giving someone the wrong
 Epilogue 543

would take anyone to one of the two hospitals in the area when needed or con-
versely fetch a doctor to the village. Not counting tobacco, Indian cigarettes, and
my general entertainment value, this was an important counter-gift that I could
provide and that was often put to use.
Naturally, Buda was annoyed that I no longer lived with him on my return.
He largely ignored me for some weeks, but could not decline invitations to my
house. After a while, our relationship returned to normal.

Arrival of the Bride

By this time, I had spent seven months in Odisha, five of them in Gudapada. I
had become more competent in the local Desia language, had built and expand-
ed my relationships, and in particular, had made a friend, my neighbor Ori. He
was the ideal informant for me, because he was curious and happy to wander
around the area. The “crazy” man had largely gotten used to me and given me
a name, Suklu, which literally means “dried out” and metaphorically corre-
sponds to something like “beanpole.” Like everyone else, he too asked me for
tobacco or occasionally for a rupee to buy a glass of rice beer. I took that for a
good sign. Then in January 2000, something happened that would fundamental-
ly change my position in the village: my girlfriend Amrei came to Gudapada for a
month.
Already weeks before she came, I was asked daily about her arrival. When
the time came, I went to the coast to meet her and travel back to the highlands
with her. The timing of her arrival was more than a little inconvenient, since a
major mortuary ritual was taking place in the neighborhood right at that time,
and I promised to be back on the next day with the bus at noon: a nine-hour
trip down out of the highlands, a few hours of sleep, and back up the winding
roads.
We arrived to a surprise, as we were met outside the village boundaries, and
Amrei was led into the village as a “new bride.” The musicians who had been
hired for the funeral took a brief break from their main activity and drummed
the wedding rhythms. We were led to my house in a procession and served liquor
and ritual rice, which we had to feed to one another. This procedure corresponds
to the typical ritual pattern. Subsequently, Amrei was led off by a number of

medicine, on the one hand, and of being blamed for the deterioration of a patient’s condition,
on the other. In addition, it seemed to me impractical for financial reasons to provide medicine
for the entire village and equally impractical to offer this service only to certain privileged
individuals or groups.
544 Epilogue

older women and washed by them behind the house. The demands on my girl-
friend on this first day must have been considerable, since she did not experi-
ence a gradual introduction like my own, but was thrown right into the deep
end. Her uncertainty about the new situation was visibly articulated, for exam-
ple, by the fact that she initially kept wearing her long linen pants underneath
the sari that the women gave her.

Marriage

The men were happy that they had finally gotten to meet the wife of their
“younger brother,” and their wives especially flocked to their new “sister.” I
no longer know exactly who it was who first suggested that we should get mar-
ried in Gudapada, according to Gadaba “law.” The idea was suddenly abroad,
the first step had already been taken with the bride’s formal entrance into her
new house, and the preparations for the wedding rituals were quickly made.
Some women warned us, however, that it would be a lot of work. They proved
to be correct. It was a lot of work, expense, joy, and frustration, presumably
like every wedding, with one difference: I had no idea what the procedure for
a Gadaba wedding was, and every time I tried to ask what was coming, I was
brushed off: “You’ll see soon enough.” A wedding consists of many steps,
which can be far distant from one another in time, and I had previously wit-
nessed only small sections of other weddings. I thus faced the problem that as
a person, I was getting married for the first time, and as an ethnographer, I
was supposed to document a Gadaba wedding for the first time, a trial by fire
for the dogma of participant observation.
There is not enough time to go into details. The wedding ritual in the strict
sense lasted two days; the final rituals were performed only a year later, when
Amrei visited Gudapada for the second time. The rituals included an infinity
of details; it was impossible to commit them to memory in the correct sequence
in such a stressful situation. I therefore used every free second to take notes and
ask my “brothers” what had just happened to us. It became clear that as partic-
ipation increases, the ability to observe decreases.
 Epilogue 545

My New Status

More important for the fieldwork process than the rituals themselves were the
changes that my marriage brought about.⁹ The entire village is involved in a mar-
riage, and for the Gadaba themselves as well, marriage signifies complete ritual
integration into society.
Already before Amrei came to Gudapada, I had been assigned to the Cobra
clan, the dominant clan of the village founders, with whom I was living. Along-
side the Cobras, smaller Gadaba groups from other clans, which are marriage
partners of the Cobras, also live in the village. They belong to the Fish and
Tiger clans. Amrei was immediately assigned to the Tigers, with whom Rogu’s
household had long maintained marriage alliances. He gave his sister to a
man of the Tiger family, whose daughter Jomna married Rogu’s son; this was
the household in which we ate every day. The marriage tie significantly stabilized
and clarified my social position in the village. I was no longer addressed as
“brother” by every man of my own age, since my new position required a
more specific designation in accordance with the kinship terminology. Men
from the Fish and Tiger clans spoke to me using the terms for “brother-in-law”
or “son-in-law.” Amrei and I likewise used the appropriate kinship terms on
our part. Baya – the “crazy one” – also belonged to the Tiger group and was
my father-in-law’s younger brother, so that he was also considered my father-
in-law within the framework of a classificatory kinship system. Sometimes,
when I addressed him as “uncle,” in accordance with the terminology, he coun-
tered, “What’s this ‘uncle’ here?,” and followed up with a filthy swearword.

My Assistant

After only four weeks, Amrei returned to Germany, and I had to put up with
being asked why I had sent my wife away. In March 2000, however, a new
change arrived in the form of Manto Pradhan, my assistant.
Malinowski’s dogma of fieldwork prescribes that the researcher should work
without a translator, in order to learn the native language fluently. I resolved to
look for an assistant who would be not so much a translator as a conversation
partner and helper in my work. I was also aware, however, that risks went along
with this, and that many inhabitants of the lowlands and the coastal areas

 Freedman (1986) offers an extreme example of changes in status over the course of the
ethnographic process.
546 Epilogue

viewed the tribes more or less as “savages.” Only a few could imagine living in a
village like Gudapada for even a short time. My first attempt was also an imme-
diate failure; the candidate stayed only two weeks. On my second attempt, in
contrast, I had better luck.
Manto could not sing as well as his predecessor, who had warmed the hearts
of all the young girls with his voice, and for that reason, he was initially also not
so warmly received. However, he showed himself to be significantly more solid
and put up with the Gadaba and with me for over a year. Once he had gotten
used to things, which was also not entirely easy for him, I adjusted my way of
working to some extent. By this point, I had many contacts, had found good in-
formants, and had some experience of the rituals and of life there in general, so
that I could formulate more precise questions, which I tried to discuss in loosely
structured interviews. In this, Manto was a great help. Nevertheless, due to my
own knowledge of the language, I was not helpless in his hands, but could mon-
itor the conversations and understood most of what was said without his trans-
lations.

The Process of Integration in the Second Phase

In their own way, several dramatic events, including the village head’s violent
death and his brother’s death immediately thereafter, integrated me further
into the village community. An observer’s objectivity slipped repeatedly away
from me in certain precarious situations. One of my neighbors was treated by
a healer for a severe inflammation, and although the healing ritual was very ex-
citing from an ethnographic perspective, the thought of taking notes made me
uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I could not set aside my ethnographer’s perspec-
tive; I remained a hybrid, an integrated outsider, both socially and emotionally.
When the village festival I described previously was again at hand, I ex-
pressed aloud the thought of going to another village on the chief festival day
to see to what extent I could identify divergences in the ritual processes. The re-
action was indignant. If “our” village was holding a festival, how could I go to
another one? Besides, as a married man, I should perform the rituals in my
house. So I obtained the necessary sacrificial animals at the weekly market
like everyone else and prepared for the festival. With the help of my “father”
and my “brothers,” I performed the sacrifices in my house, and Manto cooked
the ritual meal in the role of “wife.” The villagers made approving comments,
but many also found the situation amusing. The fact that my girlfriend was re-
ceived in the village as a bride and the Gadaba performed our wedding shows
that the stranger’s efforts to integrate are not a one-sided process. The inhabi-
 Epilogue 547

tants of the village were also evidently concerned to make the stranger one of
their own, to a certain degree.
This year, I was not sent away when the ritual meal was eaten at the shrine
outside the village, as in the previous year. I was married, so I could eat with the
others. An interesting adjustment was made, however. Although my status as a
Cobra was emphasized in other contexts, I was required here to take my place
among the Tigers and Fish and, like them, to eat not the head, but the neck
of the sacrificial animal. The great ritual importance of this shrine thus did
not allow me to be integrated as a Cobra on this occasion. Like the Cobras’ rel-
atives by marriage, I was simultaneously integrated among and distinguished
from the village founders. Nothing about this situation would change in the
next year either.

Third Phase of My Fieldwork

The third phase of my fieldwork began in November 2001, after a hectic eight
weeks in Germany, and lasted six months. This time, no more organizational pre-
paratory work was necessary, and I went straight to Gudapada. Only forty-eight
hours after my plane left Berlin, the bus dropped me off, and when I arrived in
the village, I was immediately informed that I had come at just the right time.
Another festival was underway, and I had arrived punctually for the meal; it
seemed as if I had only been away briefly.
Manto returned a few days later, and some weeks later, Amrei also arrived,
this time staying five months. After the last marriage rituals had been completed,
Jomna, in whose house I had been eating for so long, was of the view that we
should now cook for ourselves. We were married and had a house, so we were
absolutely self-sufficient, in her opinion. On the one hand, this remark shows
the importance of an independent family’s own hearth. On the other hand, it
was evidence that I was no longer an asocial isolated being, but rather had a
family within the framework of the village community, even if I did not yet
have any children. I convinced Jomna that we would gladly continue to eat at
her house, among other reasons because we would be on the road too much
to cook regularly.
Since Amrei was now in Gudapada for an extended period, I could observe
the process of her integration. While I had learned my way around the public
world of the men and the rituals, she was introduced by her sisters into an en-
tirely different domain. When women do laundry at the river, fetch water from the
fountain, or collect wood in the hills, they are often among themselves, beyond
male influence. Amrei’s knowledge of the language increased rapidly, among
548 Epilogue

other reasons because the women pressed her for answers to important and in-
timate questions: how much (not whether) I hit her, for example. Her presence at
births and, not least, her participation in the dances incorporated Amrei still
more firmly into the women’s community, and it became clear to me how one-
sided a male researcher’s perspective must remain. Amrei’s integration also
led to the somewhat absurd scene that she participated in the dance perform-
ance for tourists. The Europeans came to see “exotic” Gadaba dance, after all,
and now a white woman was dancing in their midst. They took it with a sense
of humor, however.
The last months passed quickly. The “crazy” man had stopped calling me
Suklu and switched instead to the local version of my name, and he also ad-
dressed Amrei more often with the term for “daughter.” He sat with Manto
and myself more often in the last months, and we held normal conversations,
to the extent that was possible. Another indication of my integration: a Gadaba
from Gudapada who lived in the distant capital and did wage labor there visited
the village only rarely. On these occasions, he generally addressed me as “strang-
er,” until my neighbor corrected him. He should stop calling me that, my neigh-
bor said, since after all I lived in the village every day, unlike him; the implica-
tion was that he was the one who was a stranger.
At the end of March, the April festival came round for the third time. I was
long past trying to slip away on the festival day. Together with Ori and Rogu, I
performed the house rituals, and Amrei brewed beer and cooked the sacrificial
meal. As is usual at such festivals, we officially received guests and made visits
of our own. At the sacrificial ritual at the shrine outside the village, I ate with the
Tigers and Fish this year as well, not with the Cobras.

The Long Goodbye

The festival coincided with the time of our goodbyes. The difficulties on the way
to the field find frequent mention in ethnographies, but the way out of the field
is at least as difficult. Far-sighted friends invited us to their houses already
weeks before our departure. The normal course of such an invitation prescribes
first liquor and a snack, then the consumption of rice and meat or fish. The in-
vitations very quickly multiplied, and we made five or ten visits a day at the same
time as the festival, final interviews, and travel preparations. In our house, gifts
for the families to which we were close lay ready in heaps. On our rounds
through the village, we were always accompanied by numbers of Gadaba who
were waiting to take us to their houses. Along the way, they often joined in
the drinking at each house, so that everyone was equally drunk. These days
 Epilogue 549

were very moving and exhausting and stretched the limits of what we could eat,
drink, and handle emotionally.

Plunging In?

The fieldwork process is not only an initiation for the ethnographer; it also
brings with it enormous tension in personal relationships. The aftereffects of
the long separations, then living together in close quarters in Gudapada, fre-
quently led to tension between Amrei and myself. The low point in this regard
occurred at the time we were making our farewells, which was also the festival
period, as mentioned.
One day, we had visited around ten houses and consumed as much liquor,
meat, and rice as physically possible, when as part of the festival, a ritual
hunt was scheduled at which I wanted to be a participant observer, despite
my already quite impaired condition. I was suddenly called home with the infor-
mation that my wife was crying loudly. I hurried back, and a severe, loud argu-
ment then broke out in the house. By local standards, it was relatively tame, but
we had not put on any comparable show in the last five months. Our neighbors,
including Jomna and my friend Ori’s mother, became concerned about our shout-
ing, and they and others flooded into our small house and surrounded us.
At that moment, everything became too much for me: I pushed the whole
crowd out the door and shoved them off the veranda, so that a number of
them stumbled into one another. Unnecessarily, I also knocked the full contain-
ers of water off the veranda and screamed at the gaping crowd that they should
all disappear. I then withdrew into the house, where I was forced to realize that it
was not at all the case that they had all gone away; on the contrary, they fol-
lowed me, concerned to calm me down, with Ori’s mother and Jomna, whom I
had just roughly shoved around, at the head. I finally ended up exhausted
and sobbing in the arms of the crowd.
When I sat on my veranda the next morning, hungover and obstinately de-
clining all invitations, mockingly grinning villagers came up to me over and over
and wanted to know why I had beaten my wife. All my protestations that nothing
of the kind had happened and Amrei’s confirmations could not dissuade them
from their interpretation. Many seemed to be amused that we too had finally
had a blow-up for once. In addition, the situation was not lacking another pro-
vocative note. Namely, public conflicts are subject to punishment during the fes-
tival period, and many were therefore very happy to define the previous day’s
fight as “public,” so that I would be condemned at least to pay a rooster. Not ev-
eryone took the incident as humorous, however. An “in-law” came up to me
550 Epilogue

snarling and called me to account: what was I thinking, beating his sister like
that, he would take her away with him again, and then I could see where I
would get my meals. The fact that Amrei did not cook was not relevant at that
moment, since it was a conventional pattern of behavior that was at issue.
Wives regularly leave their husbands when they feel themselves seriously mis-
treated. They go to their brothers and fathers, who most often live in other vil-
lages. After some days, the husband then takes the road to Canossa to induce
his wife to return. A brother will always feel responsible for his sister and will
physically intervene in an emergency.
Although I was initially uncertain whether I should speak publicly about
such a slip, I decided to report this event in detail, because there was perhaps
no other moment during my research in Gudapada in which I was closer to “feel-
ing” and “plunging in” in the way Malinowski describes. Incidentally, the obser-
vational component at this time was exactly zero; the hunting ritual took place
without me. I was also not a participant in this scene in the sense in which I had
previously been one in rituals. I acted in accordance with a pattern of behavior
typical for this society, and the personal motive for the fight was independent of
the event’s interpretation by public opinion. Ori’s mother was not at all angry
that I had tossed her across the yard. It appeared to me that from her perspective,
I had never been more like her son. This is also how I would interpret the
amused reaction of many neighbors, as well as that of my “in-law” who took
the incident seriously. In this brief moment of losing control, the processes of
self-knowledge and knowledge of the other converged. I had often been amazed
at the Gadaba’s capacity for eruptions of fury and observed physical conflicts be-
tween married couples. Now it had happened to me, in a disconcertingly similar
way and with the typical reaction from those around me.
A few days later, we left the village. Many neighbors gathered in front of our
house in the morning, and we loaded our luggage into the project jeep. Every-
thing was ready when I was called into the house once more, and Rogu confront-
ed me with demands for money. All the agreements had in fact been fulfilled pre-
viously, and it was a small black mark on an otherwise successful departure.
This scene also once more made clear that I always remained an ambivalent fig-
ure as an ethnographer and resident of the village, permanently oscillating be-
tween insider and outsider status. When I said goodbye individually to those
who had gathered and finally mounted the motorcycle that was to enable me
to flee once more, Ori’s mother and another old woman began a song of lament
and clasped their hands behind their heads, as the women do at mortuary rit-
uals. Ori immediately ordered them to be quiet. For me, however, looking
 Epilogue 551

back, it is a sign that after having been laboriously reborn as a social person, I
once more stood at the threshold of social death.¹⁰

Conclusion

The ethnographer as a person is not the focus of an ethnography. However, since

the ethnographic process originates in the interaction between the “researcher”
and the “researched,” and the responsibility and authority that go with the acts
of writing and representing ultimately rest with the ethnographer, the research-
er’s individuality, his cultural background, and the very particular course of his
research are certainly of interest. A qualitative ethnographic study is not a labo-
ratory experiment, and ethnographic data are not laboratory results. For this rea-
son, anthropology long ago stepped back from its claim to be a hard science.¹¹
Laboratory experiments and results can be exactly reproduced under the same
conditions; social processes, in contrast, do not repeat themselves in exactly
the same way, and different researchers would presumably produce very differ-
ent monographs about the same society. This does not mean, however, that the
social phenomena that ethnographers study are in principle so arbitrary, fleet-
ing, multivalent, controversial, and constructed by the anthropologist as literary
subject as it sometimes appears in the debate about “writing culture.” Whether
these descriptions apply or not depends on the specific historical circumstances,
and even within a single society, there may be areas in which controversy and a
multiplicity of voices dominate, and which are therefore also subject to rapid so-
cial change, and other areas in which a broad consensus rules, and institutions
may persist relatively unchanged over generations. An ethnographer should pay
attention to both aspects; without understanding a society’s fundamental insti-
tutions and value-ideas, however, it is impossible to describe change in a mean-
ingful way, even if from a sociocentric perspective.

 I returned to Gudapada for three weeks in December/January 2002/2003 and was back in the
spring and winter of 2004 for a few days each time. On my next-to-last visit, I was able to
announce the birth of our daughter, for which many in the village had been waiting. My friends
urged me not to come without my family the next time and announced that they would give our
daughter a name. The process of integration is therefore not over, but has been expanded and
deepened by the birth, as it was by the arrival of the “bride.”
 In a famous essay, Evans-Pritchard (1950, 123) formulated it as follows: “The thesis I have
put before you, that social anthropology is a kind of historiography, and therefore ultimately of
philosophy or art, implies that it studies societies as moral systems and not as natural systems,
that it is interested in design rather than process, and that it therefore seeks patterns and not
scientific laws, and interprets rather than explains.”
552 Epilogue

What is ethnography’s significance for anthropology today, and what differ-

ence does it make? The crisis of ethnography (and its representation) appears to
have itself fallen into crisis.¹² Almost all the colleagues I have talked to in Ger-
many and abroad in recent years see qualitative primary research as the disci-
pline’s central methodological tool, even as the phenomena studied may be
highly varied and in no way restricted to “exotic” societies. Youth culture in Tul-
lamore, Ireland (Smith 1998), may be just as much an object of research as the
ritual system of the Gadaba in Odisha, or a gay synagogue in New York (Shokeid
1995). In my view, the essence of ethnographic research consists in two linked
aspects or conditions. First, the researcher should be an “outsider”; the differ-
ence between the researcher and the researched is an indispensable prerequisite
for knowledge and understanding. Difference here does not refer to a power re-
lationship or a lower level of formal education, but to something more basic. It is
a difference in the fundamental patterns of thought and behavior that we expe-
rience as members of a society, that are inscribed in our bodies and are most
often implicit and unquestioned; the “common sense” previously mentioned is
part of this. The ethnographic process is a confrontation between these different
orders, a dialectic of self-knowledge and other-knowledge.¹³
The category of the “other” is relative, as is clear from the three examples
just mentioned. Noel Smith was an “other” in the context of small-town Irish
youth due to his age (as an adult) and his English origin. Moshe Shokeid was
an “other” in a gay New York synagogue as a heterosexual, secular Israeli,

 The critique put forward by “reflexive anthropology” remains important for the development
of the discipline and for problematizing and creating awareness of the processes of fieldwork
and ethnographic writing, but it has not led – at least not everywhere – to nihilism and the
impossibility of ethnographic practice.
 Drawing on the work of his teacher Marcel Mauss, Louis Dumont has emphasized this
element of difference as fundamental for anthropology in general and his own work in parti-
cular. He speaks of the difference “that separates the observer, as a bearer of modern ideas and
values, from those observed. […] Every anthropologist is confronted by this difference between
us and them; it is omnipresent in his practice” (1986, 2). Unlike the construction of the observed
as other, a phenomenon described and criticized by reflexive anthropology as “othering,” dif-
ference is here presupposed as a condition for anthropological knowledge. The observer and the
observed belong to different societies, and those societies are involved in the process, since
individuals are always social beings. Difference accordingly exists between societies or cultures.
In Dumont’s and Mauss’s anthropology, this difference – with which the anthropologist is
unavoidably concerned – is encompassed within the unity of the human species. Each society or
culture is thus a particular manifestation of this common humanity. Between the level of the
individual and that of the species is the level of culture or society, the anthropologist’s field of
work (Dumont 1986, 205). This difference or contrast is decisive for cultural anthropology as well
(cf. Schneider 1972, 48).
 Epilogue 553

just as he was an outsider in his other studies of minorities (Moroccan Jews in an

Israeli village or Arab Jews in an Israeli town; Shokeid 1995, 15). In my case, the
“otherness” is perhaps most obvious, but in every case, it is a condition of the
ethnographic process. Moshe Shokeid (1995, 14) writes in this regard, “However,
for better or worse, the ethnographer as alien cannot be erased from the past and
future annals of anthropology without eradicating them altogether. Anthropolo-
gy was born in sin by a stranger who went out to discover virgin cultures.”
The fact that the ethnographic process is an encounter between alien orders
that are dragged into the light and made comprehensible only by this confron-
tation leads to the second necessary element of fieldwork: it must last for a rel-
atively extended period of time. Fieldwork cannot be done as a part-time job dur-
ing coffee breaks. The status of being an “other” and the type of information in
which an anthropologist is normally interested require a network of social rela-
tionships and mutual trust that can only be established through continuous and
intensive contact.
In the course of this dialogue, various transformations take place, the topic
of this essay. The ethnographer gives up a piece of his old identity in the alien
environment; how large a piece depends on the particular context and his
own willingness. He gradually becomes a new social person, due to his own ef-
forts, but possibly also due to the needs of the social environment that would
like to integrate the stranger. This integration, as my story has shown, is always
partial and shifting, and the paradox of the “integrated outsider” is also reflected
in fieldwork’s methodological dogma, participant observation.
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Glossary
Desia

ajirno indigestion
anibai ancestor
ape, nije automatic; of itself
arkot dekbar to soothsay (“to see rice”)
ashad porbo festival in the month of ashad (July)
atin entrails
bada difficulties; misfortune; illness
badul exchange
badul konia exchange of brides
bag, druka tiger
bag, kundra portion; ration
bag puja a deity
bai brother; agnate, member of the same descent category
(bonso)
bai bondu relatives; agnates and affines; totality of relatives
bai moitr agnatic moitr
bajbar to cook in oil
bal utrani “to take down the hair”; ritual of the life cycle
bana pattern; drawing with rice or millet powder as part of sac-
rifices
banda leasing of land
bandagoria festival helper who receives the gifts brought by guests
bandapan August
bandapan porbo festival in the month of bandapan (August)
barik village dignitary recruited from the Dombo group
baro bai “twelve brothers”; group of agnatically linked villages
baro bai tero gadi “twelve brothers, thirteen seats”; group of twelve agnati-
cally linked villages and their affines; maximal ritual unit
baro bai tsoru sacrificial meal of the “twelve brothers”
baro mundo “twelve heads”; number of sacrificial animals required in
the case of transgressions
baro na name derived from a day of the week
basi porbo festival of the leftovers; day after the chief day of a festival
bat cooked rice
bata to distribute
 Desia 569

bata dan dry-field rice

bate morla “death on the path”; dangerous type of death outside a vil-
lage
bati kidney
batia gift of raw food
bato biba “path wedding”; ritual for the reintegration of a child into
the community
bau bat “wind rice”; food offering to the wind
baura bat, baura last offering of food to one of the dead as part of a mortu-
arkot ary ritual (bur)
baura kat last visit to the cremation site on the day of cremation
baura porbo last day of a festival
baya crazy; in a trance
baya git “trance song”; song sung as part of the August festival
(bandapan porbo)
bejorna ritual village boundary and place of the dead
bel, suryo sun
bemar illness; sick
bera rice paddy
bet hunt
beti offering, gift, tribute
betisong “to set down the offering”; offering of food to a deity as
part of a sacrifice
beto taso “hunting [and] agriculture”; idiom that stress the connec-
tion between the two activities
biba wedding ritual
biba hela lok ritually married people
bim meat along the spinal column (filet)
bion seeds, seed grain
bion utrani ritual in which the first seed grain is fetched from the loft
bipod misfortune
bis poison
bitor bakra the “inner room” of a house
bog gift
bogicha garden
boiro, boirobi a deity
boisak May
boji feast
boji bat rice of a feast
bolani a deity
570 Glossary

bolani jatra collective sacrifice as part of various festivals

bon forest
bon balia, kala balia “forest” cashew, “black” cashew; wild fruit, the juice of
which is used to heal wounds and to prophylactically
ward off harmful magic and demonic attacks
bon goudo “Herder of the Forest”; deity who watches over the ani-
mals of the forest
bonchbar living
bondki dokri “old woman of the umbilical cord”; midwife
Bondo tribal group in Koraput
bondu affines; people who belong to a different descent category
(bonso)
bongsel bat rice in the context of a mortuary ritual (bur)
bonso totemic descent category
bor lok “great people” or “senior people”; group of senior and re-
spected men of a village
boro “senior”; “big”; “great”; opposite of sano
boro bakra “big room”; the room of a house in which the activities of
daily life are carried out
boro bet “great hunt”; ritual of the April festival (chait porbo)
boro dissari “great” astrologer; ritual specialist / astrologer for an en-
tire village
boro gor “great house”; a deity (also pat kanda)
boro kam “great work”; term for rituals that require a great deal of
expense and responsibility on the part of the sponsors
boro naik “senior” naik; secular dignitary of a village
boro tsoru “great” or “senior” sacrificial meal
boronaik kuda status category
Boronaik local kuda group
borsa rain
borsa din rainy season (roughly June to September)
borso, boros year
bosmoti earth goddess (also dorti mata, dortoni)
budar Wednesday
buk hunger; thorax; breast meat
bulani bat “wandering rice”; rice that a house distributes in the vil-
lage on various occasions
bumli, bondki umbilical cord
bumli kal “umbilical pit”; place where the umbilical cord is buried
bunbar to sow
 Desia 571

bur, dosa third phase of the mortuary rituals

bura head of cattle
but malicious spirit
buti dan unhulled rice as compensation for labor help
buti kam single-day labor help
chait April
chait porbo festival in April (chait)
chakana food consumed together with beer or liquor
chalan kuda status category
Challan local kuda group
chanda poisa monetary contribution for collective sacrifices
chari bai, chari jono “Four Brothers”; “Four Persons”; assembly of the agnatic
groups of a village; village founders (cf. matia)
chaul hulled rice
cheli goat
china memory; remembrance; sign
china manso “memory meat”; gift of raw meat
chitra speckled
chokto rasta crossroads
dab a grass used in healing rituals, e. g., to suck poison out of
the body, and from which figures are made
daini women who drink human blood at night
dakbar “to call”; to invite
dal vegetables; leafy greens
dal somor “leaf stag”; branches brought into the village by the boys
in a ritual hunt during the April festival (chait porbo)
dala bamboo basket; unit of measure (ca. 15 man, 25 – 35 kg)
dalgada biru ritual in the rainy season, considered sutok sorani for the
plants of the dry fields
dan unhulled rice
dand, duar yard
dandia watchman at the April festival (chait porbo)
deho body
deli post
demsa circle dance
Desia “people of the land”; indigenous population of the high-
lands; language of the indigenous population
diagodi front of a house; threshold
diali November
diali porbo festival in November
572 Glossary

Didayi tribal group in Koraput

dissari ritual specialist who acts as a soothsayer and/or healer
disti evil eye
dobla white
Dombo weavers, traders, and musicians of the Desia
don puja ritual at the threshing floor in which medicine is buried to
protect the grain
dona leaf platter
dongor mountain, hill
dongor jumi, podu hill field
jumi
dongorasi highland
dongoro mandini veneration of the mountain; ritual of the April festival
(chait porbo)
dongoromaji kuda status category
Dongoromaji local kuda group
dorom sky; sun/moon deity
doron deli house deity; central post of a house
dos, pap, tapu misbehavior, transgression of the proper order (niam)
dos lagibar consequences of a transgression
dosra October
dosra porbo festival in October
dud, kir milk
dud bai bouni milk siblings; sisters’ children
duk mourning; sorrow; grief
duk pej “mourning gruel”; food brought to the house of someone
who has recently died
duli kori to kneel in veneration
duma the spirits of the dead; social quality of a person after
death
duma daini general category encompassing malicious spirits and
those who have died a bad death; synonymous with
“bhuta-preta” in other parts of India (cf. Fuller 1992, 267)
duma peson sending spirits of the dead (duma) to cause harm to others
duma utaibar resurrection of the dead
dup incense made from dried resin
dusto, nosto rituals of destruction; harmful magic
foren stranger; from English “foreign”
foresti Forest Department
ga village
 Desia 573

ga matam village as a whole

ga munda megalithic monument in the village, important in the con-
text of the last phase of the mortuary rituals (gotr)
ga pujari, pat pujari “village sacrificer” or “great sacrificer”; sacrificer in a vil-
lage’s collective rituals, especially for the earth goddess
and the Great House
gada mara “to hit many things”; feeding of the buffaloes, not limited
to specific groups, in the gotr ritual
gai goru “cows-cattle”; domestic animals
gala neck
ganja rooster
gasi moali brass items given to the mother’s brother of a deceased in-
dividual on the day of the latter’s cremation
gat time of birth
gau skin wounds
girli tree (Indigofera puchella), the branches of which are used
in the context of marriage
git song
gobor pani water mixed with dung
gobor sara prepared ground for sacrifices, made by spreading dung
mixed with water
Godavari river south of Odisha; mythical place of origin of the Gada-
ba
golori Monkey descent category
gondi manso “body meat”; meat from the body of a sacrificial animal
gor house
gor duar house and yard
gor lok inhabitants of a house
goria light-skinned person; immigrant from the plains
goro juai “son-in-law in the house”; matrilocal form of residence
goro ora healing ritual for a house and its inhabitants
got podia front leg of a domestic animal, received by a guest
gote pete “one belly/stomach”; common descent
goti kam labor help for a year
gotia guests
gotr, gotor last phase of the mortuary rituals
gotr din chief day of the gotr ritual
Goudo herders of the Desia
gulai ga all the houses of a village
gunia healer
574 Glossary

gurubar Thursday
gurumai ritual medium
gusri pig
handi baurani “pot comes back”; return of a bridal couple to the hus-
band’s village after the first visit to the bride-givers follow-
ing the bride’s entrance into her new house
hantal Cobra descent category
har bones
har moali “bone vessels”; brass items given to the mother’s brother
of a deceased individual
hat weekly market
hol bahariba “to bring out the team”; ritual of the first plowing
hundi shrine of a local earth goddess
hundi sitlani “to cool the earth goddess”; sacrifice for the earth goddess
in November (diali)
iri borders between rice paddies
iskul school (from English “school”)
jakor a deity
jam koli a type of myrtle (Eugenia jambolana)
jara tel castor oil
jata millstone
jati community, species, tribal group, excommunication
jati kiniba “to buy jati”; ritual reintegration after an excommunica-
tion
ji bouni “daughters-sisters”; women who have married into an-
other village
ji tsoru sacrificial meal for a daughter; a bride’s last tsoru com-
mensality in her father’s house
jib tongue
jibon life, vital essence, vital energy
jobor debar pig sacrifice for the house deity
jog auspicious time
jola bridewealth
jom, jom raja deity of the underworld, god of the dead
jompur, patalpur, bi- realm of the god of the dead, underworld, inner world
torpur
jona corn
joni tifni first basket of the paddy rice harvest, brought to the house
as a bride
jonmo, jonom birth
 Desia 575

jonmo na birth name

jontor objects sent by means of “harmful magic”
jor fever; illness
jor duka “fever-pains”; illness
Joria tribal group in Koraput
jouto pelani compensation payment made by the bride-takers to the
bride-givers
juar, nomoskar greeting formula of the Desia, in which the hands are
placed together and moved toward the forehead
jumi land, field
jupan healer’s iron instrument and weapon
jur bat gifts of raw foodstuffs to the buffalo-takers in the last mor-
tuary ritual (gotr)
kadbar to remove, take out (e. g., items from a body or a house)
kadi, kaibata food, meal
kaibar to eat
kala black
kali hate “empty-handed”; without gifts
Kamar blacksmiths of the Desia
kamni river gods
kanda kuna mach “to search for tubers, to catch fish”; ritual sequence within
mara the wedding rituals; idiom for the subsistence form before
the introduction of agriculture
kandasal hut for storing food during festivals
kandasalia helper in the storage hut during festivals
kandul baja pallar ritual sowing of paddy rice
bija
kankara crab
karandi a deity
katani myth, traditional story
katbar to cut; ritual killing by beheading
katinat staff dance
katkia “dividers”; group of men who butcher a sacrificial animal
kel play; game
ker ear of grain
ker anbar ritual bringing home of the first ear of grain
kereng traditional clothing of Gadaba women
kiali joke
kiali na nickname
killo Tiger descent category
576 Glossary

kimdu Bear descent category

kira biru “caterpillar ritual”; ritual against paddy rice pests
kirsani kuda status category
Kirsani local kuda group
koira, rotna red/red-brown
kojor mati earth from a footprint, used for harmful magic
kolki large bamboo basket for storing the harvest
koloj liver
koloj moitr “liver” moitr; most important form of ritualized collective
moitr relationship (also takurani moitr or mahaprasad
moitr)
koncha raw; unripe
kondi smallest form of a clay pot, used only for rituals
kora hot season (roughly March to June); Sun descent category
kordi bamboo sprouts; in many rites of passage, bamboo
sprouts are cooked together with fish as an accompani-
ment to rice (called “kordi rice” in the text)
kotar threshing floor
kotar puja sacrifice at the threshing floor
kotra mountain goat
kuari human bones, used for “harmful magic”
kuda status category; local agnatic group
kudal object sent into the body of a victim in an act of “harmful
magic”
kukuda chicken
kul family; community; species
kula winnowing fan; unit of measure (4– 5 man, ca. 10 – 12 kg)
kuli kam wage labor
Kumar potters of the Desia
kunia visitors, guests; affines
kutni hollow in the ground for pounding rice and millet
kutum local agnatic group within a kuda segment
laj kota a “shameful thing”; dishonor, shame
landa fermented beverage
landi June
lenjkulund “tail, haunches”; rear part of an animal split along the
short axis
lok person; people
luar kuti iron pegs used to banish and drive away malicious beings
luar maphru “iron deity”; iron representation of a deity
 Desia 577

lun salt
mach pani “fishwater”; mortuary ritual on the third day after a death
mag February
maiji munus “woman, man”; married couple
Mali gardeners of the Desia
mamu mother’s brother
mamu tsoru sacrificial meal prepared by the mother’s brother
man dry measure, ca. 2.5 kg (rice)
mandara ritual of the November festival (diali porbo) in which rice
and millet are ritually measured out
mandia finger millet (Eleusine coracana)
mandia biru millet ritual
mangbar to demand
mangur mach catfish
mankor monkey
mansik vow (promise or oath) to make a sacrifice to a deity
manso, maus meat
manti gift by clients to landholders
maphru general term for deities
marbar to hit; to kill; to sacrifice; to sprinkle
mas month
mat luga blanket woven by the Dombo, part of Gadaba bridewealth
matam totality; whole
mati earth, clay
matia “earth people”; group of the village founders
memor elected village representative (from English “ward mem-
ber”)
menda sheep
mita sweet; good-tasting
miting, niai assembly (miting from English “meeting”)
moali brass vessels; shortened from pot (mota) and plate (tali)
mod liquor
moira player of a wind instrument; group of Dombo musicians
moiri wind instrument of the Dombo
moitr, moitor ritual relationship prescribing reciprocal selflessness, re-
spect, and veneration
mojapur the “middle realm”; place of human beings
moji seeds, kernels
moka young plants
moka biru sacrifice for the young plants
578 Glossary

mon will; consciousness

mon duk mourning; sorrow
monglobar Tuesday
montor verbal formulas used by the healers
mor corpse
morachini “memory of the dead”; cattle omasum in the context of the
mortuary rituals (bur)
morasia bat sacrificial meal cooked for the dead
morla din “day of death”; first phase of the mortuary rituals
morla sutok ritual pollution caused by a death
morodandia ritual actor from the group of the tsorubai in the mortuary
rituals
mosani cremation site
mosi bat food offering as part of the wedding rituals
mosnia “people of the cremation site”; figurines representing de-
ceased individuals that are brought to the cremation site
or the village boundary
mul mod liquor made from the flowers of the mohua tree (Bassia
latifolia)
mund kulund “head and haunches”; parts of a sacrificed head of cattle
consumed by the village elders as part of the mortuary rit-
uals (bur)
munda megalithic monument
mundo manso “head meat”; meat from the head of a sacrificial animal
munduli kuda status category
Munduli local kuda group
munus, ondra husband
murat mixture of earth, ash (or dung), and salt, used in healing
rituals
murcha bemar unconsciousness
musol rice pounder
mutadar head of an administrative unit (muta)
na name
naik secular village dignitary
napibar to measure out (e. g., rice or millet)
nat dance; theatrical performance
niam order (tradition or law) established by the gods
nijoro bai “own brother”; biological brother or member of the same
local line (kutum); contrasted to classificatory brothers,
 Desia 579

i. e., men of the same age who belong to the same descent
category
niman good; healthy
nisani shrine of the local earth goddess (also hundi)
nita bat food distributed between houses before the chief day of a
festival
nita dangra, nita ritual role of a boy (dangra) and a girl (dangri) in the mar-
dangri riage rituals and bato biba
nita din day before the chief day (festival day) of a festival
nosto “destruction”; ritual activities that bring harm to others
(harmful magic)
ogla bat surplus rice or food
oili git song duel between two people at festivals
ointa bat food that has already been partly eaten by another person;
leftovers
oldi turmeric
oldi pani water colored with turmeric
Olek member of the Mahima Dharma religious reform move-
ment
Ollar Gadaba tribal group in Koraput, the “younger brothers” of the
Gutob Gadaba
olsi rapeseed, also Niger seed (Guizotia abyssinica)
ongkar envy; ritual activities that bring harm to others, especially
by sending objects (harmful magic)
ontador cord that all Gadaba wear around their hips
opoman shame
ora biru healing ritual for a house or village
oso medicine
osona place associated with the dead (duma) under the eaves of
a house
ossa September
pajor toll
palla paddy rice seedlings
palla gari fenced field for sowing paddy rice
pangi, gid descent category of the Hawk or Falcon
pangon ritual activities that bring harm to others (harmful magic)
pangon lok, pango- people who bring harm to others through ritual activities,
nia sorcerers
pani chinchini “to sprinkle water”; a bridal couple’s first visit to the
bride-givers after the bride’s entrance into her new house
580 Glossary

panjabai long-term ritual relationship between groups that recipro-

cally eat each other’s dead (in the form of buffaloes)
Parenga tribal group in Koraput
pat kanda a deity
pata land title deed
pej gruel (of rice or millet)
pejbela “gruel time”; afternoon (ca. 2:00 p.m.)
pendom beer
pet, pota stomach
phagun March
pholoi annual harvest share of a village’s clients (from “fruit,”
phol)
phophsa lung
phuti unit of measure; two baskets (dala) (ca. 60 – 75 kg total)
piai gift to the village’s clients at festivals
pial straw
pida small wooden bench
piiba to drink
pinda veranda
pipal type of tree (Ficus religiosa), the branches of which are
used in mortuary rituals (gotr)
piri roof thatch
pobon, bau wind
pochia, goronda white cloths brought to the house of someone who has
died
poda dry fields
poda munda stone platform in the dry fields
podarasi plains
podi small metal container; unit of measure (ca. 150 g)
podia front leg of a slaughtered animal
podor dry fields at the edge of the village
pointa sacred thread of the Hindus, also worn by some Desia
pond December
ponos breadfruit tree (Artocarpus (integrifolia) heterophylla)
por buffalo
poraibar to roast
porbo, porob festival
porbo din chief day of a festival
porikia investigation, test
porman curse
 Desia 581

poti bat, bondki bat food cooked on the day of a birth

potri chaul hulled rice collected from all houses in a village for a com-
munal sacrifice and eaten as tsoru by the “earth people”
only
puja pota “ritual stomach”; omasum of cattle
pujari sacrificer of a village
pujbar, marbar type of ritual killing in which the sacrificial animal is be-
headed with a blow from an ax
punda breath; a person’s vital energy
puni full moon
purani buffalo brought to the village of the sponsors of a gotr by
their affines
purunge folded leaf in which small amounts of rice and blood/meat
from a sacrificial animal are cooked over a fire
pus January
pus porbo festival in January (pus)
put hamlet of a village
putla figurine
rab thick broth of meat and millet
raibadi making suit for a bride
raibadia men making suit for a bride
raja king
raja beti obligatory visit to the king at Dasara, tribute/gift to the
king
randari ritual cook of a village
randbar to cook
rasta path
rau a demon
raubela “time of the rau demon”; time before sunrise
robibar Sunday
roit landholder
rokto blood
rokto banti “to vomit blood”; sign of a transgression
rokto chaul “blood rice”; offering of raw food as part of a sacrifice
rokto kaibar “to eat blood”; activity ascribed to malicious beings
Rona segment of Desia society
rudi blood sacrifice (opposite of sukol)
run debt (opposite of udar)
582 Glossary

sada moitr, sarda “simple” moitr, “fun” moitr; ritual relationship between
moitr houses and local lines (kutum), often between different
Desia segments (jati)
sadar stone platform in the center of a village and representation
of the ancestors
sag accompaniment to rice
sai spatial division of a village
saibo stranger (from “sahib”)
sakibai ritual witness
salap fermented juice of the sago palm (Caryota urens)
sangom place where two rivers or streams come together
sano “junior”; “small” (opposite of boro)
sano naik “junior” naik; secular dignitary of a village
sari kadi collective gift to the barik of a village
sati rear leg of a slaughtered animal
saukar owner; sponsor
siardi vine (Bauhinia vahlii), the leaves and branches of which
are used in many ways, e. g., to make leaf plates and ropes
sig bat “first rice”; food for a duma who has been reincarnated in
a child’s body or transferred (by feeding with sig bat) into
a buffalo’s body
sijla ripe, cooked
sil upright stone in a megalithic monument
simli silkcotton tree (Bombax malabaricum)
sindi grass for binding sheaves of grain
sinkur front part of a buffalo split along the short axis
siral small banners that ward off attacks by “harmful magic”
sirsera mangbar ritual begging during the festival in January (pus porbo)
sisa kuda status category
Sisa local kuda group
sit cold; the cold season (roughly October to February)
soilkarni Soil Conservation Department
sok gullet
soman even; balanced; good
somar Monday
somdi CEP; generally, affine
sondon sandalwood
soni a demon
sonibar Saturday
sorgota compensation payment for a bride
 Desia 583

sorkar the local government, administration

sorogpur the sky realm
sot dekibata “soothsaying”; oracle
sub auspicious
suborna ritual invocation of a deity
sudi gotr performance of the last phase of the mortuary rituals (gotr)
for just one house
suen proso millet (Panicum miliare)
suk luck
sukaibar to dry
sukol a white, pure status (of a deity or a ritual medium; oppo-
site of rudi)
sukrobar Friday
Sundi the liquor distillers of the Desia
sura gali whirlwind
sutok ritual impurity on the occasion of birth and death
sutok sorani, handi “ending the impurity”; ritual for newborns
darani
takurani, bosont pox
tana police station
tapni ritual closing of a village shrine (hundi)
tarpa objects sent by means of “harmful magic”
tati bamboo mat
tel oil
tentuli tamarind
tia dissari a healer who does not act as a ritual medium
tika gesture of ritual blessing, greeting, or farewell, in which
hulled rice is pressed to an individual’s feet, knees,
shoulders, and forehead
tikdar bat food that a bridal couple feeds to one another immediately
after the bride’s entrance into her new house
tingri bet boys’ ritual hunt at the April festival (chait porbo)
tini borso tore “once in three years”; every other year
tolrasi lowlands
tond mara “to hit the mouth”; tumultuous ritual feeding
tora lower jaw
torani rice water
toron garland
toti a multi-part leaf plate used in healing rituals
tsipani meat from the genital area of some domestic animals
584 Glossary

tsoru sacrificial meal

tsorubai collective ritual relationship in which the parties are ex-
pected to cook sacrificial meals (tsoru) for and feed
them to each other on a reciprocal basis
tsuli hearth
uas new moon
udar credit; an inaugural gift (opposite of run)
udulia elopement
ulta reversed, turned around
upas ritual fasting before sacrifices
upria latecomers
urukuda biru ritual in the rainy season

Gutob

a’dong fish
a’dong da’ “fishwater”; second phase of the mortuary rituals
a’er unripe mango
aitarom Sunday
al’al to stroll
ande rukuda, ande last offering of food to one of the dead as part of bur or
lai odel
angarom Tuesday
ara dry measure made from bamboo
arke moon; month
aro garden; fence
bandi cheli beef
bidarom Wednesday
bilei roof
biribi to sow
birong mountain, hill; forest
birsarom Thursday
birsing langbo dry fields at the edge of the village
bitig salt
bo’bong to stack (e. g., millet)
bob head
bob cheli “head meat”; meat from the head of a sacrificial animal
bongtel buffalo
buron kang raw; living
 Gutob 585

burubui snake
cheli meat
chendi dien “hair house”; Gadaba round house
da’din rainy season
da’ktor milk
dela kurung crossroads
dien house
dien obten bride’s ritual entrance into her new house
dio titi “empty-handed”; without gifts
dissel ritual relationship prescribing reciprocal selflessness, re-
spect, and veneration
doi to cook
doidoinu dien “cookhouse”; big room of a house
dor to sacrifice with the blunt side of the ax (cattle only)
duma balo’ sacrifice for the dead
gai to fry in oil
Gangre the “earth people” and village founders in Gudapada
Gangreungom Gudapada
gelgel sacrifice, ritual
gi’sing chicken
gibi’ pig
gile ear of grain
gile re ring “fetching the ear of grain”; ritual fetching home of the first
ear of paddy rice
gili’ hare
gime goat
ginen song rice water
gire liver
girem cat
go’ to cut; to sacrifice by beheading with a knife
go’ter last phase of the mortuary rituals
go’yang sacrificial meal (Desia tsoru)
gondi cheli meat from the body of a sacrificial animal
gondi dien, alung “inner house”; inner room of a house
dien
Goren Dombo
gu’um hunt
gusa monkey
Gutob language of the Gadaba; the Gadaba’s name for them-
selves
586 Glossary

i’ to drink
i’tang da “dung water”; water mixed with dung
ida gruel
ide kang black
ile bamboo shoots
ili liquor
iri’ proso millet (Panicum miliare)
isai’ lai food offering as part of the wedding rituals
isi pain
isin kang ripe, cooked
kerong unhulled rice
kerong re ring seser “rice-fetching song”; song for the paddy rice harvest
kerong udalei to winnow rice
ki’misir tubo black earth
killom guests
kimboy woman; wife
kinda’ river
kisalo’ traditional women’s clothing
kisop winnowing fan
korop obdai to bring sheaves of rice to the threshing floor
kudu hunger
kuni’ undam old woman, old man; old married couple
kurung path
la’ang tongue
lai cooked rice
lai al’al lobe to distribute rice (Desia bulani bat)
lakka’ food in the context of a sacrifice; complementary and sub-
ordinate counterpart to go’yang
lando vine (Bauhinia vahlii), the leaves and branches of which
are used in many ways, e. g., to make leaf plates and ropes
lando gei rope made from the lando vine
lando ola leaves of the lando vine
langbo dry field
langbo munda megalithic monument in the dry fields
leno’bong “to set down the offering”; offering of food to the gods (the
dead, demons)
liong rice paddy
liong on’on to plant a rice paddy with seedlings
londing navel
ma accompaniment to rice
 Gutob 587

mare’nen ululation
me’en kang young, younger; small, smaller; junior
morasia lai food for a deceased individual
moro dien “great house”; a deity (also pat kanda)
moro kang old, older; large, larger; senior
mur dien a house with a four-sided roof
nana din “hot time”; hot season (roughly March to June)
neri body
o’on child
obdel third phase of the mortuary rituals
obsom to feed
odu’on boy
oibo making suit for a bride
oioi wind
ondrei’so wooden framework over the cooking hearth
onop young woman of marriageable age, bride
onop seser “bride song”; wedding song
onu’on girl
orup young man of marriageable age
pile kang white
pitom small wooden bench
rai’sang cremation site
remol man; husband
rik’tom tumultuous feeding
ring to fetch
rom day of the week
rong kang red
rong tubo red earth
ruen din “cold time”; cold season (roughly October to February)
ruku ili rice liquor
runuk threshold
sa’mel finger millet (Eleusine coracana)
saga straw
sangsang tamarind
sangsang da’ water colored with tamarind
sarom Monday
seb to sacrifice; to cut the throat with an ax
senla bamboo mat
sera red-brown (used especially of chickens)
si sun
588 Glossary

si arke “sun, moon”; sky deity

sinarom Saturday
sindrong medicine
sisang bone
sir to roast
so’ol oil
som to eat
sorong fever; illness
su’urom Friday
subul sweet; good-tasting
suloi stomach; intestines
suloi isi stomach pains
suloi ro’roi belly massage
sumol male semen; seed
suol fire; glow
sur to dry
ter, tero’be to distribute
tikdar lai food that a bridal couple feeds to one another immediately
after the bride’s entrance into her new house
time korop, bob “new sheaf” or “head sheaf”; the first sheaf reaped in the
korop paddy rice harvest
tinil threshing floor
tirgi korop sheaf of rice brought to the threshing floor last
tiri’song cooking hearth, hearth
tirip da’ “sky water”; rain
titi hand
titi leno’ vow (promise or oath) to make a sacrifice to a deity
tori’ lai food that has already been partly eaten by another person;
leftovers
totolti ritual tying (totol) of a chicken bone
tubo earth
tunuloi hip cord worn by all Gadaba
turang storage platform
ulong roof thatch
umrang transgression
ungom village
ungom munda village megalithic monument
ungon crab
ungon go’ter ritual for the dead in which crabs are sacrificed
utob testicles
 Gutob 589

utob sing chicken egg

yam blood
List of Figures
Figure 1: Floorplan of a house (mur or dandual dien*) — 66
Figure 2: Floorplan of a round house (chendi dien*) — 67
Figure 3: Kuda and kutum Segments in Gudapada — 92
Figure 4: Marriage Alliances between Messing (in Gudapada) and Gangre
(kutum) — 127
Figure 5: Levels of Royal Administration — 147
Figure 6: Marriage Alliances between Gudapada (Gangre) and Saraguda (Ollar
Gadaba): kutum Leve — 171
Figure 7: Marriage Alliances between Gudapada (Gangre) and Saraguda (Ollar
Gadaba): kuda Level — 171
Figure 8: Marriage Alliances between Gudapada (Gangre) and Tikrapada (En-
daktal Gutal): kuda Level — 173
Figure 9: Ritual Agnatic and moitr Relationships of the “Earth People”
(matia) — 188
Figure 10: Ritual Agnatic and moitr Relationships of the Gadaba “Latecomers”
(upria) — 189
Figure 11: Overview of the Social Order — 199
Figure 12: Agnatic and Affinal Exchange in the Life Cycle — 353
Figure 13: Circulation of Buffaloes and Brides — 354
Figure 14: Oppositions in the First Phase of the Sacrifice at the Great House: In-
vocation, Food Offering, and Veneration — 450
Figure 15: Oppositions in the Second Phase of the Sacrifice at the Great House:
Distribution and Commensality — 451
Figure 16: Sequence of the Beer Procession — 453
Figure 17: Overview of chait porbo — 455
Figure 18: Paddy Rice Cycle — 462
Figure 19: Dry-Field Cycle — 463
Figure 20: Outside/Inside and Whole/Part Oppositions in the Sacrifices of the
Three Festivals — 465
Figure 21: Model of the Alimentary Relationship Types — 526
List of Photos
Photo 1: Front view of a house (mur dien*) — 62
Photo 2: The inner room (gondi dien*) — 63
Photo 3: Doing housework — 70
Photo 4: Landscape around Lamtaput — 96
Photo 5: The shrine of the village deity hundi — 116
Photo 6: The opened hundi shrine — 117
Photos 7 and 8: The daughter tsoru — 252
Photos 9 and 10: Tsoru rice for the Four Brothers — 376/377
Photo 11: Procession into the village — 380

(all photos by Peter Berger, except photo 3 by Amrei Volkmann)

List of Maps
Map 1: The Study Area in Southern Koraput District of Odisha — 3
Map 2: The Region around Lamtaput — 4
Map 3: Gutob Gadaba villages and the Surrounding Tribal Communities — 5
Map 4: Gudapada Village Plan — 98
List of Tables
Table 1: Kuda Groups in Gutob Gadaba Villages — 87
Table 2: Kuda Groups in Parenga Villages — 88
Table 3: Kuda Groups in Ollar Gadaba Villages — 88
Table 4: Kuda Membership of 300 Bondo Men and Women — 89
Table 5: Gutob Gadaba Village Clans — 104
Table 6: Land Held by the “Latecomers” (upria) according to the 1961 Settle-
ment — 148
Table 7: Rice Paddies (bera) of the upria Groups in 2000/2001 — 150
Table 8: Dry Fields (poda) of the upria Groups in 2000/2001 — 150
Table 9: Relationship Types and Prestations in Kangra and Coastal Odisha —
159
Table 10: Affinal Ties of the Chamru Gor (Sisa) over Four Generations — 169
Table 11: Sequence of the gotr in Ponosguda (Sponsors) and Gudapada (purani
Givers) (2001) — 317
Table 12: Agriculture, Rituals, and Festivals during the Cold Season (1999/
2000) — 415
Table 13: Main Sacrifices in the Annual Cycle — 448
Table 14: Oppositions in the Annual Cycle — 466
Table 15: Paradigmatic and Syntagmatic Relationships between the Reproduc-
tive Processes — 472
Index
abduction (jikibata), of girls, 248 – 249
accusations, of harmful magic, 513 – 514
administrative structure, 142 – 143, 146, 147
affinal exchange, vs. agnatic exchange, 350 –
352, 352 – 354, 355 – 356
affinal groups
buffaloes, 356 – 363
and Twelve Brothers, 193
see also “latecomers”
affinal relationships
Pfeffer on, 348
see also marriage alliances
afterbirth, hole for, 225
afterlife, 279
agnates, status, 210 – 211
agnatic exchange, vs. affinal exchange, 350 –
352, 352 – 354, 355 – 356
agnatic relationships
inter-village, 177 – 178
mortuary rituals, 174
Pfeffer on, 348
reciprocal, 216
agricultural laborer, 158 – 159
agriculture
in hot season, 368, 397 – 399
in rainy season, 401 – 402, 404, 405, 414
see also fields; harvest; livestock; planta-
tions
Aita Sisa (naik), 299 – 301, 302 – 304
alcohol see beer; liquor
alimentary aspects see food
alternation rule, of marriage alliances, 167,
176 n.192, 205, 352
ancestors
houses of, 68
places of, 109
representation of, 363
role of, 274 – 275
animals
as bonso categories, 98 – 99, 100, 101
killing of, 222
misfortune by, 478
see also livestock; sacrificial animals; wild
animals; individual animals
annual cycle
of dry fields, 463
oppositions in, 464, 465 – 466
of paddy rice, 462
rituals of, 466
see also seasons
annual festivals see Dasara festival; seasonal
festivals
Appadurai, Arjun, 25
April festival (chait porbo)
author’s participation, 540, 546, 547, 548
bolani jatra sacrifice, 377 – 379
“bringing down the seeds,” 382 – 383, 456
dongoro mandini day, 394
end of, 459
feast for “great astrologer,” 382
“festival day,” 384 – 390
food, 457
Great House sacrifice, 370 – 377
hunting, 395 – 396
hunting rituals, 391 – 392, 393, 394, 458
kutum sacrificial rituals, 379, 380 – 381
last day, 396 – 397
leftovers festival, 390 – 391
main concerns, 460
overview, 368, 455
and paddy rice, 454
parallels to November festival, 465
planning, 370
sacrificial rituals outside of village, 454,
456
sowing of paddy rice, 369 – 370
structure, 453 – 454, 462
theatrical performances, 393 – 394
visits at, 389, 392
“wandering rice,” 383
ashad porbo see July festival
assemblies see village assemblies
assistant, of author, 14, 15, 545 – 546
astrologer see “great astrologer”
atri tsoru (first tsoru), 266 – 267
attacks
by daini, 501
by demons, 479, 503

by duma, 502 – 503
by evil eye, 501 – 502
August festival (bandapan porbo)
dry fields ritual, 412 – 413
“festival day,” 409 – 410
jakor and bag puja sacrifices, 407 – 409
millet ritual, 413 – 414
overview, 406
songs and competitions, 410 – 412
structure, 462
Auripada (village), 401
babies see infants
bad death, 277, 278, 299 – 302, 347,
504 n.43
Badigor (village), 145
badul (cooperation), 366 – 367
bag puja (deity), 119, 407, 408 – 409
bai moitr (“brother” moitr), 180
bai/bondu opposition, 210
banda (land leasing), 149 – 151
bandagoria (festival helper), 264, 265
bandapan porbo see August festival
bandapan songs, 410
bara-jangar group, 192 – 193
barik (Dombo dignitary), 83 – 84, 131 – 132,
154, 508
baro bai see Twelve Brothers
basi porbo see leftovers festival
bato biba see “path wedding”
baura bat (last food offering), 299
baura kat (“last wood”), 288
baura porbo (last day of festival), 396 – 397
beer feast, 423 – 424
beer procession, 452, 453
begging ritual (sirsera mangbar), 441 – 442
bejorna see ritual village boundary
bera see rice paddies
betisong see food offerings
biba see wedding rituals
Biju Challan (millet grower), harmful magic
case, 497 – 498
Bilaputia (Kirsani), 380 – 381
bion utrani (“bringing down the seeds”),
382 – 383, 456
birth
death of mother, 226 – 227
Index 595
and house construction, 75
meals, 226
place of, 223
rituals, 222, 225 – 226, 341
sequence of, 224 – 225
time of, 223 – 224, 479
woman’s condition, 222 – 223
see also midwife; newborns
birth cords (ritual), 234 – 235, 342
birth name, 233 – 234
bitor bakra see inner room
black magic see harmful magic
blacksmiths (Kamar), 134 – 135
Bloch, Maurice, 331, 334, 360 n.211
bodily fluids, 208 – 209
Bogu Sisa (patient), 499 – 500
boirobi (deity), 120
boirobi (shrine), 145, 427
boirobi sacrifice, 120 – 121, 145, 426 – 428
boji see feasts
bolani jatra sacrifice, 377 – 379, 403 – 404,
441
bon goudo (Herder of the Forest), 137 – 138,
458
bondki dokri (midwife), 225 – 226
Bondo (tribal group)
bara-jangar group, 192 – 193
Fürer-Haimendorf on, 105 n.71
and Gadaba, 7
kuda distribution, 88 – 90
pat kanda myth, 119
at weekly market, 200
bondu (different bonso), 101
see also bai/bondu opposition
bonso categories, 97, 98 – 103, 104 – 105, 106
see also Cobra bonso; Tiger bonso
boro bet (“great hunt”), 392, 393
boro dissari see “great astrologer”
boro gor see Great House sacrifice
boundaries
of villages, 97, 385, 458 – 459
see also ritual village boundary
Bourdieu, Pierre, 40 – 42, 531 – 532
boys
competitions, 411 – 412
“small hunt,” 391 – 392, 458
596 Index
bridal couple
entrance into house (ritual), 253
handi baurani, 258
“hitting the mouth,” 255
pani chinchini, 255 – 257
washing of, 256 – 257
bride
in affinal exchange, 350, 351, 353 – 354
bringing home (ritual), 253 – 255
leaving house, 344
purani buffalo analogy, 357
rice analogy, 430, 469 – 471
bride-givers
invitations to, 258
visits to, 238, 255 – 257, 259 – 260
bride-takers
invitations to, 257
taking girl home, 247 – 248
visits to, 258
see also suitors
bridewealth (jola), 174 – 175, 247, 258 – 260
“bringing down the seeds” (bion utrani),
382 – 383, 456
“bringing home first ears of grain” (ker
anbar), 422, 430 – 431, 464 n.141, 470
British colonial regime, 6, 10 n.11, 139 – 140
brother
possession by deceased, 503 – 506
see also mother’s brother
“brother” moitr, 180
“brother-clans,” of Ollar Gadaba, 107 – 108
Buda Sisa (informant)
daughter’s violence, 272 – 273
on gods, 113 – 114
as host, 538, 539
buffalo sacrifices
for bag puja, 408 – 409
for boirobi, 120 – 121, 145, 427 – 428
gotr buffalo, 358
purani buffaloes, 309, 326, 358 – 359
buffaloes
of affines, 356 – 363
in agnatic exchange, 350 – 351, 353, 354
see also gotr buffaloes
buffalo-takers, 178, 315, 323 – 324, 339
bulani bat (“wandering rice”), 383
bur (mortuary ritual), 292 – 299, 301, 346 –
347
buti kam (labor help), 367
calf, as bridewealth, 259
cashew harvest, 399
castes
Dumont on, 26
Gasi, 287 n.110
jajmani relationships, 157 – 160, 161, 166
Khandayat, 158
Rajputs, 157, 161
rank order by food transactions, 24
categories
bonso, 97, 98 – 103, 104 – 105, 106
kuda, 81 – 82, 90 n.46
landscape, 136 – 138
cattle
as bridewealth, 259
rice threshing by, 433
ritual feeding, 443
as sacrificial animal, 292 – 293
stomach, 295, 346 – 347
see also buffaloes; calf; ox
central post (house) see doron deli
central stone platform (sadar), 351 – 352
chait porbo see April festival
Challan (kuda group), moitr with Sisa, 182 –
183
Chamru Gor (Sisa)
Mali visits, 179
marriage alliances, 169 – 170
chari bai see Four Brothers
chatreng singlei ritual, 231
Cheliamenda (village), 429
Chikir (village), 108 n.74
children
imitation of suitors, 244
nita dangri and dangra, 265 – 266
rituals for, 237 – 245, 343
sleeping location, 71
status, 236
transformation of, 341 – 343
unborn, 222
see also boys; girls; infants; newborns
Christian hospital, 482
Christians, 203
 Index 597

clans, village, 102 – 108 cooking

classification hearth, 61
of Desia, 6 – 7 by kandasalia, 264 – 265
of gods, 112 significance of, 32 – 33
language as system of, 38 “cooling off the rice” (kerong sitla) see ker
symbolic, 18 – 19 anbar
see also categories cooperation
coastal Odisha, jajmani relationships, 158 – labor help, 366 – 367
159, 159 – 160 at millet harvest, 423
Cobra bonso, 106 couples see bridal couple; married couples
cold season cows see cattle
“day of fetching home the rice,” 434 – 438 crab sacrifices, 227, 469 n.144
harvest preparations, 416 – 417 cremation
millet threshing, 438 – 439 preparations for, 284 – 285
October festival, 418 symbolically repeated, 302
overview, 415 – 416 cremation sites (mosani)
paddy rice harvest, 429 – 434 feeding of duma, 299
rapeseed harvest, 438 harmful magic case, 496
threshing floor sacrifice, 435 – 436, 439 – healing ritual at, 506
440 “last wood,” 288
weather at end of, 440 offerings at, 289 – 290, 294 – 295, 389
see also January festival; November festi- as places of the dead, 109 – 110, 278
val possession by duma at, 507, 508
commensality procession to, 286
at bolani jatra sacrifice, 379 women not allowed to, 282
of divine leftovers, 27 curses (porman), 486 – 488
at Great House sacrifice, 374 – 375
Mayer on, 23 – 24 daini (witch), 501
rules for Dombo, 132 dalgada biru sacrifice, 412 – 413
tsoru, 34, 520 dan (gift), 157, 162
compensation payment dan ana din (“day of fetching home the
for labor help, 366 – 367 rice”), 434 – 438
for wife, 271 dancing, 200 – 201, 242, 442
see also bridewealth Dasara festival, 143, 144
competitions, by men and boys, 411 – 412 “daughter” tsoru, 250 – 252
conception, 214 – 215 daughters
conflicts significance, 68
father/son, 72, 299 violence of Buda Sisa’s, 272 – 273
on harmful magic, 490 day name, 233 – 234
in houses, 71 – 73 “day of death” (morla din), 284
in kutum, 79 “day of fetching home the rice” (dan ana
on land distribution, 147 n.144 din), 434 – 438
of “own brothers,” 207 days, 365 n.3
physical violence, 72, 191, 272 – 273, 299 dead and deceased
reconciliation, 486 – 488 afterlife, 279
in village assemblies, 153 n.162 bodies, 275, 285 – 286
cook see randari consumption at gotr, 352, 353
598 Index
feeding of, 295
food offerings to, 28, 347
generative potential, 362
and infants, 236 – 237
kutti bongtel*, 358 n.206
and millet ritual, 468
mourning, 281 – 283, 336
neglect of, 479
places of, 109 – 110, 278 – 279, 282
precarious relationships by, 475
reembodiment, 347 – 348
relationships with, 512 – 513
sacrificial rituals for, 227, 429
separation from the living, 345 – 346
stone as substitute of, 278
transformation of, 28
see also duma; vital energy
death
about, 274
bad, 277, 278, 299 – 302, 347, 504 n.43
“day of,” 284
“good,” 277
of Guru Sisa, 301
of mother at birth, 226 – 227
of naik, 282, 299 – 300, 302
of Sadep (youth), 493
social, 536, 541
types of, 276 – 277
see also cremation; mortuary rituals
degoi duma (demon), 269 n.86
deities see gods and deities
demons
attacks by, 479, 503
degoi duma, 269 n.86
rau, 202, 235, 322, 342, 493
relationship with, 236
soni rau, 237, 503
demsa dance, 442
descent categories see bonso categories
Desia (language), 13 n.16
Desia (tribal society)
classification, 6 – 7
demographic data, 9 – 10
heterogeneity and complexity, 50
houses, 59 n.9
languages of, 8 – 9
tribal groups, 7 – 9, 197
see also Bondo; Rona
“destruction” see harmful magic
diagnosis, of symptoms, 481
diali porbo see November festival
diet see food
dignitaries, 82 – 86
see also barik; naik; ritual specialists
disputes see conflicts
dissari (ritual specialist)
diagnosis and treatment of illness, 481
and evil eye, 502
gods support, 491 n.23
at gotr, 318, 321
guidance by, 382 n.26
at haircut ritual, 235 – 236
in harmful magic cases, 494 – 496, 497 –
498, 499 – 500
at healing ritual, 504 – 505, 506, 508
invocations by, 229 – 230
resources, 483 – 486
ritual activities, 483
violence against sacrificial animals,
498 n.32
violence by, 516
at wedding rituals, 266
see also “great astrologer”
dissel* see moitr
disti (evil eye), 501 – 502
districts
Kangra, 157, 159
of Odisha state (map), 3
see also Koraput
divination, with rice, 232
divine leftovers (prasad), 26 – 27, 36
Doimoti Sisa (pregnant woman), 510 – 512
Dombo (traders and musicians)
activities, 129 – 131
barik, 83 – 84, 131 – 132, 154, 508
and Gadaba, 132 – 133
in Gudapada, 126, 127
immigration of, 123 – 124
as middlemen, 165
sacrificial rituals, 381
and Sisa, 128
struck by, 272
Domru Sisa (inhabitant), 327, 328, 490
dongoro mandini day, 394
 Index 599

Dongria Kond (tribal group), 141, 143 – 144 earth goddess (dorti mata), 113 – 114
doron deli (house god/central post), 58 – 59, see also hundi
69, 71, 73 – 74, 76 – 77, 122, 388, 410 “earth people” (matia)
dorti mata see earth goddess functions, 217
dos see transgressions at Great House sacrifice, 450
dosra porbo (October festival), 418 identification of, 103
Douglas, Mary, 1, 19 vs. “latecomers,” 211
dry fields (poda) at procession, 380
about, 136 ritual relationships of, 187 – 188
cycle, 463 status, 164
dalgada biru sacrifice, 412 – 413 see also Gangre
end of impurity, 468 earth/sky opposition, 118
influences on plants of, 473 eating
of “latecomers,” 150 – 151 as cultural pattern, 527 – 528
rice harvest, 417 and evil eye, 501 – 502
vs. rice paddies, 466, 473 gluttony, 178
rituals for plants of, 469 at Great House sacrifice, 450 – 451
seeds of, 467 meaning of, 22
work on, 402 and social relationships, 37
young plants ritual, 404 – 405 stomach, 295
dry season see cold season; hot season see also commensality; feasts; food
duk pej see “mourning gruel” “eating” panji (panji kaiba), 328 – 329
duma (spirits of the dead) economy, Gadaba’s concept of, 446 – 447
of Aita Sisa, 300 – 301 Eichinger Ferro-Luzzi, Gabriella, 22, 24 – 25
awakening of, 316, 318 elderly, 69, 72 – 73
dangerous, 275, 276, 277 – 278, 302 elopement (udulia), of young people, 249 –
exploitation of, 502 – 503 250
feeding of, 299 Elwin, Verrier
food offerings for, 288, 295 – 296, 301, on bara-jangar group, 192 – 193
389 on Bondo, 7, 88 – 90
offerings to, 294 on gods, 111
possession by, 503 – 508 on marriage alliances, 168 n.182
sacrificial ritual for, 227 on pat kanda, 119
terms and meaning, 307 n.136 “ending pollution” (sutok sorani), 228 – 234,
transfer into gotr buffaloes, 312 341 – 342, 413, 467 – 468
transformation of, 346 entrails
and types of death, 276 – 277 of purani, 358, 359 – 360
and vital energy, 275 – 276 see also stomach
withdrawal of, 279, 290 environment, Gadaba’s concept of, 445 – 446
Dumont, Louis ethnography
on castes, 26 of Gadaba, 10 – 12
on difference of anthropological knowl- participant observation (method), 535, 544
edge, 552 n.13 see also fieldwork
on individual and society, 335 n.182 evil eye (disti), 501 – 502
on jajmani system, 155 – 156 exchange
on structure, 43 – 44 affinal vs. agnatic, 350 – 352, 352 – 354,
Durga (goddess), 418 355 – 356
600 Index

milk, 174 – 175, 259 fieldwork in Gudapada

necessity, 355
excommunication (jati), 271 – 272
external relationships, 198, 200 – 203, 524 –
527
fate, 479 – 480
fatherhood, vs. motherhood, 208 n.256
fathers
conflicts with son, 72, 299
in wedding rituals, 176
feasts (boji)
beer, 423 – 424
at bur ritual, 292
“eating” panji, 328 – 329
at end of “path wedding,” 245
for “great astrologer,” 382
at marriage rituals, 255
at wedding rituals, 267 – 268
federations
of villages, 191 – 192
see also Twelve Brothers
feeding
of cattle, 443
of dead, 295
of duma, 299
of gotr buffaloes, 319, 320, 359
with “kordi rice,” 257
and social relationships, 35
tsoru, 177, 252, 521
see also tsorubai
females see girls; women
Fernandez, G., on bonso and kuda catego-
ries, 99 n.60
“festival day” (porbo din), 384 – 390, 409 –
410
festival helpers see bandagoria; kandasalia
festivals (porbo)
Dasara, 143, 144
see also seasonal festivals; wedding
“fetching home first ears of grain” (ker
anbar), 422, 430 – 431, 464 n.141, 470
fields
in hot season, 368, 397 – 398
of “latecomers,” 149 – 151
see also dry fields; rice paddies
April festival, 540, 546, 547, 548
assistant, 14, 15, 545 – 546
departure, 550 – 551
emphasis, 15 – 16
end of, 548 – 549
girlfriend’s stay, 14 – 15, 543 – 544, 547 –
548
house, 14
initial time, 13 – 14, 537 – 539
integration, 540 – 542, 546 – 547, 547 – 548
interviews, 15
learning local language, 13 n.16
marriage of author, 15, 544
phases, 12 n.15
return to, 14, 542 – 543, 547, 551 n.10
status of author, 15, 545
“first rice” (sig bat), 237, 319
first tsoru (atri tsoru), 266 – 267
“fishwater” ritual (machpani), 289 – 291
floorplans, of houses, 66, 67
fluids, bodily, 208 – 209
food
alimentary code, 19
alimentary relationship types, 526 – 527
as anthropological topic, 16 – 21
at April festival, 457
at bur ritual, 293 – 294
characteristics, 527
as communication, 24 – 25
as cultural pattern, 527 – 528
“first rice,” 237, 319
at “fishwater” ritual, 289
of Gadaba, 29 – 37
of gods, 112 – 114
at Great House sacrifice, 450 – 451
in India, 21 – 23
for labor help, 366 – 367
in life-cycle vs. healing rituals, 515 – 516
meanings of, 17, 32
“mourning gruel,” 282 – 283
at “path wedding,” 240
prohibition, 413
and rituals, 25 – 29, 33 – 35, 363
sharing, 446 n.128
shortages, 406
significance, 1 – 2

and social relationships, 337
and social structure, 23 – 24
and status, 24, 36
and territoriality and kinship, 213 – 214
transgressions, 36
“unripe” vs. “ripe,” 23 – 24
see also cooking; eating; feeding; meals;
meat; millet; rice
food offerings (betisong)
to deceased, 347
for duma, 288, 295 – 296, 301, 389
to gods, 34, 36
at Great House sacrifice, 373
in healing rituals, 500
stomach as medium for, 346
see also last food offering
food offerings (naivedya)
to deceased, 28
to gods, 24 – 25, 27
food transactions, 24, 26 – 27, 383
forest, 137 – 138, 268, 458
founders, of villages, 102
Four Brothers (chari bai)
about, 81
tsoru of, 266 – 267, 390
tsoru rice for, 376 – 377
Fürer-Haimendorf, Christoph von
on Bondo, 105 n.71
on bonso and kuda categories, 99 n.60
on gotr, 330
on marriage alliances, 168 n.182
publications on Gadaba, 11
on spirits, 280 n.100
games, 410 – 412
Ganesh (god), 96
Gangre (“earth people” of Gudapada), 125 –
126, 127, 160, 190
gardeners (Mali), 179
gardens, 65, 66, 402
Garsa Gor (Sisa), 389
Gasi caste, 287 n.110
gasi moali (gift), 287 – 288
“gastro-politics,” 25, 32
gatherer-hunter societies, 445
genealogical relationships, 207 – 209
Index 601
gifts
in affinal and agnatic exchange, 351 – 352
for bride-givers, 256
for bride-takers, 258 n.69
at bur ritual, 294, 297 – 298
dan, 157, 162
of Gadaba, 163
at gotr, 329 n.176
in jajmani relationships, 157, 158
manti, 153 – 154
moali, 309 – 310, 327, 328
“mourning gruel,” 282 – 283
after procession to cremation site, 287 –
288
sari kadi, 154
at seasonal festivals, 155
for wedding, 264
see also purani buffaloes
girli tree, 266 n.80
girls
abduction of, 248 – 249
“daughter” tsoru, 250 – 252
games by, 410 – 411
taken home by bride-takers, 247 – 248
visits by suitors to house of, 247
goat sacrifices, 373 – 374, 540
gods and deities
bag puja, 119, 407, 408 – 409
boirobi, 120
bon goudo, 137 – 138, 458
classification, 112
doron deli, 58 – 59, 69, 71, 122, 388, 410
dorti mata, 113 – 114
Durga, 418
food of, 112 – 114
food offerings to, 24 – 25, 27, 34, 36
Ganesh, 96
jakor, 119, 407
kamni, 138 – 139, 430 n.99, 509 – 510
karandi, 120
king as patron of rituals for, 141
local representations, 110 – 112
neglect of, 479
offerings at Great House sacrifice, 449
pat kanda, 116, 118 – 119, 370
protection of villages by, 476 – 477
relationships among, 121 – 122
602 Index

relationships with, 512 – 513 Gudapada (village)

support of dissari, 491 n.23
see also boirobi; hundi; karandi; shrines
“good” death, 277
Goren see Dombo
Gorihanjar (village), boirobi sacrifice, 426 –
428
goti (labor help), 367
gotr (mortuary ritual)
about, 304 – 305
consumption and reconsumption of the
dead, 352, 353
decision on, 314
Fürer-Haimendorf on, 330
in Gudapada, 314, 317, 319 – 320
interpretations, 329 – 332
Izikowitz on, 306, 307 – 310, 329 – 330
as major event, 305
vs. marriage, 331 – 332, 349
observed by author, 304 n.130
panjabai at, 178
Pfeffer on, 310 – 314, 330 – 331, 355
phases, 339 – 340
in Ponosguda, 315 – 317, 318 – 319, 320 –
328, 357 – 358
publications on, 11, 305 n.131
reembodiment of the dead, 347 – 348
relationships, 340
spelling and meaning, 306
see also “eating” panji
gotr buffaloes
departure, 324 – 325
feeding, 319, 320, 359
hidden, 321, 323
outside of village, 313
sacrifice, 358
transfer of duma into, 312
see also purani buffaloes
Goudo (herders), 133 – 134, 443
government hospital, 482
government jobs, 126 n.108
“great astrologer” (boro dissari), 161, 381 –
382
Great House sacrifice, 370 – 377, 420, 449 –
453
see also pat kanda
“great hunt” (boro bet), 392, 393
map, 98
original development (story), 123 – 124
see also fieldwork in Gudapada
Gudeman, Stephen F., 444 – 445, 446
Gumal (Tiger bonso), 315
gumang* (deity) see pat kanda
Guneipada (village), 91
Guru Sisa (Aita’s brother), 301 – 302, 302 –
304, 503 – 506
gurumai (ritual medium)
female, 480 – 481
in harmful magic case, 493 – 494, 495,
496
at healing rituals, 504, 507
at “path wedding,” 239 – 240, 242, 243 –
244
ritual activities, 483
at ritual for pregnant woman, 511
Gutob (language), 8 n.7
Gutob Gadaba (tribal group)
kuda groups in villages, 87
moitr, 179 n.198
tribal group neighbors, 7 – 9
village clans, 104 – 105
villages and surrounding tribal communi-
ties (map), 5
hair, 236 n.41, 517
hair houses, 64, 67
haircut, first (ritual), 235 – 237
handi baurani (visit to bride-takers), 258
harmful magic (nosto)
accusations, 513 – 514
as cause of illness, 499 – 500
evil eye, 501 – 502
explained, 488 – 489, 513
exploitation of duma and soni rau, 502 –
503
as external relationship, 525
against harvest, 496 – 497
against house and inhabitants, 493 – 496
against millet, 497 – 498
perpetrators, 489 – 490
practices, 490 – 492
victims, 492
witches, 489, 501
 Index 603

see also possession British colonial regime, 6, 10 n.11, 139 –

harmful objects, 492, 495, 498, 500 140
harmful powers of fieldwork, 532 – 535
material representations of, 516 – 517 of Koraput district, 6, 139 – 140
see also demons; duma of Odisha, 139 – 140
Harris, Marvin, 19 – 20 “hitting the mouth,” 255
harvest hospitals, 482
cashew, 399 hot season
harmful magic, 496 – 497 about, 368
millet, 423 – 424 agriculture, 368, 397 – 399
paddy rice, 429 – 434 weather at end of, 399 – 400
preparations, 416 – 417 see also April festival
rapeseed, 438 house god see doron deli
harvest rituals houses
dan ana din, 434 – 438 about, 59 – 60
ker anbar, 422, 430 – 431, 464 n.141, 470 of author, 14
millet, 413 – 414, 468, 472 – 473 big room, 61, 523
see also rice measuring rituals construction, 73 – 75
harvest share (pholoi), 151 – 153 of Desia, 59 n.9
healers see dissari; gurumai entrance, 60
healing rituals entrance of bridal couple (ritual), 253
as acknowledgment of symptom, 475 floorplans, 66, 67
bolani jatra, 403 front view, 62
against harmful magic, 494 – 496, 499 – gardens, 65, 66, 402
500 harmful magic case, 493 – 496
and human body, 517 – 518 inner room, 62 – 64, 523
and life-cycle rituals, 515 – 516 loft, 64
overlaps, 518 – 519 millet ritual, 413 – 414
against possession by duma, 504 – 506, paddy rice ritual, 430 – 431
507, 508 painting, 60
treatment of topic, 53 – 54, 514 relationships within, 76 – 78
violence in, 516 and rituals, 75
Herder of the Forest (bon goudo), 137 – 138, round, 64, 67
458 sacrificial rituals, 387 – 389, 404
herders (Goudo), 133 – 134, 443 as social group, 66 – 73
hierarchy stables, 65
at Great House sacrifice, 449 – 453 types, 64 – 65
jajmani relationships, 157 – 160, 161, 166 yards, 65
see also seniority; status hundi (shrine), 114 – 116, 117, 386, 391 – 392,
Hindu rituals, at schools, 96 425
Hindus hundi (village deity), 122
and tribal societies, 49 n.54 hundi sacrifice, 386 – 387, 396 – 397
see also castes hundi sitlani sacrifice, 154, 424 – 426
history hunting, 137 – 138, 395 – 396
administrative structure, 142 – 143, 146, hunting rituals, 391 – 392, 393, 394, 458
147 husband
doron deli homology, 77
604 Index

and pregnant wife, 222 at “festival day,” 389

wife leaving, 270 – 271 at leftovers festival, 390 – 391
invocations
illness by dissari, 229 – 230
causes of, 480 n.10, 512 to doron deli, 58 – 59
harmful magic case, 499 – 500 by gurumai, 239 – 240
hospitals, 482 iron, 134 – 135
ritual against, 237 – 238 iron pegs (kuti), 316, 318, 485
ritual specialists, 480 – 482 Izikowitz, Karl Gustav, on gotr, 306, 307 –
social meaning, 475 – 477 310, 329 – 330
at time of birth, 223
treatment, 481, 482 jajmani relationships, 157 – 160, 161, 166
treatment of topic, 477 jajmani system, 155 – 156
unmotivated, 480 jakor (deity), 119, 407
see also medicine; sickness; symptoms jakor (shrine), 408
immigration, of Dombo, 123 – 124 January festival (pus porbo), 378, 441 – 443
impurity jati (excommunication), 271 – 272
dry fields’ end of, 468 jati kiniba see reintegration
ritual, 165 – 166, 413 jewelry, 69
sutok sorani ritual, 228 – 234, 341 – 342, Jeypore
413, 467 – 468 administrative structure, 146, 147
see also purity Dasara festival, 144
inam (rights to land and taxes), 146 kings of, 139 – 140
India, food in, 21 – 23 jibon see vital energy
individual jikibata see abduction
in rituals, 361 – 362 jobs
and society, 332 – 336 government, 126 n.108
transformation to complete, 344 – 345 labor help, 366 – 367
infants wage labor, 368
and dead, 236 – 237 jola see bridewealth
and harmful magic, 492 Jomna (host), 32 – 33
relationships, 343 jontor (harmful objects), 492, 495, 498, 500
rituals for, 234 – 237, 342 Juang (tribal group), 142 – 143
transformation of, 341 – 342 July festival (ashad porbo), 378, 402 – 404
see also newborns jupan (healer’s instrument), 483
inner room (bitor bakra), 62 – 64, 523 jur rice, 324
inside/outside opposition, 465, 523
inter-village relationships “kabadi” game, 411 – 412
about, 166 – 167 Kamar (blacksmiths), 134 – 135
agnatic relationships, 177 – 178 Kamarguda (village), gotr in, 307 – 310
moitr, 179 – 185 kamni (river deity), 138 – 139, 430 n.99,
see also marriage alliances 509 – 510
intestines see entrails kamni sacrifice, 435, 454, 510
invitations kandasalia (festival helper), 264 – 265
to bride-givers, 258 Kangra (district), 157, 159
to bride-takers, 257 karandi (deity), 120
to “eating” panji, 328 – 329 karandi sacrifice, 393
 Index 605

katani see myths marriage alliances, 170, 171

katinat dance, 442 names, 78
ker anbar (“bringing home first ears of sacrificial rituals, 379, 380 – 381
grain”), 422, 430 – 431, 464 n.141, 470 at seasonal festivals, 80
kerong sitla see ker anbar see also Bilaputia; Chamru Gor; Garsa
Kichop (village), 310 Gor; Kodomguria
kings
and Gadaba, 165, 216 – 217 labor see jobs
influence on tribal groups, 140 – 142 labor help, 366 – 367
of Jeypore, 139 – 140 laborer, agricultural, 158 – 159
visits to, 143, 144 land
Kirsani (kuda group), 314, 487 claims to, 79 – 80
see also Bilaputia; Kodomguria distribution in Gudapada, 146, 147 n.144,
Kodomguria (Kirsani), 379, 380 148 – 151
Kond (tribal society), 361 leasing, 149 – 151
see also Dongria Kond rights to, 67 – 68, 146, 156
Koraput (district) and rituals, 135
demographic data, 9 tax collecting, 142, 145 – 146
history, 6, 139 – 140 treatment of topic, 136
initial stay of author, 537 landholders (zamindar), 157
location, 2 landscape
reputation, 5 – 6 categories, 136 – 138
“Koraput Complex,” 6 of Lamtaput, 96
“kordi rice,” 35, 255, 257 of villages, 94
kotar puja (threshing floor sacrifice), 435 – languages
436, 439 – 440 of Desia, 8 – 9
kuda (local units) learning local, 13 n.16
about, 81 vs. speech, 39
and bonso categories, 99 n.60 as system of classification, 38
categories, 81 – 82, 90 n.46 last day of festival (baura porbo), 396 – 397
commensality, 375 last food offering (baura bat), 299
distribution, 86 – 91 “last wood” (baura kat), 288
functions, 82 – 86, 93 “latecomers” (upria)
in Gudapada, 91 – 93 vs. “earth people,” 211
marriage alliances, 171, 172, 173 Goudo, 133 – 134, 443
status, 82 in Gudapada, 124 – 126
see also Challan; Kirsani; Sisa Kamar, 134 – 135
kudal (harmful objects), 500 land distribution, 148, 149 – 151
kuli kam (wage labor), 368 marriage alliances, 172, 173
kuti (iron pegs), 316, 318, 485 ritual relationships, 189 – 190
kutti bongtel* (most senior dead), 358 n.206 and Twelve Brothers, 193
kutum (local group) see also Dombo; Messing; Mundagoria;
about, 78 Ruda’i
claims to land, 79 – 80 Leach, Edmund, 338 – 339
daily life, 80 leaders see naik
of Dombo, 131 leftovers, divine (prasad), 26 – 27, 36
in Gudapada, 92 leftovers festival (basi porbo), 390 – 391
606 Index
Lerche, Jens, 158, 159 – 160
Lévi-Strauss, Claude, 17 – 18, 38, 40
life-cycle rituals
begin of season of, 443 – 444
and healing rituals, 515 – 516
treatment of topic, 51 – 52
see also birth; marriage rituals; mortuary
rituals
liquor
as dissari’s resource, 485 – 486
by Dombo, 129 – 130
for gods, 113
liquor distillers (Sundi), 124 n.106
liver moitr, 180 – 184, 260, 524 – 525
livestock, 65
see also individual animals
local groups/units see kuda; kutum
local lines, 81
machpani see “fishwater” ritual
magic see harmful magic
mahaprasad moitr see liver moitr
Mali (gardeners), 179
mamu see mother’s brother
mandara (rice measuring ritual), 420 – 422
mandia biru (millet ritual), 413 – 414, 472 –
473
Mangla Kirsani (head of family), harmful
magic case, 493 – 496
manti (gift), 153 – 154
market, weekly, 200, 440
marriage
of author, 15, 544
with Christian, 203 n.246
Gangre and affinal group, 126
vs. gotr, 331 – 332, 349
paths to, 245 – 250
prohibitions, 208
rules, 167, 175 – 176, 205
status of women after, 271
see also wedding
marriage alliances
alternation rule, 167, 176 n.192, 205, 352
of “latecomers,” 125, 127
negotiations, 246
Pfeffer on, 204
in practice, 168 – 176
regulation, 192
village exogamy, 168
marriage partner, searching for, 245
marriage rituals
bridewealth, 174 – 175, 247, 258 – 260
bringing bride home, 253 – 255
as wedding requirement, 260 – 261
witnessed by author, 245 n.56
see also wedding rituals
married couples
and conflicts, 71 – 72
and cooking, 32 – 33
social relationships, 345
see also husband; wives
Marriott, McKim, 24, 335 n.182
matia see “earth people”
matter/spirit opposition, 37 – 38
Mayer, Adrian C., 23 – 24
McDougal, Charles W., 72 n.20, 142 – 143
meals
at April festival, 540, 547
at birth, 226
at boirobi sacrifice, 428
of Gadaba, 29 – 31
at Great House sacrifice, 420
at hundi sitlani sacrifice, 425 – 426
jur rice, 324
“kordi rice,” 35, 255, 257
at threshing floor sacrifice, 439
see also food; tsoru
meat
at Aita and Guru Sisa’s mortuary rituals,
303
at August festival, 408, 409
at boirobi sacrifice, 428
at bolani jatra sacrifice, 379
at bur ritual, 297 – 298
at Great House sacrifice, 373 – 374
types, 31
see also tsipani meat
medicine, 482, 484 – 485
meetings see village assemblies
memor (village representative), 13, 85 – 86
meria sacrifice, 361
Messing (affinal group), 125, 127
middlemen, Dombo as, 165
midwife (bondki dokri), 225 – 226
 Index 607

milk exchange, 174 – 175, 259 at newborn ritual, 232

“milk siblings,” 125, 174, 208 in processes of exchange, 362
millet mourning, 281 – 283, 336
harmful magic case, 497 – 498 “mourning gruel” (duk pej), 282 – 283
harvest, 423 – 424 “mouth, hitting the,” 255
vs. rice, 440 “Munda” (tribes), 107, 191 – 192, 204 – 205
ritual, 413 – 414, 468, 472 – 473 Mundagoria (affinal group), 124 – 125
threshing of, 438 – 439 Mundlipada (village), 119, 192
millet gruel, 30 n.38, 31 murat (earth/salt mixture), 485
misfortune Murjia (tribal group), 191 n.224
by transgressions, 478 – 479 music
see also harmful magic by Dombo, 130
moali gifts, 309 – 310, 327, 328 at Great House sacrifice, 372 n.14
Mohanty, U. Ch., 107, 179 n.198 see also dancing; singing
moitr (ritual relationship), 179 – 185, 216, 312 mutadar (administrative head), 144 – 145
see also “brother” moitr; liver moitr; sim- myths (katani)
ple moitr bai/bondu opposition, 210
moka biru (young plants ritual), 404 – 405 of Bondo, 119
montor (verbal formulas), 484 creation of society, 194 – 196
moon, and birth, 223 – 224 of Dombo, 133
morla din (“day of death”), 284 moitr between Sisa and Challan, 182 – 183
morodandia (ritual actor), 287, 290 origin of human beings, 101
mortuary rituals rain, 470 n.148
in agnatic relationships, 174 seniority, 100
for Aita Sisa, 300 – 301, 302 – 304 Twelve Brothers, 190
of bad death, 277, 278
bur, 292 – 299, 301, 346 – 347 naik (dignitary)
at cremation site, 289 – 290, 294 – 295 characterization, 84
differences, 283 death of, 282, 299 – 300, 302
of Dombo and Sisa, 128 seniority, 83
drinking beer at, 265 name-giving see “ending pollution”
“fishwater,” 289 – 291 names
gifts, 287 – 288 of kutum, 78
for Guru Sisa, 301 – 302 for newborns, 231, 233 – 234
North Indian, 28 of parts of Mount Kisor, 137 n.124
preparing of body of deceased, 285 – 286 of village clans, 102 – 103
procession to cremation site, 286 Nandapur, 142
at pyre, 286 – 287, 288 Nayak, Prasanna K., 141
responsibility for, 68 negotiations
see also gotr bridewealth, 247
mosani see cremation sites marriage alliances, 246
mother, death at birth, 226 – 227 newborns
mother’s brother (mamu) promise of sacrifice for, 340, 342
at bur ritual, 292 – 293, 295, 296, 297 – rituals for, 228 – 234, 341 – 342, 343, 467 –
298 468
gift for, 287 – 288 status, 341
at milk exchange, 174 wailing, 234
608 Index
niam see order
nijoro bai (“own brothers”), 207
nisani (deity) see hundi
nita dangri and dangra (ritual girls and
boys), 265 – 266
North Indian mortuary rituals, 28
nosto see harmful magic
November festival (diali porbo)
boirobi sacrifice, 426 – 428
Great House sacrifice, 420
hundi sitlani sacrifice, 424 – 426
millet harvest, 423 – 424
overview, 419
paddy rice ritual, 422, 430 – 431,
464 n.141, 470
parallels to April festival, 465
rice measuring ritual, 420 – 422
sacrifice for the dead, 429
structure, 462, 463 – 464
October festival (dosra porbo), 418
Odisha (state)
districts (map), 3
history, 139 – 140
Orissa Research Project, 542
social formations, 50
see also coastal Odisha
offerings
at cremation site, 289 – 290, 294 – 295,
389
to duma, 294
to gods at Great House sacrifice, 449
see also food offerings
Ollar Gadaba (tribal group)
“brother-clans,” 107 – 108
kuda groups in villages, 88
omasum, 346 n.192
oppositions
in annual cycle, 464, 465 – 466
bai/bondu, 210
earth/sky, 118
inside/outside, 465, 523
matter/spirit, 37 – 38
physical/metaphysical, 331, 348 – 349
purity/pollution, 26
rice paddies and dry fields, 466, 473
of the two rooms, 76
vegetarian/non-vegetarian, 26, 27 n.32
whole/part, 43 – 44, 122, 465
order (niam)
violation of, 512
see also social order
Orissa see Odisha
“own brothers” (nijoro bai), 207
ox sacrifice, 407 – 408
paddy rice
and April festival, 454
cycle, 462
harvest, 429 – 434
ritual, 422, 430 – 431, 464 n.141, 470
sowing of, 369 – 370
transformation of, 469 – 471
pajor (toll), 494 n.28
palanquin bearers, 11 n.12
pani chinchini (visit to bride-givers), 255 –
257, 259 – 260
panjabai (ritual relationship), 177 – 178, 187
panji kaiba (“eating” panji), 328 – 329
Parenga (tribal group), 88
Parkin, David, 338
Parkin, Robert
on alternation rule, 352
on “Munda” tribes, 107, 191 – 192, 204 –
205
on souls, 280 n.100
Parry, Jonathan P., 28, 157, 159, 331
part, vs. whole, 43 – 44, 122, 465
pat kanda (deity), 116, 118 – 119, 370
see also Great House sacrifice
pat kanda shrine, 370 – 371, 407 – 408, 420
“path wedding” (bato biba), 237 – 245, 343
patron/client relationships, 160 – 166
patrons see jajmani
Pengo (tribal group), 108 n.74
person see individual
personnage, 334
Pfeffer, Georg
on agnatic and affinal relationships, 348
on bonso categories, 99 – 100
on Central Indian tribal societies, 203 –
204
ethnographic research on Gadaba, 12
on gotr, 310 – 314, 330 – 331, 355
 Index 609

on “Koraput Complex,” 6 prohibitions

on marriage alliances, 167 “festival day,” 385
on marriage vs. gotr, 331 – 332 food, 413
on purani buffaloes, 357 inner room, 64
on society types, 49 marriage, 208
on Tiger and Cobra bonso, 106 moitr, 181
on villages, 106 – 107 prophylactic rituals
pholoi (harvest share), 151 – 153 against harmful magic, 497 – 498
pig sacrifices, 154, 300 n.126, 407, 408, 506 for pregnant woman, 510 – 512
places pujari (sacrificer)
of birth, 223 at August festival, 409
of dead, 109 – 110, 278 – 279, 282 “bringing down the seeds,” 383
ritual sites, 108 – 110 complaints about, 84 – 85
plantations, 198, 399 at “day of fetching home the rice,” 437
planting at dry fields ritual, 412
of rice paddies, 398 at end of April festival, 396
of seeds, 397 at Great House sacrifice, 374, 377, 451
of simli branches, 318 at hundi sacrifice, 386 – 387
plants at hundi sitlani sacrifice, 424 – 425
influences on dry field plants, 473 at paddy rice ritual, 422
periodizations of growth, 461 at rice measuring ritual, 420 – 422
rituals for dry field plants, 469 ritual activities, 483
see also millet; rapeseed; rice seeds distribution, 392
platforms see stone platforms seeds planting, 397
poda see dry fields sowing of paddy rice, 369
pollution see impurity status, 457 n.136, 523 – 524
Ponosguda (village), gotr in, 315 – 317, 318 – at young plants ritual, 405
319, 320 – 328, 357 – 358 purani buffaloes
porbo see festivals bride analogy, 357
porbo din see “festival day” bringing to sponsors, 308 – 309, 325,
porman (curses), 486 – 488 356 – 358
possession (domination) entrails, 358, 359 – 360
by duma, 503 – 508 fight over, 309, 313, 326
by kamni, 509 – 510 obtaining, 316
prasad see divine leftovers sacrifices, 309, 326, 358 – 359
precarious relationships and self and other, 360
caused by dead, 475 purification, ritual, 225 – 226, 231, 272
treatment of topic, 53 – 54 purity
see also illness ritual, 163 – 164, 432 – 433
pregnancy, 221 – 222, 510 – 512 see also impurity
see also conception purity/pollution opposition, 26
procession pus porbo see January festival
beer, 452, 453
to cremation site, 286 raibadia see suitors
from Great House sacrifice, 375, 380 raibadia (rice measurer), 436
to sindi grass, 268 – 269 rainy season
agriculture, 401 – 402, 404, 405, 414
610 Index

food shortages, 406 and rituals, 185

July festival, 378, 402 – 404 in villages, 166
seasonal festivals, 400 see also affinal relationships; agnatic rela-
see also August festival tionships; inter-village relationships;
randari (ritual cook) marriage alliances; precarious relation-
at August festival, 409 ships; ritual relationships; social rela-
at Great House sacrifice, 373, 377 tionships
at hundi sacrifice, 386 – 387 Remo (tribal group) see Bondo
at hundi sitlani sacrifice, 424 – 425 reproduction
ritual activities, 483 affinal, 351, 353, 356
sowing of paddy rice, 369 ideology of Gadaba, 466 – 467
at young plants ritual, 405 marriage vs. gotr, 331 – 332
ranking see hierarchy relationships, 466
rapeseed harvest, 438 see also birth; harvest
rau demon, 202, 235, 322, 342, 493 rice
reaping see harvest bride analogy, 430, 469 – 471
rebirth, 221 – 222, 280 at bur ritual, 293
reciprocity, 446 – 447 divination with, 232
“red” sacrifices, vs. “white” sacrifices, 112 – dry field harvest, 417
113 as food offerings, 28
reembodiment, of the dead, 347 – 348 at marriage ritual, 253 – 254
reincarnation, of vital energy, 221, 222 – 223, vs. millet, 440
280 at pani chinchini, 256
reintegration (jati kiniba), ritual, 272, 273 – at “path wedding,” 240
274 as pholoi, 152 – 153
relatedness, 206 n.250, 212 – 213 preparation, 30
relationships as primary food, 31
alimentary types, 526 – 527 sheaves, 432
balanced vs. negatice, 473 – 474 threshing, 433 – 434
with dead, 512 – 513 tika ritual, 267
with demons, 236 tsoru, 376 – 377
distinctions, 206 – 207 “wandering rice,” 383
external, 198, 200 – 203, 524 – 527 watching over, 434 n.111
to forest, 268 winnowing, 434
genealogical, 207 – 209 see also paddy rice; threshing floors
of gods, 121 – 122 rice measuring rituals
with gods, 512 – 513 mandara, 420 – 422
at gotr, 340 napibar, 436
in houses, 76 – 78 rice paddies (bera)
individual and society, 332 – 336 vs. dry fields, 466, 473
of infants, 343 in hot season, 368, 398
jajmani, 157 – 160, 161, 166 importance, 138
kinship, 206, 213 – 214 of “latecomers,” 150
labor help, 366 – 367 rights, to land, 67 – 68, 146, 156
liver moitr, 524 – 525 ritual cook see randari
patron/client, 160 – 166 ritual girls and boys (nita dangri and dan-
reproduction, 466 gra), 265 – 266

ritual killing see sacrificial animals
ritual medium see gurumai
ritual purification, 225 – 226, 231, 272
ritual relationships
of “earth people,” 187 – 188
of “latecomers,” 189 – 190
moitr, 179 – 185, 216, 260
panjabai, 177 – 178, 187
of village clans, 106
of villages, 186 – 187
see also tsorubai
ritual sites, 108 – 110
see also shrines
ritual specialists, 480 – 482
see also dissari; gurumai; pujari; randari
ritual village boundary (bejorna), 279, 452,
496, 505 – 506
rituals
of annual cycle, 466
in April festival, 455
begging, 441 – 442
birth, 222, 225 – 226, 341
for children, 237 – 245, 343
contexts, 46 – 47
on dry fields, 417
dynamic processes, 337 – 338
feeding of cattle, 443
hunting, 391 – 392, 393, 394, 458
impurity, 165 – 166, 413
individual in, 361 – 362
for infants, 234 – 237, 342
king as patron of, 141
and land, 135
and movement, 447
for new houses, 75
for newborns, 228 – 234, 341 – 342, 343,
467 – 468
overlapping and correlations, 522
phases, 339 – 340
for plants of dry fields, 469
purity, 163 – 164, 432 – 433
reintegration, 272, 273 – 274
and relationships, 185
transformation by, 522
transformation of, 45 – 46
transgressions, 191
treatment of topic, 52 – 53, 366, 447 – 448
Index 611
and whole, 45
see also harvest rituals; healing rituals;
Hindu rituals; marriage rituals; prophy-
lactic rituals; sacrificial rituals; seeds
rituals; wedding rituals
river gods (kamni), 138 – 139, 430 n.99,
509 – 510
Rogu Sisa (inhabitant), 490
roit (tenants), 140
Rona (tribal group), 9, 480 n.10
rooms
of houses, 61, 62 – 64, 523
opposition of the two, 76
rooster sacrifices, 235, 372
round houses, 64, 67
Ruda’i (affinal group), 125
rules
commensality, 132
marriage, 167, 175 – 176, 205
moitr, 181 – 182, 183 – 184
paddy rice harvest, 432
see also alternation rule; prohibitions;
transgressions
sacrificer see pujari
sacrificial animals
for Aita and Guru Sisa’s mortuary rituals,
303
at August festival, 407 – 409
in Auripada, 401
at boirobi sacrifice, 120 – 121, 145, 427 –
428
at bolani jatra sacrifice, 378
at bur ritual, 292 – 293
cattle, 292 – 293
chickens, 228, 497 – 498
crabs, 227, 469 n.144
at “daughter” tsoru, 250
for duma, 278
goats, 373 – 374, 540
at Great House sacrifice, 371, 372 – 373
in harmful magic case, 497 – 498
of houses, 387 – 388
at hundi sitlani sacrifice, 425
by kutum, 379, 380, 381
ox, 407 – 408
at “path wedding,” 242
612 Index

pigs, 154, 300 n.126, 407, 408, 506 Sadep (youth), death of, 493
for rau, 322 Sahlins, Marshall D.
roosters, 235, 372 criticism of Harris, 20
in seasonal festivals, 448 on structure, 42 – 43
at threshing floor sacrifice, 439 on tribal societies, 48, 57 – 58
at “umbilical pit,” 230 Saraguda (village), marriage alliances, 170 –
violence against, 498 n.32 172
“white” vs. “red” sacrifices, 112 – 113 sardar (representative), 143
see also buffalo sacrifices sari kadi (gift), 154
sacrificial meal see tsoru Schnepel, Burkhard, 141, 144
sacrificial rituals school, 95, 96
at April festival, 540 seance, of “path wedding,” 239 – 241
barik’s function, 132 searching, for marriage partner, 245
for boirobi, 120 – 121, 145, 426 – 428 seasonal festivals
bolani jatra, 377 – 379, 403 – 404, 441 distinction, 460
for bon goudo, 137 – 138 gifts at, 155
dalgada biru, 412 – 413 January festival, 378, 441 – 443
for dead, 227, 429 July festival, 378, 402 – 404
and dissari’s resources, 486 kutum at, 80
by Dombo, 130 – 131 main sacrificial animals, 448
for doron deli, 69, 71, 388, 410 most important, 365
at “festival day,” 409 – 410 October festival, 418
Great House, 370 – 377, 420, 449 – 453 and periodizations of growth, 461
in harmful magic cases, 495, 497 – 498, of rainy season, 400
499 sacrificial rituals, 462, 463 – 464, 465
of houses, 387 – 389, 404 treatment of topic, 52 – 53, 366, 447 – 448
for hundi, 386 – 387, 396 – 397 see also April festival; August festival; No-
hundi sitlani, 154, 424 – 426 vember festival
for jakor and bag puja, 407 – 409 seasons
kamni, 435, 454, 510 distinction, 364 – 365
karandi, 393 see also cold season; hot season; rainy
by kutum, 379, 380 – 381 season
meria, 361 seeds rituals
at October festival, 418 about, 467
outside of village, 454, 456, 465 “bringing down the seeds,” 382 – 383, 456
paddy rice, 422, 430 – 431, 464 n.141, 470 distribution by pujari, 392
of “path wedding,” 241 – 244 planting by pujari, 397
for pregnant woman, 511 seniority
promise of, 340, 342 of buffalo-takers, 315
of rainy season, 400 – 401 of dead, 358 n.206
rice measuring, 420 – 422 of Desia segments, 196 – 197
in seasonal festivals, 462, 463 – 464, 465 of dignitaries, 83
threshing floor, 435 – 436, 439 – 440 of Gadaba, 132 – 133
at “umbilical pit,” 229 – 230 of moitr, 184
urukuda biru, 400 – 401 in myths, 100
of young plants, 404 – 405 Pfeffer on, 204
sadar see central stone platform reversal of, 452
 Index 613

significance, 523 breaking off of, 486 – 487

sharing and eating, 37
concept of, 209 and feeding, 35
food, 446 n.128 of married couples, 345
harvest, 151 – 153 transformation of, 337
see also commensality social structure
shrines and food, 23 – 24
boirobi, 145, 427 reciprocity, 446 – 447
in Gudapada, 119, 121 – 122 society
hundi, 114 – 116, 117, 386, 391 – 392, 425 creation of (myths), 194 – 196
jakor, 408 gatherer-hunter, 445
pat kanda, 370 – 371, 407 – 408, 420 and individual, 332 – 336
siardi leaves, 417 integration into, 536, 540 – 542, 546 – 547,
siblings 547 – 548
“milk,” 125, 174, 208 Pfeffer on types of, 49
see also brother see also tribal societies; Twelve Brothers
sickness Soilpada (village), 152 n.157, 401
of Guru Sisa, 301 songs see singing
in new houses, 74 – 75 soni rau (demon), 237, 503
sig bat (“first rice”), 237, 319 sons
simli branches, 318 conflicts with father, 72, 299
simple moitr, 179 – 180 significance, 68
sindi grass, procession to, 268 – 269 Sora (tribal group), 335, 336, 475
sindi stalks, 417 souls, 280 n.100
singing sowing, of paddy rice, 369 – 370
at August festival, 410, 411 space
at “path wedding,” 242 and time, 338 – 339
sirsera mangbar (begging ritual), 441 – 442 see also places
Sisa (kuda group) spirits
as bride-givers, 260 Fürer-Haimendorf on, 280 n.100
and Dombo, 128 see also duma
moitr with Challan, 182 – 183 status
see also Chamru Gor; Garsa Gor of agnates, 210 – 211
“small hunt” (tingri bet), 391 – 392, 458 of author, 15, 545
Smith, W. Robertson, 37, 333 of children, 236
social order of Dombo, 132 – 133
characteristics, 203 – 204, 209 – 210 and food, 24, 36
overview, 197 – 198, 199 at gotr, 311
treatment of topic, 51, 57, 58 of Goudo, 134
and tsoru, 520 – 521 of Kamar, 135
and Twelve Brothers, 192 of kuda, 82
see also bonso categories; houses; inter- losing one’s, 271 – 272
village relationships; kuda; kutum; in marriage vs. gotr, 331 – 332
“latecomers”; society; villages memor, 85 – 86
social organization, 203 – 204, 205 of newborns, 341
social relationships of pujari, 457 n.136, 523 – 524
animosity, 488 reacquisition, 132, 272, 273 – 274
614 Index

of women, 212 – 213, 271 concept of, 338 n.185, 364 – 365, 464
see also castes; “earth people”; “latecom- of meals, 30
ers”; seniority and space, 338 – 339
“stilt dance,” 442 n.120 see also days
stomach, of cattle, 295, 346 – 347 tingri bet see “small hunt”
stone platforms, 109, 307 – 308, 318 toll (pajor), 494 n.28
see also central stone platform totality see whole
Strathern, Andrew J., 211 – 212, 213 totemism see bonso categories
structure tourists, 200 – 201
Bourdieu on, 40 – 41 trading, 129, 132
Dumont on, 43 – 44 see also weekly market
Lévi-Strauss on, 38, 40 “trance song” (baya git), 411
Sahlins on, 42 – 43 transactions, food, 24, 26 – 27, 383
suitors (raibadia) transformation
children’s imitation of, 244 of children, 341 – 343
taking girl home, 248 to complete person, 344 – 345
visits to girl’s house, 247 of deceased, 28
see also bride-takers of duma, 346
Sukro Challan (informant), 121, 297 – 298, of ethnographers, 536, 553
327 of paddy rice, 469 – 471
Sundi (liquor distillers), 124 n.106 processes of, 28 – 29
sun/moon god, 111 of rituals, 45 – 46
sutok sorani see “ending pollution” by rituals, 522
symptoms, 475, 481 of social relationships, 337
tsoru as, 356
tax collecting, 142, 145 – 146 transgressions (dos)
tea plantations, 198 consequences of, 477 – 479
tenants (roit), 140 Dombo context, 132
tensions see conflicts food, 36
territoriality, 211 – 212, 213 – 214 incest, 478
theatrical performances, 393 – 394 killing of animals, 222
threshing moitr, 183
of millet, 438 – 439 ritual, 191
of rice, 433 – 434 see also harmful magic; prohibitions
threshing floor sacrifice (kotar puja), 435 – trees
436, 439 – 440 girli tree, 266 n.80
threshing floors, 417, 432 – 433, 498 rooftree, 76 – 77
Thusu, K. N., 107 – 108 of villages, 94 n.53
tiger, and snake (myth), 182 – 183 tribal groups
Tiger bonso, 101, 106 of Desia, 7 – 9, 197
see also Gumal Dongria Kond, 141, 143 – 144
tika (rice ritual), 267 Gadaba Bondo, 7
Tikrapada (village) Juang, 142 – 143
“eating” panji, 328 – 329 kings’ influence on, 140 – 142
marriage alliances, 172, 173 “Munda,” 107, 191 – 192, 204 – 205
time Parenga, 88
of birth, 223 – 224, 479 Pengo, 108 n.74
 Index 615

Rona, 9, 480 n.10 as intermediary of conflicts, 487

Sora, 335, 336, 475 at reintegration ritual, 273
see also Bondo significance, 521
tribal societies see also morodandia
about, 47 – 48 Twelve Brothers (baro bai)
characteristics, 48 – 49 and affines, 193
and Hindus, 49 n.54 at mortuary rituals, 302 – 304
ideologies, 44 – 45, 466 – 467 origin of, 190
Kond, 361 significance, 190 – 191
Pfeffer on Central Indian, 203 – 204 and social order, 192
Sahlins on, 48, 57 – 58 tsoru of, 190, 191, 269
Southall on, 48
see also Desia udulia see elopement
tsipani meat, 379 “umbilical pit,” sacrificial rituals at, 229 –
tsoru (sacrificial meal) 230
about, 33 – 34 upria see “latecomers”
at August festival, 408 urukuda biru sacrifice, 400 – 401
at boirobi sacrifice, 427 n.93
at bolani jatra sacrifice, 404 value-ideas, 43 – 44
characteristics, 214, 215 vegetarian/non-vegetarian opposition, 26,
at children ritual, 244 27 n.32
commensality, 34, 520 verbal formulas (montor), 484
contexts of, 448 village assemblies
“daughter” tsoru, 250 – 252 April festival planning, 370
at “day of fetching home the rice,” 436 characteristics, 85 n.42
vs. divine leftovers, 36 conflicts in, 153 n.162
at doron deli ritual, 388 on harmful magic, 490
feeding, 177, 252, 521 village goddess see hundi
at “festival day,” 410 village representatives see memor; sardar
of Four Brothers, 266 – 267, 390 villages
at Great House sacrifice, 373, 374, 376 – abandonment, 115 n.92
377 affinal ties, 169 – 170
at hundi sacrifice, 387 appearance, 94 – 96
at newborn ritual, 233 Auripada, 401
as relatedness, 212 – 213 Badigor, 145
rice, 376 – 377 boundaries, 97, 385, 458 – 459
at sacrifice for the dead, 429 center of, 97
significance, 261, 520 – 521 Cheliamenda, 429
as transformation, 356 Chikir, 108 n.74
of Twelve Brothers, 190, 191, 269 clans, 102 – 108
at wedding rituals, 176, 266 – 267 closure context at April festival, 456
and wives, 522 exogamy, 168
see also atri tsoru external relationships, 524 – 527
tsorubai (ritual relationship) federations, 191 – 192
about, 177 founders of, 102
at bur ritual, 292 – 293 Gorihanjar, 426 – 428
Dombo and Sisa, 128 Guneipada, 91
616 Index

of Gutob Gadaba, 5, 104 – 105 wailing, of newborns, 234

hundi deity, 122 “wandering rice” (bulani bat), 383
hundi shrine, 114 – 116, 117, 386, 391 – ward member see memor
392, 425 washing
inside and outside areas, 523 after birth, 225
Kamarguda, 307 – 310 of body of deceased, 285
Kichop, 310 of bridal couple, 256 – 257
kuda groups in, 86 – 88, 90 – 91 water deity (kamni), 138 – 139, 430 n.99,
Mundlipada, 119, 192 509 – 510
pat kanda deity, 116, 118 – 119, 370 weather
Pfeffer on, 106 – 107 at end of cold season, 440
protection by gods, 476 – 477 at end of hot season, 399 – 400
relationships in, 166 weaving, by Dombo, 129
ritual boundary, 279, 452, 496, 505 – 506 wedding
ritual relationships of, 186 – 187 gifts for, 264
ritual sites, 108 – 110 marriage rituals as requirement for, 260 –
Saraguda, 170 – 172 261
significance of, 97 – 101 see also bride; marriage
Soilpada, 152 n.157, 401 wedding rituals (biba)
as unit, 363 first day, 265 – 268
wives’ ties with original, 270 importance, 261 – 263
see also Gudapada; inter-village relation- preparations, 263 – 265
ships; Ponosguda; Tikrapada; Twelve second day, 268 – 270
Brothers sequence (overview), 263
violation as transformation to complete person,
of order, 512 344 – 345
see also transgressions tsoru, 176, 266 – 267
violence see also marriage rituals
Gumsur War, 10 n.11 weekly market, 200, 440
in healing rituals, 516 “white” sacrifices, vs. “red” sacrifices, 112 –
physical, 72, 191, 272 – 273, 299 113
against sacrificial animals, 498 n.32 whole
visits vs. part, 43 – 44, 122, 465
at April festival, 389, 392 and rituals, 45
to bride-givers, 238, 255 – 257, 259 – 260 widows, 69, 79
to bride-takers, 258 wild animals
by Dongria Kond to king, 144 hunting, 137 – 138, 395 – 396
by Juang to king, 143 misfortune by, 478
by Mali to Chamru Gor, 179 witches, 489, 501
to moitr, 183 wives
by suitors to girl’s house, 247 ill-treated, 270 – 271
vital energy (jibon) rooftree homology, 77
and duma, 275 – 276 status, 271
reincarnation, 221, 222 – 223, 280 ties with original village, 270
Vitebsky, Piers, 335 – 336, 475 and tsoru, 522
see also husband
wage labor (kuli kam), 368
 Index 617

women role at ritual village boundary, 452

conception, 214 – 215
dance performances for tourists, 201
girlfriend’s integration, 547 – 548
gurumai, 480 – 481
hair, 236 n.41
and house’s wealth, 69
housework, 70
leaving village, 97
midwife, 225 – 226
mourning, 281 – 282, 336
moving to other house, 68 – 69
possession by duma, 506 – 508
possession by kamni, 509 – 510
pregnancy, 221 – 222, 510 – 512
role at village boundaries, 458 – 459
status, 212 – 213, 271
widows, 69, 79
witches, 489, 501
see also birth; bride; daughters; mother;
wives
young people
death of Sadep, 493
elopement of, 249 – 250
see also children
young plants ritual (moka biru), 404 – 405
zamindar (landholders), 157