The Foundations of Chinese Medicine:

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Excessive Physical Work (and Lack of Exercise) 284
Excessive Sexual Activity 285 PART 5
Diet 290 PATHOLOGY 401
Trauma 292 INTRODUCTION 402
Parasites and Poisons 292
Wrong Treatment 293 CHAPTER 27 The Pathology of Full and Empty
Medicinal Drugs 293 Conditions 403
Drugs 294
Introduction 403
Nature of ‘Pathogenic Factor’ in Chinese Medicine 403
PART 4 Full Conditions 411
DIAGNOSIS 297 Empty Conditions 411
INTRODUCTION 298 Full/Empty Conditions 412
Interaction Between Pathogenic Factors and
CHAPTER 23 Diagnosis by Observation 301 Upright Qi 415

Introduction 301 CHAPTER 28 The Pathology of Yin–Yang Imbalance 419

Spirit 306
Body 307 Imbalance of Yin and Yang 419
Demeanour and Body Movements 313 Yin–Yang Imbalance and Heat–Cold Patterns 420
Head and Face 313 Transformation and Interaction between Yin and
Eyes 317 Yang 420
Nose 318 Excess of Yang 421
Ears 319 Deficiency of Yang 421
Mouth and Lips 319 Excess of Yin 422
Teeth and Gums 319 Deficiency of Yin 422
Throat 320 Principles of Treatment 423
Limbs 321
Skin 324
CHAPTER 29 Pathology of the Qi Mechanism 425
Tongue 324
Channels 331 Pathology of the Ascending/Descending of Qi 426
Pathology of the Entering/Exiting of Qi 432

CONTENTS
CHAPTER 24 Diagnosis by Interrogation 335

Nature of Diagnosis by Interrogation 337 PART 6

Nature of ‘Symptoms’ in Chinese Medicine 337 IDENTIFICATION OF PATTERNS 439
The Art of Interrogation: Asking the Right Questions 338 INTRODUCTION 440
Terminology Problems in Interrogation 338
Procedure for Interrogation 339
SECTION 1
Identification of Patterns and Interrogation 339
IDENTIFICATION OF PATTERNS ACCORDING
Tongue and Pulse Diagnosis: Integration with
TO THE EIGHT PRINCIPLES AND QI–BLOOD–BODY
Interrogation 340
FLUIDS 447
The 10 Traditional Questions 340
INTRODUCTION 448
Three New Questions for Western Patients 341
The 16 Questions 342 CHAPTER 30 Identification of Patterns according to the
Eight Principles 451
CHAPTER 25 Diagnosis by Palpation 373
Exterior–Interior 453
Pulse Diagnosis 374 Hot–Cold 455
Palpating the Skin 389 Combined Hot and Cold 460
Palpating the Limbs 390 Full-Empty 461
Palpating the Chest 392 Yin–Yang 465
Palpating the Abdomen 394
Palpating Points 394 CHAPTER 31 Identification of Patterns according
to Qi–Blood–Body Fluids 469
CHAPTER 26 Diagnosis by Hearing and Smelling 397
Qi Pattern Identification 470
Diagnosis by Hearing 397 Blood Pattern Identification 471
Diagnosis by Smelling 399 Body Fluid Pattern Identification 476

vii
 SECTION 2 CHAPTER 39 Small Intestine Patterns 677
IDENTIFICATION OF PATTERNS ACCORDING
TO THE INTERNAL ORGANS 483 General Aetiology 677
INTRODUCTION 484 Full Patterns 678
Empty Pattern 684
CHAPTER 32 Heart Patterns 489
CHAPTER 40 Large Intestine Patterns 687
General aetiology 490
Deficiency Patterns 491 General Aetiology 687
Excess Patterns 500 Full Patterns 688
Deficiency–Excess Patterns 510 Empty Patterns 697
Combined Patterns 513
CHAPTER 41 Gall Bladder Patterns 703
CHAPTER 33 Pericardium Patterns 515
General Aetiology 703
The pericardium in invasions of exterior pathogenic Full Patterns 704
factors 515 Empty Patterns 708
The pericardium as the ‘house’ of the mind 518 Combined Patterns 710
The pericardium as the ‘centre of the thorax’ 524
CHAPTER 42 Bladder Patterns 713
CHAPTER 34 Liver Patterns 529 General Aetiology 713
Full Patterns 714
General Aetiology 530
Empty Patterns 718
Full Patterns 532
Empty Patterns 548
Full/Empty Patterns 552
Combined Patterns 559 SECTION 3
IDENTIFICATION OF PATTERNS ACCORDING TO
PATHOGENIC FACTORS 723
CHAPTER 35 Lung Patterns 571 INTRODUCTION 724
CONTENTS

General Aetiology 572 CHAPTER 43 Identification of Patterns According to

Empty Patterns 573 Pathogenic Factors 725
Full Patterns: Exterior 579
Full Patterns: Interior 584 Wind 727
Combined Patterns 594 Cold 732
Summer-Heat 736
Dampness 737
CHAPTER 36 Spleen Patterns 597 Dryness 743
Fire 745
General Aetiology 598
Empty Patterns 599
Full Patterns 608 CHAPTER 44 Identification of Patterns According to the Six
Combined Patterns 612 Stages 751

Greater Yang Stage 753

CHAPTER 37 Kidney Patterns 621 Channel Patterns 754
Organ Patterns 756
General Aetiology 623 Bright Yang Stage 757
Empty Patterns 625 Lesser Yang (Shao Yang) Stage 759
Empty/Full Patterns 635 Greater Yin (Tai Yin) Stage 760
Combined Patterns 640 Lesser Yin (Shao Yin) Stage 761
Terminal Yin (Jue Yin) Stage 762
CHAPTER 38 Stomach Patterns 651
CHAPTER 45 Identification of Patterns According to the
General Aetiology 653 Four Levels 765
Empty Patterns 655
Full Patterns 660 Defensive Qi (Wei) Level 770
Combined Patterns 672 Qi Level 773

viii
Nutritive Qi (Ying) Level 775
Blood Level 776 CHAPTER 51 The Functions of Specific Categories of
Latent Heat 779 Points 845
Relationships between the Four Levels, Six Stages and Three
Source (Yuan) Points 845
Burners 781
Connecting (Luo) Points 848
Back Transporting (Shu) Points 853
CHAPTER 46 Identification of Patterns According to the Front Collecting (Mu) Points 857
Three Burners 787 Accumulation (Xi) Points 858
Gathering (Hui) Points 859
Upper Burner 787 Points of the Four Seas 859
Middle Burner 789 Window of Heaven Points 860
Lower Burner 790 12 Heavenly Star Points of Ma Dan Yang 862
Sun Si Miao’s 13 Ghost Points 862
SECTION 4 793 Points of the Eye System (Mu Xi) 863
IDENTIFICATION OF PATTERNS ACCORDING TO Five Command Points 864
THE 12 CHANNELS, EIGHT EXTRAORDINARY
VESSELS AND FIVE ELEMENTS 793 CHAPTER 52 The Eight Extraordinary Vessels –
INTRODUCTION 794 Introduction 867

CHAPTER 47 Identification of Patterns According to Introduction 868

the 12 Channels 795 Functions of the Extraordinary Vessels 868
Energetic dynamics of the extraordinary vessels 874
CHAPTER 48 Identification of Patterns According to Clinical Use of the Extraordinary Vessels 880
the Eight Extraordinary Vessels 807

Governing Vessel (Du Mai) 807 CHAPTER 53 The Eight Extraordinary Vessels 889
Directing Vessel (Ren Mai) 808
Governing Vessel (Du Mai) 892
Penetrating Vessel (Chong Mai) 809
Directing Vessel (Ren Mai) 897
Combined Directing and Penetrating Vessel
Penetrating Vessel (Chong Mai) 902
Patterns 810
Girdle Vessel (Dai Mai) 918
Girdle Vessel (Dai Mai) 815
Yin Stepping Vessel (Yin Qiao Mai) 922
Yin Stepping Vessel (Yin Qiao Mai) 816

Yang Stepping Vessel (Yang Qiao Mai) 817
Yin Linking Vessel (Yin Wei Mai) 817
Yang Linking Vessel (Yang Wei Mai) 818
CHAPTER 49 Identification of Patterns According to
the Five Elements 821
Generating Sequence Patterns 821
Overacting Sequence Patterns 822
Insulting Sequence Patterns 823
CONTENTS
Yang Stepping Vessel (Yang Qiao Mai) 925
Combined Yin and Yang Stepping Vessel Pathology 929
Yin Linking Vessel (Yin Wei Mai) 931
Yang Linking Vessel (Yang Wei Mai) 934
Combined Yin and Yang Linking Vessel Pathology 936
SECTION 2
THE FUNCTIONS OF THE POINTS 941
INTRODUCTION 942
CHAPTER 54 Lung Channel 949

PART 7 LU-1 Zhongfu Central Palace 949

THE ACUPUNCTURE POINTS 825 LU-2 Yunmen Cloud Door 950
INTRODUCTION 826 LU-3 Tianfu Heavenly Palace 951
LU-5 Chize Foot Marsh 952
LU-6 Kongzui Convergence Hole 953
SECTION 1
LU-7 Lieque Branching Cleft 954
CATEGORIES OF POINTS 827
LU-8 Jingqu River [Point] Ditch 956
INTRODUCTION 828
LU-9 Taiyuan Supreme Abyss 956
CHAPTER 50 The Five Transporting Points LU-10 Yuji Fish Border 957
(Shu Points) 829 LU-11 Shaoshang Lesser Metal 958

Energetic Actions of the Five Transporting Points 832 CHAPTER 55 Large Intestine Channel 961
Actions of the Five Transporting Points From
the Classics 834 L.I.-1 Shangyang Metal Yang 962
Summary 839 L.I.-2 Erjian Second Interval 962

ix
 L.I.-3 Sanjian Third Interval 963
L.I.-4 Hegu Enclosed Valley 963
L.I.-5 Yangxi Yang Stream 964
L.I.-6 Pianli Lateral Passage 965
L.I.-7 Wenliu Warm Gathering 965
L.I.-10 Shousanli Arm Three Miles 966
L.I.-11 Quchi Pool on Bend 967
L.I.-12 Zhouliao Elbow Crevice 968
L.I.-14 Binao Upper Arm 968
L.I.-15 Jianyu Shoulder Bone 968
L.I.-16 Jugu Great Bone 969
L.I.-17 Tianding Heaven’s Tripod 969
L.I.-18 Futu Support the Protuberance 969
L.I.-20 Yingxiang Welcome Fragrance 970
CHAPTER 56 Stomach Channel 973
ST-1 Chengqi Containing Tears 974
ST-2 Sibai Four Whites 974
ST-3 Juliao Great Crevice 975
ST-4 Dicang Earth Granary 975
ST-6 Jiache Jaw Chariot 976
ST-7 Xiaguan Lower Gate 976
ST-8 Touwei Head Corner 977
ST-9 Renying Person’s Welcome 977
ST-12 Quepen Empty Basin 978
ST-18 Rugen Breast Root 978
ST-19 Burong Full 979
ST-20 Chengman Supporting Fullness 979
ST-21 Liangmen Beam Door 979
ST-22 Guanmen Pass Gate 980
CONTENTS
ST-25 Tianshu Heavenly Pivot 980
ST-27 Daju Big Greatness 981
ST-28 Shuidao Water Passages 982
ST-29 Guilai Return 982
ST-30 Qichong Penetrating Qi 983
ST-31 Biguan Thigh Gate 984
ST-32 Futu Crouching Rabbit 984
ST-34 Liangqiu Beam Mound 985
ST-35 Dubi Calf Nose 985
ST-36 Zusanli Three Miles of the Foot 985
ST-37 Shangjuxu Upper Great Emptiness 987
ST-38 Tiaokou Narrow Opening 987
ST-39 Xiajuxu Lower Great Emptiness 988
ST-40 Fenglong Abundant Bulge 988
ST-41 Jiexi Dispersing Stream 989
ST-42 Chongyang Penetrating Yang 990
ST-43 Xiangu Sinking Valley 990
ST-44 Neiting Inner Courtyard 991
ST-45 Lidui Sick Mouth 991
CHAPTER 57 Spleen Channel 995
SP-1 Yinbai Hidden White 995
SP-2 Dadu Big Capital 996
SP-3 Taibai Supreme White 997
SP-4 Gongsun Minute Connecting Channels 998
SP-5 Shangqiu Metal Mound 999
x
SP-6 Sanyinjiao Three Yin Meeting 1000
SP-8 Diji Earth Pivot 1001
SP-9 Yinlingquan Yin Mound Spring 1002
SP-10 Xuehai Sea of Blood 1003
SP-12 Chongmen Penetrating Door 1004
SP-15 Daheng Big Horizontal Stroke 1004
SP-21 Dabao General Control 1005
CHAPTER 58 Heart Channel 1007
HE-1 Jiquan Supreme Spring 1007
HE-3 Shaohai Lesser-Yin Sea 1008
HE-4 Lingdao Spirit Path 1008
HE-5 Tongli Inner Communication 1009
HE-6 Yinxi Yin Crevice 1010
HE-7 Shenmen Mind Door 1010
HE-8 Shaofu Lesser-Yin Mansion 1012
HE-9 Shaochong Lesser-Yin Penetrating 1013
CHAPTER 59 Small Intestine Channel 1015
S.I.-1 Shaoze Lesser Marsh 1016
S.I.-2 Qiangu Front Valley 1016
S.I.-3 Houxi Back Stream 1017
S.I.-4 Wangu Wrist Bone 1018
S.I.-5 Yanggu Yang Valley 1019
S.I.-6 Yanglao Nourishing the Elderly 1019
S.I.-7 Zhizheng Branch to Heart Channel 1020
S.I.-8 Xiaohai Small Intestine Sea 1020
S.I.-9 Jianzhen Upright Shoulder 1021
S.I.-10 Naoshu Humerus Transporting Point 1021
S.I.-11 Tianzong Heavenly Attribution 1021
S.I.-12 Bingfeng Watching Wind 1022
S.I.-13 Quyuan Bent Wall 1022
S.I.-14 Jianwaishu Transporting Point of the Outside of the
Shoulder 1023
S.I.-15 Jianzhongshu Transporting Point of the Centre of the
Shoulder 1023
S.I.-16 Tianchuang Heavenly Window 1024
S.I.-17 Tianrong Heavenly Appearance 1024
S.I.-18 Quanliao Zygoma Crevice 1025
S.I.-19 Tinggong Listening Palace 1025
CHAPTER 60 Bladder Channel 1027
BL-1 Jingming Eye Brightness 1027
BL-2 Zanzhu (or Cuanzhu) Gathered Bamboo 1029
BL-5 Wuchu Five Places 1029
BL-7 Tongtian Penetrating Heaven 1029
BL-9 Yuzhen Jade Pillow 1030
BL-10 Tianzhu Heaven Pillar 1030
BL-11 Dazhu Big Shuttle 1031
Fengmen BL-12 Wind Door 1033
BL-13 Feishu Lung Back Transporting Point 1034
BL-14 Jueyinshu Terminal Yin Back Transporting Point 1035
BL-15 Xinshu Heart Back Transporting Point 1035
BL-16 Dushu Governing Vessel Back
Transporting Point 1036
BL-17 Geshu Diaphragm Back Transporting Point 1036
BL-18 Ganshu Liver Back Transporting Point 1037
BL-19 Danshu Gall Bladder Back Transporting Point 1038
BL-20 Pishu Spleen Back Transporting Point 1039
BL-21 Weishu Stomach Back Transporting Point 1039
BL-22 Sanjiaoshu Triple Burner Back Transporting Point 1040
BL-23 Shenshu Kidney Back Transporting Point 1041
BL-24 Qihaishu Sea of Qi Back Transporting Point 1043
BL-25 Dachangshu Large Intestine Back Transporting
Point 1043
BL-26 Guanyuanshu Origin Gate Back Transporting
Point 1044
BL-27 Xiaochangshu Small Intestine Back Transporting
Point 1044
BL-28 Pangguangshu Bladder Back Transporting
Point 1045
BL-30 Baihuanshu White Ring Transporting Point 1045
BL-32 Ciliao Second Crevice 1046
BL-36 Chengfu Receiving Support 1046
BL-37 Yinmen Huge Gate 1047
BL-39 Weiyang Supporting Yang 1047
BL-40 Weizhong Supporting Middle 1047
BL-42 Pohu Door of the Corporeal Soul 1048
BL-43 Gaohuangshu (or Gaohuang) Transporting Point of
Gaohuang 1049
BL-44 Shentang Mind Hall 1050
BL-47 Hunmen Door of the Ethereal Soul 1050
BL-49 Yishe Intellect Abode 1051
BL-51 Huangmen Door of Gaohuang 1052
BL-52 Zhishi Room of Will-Power 1052
BL-53 Baohuang Bladder Vitals 1053
BL-54 Zhibian Lowermost Edge 1054
BL-57 Chengshan Supporting Mountain 1055
BL-58 Feiyang Flying Up 1055
BL-59 Fuyang Instep Yang 1056
BL-60 Kunlun Kunlun (Mountains) 1056
BL-62 Shenmai Ninth Channel 1057
BL-63 Jinmen Golden Door 1058
BL-64 Jinggu Capital Bone 1058
BL-65 Shugu Binding Bone 1059
BL-66 Tonggu Passing Valley 1059
BL-67 Zhiyin Reaching Yin 1060
CHAPTER 61 Kidney Channel 1063
KI-1 Yongquan Bubbling Spring 1063
KI-2 Rangu Blazing Valley 1064
KI-3 Taixi Greater Stream 1065
KI-4 Dazhong Big Bell 1066
KI-5 Shuiquan Water Spring 1066
KI-6 Zhaohai Shining Sea 1067
KI-7 Fuliu Returning Current 1068
KI-8 Jiaoxin Meeting the Spleen Channel 1068
KI-9 Zhubin Guest House 1069
KI-10 Yingu Yin Valley 1069
KI-11 Henggu Pubic Bone 1070
KI-12 Dahe Big Glory 1070
KI-13 Qixue Qi Hole 1071
KI-14 Siman Four Fullnesses 1072
KI-16 Huangshu Transporting Point of ‘Huang’ 1073
KI-17 Shangqu Bent Metal 1073
KI-21 Youmen Door of Darkness 1074
KI-23 Shenfeng Mind Seal 1075
KI-24 Lingxu Spirit Burial Ground 1075
KI-25 Shencang Mind Storage 1075
KI-27 Shufu Transporting Point Mansion 1076
CHAPTER 62 Pericardium Channel 1079
P-1 Tianchi Heavenly Pool 1079
P-3 Quze Marsh on Bend 1080
P-4 Ximen Cleft Door 1081
P-5 Jianshi Intermediary 1081
P-6 Neiguan Inner Gate 1082
P-7 Daling Great Hill 1083
P-8 Laogong Labour Palace 1084
P-9 Zhongchong Centre Rush 1085
CHAPTER 63 Triple Burner Channel 1087
T.B.-1 Guanchong Penetrating the Gate 1088
T.B.-2 Yemen Fluid Door 1089
T.B.-3 Zhongzhu Middle Islet 1089
T.B.-4 Yangchi Yang Pond 1090
T.B.-5 Waiguan Outer Gate 1091
T.B.-6 Zhigou Branching Ditch 1092
T.B.-7 Huizong Converging Channels 1093
T.B.-8 Sanyangluo Connecting Three Yang 1093
T.B.-10 Tianjing Heavenly Well 1094
CONTENTS
T.B.-13 Naohui Shoulder Convergence 1094
T.B.-14 Jianliao Shoulder Crevice 1095
T.B.-15 Tianliao Heavenly Crevice 1095
T.B.-16 Tianyou Window of Heaven 1096
T.B.-17 Yifeng Wind Screen 1096
T.B.-21 Ermen Ear Door 1096
T.B.-23 Sizhukong Silk Bamboo Hole 1097
CHAPTER 64 Gall Bladder Channel 1099
G.B.-1 Tongziliao Pupil Crevice 1100
G.B.-2 Tinghui Hearing Convergence 1100
G.B.-4 Hanyan Jaw Serenity 1101
G.B.-5 Xuanlu Hanging Skull 1101
G.B.-6 Xuanli Deviation From Hanging Skull 1101
G.B.-8 Shuaigu Leading Valley 1102
G.B.-9 Tianchong Penetrating Heaven 1102
G.B.-11 Touqiaoyin (Head) Yin Orifices 1103
G.B.-12 Wangu Whole Bone 1103
G.B.-13 Benshen Mind Root 1104
G.B.-14 Yangbai Yang White 1105
G.B.-15 Linqi Falling Tears 1105
G.B.-17 Zhengying Top Convergence 1106
G.B.-18 Chengling Spirit Receiver 1106
G.B.-19 Naokong Brain Cavity 1106
G.B.-20 Fengchi Wind Pool 1107
G.B.-21 Jianjing Shoulder Well 1108
xi
 G.B.-22 Yuanye Axilla Abyss 1109
G.B.-24 Riyue Sun and Moon 1109
G.B.-25 Jingmen Capital Door 1110
G.B.-26 Daimai Girdle Vessel 1110
G.B.-29 Juliao Squatting Crevice 1110
G.B.-30 Huantiao Jumping Circle 1111
G.B.-31 Fengshi Wind Market 1112
G.B.-33 Xiyangguan Knee Yang Gate 1112
G.B.-34 Yanglingquan Yang Hill Spring 1112
G.B.-35 Yangjiao Yang Crossing 1113
G.B.-36 Waiqiu Outer Mound 1113
G.B.-37 Guangming Brightness 1114
G.B.-38 Yangfu Yang Aid 1114
G.B.-39 Xuanzhong Hanging Bell 1115
G.B.-40 Qiuxu Mound Ruins 1115
G.B.-41 Zulinqi (Foot) Falling Tears 1116
G.B.-43 Xiaxi Stream Insertion 1116
G.B.-44 Zuqiaoyin (Foot) Yin Orifice 1117
CHAPTER 65 Liver Channel 1119
LIV-1 Dadun Big Mound 1120
LIV-2 Xingjian Temporary in-Between 1120
LIV-3 Taichong Bigger Penetrating 1121
LIV-4 Zhongfeng Middle Seal 1123
LIV-5 Ligou Gourd Ditch 1123
LIV-6 Zhongdu Middle Capital 1124
LIV-7 Xiguan Knee Gate 1124
LIV-8 Ququan Spring on Bend 1124
LIV-13 Zhangmen Completion Gate 1125
LIV-14 Qimen Cyclic Gate 1125
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 66 Directing Vessel (Ren Mai) 1129
REN-1 Huiyin Meeting of Yin 1129
REN-2 Qugu Curved Bone 1130
REN-3 Zhongji Middle Pole 1131
REN-4 Guanyuan Gate to the Original Qi 1132
REN-5 Shimen Stone Door 1133
REN-6 Qihai Sea of Qi 1134
REN-7 Yinjiao Yin Crossing 1135
REN-8 Shenque Spirit Palace 1136
REN-9 Shuifen Water Separation 1138
REN-10 Xiawan Lower Epigastrium 1138
REN-11 Jianli Building Mile 1139
REN-12 Zhongwan Middle of Epigastrium 1139
REN-13 Shangwan Upper Epigastrium 1140
REN-14 Juque Great Palace 1141
REN-15 Jiuwei Dove Tail 1142
REN-17 Shanzhong (or Tanzhong) Middle of Chest 1143
REN-22 Tiantu Heaven Projection 1144
REN-23 Lianquan Corner Spring 1144
REN-24 Chengjiang Saliva Receiver 1144
CHAPTER 67 Governing Vessel 1147
Du-1 Changqiang Long Strength 1148
Du-2 Yaoshu Transporting Point of Lower Back 1148
xii
Du-3 Yaoyangguan Lumbar Yang Gate 1148
Du-4 Mingmen Gate of Life 1149
Du-8 Jinsuo Tendon Spasm 1150
Du-9 Zhiyang Reaching Yang 1151
Du-11 Shendao Mind Way 1151
Du-12 Shenzhu Body Pillar 1151
Du-13 Taodao Kiln Way 1152
Du-14 Dazhui Big Vertebra 1152
Du-15 Yamen Door to Dumbness 1153
Du-16 Fengfu Wind Palace 1154
Du-17 Naohu Brain Window 1154
Du-19 Houding Posterior Vertex 1155
Du-20 Baihui Hundred Meetings 1155
Du-23 Shangxing Upper Star 1156
Du-24 Shenting Mind Courtyard 1156
Du-26 Renzhong Middle of Person 1157
CHAPTER 68 Extra Points 1159
Sishencong Four Mind Alertness 1159
Yintang Seal Hall 1159
Taiyang Greater Yang 1160
Yuyao Fish Spine 1160
Bitong Free Nose Passages 1161
Jingzhong Middle of Periods 1161
Qimen Door of Qi 1161
Zigong Palace of Child 1162
Tituo Lift and Support 1162
Dingchuan Stopping Asthma 1162
Jinggong Palace of Essence 1163
Huatuojiaji Hua Tuo Back Filling Points 1163
Shiqizhuixia Below the 17Th Vertebra 1164
Jianneiling Inner Shoulder Mound 1164
Baxie Eight Pathogenic Factors 1165
Sifeng Four Cracks 1165
Shixuan Ten Declarations 1166
Xiyan Knee Eyes 1166
Dannangxue Gall Bladder Point 1167
Lanweixue Appendix Point 1167
Bafeng Eight Winds 1167
PART 8
PRINCIPLES OF TREATMENT 1169
INTRODUCTION 1170
CHAPTER 69 Principles of Treatment 1171
The Root and the Manifestation (Ben and Biao) 1173
When to Tonify Upright Qi, When to Expel Pathogenic
Factors 1178
Differences between Acupuncture and Herbal Therapy in the
Application of the Treatment Principle 1184
CHAPTER 70 Principles of Combination of Points 1191
Balancing Distal and Local Points 1195
Balancing Upper and Lower Parts of the Body 1202
Balancing Left and Right 1204
Balancing Yin and Yang 1206
Balancing Front and Back 1207
Appendix 1: Prescriptions 1209
Appendix 2: Glossary of Chinese Terms 1231
Appendix 3: Chronology of Chinese Dynasties 1241
Appendix 4: Bibliography 1243
Appendix 5: The Classics of Chinese Medicine 1249
Appendix 6: Self-Assesment Answers 1255
Index 1267
CONTENTS
xiii
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It is now 27 years since I started writing the first edition
of the ‘Foundations of Chinese Medicine’: this proved
to be very popular with students and it has been
adopted as a textbook by many acupuncture colleges
all over the world. The present edition is a revision of
the second edition published in 2005.
As its name implies, this book is intended to give the
foundations of the principles of Chinese medicine: it is
therefore only the beginning in the journey of learning
this ancient art. There are of course, very many differ-
ent traditions of Chinese medicine and especially,
acupuncture: I hope that this book can provide a ‘foun-
dation’ from which a practitioner can build and branch
out in different directions.
My main sources (indicated in the bibliography) for
this book are modern Chinese textbooks and some
ancient ones and in particular the Yellow Emperor’s
Classic of Internal Medicine (Simple Questions Su Wen
and Spiritual Axis Ling Shu) and the Classic of Difficul-
ties (Nan Jing). I have tried to present the theory of
Chinese medicine from Chinese books but I have also
occasionally presented my own experience gleaned
from nearly 40 years of practice. Whenever I present
my own experience, I precede this with the statement
‘in my experience’ or ‘in my opinion’.
It is worth mentioning the main changes made in the
second edition:
1. An expanded discussion of the functions of the
Pericardium
2. An expanded discussion of the functions and
nature of the Triple Burner
3. An expanded discussion of external pathogenic
factors both as causes of disease and as patterns
4. An expanded section on Diagnosis
5. A new section on pathology (chapters 27, 28 and
29)
6. A complete revision of the clinical manifestations
of the patterns of the Internal Organs with a
clearer distinction between Yin deficiency and
Preface
Empty Heat for each organ and the addition of
herbal prescriptions for each pattern
7. An expanded discussion of the Identification of
Patterns according to the 6 Stages, 4 Levels and 3
Burners.
8. A greatly expanded discussion of the nature,
functions and clinical application of the 8
Extraordinary Vessels
9. The discussion of categories of point not previously
discussed, e.g. points of the 4 Seas, Window of
Heaven points, 12 Heavenly Star points, Sun Si
Miao’s Ghost points, points of the Eye System and
5 Command points
10. A complete revision of the functions of the points
with a new heading of ‘Clinical manifestations’
and the addition of some points not previously
discussed
11. An expanded discussion of the principles of
combination of acupuncture points.
The present revision made the following changes or
additions to the 2005 edition:
1. Over 200 new figures throughout the book
2. New self-assessment tests to help students in their
studies
3. Case histories with self-assessment tests
4. New diagrams illustrating the precursors and
developments of the Internal Organs patterns.
5. New guidelines with figures as to how to learn the
patterns of the Internal Organs in a logical, simple
way, avoiding mere memorization
6. More clinical notes throughout the text
7. More acupuncture point combinations with
analysis of points actions
8. More case histories
9. Location of acupuncture points mentioned
The reader will notice that I do not use the term
‘Traditional Chinese Medicine’ (TCM) in my books as I
personally do not agree with this term. It is a term that
 came to be used purely by chance when Westerners
started attending courses at Chinese colleges, all of
which are called ‘College of Traditional Chinese Medi-
cine’. In China, Chinese Medicine is simply called
‘Zhong Yi’ (which means ‘Chinese medicine’) to distin-
guish it from Western medicine (Xi Yi).
When the Chinese colleges started running courses
for foreigners they coined the term ‘Traditional Chinese
medicine’. The Chinese colleges did not use the word
‘traditional’ with the same meaning as most acupunc-
turist would give it in the West. Unfortunately, the word
‘traditional’ is often used in the West by followers of
particular styles of acupuncture, each claiming to be
more ‘traditional’ or ‘classical’ than another.
Especially in the context of Chinese medicine, the
word ‘traditional’ can mean anything depending on
which tradition one refers to. Is a tradition from the
Han dynasty more ‘traditional’ than one from the
Song dynasty because it is older? More importantly, is
an innovation introduced post 1949 to be discarded
because it is ‘marxist-leninist’ or ‘maoist’?
As the Chinese colleges were called ‘College of Tradi-
tional Chinese Medicine’ and taught courses in ‘tradi-
tional Chinese medicine’, the term TCM began to be
used to identify Chinese medicine and acupuncture ‘as
it is practised and taught in modern China’.
For me, the main problems with the term ‘TCM’ are
PREFACE
two. Firstly, this term implies that Chinese medicine ‘as
it is practised and taught in modern China’ is rigidly
monolithic and uniform and not allowing any diver-
sity. This is simply not the case.
There are as many styles of acupuncture in China as
there are provinces, counties and colleges. While a
certain ‘systematization’ is encouraged, diversity is not
suppressed. One only needs to walk into a bookshop in
China and check the Chinese medicine section: there
are always many texts called ‘Collection of Experiences
of Modern Chinese medicine doctors’ (apart from the
collections of experiences of ancient doctors). It is
wrong to make a judgment on the state of Chinese
medicine in modern China purely on the basis of the
few textbooks translated into English and on the basis
of the curriculum of the courses run for foreigners.
That diversity is not suppressed is also evidenced by the
reverence demonstrated towards old doctors ‘lao zhong
yi’”) and the appreciation of their particular styles and
theories.
Secondly, the term ‘TCM’ is difficult to define as a
particular style of acupuncture in the West. There is
xvi
certainly no uniformity of ‘TCM’ acupuncture among
Western practitioners. For example, if TCM is defined
as ‘Chinese medicine and acupuncture as they are
taught and practised in modern China’, then I person-
ally do not practise ‘TCM’ and neither do any of the
colleagues I know.
There is an on-going debate as to how much the
modern Chinese (post 1949) have changed, excessively
‘systematized’ or even corrupted Chinese medicine and
acupuncture. This is a very wide issue that could actu-
ally be the subject of a book in itself. Of course the
modern Communist Chinese regime has influenced
Chinese medicine, in the same way as any previous
dynasty also influenced Chinese medicine. Undoubt-
edly, there has been a ‘systematization’ of Chinese
medicine which, in my opinion, was dictated more by
the need to train vast numbers of doctors of Chinese
medicine in the dramatic public health situation of
1950 than by the desire to consciously impose a
Marxist orthodoxy onto Chinese medicine. Moreover,
some of the ‘systematization’ actually started before
1949.i
The new Communist government was faced with the
huge task of delivering healthcare to a population
weakened by innumerable infectious diseases, malnu-
trition, 25 years of civil war and famines: the new
Government made the conscious decision to rely
on Chinese medicine and raise it to a new level. They
had little choice but to do that. Indeed, they did that
not through a conviction in the value of Chinese medi-
cine but out of sheer necessity as many millions of
peasants relied only on Chinese medicine for their
health.
Another important factor that drove such ‘systema-
tization’ was the necessity to make Chinese medicine
appear more ‘scientific’ so that it would be more readily
accepted by the Western-trained Chinese doctors of
Western medicine. We should realize that there was a
fierce struggle going on in the Chinese Ministry of
Public Health in the 1950s between the promoters of
Chinese medicine and the ‘modernizers’. Again, such
need to make Chinese medicine appear more ‘scientific’
started before 1949. Indeed, it was in the 1930s and
at the hand of the Nationalist government (of Chang
Kai Shek) that they tried to suppress Chinese medicine
entirely.
The systematization that occurred in modern China,
therefore, was more the result of a necessity to
set up solid colleges with a common syllabus that could
train thousands of doctors of Chinese medicine
in a rational manner, rather than of a conscious
Marxist agenda bent on suppressing divergent views.
Any group of persons which decides to set up a
college needs to draw up a syllabus that necessarily
represents a ‘systematization’ of a subject and one
that necessarily includes certain subjects and excludes
others.
That the modern Chinese did not set out to deliber-
ately and systematically to eradicate any classic influ-
ence from Chinese medicine is evidenced by two main
factors amongst others.
Firstly, the modern Chinese have reprinted all the old
classics in simplified characters which makes them
easier to study to the new generations and such classics
form part of the curriculum of Chinese colleges (all
major colleges of Chinese Medicine have a Nei Jing
department).
Secondly, there are dozens and dozens of modern
books collecting the experiences of both ancient
and modern famous doctors, one of which has been
translated into English and called ‘Essentials of Con­
temporary Chinese Acupuncturists’ Clinical Experience’:
strangely, very few colleagues seem to have read this
interesting book.ii
Moreover, some of the ‘systematization’ of Chinese
medicine is welcome. The logical and structured way
of teaching the functions and patterns of the internal
organs is very helpful in practice. For example, when
we study the functions of the internal organs, we do so
systematically listing the sense organ, tissue and vital
substance influenced by a particular organ. Such sys-
tematization is useful as the information from which it
is derived is scattered in different chapters of the clas-
sics. For example, chapter 9 of the Simple Questions
says that the Liver manifests on the nails and controls
the sinews, chapter 5 of the Simple Questions and
chapter 17 of the Spiritual Axis say that the Liver
opens into the eyes, etc.
Of course, the Marxist outlook promoted by the
modern Chinese did influence Chinese medicine in
eliminating or glossing over aspects of Chinese medi-
cine that do not fit in with a ‘scientific’, Marxist phi-
losophy. For example, going back to the functions of the
internal organs, Chinese books will say that the Liver
stores Blood, that it opens into the eyes and that it
controls the sinews, but not that it houses the Ethereal
Soul (Hun) as a Marxist is obviously uncomfortable
with the concept of Ethereal Soul. However, there are
some modern books that do mention the Ethereal Soul
in the context of mental diseases.iii
I personally do not see the Marxist influence on
Chinese medicine as a big impediment for two main
reasons: firstly, we have access to all the classics of
Chinese medicine (many of which have been trans-
lated into English) and we can therefore restore any of
the ancient concepts that the modern Chinese have
chosen to overlook.
Secondly, in my opinion, the Marxist influence on
Chinese medicine is a thin veneer under which there is
a more lasting layer of Neo-Confucianist influence.
Indeed, it would be interesting to explore how much
the Neo-Confucianist thinkers of the Song and Ming
dynasties, changed, systematized or even distorted
Chinese medicine: in my opinion, they did so in a more
profound and lasting way than the Marxists could
ever do.
We tend to think of the Nei Jing as our ‘bible’ dating
back to the Han dynasty if not even to the Warring
States Period (476-221 BC). In reality, the text we have
dates back to 762 AD and to the three revisions that
took place during the Song dynasty (960-1279). We
should remember that the Song dynasty represented
the triumph of Confucianism in every way: that inevi-
tably included medicine. We should not therefore look
upon any development before 1949 as ‘good’ (or ‘spir-
PREFACE
itual’) and post-1949 as ‘bad’.
In this revision of the second edition, in the chap-
ters dealing with the acupuncture points (chapters 54
to 67) I have added the location of the acupuncture
points. The location of the acupuncture points men-
tioned in the text was added not to replace a good book
on acupuncture where there is not only the location but
also location guidelines and a figure. The location was
added primarily as quick reminder to the reader, saving
the time to look the point up in another book. This was
done particularly bearing in mind less common points
such as, for example, G.B.17 Zhengying.
Finally, another new feature of the book is its asso-
ciation with a website. The website will be designed to
reflect the design of the print book and will be easier to
navigate than a CD. There will be an image bank of all
images and flowcharts from the book and over 1000
self-assessment questions with a mixture of MCQ, True
and False, labelling and drag and drop.
Giovanni Maciocia
Santa Barbara
xvii
 Notes iii Wang Ke Qin 1988 Theory of the Mind in Chinese Medicine (Zhong
i Scheid V 2002 Chinese Medicine in Contemporary China, Duke Yi Shen Zhu Xue Shuo ), Ancient Chinese Medical Texts
University Press, Durham, p. 32. Publishing House, Beijing.
ii Chen Youbang and Deng Liangyue 1989 Essentials of Contemporary
Chinese Acupuncturists’ Clinical Experiences, Foreign Languages
Press, Beijing.
PREFACE

xviii
 Acknowledgements
My first trip to China, where I attended my first acu-
puncture course at the Nanjing University of Tradi-
tional Chinese Medicine in 1980, was an important
milestone in my professional development. My first
teacher there was the late Dr Su Xin Ming who played
an important role in the development of my acupunc-
ture skills. I am indebted to him for the patient way in
which he communicated his skills to me.
I am grateful to Dr Zhou Zhong Ying of the Nanjing
University of Chinese Medicine for teaching me his
knowledge and skills in diagnosis and herbal medicine.
I am indebted to many other teachers and clinical
teachers from the Nanjing University of Traditional
Chinese Medicine.
I am indebted to the late Dr J.H.F. Shen for commu-
nicating his great skills, particularly in the field of aeti-
ology and diagnosis. Dr Shen has been one of the most
important persons in my professional development
particularly with regard to pulse diagnosis. He truly
adapted Chinese medicine to his Western patients but
stayed faithful to its roots.
Backed by his considerable teaching and clinical
experience, Peter Valaskatgis helped greatly with his
constant feedback and his extremely valuable sugges-
tions which enhanced the book.
Dr J.D. Van Buren was my very first teacher more
than 40 years ago: from him I learned the importance
of diagnosis and especially of pulse diagnosis. I owe
him a debt of gratitude for being my first source of
inspiration in Chinese medicine.
I am indebted to Jason Smith for his comments,
proof-reading, suggestions and support.
Finally, I would like to thank Claire Wilson, Alison
Taylor and Barbara Simmons of Elsevier Science for
their professionalism and support.
Giovanni Maciocia
Santa Barbara
This page intentionally left blank
 Note on the translation of
Chinese terms
The terminology used in this book generally follows
that used in the second edition of Foundations of Chinese
Medicine, Obstetrics and Gynaecology in Chinese Medi-
cine, Diagnosis in Chinese Medicine, the second edition of
Practice of Chinese Medicine and The Psyche in Chinese
Medicine. As in those books, I have opted for translating
all Chinese medical terms with the exception of ‘Yin’,
‘Yang’, ‘Qi’ and ‘cun’ (unit of measurement).
I have continued using initial capitals for the terms
which are specific to Chinese medicine. For example,
‘Blood’ indicates one of the vital substances of Chinese
medicine, whereas ‘blood’ denotes the liquid flowing in
the blood vessels; e.g. ‘In Blood deficiency the menstrual
blood may be pale’. I use initial capitals also for all pulse
qualities and for pathological colours and shapes of the
tongue body.
This system has served readers of my previous books
well. As most teachers (including myself) use Chinese
terms when lecturing (e.g. Yuan Qi rather than ‘Origi-
nal Qi’), I have given each term in pinyin especially
when it is introduced for the first time. One change I
have introduced in this book (as in the second editions
of ‘Foundations of Chinese Medicine’, ‘Practice of
Chinese Medicine’ and ‘The Psyche in Chinese Medi-
cine’) is to use the pinyin terms more often throughout
the text and at least once in each chapter when the
Chinese term is first introduced. I have done this to
reduce the frequency with which the reader may need
to consult the Glossary.
I made the choice of translating all Chinese terms
(with the exceptions indicated above) mostly for reasons
of style: I believe that a well-written English text reads
better than one peppered with Chinese terms in pinyin.
Leaving Chinese terms in pinyin is probably the easiest
option but this is not ideal also because a single pinyin
word can often have more than one meaning; for
example, jing can mean ‘channels’, ‘periods’, ‘Essence’
or ‘shock’, while shen can mean ‘Kidneys’, ‘Mind’ or
‘Spirit’.
I am conscious of the fact that there is no such thing
as a ‘right’ translation of a Chinese medicine term and
my terminology is not proposed in this spirit; in fact,
Chinese medicine terms are essentially impossible to
translate. The greatest difficulty in translating Chinese
terms is probably that a term has many facets and dif-
ferent meanings in different contexts: thus it would be
impossible for one translation to be ‘right’ in every
situation and every context. For example, the term jue
( ) has many different meanings; a translation can
illustrate only one aspect of a multi-faceted term. In
fact, jue can mean a state of collapse with unconscious-
ness; coldness of hands and feet; or a critical situation
of retention of urine. In other contexts it has other
meanings: e.g. jue qi ( ), a condition of chaotic Qi;
jue xin tong ( ), a condition of violent chest pain
with cold hands; and jue yin zheng ( ), the Ter-
minal-Yin pattern within the Six-Stage Identification
of Patterns characterized by Heat above and Cold
below.
Many sinologists concur that Chinese philosophical
terms are essentially impossible to translate and that,
the moment we translate them, we distort them with a
world-view that is not Chinese. Ames is particularly
clear about the intrinsic distortion of Chinese concepts
when they are translated. He gives examples of Chinese
terms that are distorted when translated, such as
Tian (‘Heaven’), You-Wu (‘Being’’ and ‘Non-
Being’), Dao (‘Way’), Xing (‘human nature’), Ren
(‘benevolence’), Li (‘Principle’), Qi (‘primal sub-
stance’), etc.i
Ames is particularly forceful in rejecting a single, one-
to-one translation of a Chinese term into a Western one
in the introduction of his book ‘Focusing the Familiar’
(a translation of the Confucian text Zhong Yong).ii Ames
says: ‘Our Western languages are substance-oriented and
are therefore most relevant to the descriptions of a world
defined by discreteness, objectivity and permanence. Such
languages are ill disposed to describe and interpret a world,
 such as that of the Chinese, that is primarily characterized
by continuity, process and becoming.’iii
Ames then gives some examples of what he consid-
ers to be serious mis-translations of Chinese philosoph-
ical terms. The important thing is that these are not
‘mis-translations’ because the terms are ‘wrong’ but
because of the intrinsic difference between Chinese
and Western thinking and therefore the inherent ina-
bility of Western terms to convey Chinese philosophi-
cal ideas.
Ames says: ‘For example, ‘You’ and ‘Wu’ have often
been uncritically rendered as ‘Being’ and ‘Non-Being.’
Influential translators, until quite recently, have rendered
‘wu xing’ as ‘Five Elements’. ‘Xing’ is still most
often translated as ‘nature’. All these translations promote
the fixed and univocal characterizations of objects or
essences emergent from a language rooted in a substantial-
ist perspective [our Western languages].’iv
Ames stresses that the use of a ‘substances language’
(i.e. a Western language) to translate Chinese insights
into a world of process and change has led to seriously
inappropriate interpretations of the Chinese sensibility.
Ames asserts that it is the very difference between
Chinese and Western philosophy that makes transla-
tion of Chinese terms virtually impossible. He says: ‘In
the classical traditions of the West, being takes precedence
over becoming and thus becoming is ultimately unreal.
NOTE ON THE TRANSLATION OF CHINESE TERMS
Whatever becomes is realized by achieving its end – that is,
coming into being. In the Chinese world, becoming takes
precedence over being. ‘Being’ is interpreted as a transitory
state marked by further transition.’v
Ames then says: ‘The Chinese world is a phenomenal
world of continuity, becoming and change. In such a world
there is no final discreteness. Things cannot be understood
as objects. Without this notion of objectivity, there can only
be the flux of passing circumstances in which things dis-
solve into the flux and flow. A processive language precludes
the assumption that objects serve as references of linguistic
expressions. The precise referential language of denotation
and description is to be replaced by a language of ‘deference’
in which meanings both allude to and defer to one another
in a shifting field of significance. A referential language
[Western language] characterizes an event, object, or state
of affairs through an act of naming meant to indicate a
particular thing. On the other hand, the language of defer-
ence [Chinese] does not employ proper names simply as
indicators of particular individuals or things, but invokes
hints, suggestions, or allusions to indicate foci in a field of
meanings.’vi
xxii
As an example of this intrinsic impossibility of trans-
lating a Chinese philosophical term into a Western
language, Ames then cites Steve Owen’s reluctance in
translating shi as ‘poem’. Owen says: ‘If we translate
‘shi’ as ‘poem’, it is merely for the sake of convenience. ‘Shi’
is not a ‘poem’: ‘shi’ is not a thing made in the same way
one makes a bed, a painting or a shoe. A ‘shi’ can be worked
on, polished and crafted; but that has nothing to do with
what a ‘shi’ fundamentally ‘is’ … ’Shi’ is not the ‘object’ of
its writer: it is the writer, the outside of an inside.’vii
Ames gives various translations of Li (a Confucian
concept) as an the example of how a multiplicity of
terms may apply to a single Chinese term and how
none of them is ‘wrong’. He says that Li has been
variously translated as ‘ritual’, ‘rites’, ‘customs’, ‘eti-
quette’, ‘propriety’, ‘morals’, ‘rules of proper behav-
iour’ and ‘worship’. Ames says: ‘Properly contextualized,
each of these English terms can render Li on occasion. In
classical Chinese, however, the character carries all of these
meanings on every occasion of its use.’viii This confirms
clearly how, by the very translation, we limit a Chinese
term that is rich with multiple meanings to a single
meaning in Chinese.
Ames says that in classical Chinese philosophical
texts, allusive and connotatively rich language is more
highly prized than clarity, precision and argumentative
rigor. This rather dramatic contrast between Chinese
and Western languages with respect to the issue of
clarity presents the translator of Chinese philosophical
texts with a peculiar burden.
For the Chinese, the opposite of clarity is not confu-
sion, but something like vagueness. Vague ideas are
really determinable in the sense that a variety of mean-
ings are associated with them. Each Chinese term con-
stitutes a field of meanings which may be focused by
any of a number of its meanings. Ames says that in the
translation of Chinese texts we must avoid what White-
head called ‘the Fallacy of the Perfect Dictionary’. By
this, he means the assumption that there exists a com-
plete semantic repository of terms of which we may
adequately characterize the variety and depth of our
experience and that, ideally, one may seek a one-to-one
correspondence between word and meaning.
With this ‘fallacy’ in mind, Ames and Hall say: ‘We
challenge the wisdom and accuracy of proposing ‘one-to-
one’ equivalencies in translating terms from one language
to another. We introduce the notion of ‘linguistic clustering’
as an alternative strategy to ‘literal translation’ that allows
us to put the semantic value of a term first by parsing
[describe grammatically] its range of meaning according to
context, with the assumption that a range of meaning with
a different configuration of emphasis is present on each
appearance of the term.’ix
These ideas could not be more apt to illustrate the
problems in translating Chinese medicine terms. Of
course we must strive for precision and consistency but
to think that there is a one-to-one, ‘right’ correspond-
ence between a Chinese medicine idea and a Western
term is a misunderstanding of the very essence of
Chinese medicine.
For example, to say that the only ‘right’ translation
of Chong Mai is ‘Thoroughfare Vessel’ makes us fall into
the trap of what Whitehead calls the ‘Fallacy of the
Perfect Dictionary’. Of course, Chong Mai can be trans-
lated as ‘Thoroughfare Vessel’ but that is only one of
its meanings and it is absolutely impossible for a single
Western term to convey the richness of ideas behind
the word Chong Mai (which I translate as ‘Penetrating
Vessel’): to think that we can reduce a rich Chinese
medicine idea to a single, one-to-one term in a Western
language reveals, in my opinion, a misunderstanding
of the very essence of Chinese medicine. Therefore, in
the example above, I do not proffer ‘Penetrating Vessel’
as the only ‘correct’ translation of Chong Mai.
Ames makes this point very forcefully. He says: ‘The
Fallacy of the Perfect Dictionary is largely a consequence
of our analytical bias towards univocity. We would suggest
that this bias does not serve us well when approaching
Chinese texts. Not only is there the continued possibility of
novel experiences requiring appeal to novel terminologies,
but also there is seldom, if ever, a simple, one-to-one trans-
lation of Chinese terms into Western languages. The allu-
siveness of the classical Chinese language is hardly
conducive to univocal translations. We would contend that,
in translating Chinese texts into Western languages, it is
most unproductive to seek a single equivalent for a Chinese
character. In fact, rather than trying to avoid ambiguity by
a dogged use of formally stipulated terms, the translator
might have to concede that characters often require a cluster
of words to do justice to their range of meanings – all of
which are suggested in any given rendering of the character.
In fact, any attempt to employ univocal translations of
Chinese terms justified by appeal to the criteria of clarity
or univocity often reduces philosophical insight to nonsense
and poetry to doggerel. Such an approach to translation
serves only to numb Western readers to the provocative
significance harboured within the richly vague and allusive
language of the Chinese texts.’x
As an example of the multiplicity of meanings of a
Chinese term and therefore of the fact that it is per-
fectly legitimate to translate a single Chinese idea into
more than one term according to different contexts,
Ames says that he translates the term zhong (‘centre’
or ‘central’) in the title of the Confucian text sometimes
as ‘focus’, sometimes as ‘focusing’ and other times as
‘equilibrium’. Other times, he even translates it as
‘centre’ or ‘impartiality’. He says strongly: ‘The Chinese
language is not logocentric. Words do not name essences.
Rather, they indicate always-transitory processes and
events. It is important therefore to stress the gerundative
character of the language. The language of process is vague,
allusive and suggestive.’xi
Rosemont makes the same point with regard to the
translation of Li (rituals). He says Li could be translated
as ‘customs’, ‘mores’, ‘propriety’, ‘etiquette’, ‘rites’,
‘rituals’, ‘rules of proper behaviour’, and ‘worship’. He
says: ‘If we can agree that, appropriately contextualized,
each of these English terms can translate Li on occasion,
we should conclude that the Chinese graph must have all of
these meanings on every occasion of its use, and that select-
ing only one of them can lead only to the result that ‘some-
thing is lost in translation’xii
According to Ames, in the field of philosophy, two
terms particularly stand out as being influenced by
a Western thinking when translated, i.e.Tian
NOTE ON THE TRANSLATION OF CHINESE TERMS
(‘Heaven’) and Ren (‘benevolence’). Ames says:
‘When we translate Tian as ‘Heaven’, like it or not, we
invoke in the Western reader a notion of transcendent
creator Deity, along with the language of soul, sin and
afterlife…When we translate Ren as ‘benevolence’, we psy-
chologize and make altruistic a term which originally had
a radically different range of sociological connotations.
Being altruistic for example, implies being selfless in the
service of others. But this ‘self-sacrifice’ implicitly entails
a notion of ‘self ’ which exists independently of others and
that can be surrendered – a notion of self which we believe
is alien to the world of the Analects [of Confucius]: indeed,
such a reading [of the term ‘ren’] transforms what is fun-
damentally a strategy for self-realization into one of
self-abnegation.’xiii
With regard to Chinese medicine, the term Xue
(‘Blood’) is a good example of the above-mentioned
problem reported by Ames. When we translate the
word Xue as ‘Blood’ we immediately alter its essential
character and give it a Western medical connotation;
in fact, in Chinese medicine, Xue is itself actually a form
of Qi and one that is closely bound with Nutritive Qi
xxiii
 (Ying Qi). Indeed, the term mai appearing in the
‘Yellow Emperor’s Classic of Internal Medicine’ is often
ambiguous as it sometimes clearly refers to the acu-
puncture channels and other times to the blood vessels.
After highlighting the problems in translating
Chinese terms, Ames confirms that a single Chinese
term may have different meaning in different contexts.
For example, the term shen in some cases means
‘human spirituality’, in others it means ‘divinity’.xiv
As he considers only the philosophical meanings of
the word shen, we could actually add many others in
the context of Chinese medicine, e.g. ‘mind’, ‘spirit’,
‘lustre’ (in the context of diagnosis), ‘numinous’,
‘numinosity’.
Graham says: ‘Every Western sinologist knows that
there is no exact equivalent in his own language for such a
word as ren or de , and that as long as he thinks of it
as synonymous with ‘benevolence’ or ‘virtue’ he will impose
Western preconceptions on the thought he is studying.’xv
Ames then surveys the options that are presented to
a translator and seems to favour simply transliterating
the Chinese terms and leave them untranslated in
pinyin. He says: ‘To some, this approach may appear to be
simply the laziest way out of a difficult problem. But ‘ritual’
has a narrowly circumscribed set of meanings in English,
and Li an importantly different and less circumscribed set.
Just as no Indological scholar would look for English equiva-
NOTE ON THE TRANSLATION OF CHINESE TERMS
lent for ‘karma’, ‘dharma’ and so on, perhaps it is time to
do the same for classical Chinese, the homonymity of the
language notwithstanding.’xvi
Hall confirms that a single Chinese term may have a
plurality of meanings. He says: ‘The Chinese have tradi-
tionally affirmed as the ground of their intellectual and
institutional harmony the recognition of the co-presence of
a plurality of significances with which any given term
might easily resonate.’xvii
Finally, another sinologist, Yung Sik Kim, discusses
the difficulty presented by the plurality of meanings of
a single Chinese term. He says: ‘I have adopted the policy
of sticking to one English translation for a particular
Chinese word whenever possible…Of course, exceptions
cannot be avoided altogether. I have had to resort to different
translations for such characters as ‘xin’ which means
both ‘heart’ and ‘mind’; ‘tian’ , both ‘heaven’ and ‘sky’.’xviii
In another passage, Yung Sik Kim affirms that trans-
literation of a Chinese term with a plurality of mean-
ings is the only alternative: ‘The term ‘li’ is difficult to
define. It is difficult even to translate because there is no
single word in Western languages that covers all facets of
xxiv
what ‘li’ meant to the traditional Chinese mind. The exist-
ence of many translations for the term, which often leaves
transliteration as the only viable option, bespeaks the
difficulty.’xix
An example of a Chinese medicine term which has
many different meaning in different context is zhi .
Zhi can have at lest four different meanings. It can mean
‘will-power’ (the Zhi of the Kidneys) but, in relation to
the Kidneys, it also indicates ‘memory’. It may also
mean ‘emotion’ (the 5 emotions are often called wu zhi)
or ‘mind’ (as in the treatment principle an shen ding zhi
).
The translation of a Chinese term into a Latin-based
term can lead to a distortion of the original Chinese
idea. The word zheng , usually translated as ‘govern-
ment’ is a good case in point. The Chinese character
takes the word zheng as its radical: this word means
‘correct’. Not by chance, these two words are cognate,
i.e. they share the same sound: to ‘govern’ means to do
what is ‘proper’ and ‘correct’. Indeed, Confucius says
exactly that in the Analects: ‘Governing effectively is
doing what is proper. If you lead by doing what is proper,
who would dare do otherwise?’xx
Therefore, the Chinese term for ‘government’ conveys
the Confucian idea that to ‘govern’ consists in behav-
ing correctly and with integrity thus ensuring social
harmony. By contrast, the term ‘government’ derives
from the Latin gubernare which means to ‘steer, to
govern’: this implies a totally different concept of a top-
down approach in which to ‘govern’ means not to
follow the same ethical code as everybody else, but to
‘steer’, to ‘govern’ other people.
Although a diversity of translation of Chinese terms
may present its problems, these are easily overcome if
an author explains the translation in a glossary and,
most importantly, explains the meaning of a given
Chinese term in its context (in our case, Chinese
medicine).
In my books, I have chosen to translate all Chinese
medicine terms rather than using pinyin purely for
reasons of style as a sentence written half in English
and half in pinyin is often awkward. Moreover, if we
use pinyin terms in writing, it could be argued that we
should be consistent and use pinyin terms for all Chinese
medicine terms and this would not make for very clear
reading. Consider the following sentence: ‘To treat
Pi-Yang Xu we adopt the zhi fa of bu pi and wen Yang’ (‘To
treat Spleen-Yang deficiency we adopt the treatment
principle of tonifying the Spleen and warming Yang’).
 Moreover, the problem arises only in the written
form as, in my experience, most lecturers in colleges
throughout the Western world normally prefer using
pinyin terms rather than their counterparts in English
(or any other Western languages). Thus, a lecturer will
refer to Kidney-Jing rather than ‘Kidney-Essence’.
Indeed, when I myself lecture, I generally use the pinyin
terms rather than their English translation. Again,
most lecturers use a pragmatic approach translating
some terms into English (such as ‘treatment principle’
instead of ‘zhi fa’) and leaving others in pinyin such as
‘Yuan Qi’ or ‘Chong Mai’.
When I lecture I always try to give the participants
an idea of the meaning of a particular Chinese char-
acter and its significance and application in Chinese
medicine. Indeed, the use of pinyin when lecturing
renders Chinese medicine truly international as I can
lecture in the Czech Republic and mention Jing, Yang
Qiao Mai, Wei Qi, etc., knowing that I will be under-
stood by everyone.
A diversity of translation of Chinese terms may even
have a positive aspect as each author may highlight a
particular facet of a Chinese term so that diversity
actually enriches our understanding of Chinese medi-
cine. If someone translates Zong Qi ( ) as ‘Initial Qi’,
for example, we learn something about that author’s
view and understanding of Zong Qi; the translation
cannot be branded as ‘wrong’ (I translate this term as
‘Gathering Qi’). Another example: if someone trans-
lates yang qiao mai as ‘Yang Motility Vessel’, the transla-
tion captures one aspect of this vessel’s nature; again,
this could not be defined as wrong (I translate the name
of this vessel as ‘Yang Stepping Vessel’).
Trying to impose a standard, ‘right’ translation of
Chinese medicine terms may lead to suppression of
healthy debate; I therefore hope that readers will con-
tinue to benefit from the diversity of translation of
Chinese medical terms and draw inspiration from the
rich heritage of Chinese medicine that it represents.
I firmly believe that the future lies not in trying to
establish a rigid, embalmed, fossilized, ‘right’ terminol-
ogy based on single, one-to-one translations of Chinese
ideas. Indeed, I believe this is a potentially dangerous
trend as it would, in my opinion, lead students and
practitioners away from the richness of Chinese lan-
guage and richness of meanings of Chinese medicine
ideas. The adoption of a standardized, ‘approved’ ter-
minology of Chinese medical terms may indeed, in
time, divorce students and practitioners from the
essence of Chinese medicine. If an ‘official’, standard-
ized translation of Chinese terms took hold, then stu-
dents would be less inclined to study the Chinese terms
to explore their meaning.
Ames and Hall make the same point: ‘Such transla-
tions have been ‘legitimized’ by their gradual insinuation
into the standard Chinese-English dictionaries and glosses.
By encouraging the uncritical assumption in those who
consult these reference works that this formula of transla-
tions provides the student with a ‘literal’ rendering of the
terms, these lexicons have become complicit in an entrenched
cultural equivocation that we strive to avoid.’xxi
They then further make the point that using a one-
to-one translation of Chinese terms ignores the cul-
tural background where they came from: ‘Our argument
is that it is in fact these formulaic usages that are radical
interpretations. To our mind, to consciously or uncon-
sciously transplant a text from its own historical and intel-
lectual soil and replant it in one that has decidedly different
philosophical landscape is to take liberties with the text and
is radical in the sense it tampers with its very roots.’xxii
As I said above, an ‘official’, standardized translation
of Chinese terms may make students and practitioners
less inclined to study the Chinese terms to explore their
meaning with their own interpretation. Ames and Hall
say: ‘Our goal is not to replace one inadequate formula with
another. Our translations are intended as no more than
NOTE ON THE TRANSLATION OF CHINESE TERMS
suggestive ‘placeholders’ that refer readers back to this glos-
sary to negotiate their own meaning, and, we hope, to
appropriate the Chinese terms for themselves.’xxiii
Moreover, imposing an ‘approved’ terminology in
English betrays an Anglo-centric world view: to be con-
sistent, we should then have an ‘approved’ terminology
in every major language of the world. It seems to me
much better to try and understand the spirit and the
essence of Chinese medicine by studying its characters
and their clinical significance and using pinyin translit-
eration whenever appropriate.
Trying to fossilize Chinese medicine terms into an
imposed terminology goes against the very essence of
the Chinese language which, as Ames says, is not logo-
centric and in which words do not name essences:
rather, they indicate always-transitory processes and
events. The language of process is vague, allusive and
suggestive.
Because Chinese language is a language of process,
the question arises also whether practising Chinese
medicine actually helps the understanding of Chinese
medical terminology: in my opinion, in many cases it
xxv
 does. For example, I feel that clinical experience helps
us to understand the nature of the Chong Mai (Pene-
trating Vessel) and therefore helps us to understand the
term Chong in a ‘knowing practice’ way (as Farquhar
defines it)xxiv rather than a theoretical way.
Of course, a translator of Chinese books should
strive for precision and consistency, but we must accept
that there is a rich multiplicity of meanings for any give
idea of Chinese medicine. The Chong Mai is a good
example of this multiplicity as the term chong could be
translated as ‘throroughfare’, ‘strategic cross-roads’,
‘to penetrate’, ‘to rush’, ‘to rush upwards’, ‘to charge’,
‘activity’, ‘movement’ and ‘free passage’. Which of
these translations is ‘correct’? They are all correct as
they all convey an idea of the nature and function of
the Chong Mai.
I therefore think that the future of teaching Chinese
medicine lies not in trying to impose the straight-jacket
of a rigid terminology of the rich ideas of Chinese
medicine, but in teaching students more and more
Chinese characters explaining the richness of mean-
ings associated with them in the context of Chinese
medicine. I myself, would not like my own terminology
to be ‘adopted’ as the ‘correct’ or ‘official’ one: I would
rather see colleges teaching more and more Chinese to
their students by illustrating the rich meanings of
Chinese medicine terms. As mentioned above, my main
NOTE ON THE TRANSLATION OF CHINESE TERMS
motive for translating all terms is purely for reasons of
style in an English-language textbook; when I lecture I
generally use pinyin terms but, most of all, I show the
students the Chinese characters and try to convey their
meaning in the context of Chinese medicine.
Finally, I would like to explain my continued transla-
tion of Wu Xing as ‘Five Elements’. The term ‘Five Ele-
ments’ has been used by most Western practitioners of
Chinese Medicine for a long time (also in French and
other European languages). Some authors consider
this to be a misunderstanding of the meaning of the
Chinese term ‘Wu Xing’, perpetuated over the years.
‘Wu’ means ‘five’ and ‘Xing’ means ‘movement’,
‘process’, ‘to go’, ‘conduct’ or ‘behaviour’. Most authors
therefore think that the word ‘Xing’ cannot indicate
‘element’ as a basic constituent of Nature, as was sup-
posedly intended in ancient Greek philosophy.
This is, in my opinion, only partly true as the ele-
ments, as they were conceived by various Greek phi-
losophers over the centuries, were not always
considered ‘basic constituents’ of Nature or ‘passive
motionless fundamental substances’.xxv Some Greek
xxvi
philosophers conceived the elements as dynamic quali-
ties of Nature, in a way similar to Chinese philosophy.
For example, Aristotle gave a definite dynamic inter-
pretation to the four elements and called them ‘primary
form’ (prota somata). He said: ‘Earth and Fire are oppo-
sites also due to the opposition of the respective qualities
with which they are revealed to our senses: Fire is hot,
Earth is cold. Besides the fundamental opposition of hot
and cold, there is another one, i.e. that of dry and wet: hence
the four possible combinations of hot-dry [Fire], hot-wet
[Air], cold-dry [Earth] and cold-wet [Water] … the ele-
ments can mix with each other and can even transform into
one another … thus Earth, which is cold and dry, can gener-
ate Water if wetness replaces dryness.’xxvi
To Aristotle, therefore, the four elements became the
four basic qualities of natural phenomena, classified as
combinations of four qualities, hot, cold, dry and wet.
As is apparent from the above statement, the Aristote-
lian elements could even transform into one another
and generate each other.
This interpretation is very similar to the Chinese one,
in which the elements are qualities of Nature. Further-
more, it is interesting to note the similarity with the
Chinese theory of Yin-Yang: the four Aristotelian ele-
ments derive from the interaction of the basic Yin-Yang
qualities of cold-hot and dry-wet.
Thus, it is not entirely true to say that the Greek ele-
ments were conceived only as the basic constituents of
matter, the ‘building blocks’ of Nature which would
make the use of the word ‘element’ wrong to indicate
xing. Furthermore, the word ‘elements’ does not neces-
sarily imply that: it does so only in its modern chemical
interpretation.
In conclusion, for the above reasons I have kept the
word ‘element’ as a translation of the Chinese word
‘xing’. According to Wang, the term ‘Five Elements’
could be translate in a number of ways, e.g. ‘agents’,
‘entities’, ‘goings’, ‘conduct’, ‘doings’, ‘forces’, ‘activ-
ites’, and ‘stages of change’.xxvii
Recently, the term ‘Five Phases’ is gaining accept-
ance but some sinologists disagree with this trans-
lation and propose returning to ‘Five Elements’.
Friedrich and Lackner, for example, suggest restoring
the term ‘elements’.xxviii Graham uses the term ‘Five
Processes’.xxix I would probably agree that ‘processes’
is the best translation of Wu Xing. In fact, the book
‘Shang Shu’ written during the Western Zhou dynasty
(1000-771 BC) said: ‘The Five Elements are Water, Fire,
Wood, Metal and Earth. Water moistens downwards; Fire
flares upwards; Wood can be bent and straightened; Metal
can be moulded and can harden; Earth allows sowing,
growing and reaping.’xxx
Some sinologists (e.g. Needham and Fung Yu Lan)
still use the term ‘element’. Fung Yu Lan suggests that
a possible translation of wu xing could be ‘Five Activi-
ties’ or ‘Five Agents’.xxxi Although the term ‘five phases’
has gained some acceptance as a translation of ‘wu
xing’, I find this term restrictive as it clearly refers to
only one aspect of the Five Elements, i.e. phases of a
(seasonal) cycle.
A glossary with pinyin terms, Chinese characters and
English translation appears at the end of the book. I
have included both a Pinyin-English and an English-
Pinyin glossary.
Notes
i Ames R T, Rosemont H 1999 The Analects of Confucius – a
Philosophical Translation, Ballantine Books, New York, p. 311.
ii Ames R T and Hall D L 2001 Focusing the Familiar – A
Translation and Philosophical Interpretation of the Zhong Yong,
University of Hawai’i Press, Honolulu, pp. 6 to 16.
iii Ibid., p. 6.
iv Ibid., p. 6.
v Ibid., p. 10.
vi Ibid., p. 10.
vii Ibid., p. 13.
viii Ibid., p. 69.
ix Ames R T and Hall D L 2003 Daodejing – ‘Making This Life
Significant’ A Philosophical Translation, Ballantine Books, New
York, p. 56.
x Ibid., p. 16.
xi Ibid., p. 16.
xii Bockover M (editor) 1991 Rules, Ritual and Responsibility
– Essays Dedicated to Herbert Fingarette, Open Court, La Salle,
Illinois, p. 98.
xiii The Analects of Confucius, p. 312.
xiv Ibid., p. 313.
xv Hall D L and Ames R T 1998 Thinking from the Han – Self, Truth
and Transcendence in Chinese and Western Culture, State
University of New York Press, New York, p. 238.
xvi The Analects of Confucius, p. 314.
xvii Thinking from the Han, p. 4.
xviii Kim Yung Sik 2000 The Natural Philosophy of Chu Hsi, American
Philosophical Society, Philadelphia, p. 11.
xix Ibid., p. 19.
xx Jones D (editor) 2008 Confucius Now, Open Court, Chicago, p. 19.
xxi Daodejing – ‘Making This Life Significant’, p. 55.
xxii Ibid., pp. 55-6.
xxiii Ibid., p. 56.
xxiv Farquhar J 1994 Knowing Practice – The Clinical Encounter of
Chinese Medicine, Westview Press, Boulder, USA.
xxv Needham J 1977 Science and Civilization in China, Vol 2,
Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, p. 244.
xxvi Lamanna E P 1967 Storia della Filosofia (History of Philosophy),
Vol 1.Le Monnier, Florence, p 220–221.
xxvii Wang Ai He 1999 Cosmology and Political Culture in Early China,
Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, p. 3.
xxviii Friedrich M and Lackner M, ‘Once again: the concept of Wu Xing’
in ‘Early China’ 9-10, pp. 218-9.
xxix Graham A C 1986 Yin-Yang and the Nature of Correlative
Thinking, Institute of East Asian Philosophies, Singapore, p.
42-66 and 70-92.
xxx Shang Shu (c 659 BC) cited in 1980 Practical Chinese Medicine
(Shi Yong Zhong Yi Xue ), Beijing Publishing
House, Beijing, p. 32. The book Shang Shu is placed by some in the
early Zhou dynasty (hence c. 1000 BC), but the prevalent opinion
is that is was written sometime between 659 BC and 627 BC.
xxxi Fung Yu Lan 1966 A Short History of Chinese Philosophy, Free
NOTE ON THE TRANSLATION OF CHINESE TERMS
Press, New York, p. 131.
xxvii
This page intentionally left blank
 PART 1
General Theory
 1
INTRODUCTION
Part 1 will discuss the general theory of Chinese medi-
cine. There are three pillars to the general theory of
Chinese medicine:
• The theory of Yin–Yang
• The theory of the Five Elements
• The theory of Qi
The theory of Yin–Yang is very ancient. In the ‘Book
of Changes’ (Yi Jing, c.700 bc), Yin and Yang are rep-
resented by a broken and unbroken line, respectively.
Combinations of the eight Trigrams (made up of three
lines) form the 64 hexagrams which represent the
myriad phenomena of the Universe.
The theory of Yin–Yang was developed systemati-
cally by one of the many schools of thought that arose
during the Warring States period (476–221 bc); that
is, the ‘School of Yin–Yang’, whose main representa-
tive thinker was Zou Yan (c.350–270 bc). The applica-
tion of Yin–Yang to medicine was developed after this
school.
The first recorded reference to the Five Elements (Wu
Xing) dates back to the Zhou dynasty (c.1000–770
GENERAL THEORY
bc).1 The theory of the Five Elements was not applied
to Chinese medicine throughout its historical develop-
ment as its popularity waxed and waned through the
centuries. During the Warring States period it became
immensely popular and was applied to medicine,
astrology, the natural sciences, the calendar, music and
2
even politics. Its popularity was such that most phe-
nomena were classified in fives.
From the Han dynasty onwards, the influence of the
theory of the Five Elements in Chinese medicine began
to wane. However, this theory remained one of the
main pillars of Chinese medicine, cropping up in many
aspects of Chinese medicine: for example, the five path-
ological colours of the face, the five flavours of herbs,
the five emotions, the five Yin organs, and many others.
The concept of Qi is absolutely at the core of Chinese
medical thinking. The changing nature of Qi between
a material substance and an ethereal, subtle force is
central to the Chinese medicine view of body and mind
as an integrated unit.
The infinite variety of phenomena in the universe is
the result of the continuous coming together and dis-
persion of Qi to form phenomena of various degrees of
materialization. This idea of aggregation and disper-
sion of Qi has been discussed by many Chinese philoso-
phers of all times.
Qi is the very basis of the universe’s infinite manifes-
tations of life, including minerals, vegetables and
animals (including human beings).
Part 1 comprises the following chapters:
Chapter 1 Yin–Yang
Chapter 2 The Five Elements
Chapter 3 The Vital Substances
Chapter 4 The transformations of Qi.
END NOTES
1. Needham J 1977 Science and Civilization in China, Cambridge
University Press, Cambridge, vol. 2, p. 232–242.
 PART 1

Yin–Yang
1
Key contents have at the same time the mutual relationship of lips and
teeth … therefore the action of the “other” on its own behalf
Nature of Yin–Yang concept at the same time helps the “self”. Thus, though mutually
Four aspects of Yin–Yang relationship (opposition, opposed, they are incapable of mutual negation.’1
interdependence, mutual consumption, The discussion of Yin–Yang will be developed under
intertransformation) the following headings:
Application of Yin–Yang to medicine • Historical development
• Nature of the Yin–Yang concept
• Yin–Yang as two phases of a cyclical movement
• Yin–Yang as two states of density of matter
The concept of Yin–Yang is probably the single most • Four aspects of Yin–Yang relationship
important and distinctive theory of Chinese medicine. - The opposition of Yin and Yang
It could be said that all Chinese medical physiology, - The interdependence of Yin and Yang
pathology and treatment can, eventually, be reduced - The mutual consuming of Yin and Yang
to Yin–Yang. The concept of Yin–Yang is extremely - The intertransformation of Yin and Yang
simple and yet very profound. One can understand it • Application of Yin–Yang to medicine
on a rational level, and yet continually find new expres- • Yin–Yang and the body structures
sions of it in clinical practice and, indeed, in life. - Back–front
The concept of Yin–Yang, together with that of Qi, - Head–body
has permeated Chinese philosophy over the centuries - Exterior–Interior
and is radically different from any Western philosophi- - Above–below waist
cal idea. In general, Western logic is based upon the - Posterior–lateral and anterior–medial surfaces
opposition of contraries, which is the fundamental - Yang and Yin organs
premise of Aristotelian logic. According to this logic, a - Function–structure of organs
pair of contraries (such as ‘The table is square’ and - Qi–Blood
‘The table is not square’) cannot both be true. This - Defensive Qi–Nutritive Qi
approach has dominated Western thought for over • Application of the four principles of Yin–Yang to
2000 years. The Chinese concept of Yin–Yang is radi- medicine
cally different from this system of thought: Yin and • Opposition of Yin and Yang
Yang represent opposite but complementary qualities. - Fire–Water
Each thing or phenomenon could be both itself and its - Heat–Cold
contrary. Moreover, Yin contains the seed of Yang, so - Redness–paleness
that Yin can transform into Yang, and vice versa. - Restless–quiet
A passage from a commentary on Zhuang Zi high- - Dry–wet
lights this thinking about the complementarity of - Hard–soft
opposites: ‘There are no two things under Heaven which do - Excitement–inhibition
not have the mutual relationship of the “self” and the - Rapidity–slowness
“other”. Both the “self” and the “other” equally desire to - Substantial–non-substantial
act for themselves, thus opposing each other as strongly as - Transformation/change–conservation/storage/
East and West. On the other hand, the “self” and the “other” sustainment
 1
• The interdependence of Yin and Yang
- Yin and Yang organs
- Structure and function of the organs
• The mutual consuming of Yin and Yang
- Balance of Yin and Yang
- Excess of Yin
- Excess of Yang
- Consumption of Yang
- Consumption of Yin
• Intertransformation of Yin and Yang
HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT
The earliest reference to Yin and Yang is probably the
one in the ‘Book of Changes’ (Yi Jing), dating back to
about 700 bc. In this book, Yin and Yang are repre-
sented by broken and unbroken lines (Fig. 1.1).
Yin Yang
Figure 1.1 Yin–Yang diagrams
The combination of broken and unbroken lines in
pairs forms four sets of diagrams, representing utmost
Yin, utmost Yang and two intermediate stages (Fig. 1.2).
The addition of another line to these four diagrams
forms, with varying combinations, the eight trigrams
GENERAL THEORY
(Fig. 1.3).
Finally, the various combinations of the trigrams
gives rise to the 64 hexagrams. These are supposed to
symbolize all possible phenomena of the universe, and
therefore show how all phenomena ultimately depend
on the two poles of Yin and Yang.
The philosophical school that developed the theory
of Yin and Yang to its highest degree is called the Yin–
Yang School, though Needham calls it the ‘Naturalist
School’.2 Many schools of thought arose during the
Utmost Yin Yang within Yin
Figure 1.2 Four stages of Yin–Yang
The Eight Trigrams
Figure 1.3 The Eight Trigrams
4
Warring States period (476–221 bc), and the Yin–
Yang school was one of them. It dedicated itself to the
study of Yin–Yang and the Five Elements and its main
exponent was Zou Yan (c.350–270 bc). The school is
sometimes also called the Naturalist School because it
set out to interpret Nature in a positive way and to use
natural laws to man’s advantage, not through attempt-
ing to control and subdue Nature (as in modern
Western science), but by acting in harmony with its
laws. This school represents a form of what we might
call naturalist science today, and the theories of Yin–
Yang and the Five Elements served to interpret natural
phenomena, including the human body in health and
disease.
The theories of Yin–Yang and the Five Elements, sys-
tematically elaborated by the Naturalist School, later
became the common heritage of subsequent schools of
thought, particularly the Neo-Confucianist schools of
the Song, Ming and Qing dynasties. These schools com-
bined most of the elements from the previous schools
of thought to form a coherent philosophy of nature,
ethics, social order and astrology.3
I will discuss Yin–Yang from a general philosophical
point of view first, and then from a medical point
of view.
NATURE OF THE YIN–YANG CONCEPT
The Chinese characters for ‘Yin’ and ‘Yang’ are related
to the image of a hill with one side dark and the other
sunlit. The characters are:
YIN
represents a ‘mound’ or ‘hill’
represents a ‘cloud’
Utmost Yang Yin within Yang
 1
Thus, left corresponds to Yang and right to Yin. The
‘Simple Questions’ relates the correspondence Yang-
YANG Left and Yin-Right to physiology. It says: ‘East represents
Yang … West represents Yin … in the West and North there
represents the ‘sun’ is a deficiency of Heaven, hence the left ear and eyes hear
represents the ‘sun over the horizon’ and see better than the right; in the East and South there is
a deficiency of Earth, hence the right hand and foot are
represents the ‘rays of light’ stronger than the left.’5
Thus the character for Yin indicates the shady side of The characters for ‘left’ and ‘right’ clearly show their
a hill, whilst the character for Yang indicates the sunny relation with Yin and Yang as that for left includes the
side of a hill. By extension, they therefore also indicate symbol for work (activity = Yang), and that for right
‘darkness’ and ‘light’ or ‘shady’ and ‘bright’. includes a mouth (which eats products of the Earth
which is Yin).6
Yin–Yang as two phases of
a cyclical movement
The earliest origin of Yin–Yang phenomena must have LEFT RIGHT
derived from the peasants’ observation of the cyclical represents ‘work’
alternation of day and night. Thus day corresponds to
Yang and night to Yin, and, by extension, activity to represents ‘mouth’
Yang and rest to Yin. This led to the first observation of We therefore have the first correspondences:
the continuous alternation of every phenomenon
between two cyclical poles, one corresponding to light, Yang Yin
Light Darkness
Sun, brightness and activity (Yang), the other corre- Sun Moon
sponding to darkness, Moon, shade and rest (Yin). Brightness Shade
From this point of view, Yin and Yang are two stages Activity Rest
Heaven Earth
of a cyclical movement, one constantly changing into

the other, such as the day giving way to night and
vice versa.
Heaven (where the sun is) is therefore Yang and
Earth is Yin. The ancient Chinese farmers conceived
Heaven as a round vault, and the Earth as flat. Hence,
round is Yang and square is Yin. The Heaven, contain-
ing the Sun, Moon and stars on which the Chinese
farmers based their calendar, therefore corresponds to
time; the Earth, which is parcelled out into fields, cor-
responds to space.
Because the sun rises in the East and sets in the West,
the former is Yang and the latter Yin. If we face South,
East will be on the left and West on the right (in the
northern hemisphere). In Chinese cosmology, the
compass directions were established assuming that one
faced South. This was also reflected in imperial ceremo-
nials when ‘The Emperor faced South towards his subjects
who faced North … The Emperor thus opened himself to
receive the influence of Heaven, Yang and South. South is
therefore like Heaven, at the top; North is therefore like
Earth, at the bottom … By facing South, the Emperor iden-
tifies his left with East and his right with West.’4
Yin–Yang
Round Flat
Time Space
East West
South North
Left Right
Thus, from this point of view, Yin and Yang are essen-
tially an expression of a duality in time, an alternation
of two opposite stages in time. Every phenomenon in
the universe alternates through a cyclical movement
of peaks and troughs, and the alternation of Yin and
Yang is the motive force of its change and develop-
ment. Day changes into night, summer into winter,
growth into decay and vice versa. Thus the develop-
ment of all phenomena in the universe is the result of
the interplay of two opposite stages, symbolized by Yin
and Yang, and every phenomenon contains within
itself both aspects in different degrees of manifestation.
The day belongs to Yang but, after it reaches its peak
at midday, the Yin within it gradually begins to unfold
and manifest. Thus each phenomenon may belong to
a Yang stage or a Yin stage but always contains the
seed of the opposite stage within itself. The daily
cycle clearly illustrates this (Fig. 1.4).

5
 1
Noon everything goes through phases of a cycle, and in so
doing, its form also changes. For example, the water in
lakes and seas heats up during the day and is trans-
formed into vapour. As the air cools down in the
evening, vapour condenses into water again.
Sunrise Sunset Matter can acquire different states of density. For
example, a table is a dense form of matter and if it is
burned, this matter changes into heat and light, less
dense forms of matter. From this point of view, Yang
symbolizes the more immaterial, rarefied states of
Midnight matter, whereas Yin symbolizes the more material,
Figure 1.4 Yin–Yang in the daily cycle dense states of matter. In the above example, the table
would represent a dense form of matter that is Yin; the
Summer Solstice
light and heat generated when it is burned represent a
South less dense form of matter, but matter, nonetheless, that
is Yang.
To use the same examples, water in its liquid state
Spring pertains to Yin, and the vapour resulting from heat
East West Autumn
Equinox Equinox pertains to Yang; similarly wood in its solid state per-
tains to Yin while the heat and light generated by its
burning pertain to Yang.
North This duality in the states of condensation of things
Winter Solstice was often symbolized in ancient China by the duality
Figure 1.5 Yin–Yang in the seasonal cycle of ‘Heaven’ and ‘Earth’. ‘Heaven’ symbolized all rare-
fied, immaterial, clear and gas-like states of things,
whereas ‘Earth’ symbolized all dense, material, turbid
Exactly the same happens with the yearly cycle and and solid states of things. The ‘Simple Questions’ in
GENERAL THEORY

we need only substitute ‘spring’ for ‘dawn’, ‘summer’
for ‘noon’, ‘autumn’ for ‘dusk’ and ‘winter’ for ‘mid-
night’ (Fig. 1.5).
Thus:
Spring = Yang within Yin = growth of Yang
Summer = Yang within Yang = maximum Yang
Autumn = Yin within Yang = growth of Yin
Winter = Yin within Yin = maximum Yin
The two intermediate stages (dawn–spring and dusk–
autumn) do not represent neutral stages in between
Yin and Yang: they still pertain primarily to one or the
other (i.e. dawn–spring pertains to Yang and dusk–
autumn pertains to Yin), so that the cycle can always
be narrowed down to a polarity of two stages.
Yin–Yang as two states of
density of matter
From a different viewpoint, Yin and Yang stand for two
states in the process of change and transformation of
all things in the universe. As we have seen above,
chapter 2 says: ‘Heaven is an accumulation of Yang, Earth
is an accumulation of Yin.’7 Therefore condensation or
‘agglomeration’ are Yin states of matter while disper-
sion or evaporation are Yang states of matter.
The important thing to understand is that the two
opposite states of condensation or aggregation of
things are not independent of each other, but rather
change into each other. Yin and Yang symbolize two
such opposite states of aggregation of things, the
former ‘dense’ and the latter ‘dispersed’. Lie Zi, a Daoist
text dating from the 5th century bc, said: ‘The purer and
lighter [elements] tending upwards made the Heaven; the
grosser and heavier, tending downwards, made the Earth.’8
In its purest and most rarefied form, Yang is totally
immaterial and corresponds to pure energy, and Yin, in
its coarsest and densest form, is totally material and
corresponds to matter. From this viewpoint, energy
and matter are but two states of a continuum, with an
infinite possible number of states of aggregation. The
‘Simple Questions’ in chapter 2 says: ‘Yin is quiet, Yang
is active. Yang gives life, Yin makes it grow … Yang is trans-
formed into Qi, Yin is transformed into material life.’9

6
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 DANCE ON STILTS AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI

Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

the Newala of to-day does; there was once another Newala in a lovely
valley at the foot of the plateau. I visited it and found scarcely a trace
of houses, only a Christian cemetery, with the graves of several
missionaries and their converts, remaining as a monument of its
former glories. But the surroundings are wonderfully beautiful. A
thick grove of splendid mango-trees closes in the weather-worn
crosses and headstones; behind them, combining the useful and the
agreeable, is a whole plantation of lemon-trees covered with ripe
fruit; not the small African kind, but a much larger and also juicier
imported variety, which drops into the hands of the passing traveller,
without calling for any exertion on his part. Old Newala is now under
the jurisdiction of the native pastor, Daudi, at Chingulungulu, who,
as I am on very friendly terms with him, allows me, as a matter of
course, the use of this lemon-grove during my stay at Newala.
 FEET MUTILATED BY THE RAVAGES OF THE “JIGGER”
(Sarcopsylla penetrans)

The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

some 1,600 feet lower down. The way is not only long and fatiguing,
but the water, when we get it, is thoroughly bad. We are suffering not
only from this, but from the fact that the arrangements at Newala are
nothing short of luxurious. We have a separate kitchen—a hut built
against the boma palisade on the right of the baraza, the interior of
which is not visible from our usual position. Our two cooks were not
long in finding this out, and they consequently do—or rather neglect
to do—what they please. In any case they do not seem to be very
particular about the boiling of our drinking-water—at least I can
attribute to no other cause certain attacks of a dysenteric nature,
from which both Knudsen and I have suffered for some time. If a
man like Omari has to be left unwatched for a moment, he is capable
of anything. Besides this complaint, we are inconvenienced by the
state of our nails, which have become as hard as glass, and crack on
the slightest provocation, and I have the additional infliction of
pimples all over me. As if all this were not enough, we have also, for
the last week been waging war against the jigger, who has found his
Eldorado in the hot sand of the Makonde plateau. Our men are seen
all day long—whenever their chronic colds and the dysentery likewise
raging among them permit—occupied in removing this scourge of
Africa from their feet and trying to prevent the disastrous
consequences of its presence. It is quite common to see natives of
this place with one or two toes missing; many have lost all their toes,
or even the whole front part of the foot, so that a well-formed leg
ends in a shapeless stump. These ravages are caused by the female of
Sarcopsylla penetrans, which bores its way under the skin and there
develops an egg-sac the size of a pea. In all books on the subject, it is
stated that one’s attention is called to the presence of this parasite by
an intolerable itching. This agrees very well with my experience, so
far as the softer parts of the sole, the spaces between and under the
toes, and the side of the foot are concerned, but if the creature
penetrates through the harder parts of the heel or ball of the foot, it
may escape even the most careful search till it has reached maturity.
Then there is no time to be lost, if the horrible ulceration, of which
we see cases by the dozen every day, is to be prevented. It is much
easier, by the way, to discover the insect on the white skin of a
European than on that of a native, on which the dark speck scarcely
shows. The four or five jiggers which, in spite of the fact that I
constantly wore high laced boots, chose my feet to settle in, were
taken out for me by the all-accomplished Knudsen, after which I
thought it advisable to wash out the cavities with corrosive
sublimate. The natives have a different sort of disinfectant—they fill
the hole with scraped roots. In a tiny Makua village on the slope of
the plateau south of Newala, we saw an old woman who had filled all
the spaces under her toe-nails with powdered roots by way of
prophylactic treatment. What will be the result, if any, who can say?
The rest of the many trifling ills which trouble our existence are
really more comic than serious. In the absence of anything else to
smoke, Knudsen and I at last opened a box of cigars procured from
the Indian store-keeper at Lindi, and tried them, with the most
distressing results. Whether they contain opium or some other
narcotic, neither of us can say, but after the tenth puff we were both
“off,” three-quarters stupefied and unspeakably wretched. Slowly we
recovered—and what happened next? Half-an-hour later we were
once more smoking these poisonous concoctions—so insatiable is the
craving for tobacco in the tropics.
Even my present attacks of fever scarcely deserve to be taken
seriously. I have had no less than three here at Newala, all of which
have run their course in an incredibly short time. In the early
afternoon, I am busy with my old natives, asking questions and
making notes. The strong midday coffee has stimulated my spirits to
an extraordinary degree, the brain is active and vigorous, and work
progresses rapidly, while a pleasant warmth pervades the whole
body. Suddenly this gives place to a violent chill, forcing me to put on
my overcoat, though it is only half-past three and the afternoon sun
is at its hottest. Now the brain no longer works with such acuteness
and logical precision; more especially does it fail me in trying to
establish the syntax of the difficult Makua language on which I have
ventured, as if I had not enough to do without it. Under the
circumstances it seems advisable to take my temperature, and I do
so, to save trouble, without leaving my seat, and while going on with
my work. On examination, I find it to be 101·48°. My tutors are
abruptly dismissed and my bed set up in the baraza; a few minutes
later I am in it and treating myself internally with hot water and
lemon-juice.
Three hours later, the thermometer marks nearly 104°, and I make
them carry me back into the tent, bed and all, as I am now perspiring
heavily, and exposure to the cold wind just beginning to blow might
mean a fatal chill. I lie still for a little while, and then find, to my
great relief, that the temperature is not rising, but rather falling. This
is about 7.30 p.m. At 8 p.m. I find, to my unbounded astonishment,
that it has fallen below 98·6°, and I feel perfectly well. I read for an
hour or two, and could very well enjoy a smoke, if I had the
wherewithal—Indian cigars being out of the question.
Having no medical training, I am at a loss to account for this state
of things. It is impossible that these transitory attacks of high fever
should be malarial; it seems more probable that they are due to a
kind of sunstroke. On consulting my note-book, I become more and
more inclined to think this is the case, for these attacks regularly
follow extreme fatigue and long exposure to strong sunshine. They at
least have the advantage of being only short interruptions to my
work, as on the following morning I am always quite fresh and fit.
My treasure of a cook is suffering from an enormous hydrocele which
makes it difficult for him to get up, and Moritz is obliged to keep in
the dark on account of his inflamed eyes. Knudsen’s cook, a raw boy
from somewhere in the bush, knows still less of cooking than Omari;
consequently Nils Knudsen himself has been promoted to the vacant
post. Finding that we had come to the end of our supplies, he began
by sending to Chingulungulu for the four sucking-pigs which we had
bought from Matola and temporarily left in his charge; and when
they came up, neatly packed in a large crate, he callously slaughtered
the biggest of them. The first joint we were thoughtless enough to
entrust for roasting to Knudsen’s mshenzi cook, and it was
consequently uneatable; but we made the rest of the animal into a
jelly which we ate with great relish after weeks of underfeeding,
consuming incredible helpings of it at both midday and evening
meals. The only drawback is a certain want of variety in the tinned
vegetables. Dr. Jäger, to whom the Geographical Commission
entrusted the provisioning of the expeditions—mine as well as his
own—because he had more time on his hands than the rest of us,
seems to have laid in a huge stock of Teltow turnips,[46] an article of
food which is all very well for occasional use, but which quickly palls
when set before one every day; and we seem to have no other tins
left. There is no help for it—we must put up with the turnips; but I
am certain that, once I am home again, I shall not touch them for ten
years to come.
Amid all these minor evils, which, after all, go to make up the
genuine flavour of Africa, there is at least one cheering touch:
Knudsen has, with the dexterity of a skilled mechanic, repaired my 9
× 12 cm. camera, at least so far that I can use it with a little care.
How, in the absence of finger-nails, he was able to accomplish such a
ticklish piece of work, having no tool but a clumsy screw-driver for
taking to pieces and putting together again the complicated
mechanism of the instantaneous shutter, is still a mystery to me; but
he did it successfully. The loss of his finger-nails shows him in a light
contrasting curiously enough with the intelligence evinced by the
above operation; though, after all, it is scarcely surprising after his
ten years’ residence in the bush. One day, at Lindi, he had occasion
to wash a dog, which must have been in need of very thorough
cleansing, for the bottle handed to our friend for the purpose had an
extremely strong smell. Having performed his task in the most
conscientious manner, he perceived with some surprise that the dog
did not appear much the better for it, and was further surprised by
finding his own nails ulcerating away in the course of the next few
days. “How was I to know that carbolic acid has to be diluted?” he
mutters indignantly, from time to time, with a troubled gaze at his
mutilated finger-tips.
 Since we came to Newala we have been making excursions in all
directions through the surrounding country, in accordance with old
habit, and also because the akida Sefu did not get together the tribal
elders from whom I wanted information so speedily as he had
promised. There is, however, no harm done, as, even if seen only
from the outside, the country and people are interesting enough.
The Makonde plateau is like a large rectangular table rounded off
at the corners. Measured from the Indian Ocean to Newala, it is
about seventy-five miles long, and between the Rovuma and the
Lukuledi it averages fifty miles in breadth, so that its superficial area
is about two-thirds of that of the kingdom of Saxony. The surface,
however, is not level, but uniformly inclined from its south-western
edge to the ocean. From the upper edge, on which Newala lies, the
eye ranges for many miles east and north-east, without encountering
any obstacle, over the Makonde bush. It is a green sea, from which
here and there thick clouds of smoke rise, to show that it, too, is
inhabited by men who carry on their tillage like so many other
primitive peoples, by cutting down and burning the bush, and
manuring with the ashes. Even in the radiant light of a tropical day
such a fire is a grand sight.
Much less effective is the impression produced just now by the
great western plain as seen from the edge of the plateau. As often as
time permits, I stroll along this edge, sometimes in one direction,
sometimes in another, in the hope of finding the air clear enough to
let me enjoy the view; but I have always been disappointed.
Wherever one looks, clouds of smoke rise from the burning bush,
and the air is full of smoke and vapour. It is a pity, for under more
favourable circumstances the panorama of the whole country up to
the distant Majeje hills must be truly magnificent. It is of little use
taking photographs now, and an outline sketch gives a very poor idea
of the scenery. In one of these excursions I went out of my way to
make a personal attempt on the Makonde bush. The present edge of
the plateau is the result of a far-reaching process of destruction
through erosion and denudation. The Makonde strata are
everywhere cut into by ravines, which, though short, are hundreds of
yards in depth. In consequence of the loose stratification of these
beds, not only are the walls of these ravines nearly vertical, but their
upper end is closed by an equally steep escarpment, so that the
western edge of the Makonde plateau is hemmed in by a series of
deep, basin-like valleys. In order to get from one side of such a ravine
to the other, I cut my way through the bush with a dozen of my men.
It was a very open part, with more grass than scrub, but even so the
short stretch of less than two hundred yards was very hard work; at
the end of it the men’s calicoes were in rags and they themselves
bleeding from hundreds of scratches, while even our strong khaki
suits had not escaped scatheless.

NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAHUTA

I see increasing reason to believe that the view formed some time
back as to the origin of the Makonde bush is the correct one. I have
no doubt that it is not a natural product, but the result of human
occupation. Those parts of the high country where man—as a very
slight amount of practice enables the eye to perceive at once—has not
yet penetrated with axe and hoe, are still occupied by a splendid
timber forest quite able to sustain a comparison with our mixed
forests in Germany. But wherever man has once built his hut or tilled
his field, this horrible bush springs up. Every phase of this process
may be seen in the course of a couple of hours’ walk along the main
road. From the bush to right or left, one hears the sound of the axe—
not from one spot only, but from several directions at once. A few
steps further on, we can see what is taking place. The brush has been
cut down and piled up in heaps to the height of a yard or more,
between which the trunks of the large trees stand up like the last
pillars of a magnificent ruined building. These, too, present a
melancholy spectacle: the destructive Makonde have ringed them—
cut a broad strip of bark all round to ensure their dying off—and also
piled up pyramids of brush round them. Father and son, mother and
son-in-law, are chopping away perseveringly in the background—too
busy, almost, to look round at the white stranger, who usually excites
so much interest. If you pass by the same place a week later, the piles
of brushwood have disappeared and a thick layer of ashes has taken
the place of the green forest. The large trees stretch their
smouldering trunks and branches in dumb accusation to heaven—if
they have not already fallen and been more or less reduced to ashes,
perhaps only showing as a white stripe on the dark ground.
This work of destruction is carried out by the Makonde alike on the
virgin forest and on the bush which has sprung up on sites already
cultivated and deserted. In the second case they are saved the trouble
of burning the large trees, these being entirely absent in the
secondary bush.
After burning this piece of forest ground and loosening it with the
hoe, the native sows his corn and plants his vegetables. All over the
country, he goes in for bed-culture, which requires, and, in fact,
receives, the most careful attention. Weeds are nowhere tolerated in
the south of German East Africa. The crops may fail on the plains,
where droughts are frequent, but never on the plateau with its
abundant rains and heavy dews. Its fortunate inhabitants even have
the satisfaction of seeing the proud Wayao and Wamakua working
for them as labourers, driven by hunger to serve where they were
accustomed to rule.
But the light, sandy soil is soon exhausted, and would yield no
harvest the second year if cultivated twice running. This fact has
been familiar to the native for ages; consequently he provides in
time, and, while his crop is growing, prepares the next plot with axe
and firebrand. Next year he plants this with his various crops and
lets the first piece lie fallow. For a short time it remains waste and
desolate; then nature steps in to repair the destruction wrought by
man; a thousand new growths spring out of the exhausted soil, and
even the old stumps put forth fresh shoots. Next year the new growth
is up to one’s knees, and in a few years more it is that terrible,
impenetrable bush, which maintains its position till the black
occupier of the land has made the round of all the available sites and
come back to his starting point.
The Makonde are, body and soul, so to speak, one with this bush.
According to my Yao informants, indeed, their name means nothing
else but “bush people.” Their own tradition says that they have been
settled up here for a very long time, but to my surprise they laid great
stress on an original immigration. Their old homes were in the
south-east, near Mikindani and the mouth of the Rovuma, whence
their peaceful forefathers were driven by the continual raids of the
Sakalavas from Madagascar and the warlike Shirazis[47] of the coast,
to take refuge on the almost inaccessible plateau. I have studied
African ethnology for twenty years, but the fact that changes of
population in this apparently quiet and peaceable corner of the earth
could have been occasioned by outside enterprises taking place on
the high seas, was completely new to me. It is, no doubt, however,
correct.
The charming tribal legend of the Makonde—besides informing us
of other interesting matters—explains why they have to live in the
thickest of the bush and a long way from the edge of the plateau,
instead of making their permanent homes beside the purling brooks
and springs of the low country.
“The place where the tribe originated is Mahuta, on the southern
side of the plateau towards the Rovuma, where of old time there was
nothing but thick bush. Out of this bush came a man who never
washed himself or shaved his head, and who ate and drank but little.
He went out and made a human figure from the wood of a tree
growing in the open country, which he took home to his abode in the
bush and there set it upright. In the night this image came to life and
was a woman. The man and woman went down together to the
Rovuma to wash themselves. Here the woman gave birth to a still-
born child. They left that place and passed over the high land into the
valley of the Mbemkuru, where the woman had another child, which
was also born dead. Then they returned to the high bush country of
Mahuta, where the third child was born, which lived and grew up. In
course of time, the couple had many more children, and called
themselves Wamatanda. These were the ancestral stock of the
Makonde, also called Wamakonde,[48] i.e., aborigines. Their
forefather, the man from the bush, gave his children the command to
bury their dead upright, in memory of the mother of their race who
was cut out of wood and awoke to life when standing upright. He also
warned them against settling in the valleys and near large streams,
for sickness and death dwelt there. They were to make it a rule to
have their huts at least an hour’s walk from the nearest watering-
place; then their children would thrive and escape illness.”
The explanation of the name Makonde given by my informants is
somewhat different from that contained in the above legend, which I
extract from a little book (small, but packed with information), by
Pater Adams, entitled Lindi und sein Hinterland. Otherwise, my
results agree exactly with the statements of the legend. Washing?
Hapana—there is no such thing. Why should they do so? As it is, the
supply of water scarcely suffices for cooking and drinking; other
people do not wash, so why should the Makonde distinguish himself
by such needless eccentricity? As for shaving the head, the short,
woolly crop scarcely needs it,[49] so the second ancestral precept is
likewise easy enough to follow. Beyond this, however, there is
nothing ridiculous in the ancestor’s advice. I have obtained from
various local artists a fairly large number of figures carved in wood,
ranging from fifteen to twenty-three inches in height, and
representing women belonging to the great group of the Mavia,
Makonde, and Matambwe tribes. The carving is remarkably well
done and renders the female type with great accuracy, especially the
keloid ornamentation, to be described later on. As to the object and
meaning of their works the sculptors either could or (more probably)
would tell me nothing, and I was forced to content myself with the
scanty information vouchsafed by one man, who said that the figures
were merely intended to represent the nembo—the artificial
deformations of pelele, ear-discs, and keloids. The legend recorded
by Pater Adams places these figures in a new light. They must surely
be more than mere dolls; and we may even venture to assume that
they are—though the majority of present-day Makonde are probably
unaware of the fact—representations of the tribal ancestress.
 The references in the legend to the descent from Mahuta to the
Rovuma, and to a journey across the highlands into the Mbekuru
valley, undoubtedly indicate the previous history of the tribe, the
travels of the ancestral pair typifying the migrations of their
descendants. The descent to the neighbouring Rovuma valley, with
its extraordinary fertility and great abundance of game, is intelligible
at a glance—but the crossing of the Lukuledi depression, the ascent
to the Rondo Plateau and the descent to the Mbemkuru, also lie
within the bounds of probability, for all these districts have exactly
the same character as the extreme south. Now, however, comes a
point of especial interest for our bacteriological age. The primitive
Makonde did not enjoy their lives in the marshy river-valleys.
Disease raged among them, and many died. It was only after they
had returned to their original home near Mahuta, that the health
conditions of these people improved. We are very apt to think of the
African as a stupid person whose ignorance of nature is only equalled
by his fear of it, and who looks on all mishaps as caused by evil
spirits and malignant natural powers. It is much more correct to
assume in this case that the people very early learnt to distinguish
districts infested with malaria from those where it is absent.
This knowledge is crystallized in the
ancestral warning against settling in the
valleys and near the great waters, the
dwelling-places of disease and death. At the
same time, for security against the hostile
Mavia south of the Rovuma, it was enacted
that every settlement must be not less than a
certain distance from the southern edge of the
plateau. Such in fact is their mode of life at the
present day. It is not such a bad one, and
certainly they are both safer and more
comfortable than the Makua, the recent
intruders from the south, who have made USUAL METHOD OF
good their footing on the western edge of the CLOSING HUT-DOOR
plateau, extending over a fairly wide belt of
country. Neither Makua nor Makonde show in their dwellings
anything of the size and comeliness of the Yao houses in the plain,
especially at Masasi, Chingulungulu and Zuza’s. Jumbe Chauro, a
Makonde hamlet not far from Newala, on the road to Mahuta, is the
most important settlement of the tribe I have yet seen, and has fairly
spacious huts. But how slovenly is their construction compared with
the palatial residences of the elephant-hunters living in the plain.
The roofs are still more untidy than in the general run of huts during
the dry season, the walls show here and there the scanty beginnings
or the lamentable remains of the mud plastering, and the interior is a
veritable dog-kennel; dirt, dust and disorder everywhere. A few huts
only show any attempt at division into rooms, and this consists
merely of very roughly-made bamboo partitions. In one point alone
have I noticed any indication of progress—in the method of fastening
the door. Houses all over the south are secured in a simple but
ingenious manner. The door consists of a set of stout pieces of wood
or bamboo, tied with bark-string to two cross-pieces, and moving in
two grooves round one of the door-posts, so as to open inwards. If
the owner wishes to leave home, he takes two logs as thick as a man’s
upper arm and about a yard long. One of these is placed obliquely
against the middle of the door from the inside, so as to form an angle
of from 60° to 75° with the ground. He then places the second piece
horizontally across the first, pressing it downward with all his might.
It is kept in place by two strong posts planted in the ground a few
inches inside the door. This fastening is absolutely safe, but of course
cannot be applied to both doors at once, otherwise how could the
owner leave or enter his house? I have not yet succeeded in finding
out how the back door is fastened.

MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

 This is the general way of closing a house. The Makonde at Jumbe
Chauro, however, have a much more complicated, solid and original
one. Here, too, the door is as already described, except that there is
only one post on the inside, standing by itself about six inches from
one side of the doorway. Opposite this post is a hole in the wall just
large enough to admit a man’s arm. The door is closed inside by a
large wooden bolt passing through a hole in this post and pressing
with its free end against the door. The other end has three holes into
which fit three pegs running in vertical grooves inside the post. The
door is opened with a wooden key about a foot long, somewhat
curved and sloped off at the butt; the other end has three pegs
corresponding to the holes, in the bolt, so that, when it is thrust
through the hole in the wall and inserted into the rectangular
opening in the post, the pegs can be lifted and the bolt drawn out.[50]

MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY

With no small pride first one householder and then a second

showed me on the spot the action of this greatest invention of the
Makonde Highlands. To both with an admiring exclamation of
“Vizuri sana!” (“Very fine!”). I expressed the wish to take back these
marvels with me to Ulaya, to show the Wazungu what clever fellows
the Makonde are. Scarcely five minutes after my return to camp at
Newala, the two men came up sweating under the weight of two
heavy logs which they laid down at my feet, handing over at the same
time the keys of the fallen fortress. Arguing, logically enough, that if
the key was wanted, the lock would be wanted with it, they had taken
their axes and chopped down the posts—as it never occurred to them
to dig them out of the ground and so bring them intact. Thus I have
two badly damaged specimens, and the owners, instead of praise,
come in for a blowing-up.
The Makua huts in the environs of Newala are especially
miserable; their more than slovenly construction reminds one of the
temporary erections of the Makua at Hatia’s, though the people here
have not been concerned in a war. It must therefore be due to
congenital idleness, or else to the absence of a powerful chief. Even
the baraza at Mlipa’s, a short hour’s walk south-east of Newala,
shares in this general neglect. While public buildings in this country
are usually looked after more or less carefully, this is in evident
danger of being blown over by the first strong easterly gale. The only
attractive object in this whole district is the grave of the late chief
Mlipa. I visited it in the morning, while the sun was still trying with
partial success to break through the rolling mists, and the circular
grove of tall euphorbias, which, with a broken pot, is all that marks
the old king’s resting-place, impressed one with a touch of pathos.
Even my very materially-minded carriers seemed to feel something
of the sort, for instead of their usual ribald songs, they chanted
solemnly, as we marched on through the dense green of the Makonde
bush:—
 “We shall arrive with the great master; we stand in a row and have
no fear about getting our food and our money from the Serkali (the
Government). We are not afraid; we are going along with the great
master, the lion; we are going down to the coast and back.”
With regard to the characteristic features of the various tribes here
on the western edge of the plateau, I can arrive at no other
conclusion than the one already come to in the plain, viz., that it is
impossible for anyone but a trained anthropologist to assign any
given individual at once to his proper tribe. In fact, I think that even
an anthropological specialist, after the most careful examination,
might find it a difficult task to decide. The whole congeries of peoples
collected in the region bounded on the west by the great Central
African rift, Tanganyika and Nyasa, and on the east by the Indian
Ocean, are closely related to each other—some of their languages are
only distinguished from one another as dialects of the same speech,
and no doubt all the tribes present the same shape of skull and
structure of skeleton. Thus, surely, there can be no very striking
differences in outward appearance.
 Even did such exist, I should have no time
to concern myself with them, for day after day,
I have to see or hear, as the case may be—in
any case to grasp and record—an
extraordinary number of ethnographic
phenomena. I am almost disposed to think it
fortunate that some departments of inquiry, at
least, are barred by external circumstances.
Chief among these is the subject of iron-
working. We are apt to think of Africa as a
country where iron ore is everywhere, so to
speak, to be picked up by the roadside, and
where it would be quite surprising if the
inhabitants had not learnt to smelt the
material ready to their hand. In fact, the
knowledge of this art ranges all over the
continent, from the Kabyles in the north to the
Kafirs in the south. Here between the Rovuma
and the Lukuledi the conditions are not so
favourable. According to the statements of the
Makonde, neither ironstone nor any other
form of iron ore is known to them. They have
not therefore advanced to the art of smelting
the metal, but have hitherto bought all their
THE ANCESTRESS OF
THE MAKONDE
iron implements from neighbouring tribes.
Even in the plain the inhabitants are not much
better off. Only one man now living is said to
understand the art of smelting iron. This old fundi lives close to
Huwe, that isolated, steep-sided block of granite which rises out of
the green solitude between Masasi and Chingulungulu, and whose
jagged and splintered top meets the traveller’s eye everywhere. While
still at Masasi I wished to see this man at work, but was told that,
frightened by the rising, he had retired across the Rovuma, though
he would soon return. All subsequent inquiries as to whether the
fundi had come back met with the genuine African answer, “Bado”
(“Not yet”).
 BRAZIER

Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

came across in the bush near Akundonde’s. This man is the favourite
of women, and therefore no doubt of the gods; he welds the glittering
brass rods purchased at the coast into those massive, heavy rings
which, on the wrists and ankles of the local fair ones, continually give
me fresh food for admiration. Like every decent master-craftsman he
had all his tools with him, consisting of a pair of bellows, three
crucibles and a hammer—nothing more, apparently. He was quite
willing to show his skill, and in a twinkling had fixed his bellows on
the ground. They are simply two goat-skins, taken off whole, the four
legs being closed by knots, while the upper opening, intended to
admit the air, is kept stretched by two pieces of wood. At the lower
end of the skin a smaller opening is left into which a wooden tube is
stuck. The fundi has quickly borrowed a heap of wood-embers from
the nearest hut; he then fixes the free ends of the two tubes into an
earthen pipe, and clamps them to the ground by means of a bent
piece of wood. Now he fills one of his small clay crucibles, the dross
on which shows that they have been long in use, with the yellow
material, places it in the midst of the embers, which, at present are
only faintly glimmering, and begins his work. In quick alternation
the smith’s two hands move up and down with the open ends of the
bellows; as he raises his hand he holds the slit wide open, so as to let
the air enter the skin bag unhindered. In pressing it down he closes
the bag, and the air puffs through the bamboo tube and clay pipe into
the fire, which quickly burns up. The smith, however, does not keep
on with this work, but beckons to another man, who relieves him at
the bellows, while he takes some more tools out of a large skin pouch
carried on his back. I look on in wonder as, with a smooth round
stick about the thickness of a finger, he bores a few vertical holes into
the clean sand of the soil. This should not be difficult, yet the man
seems to be taking great pains over it. Then he fastens down to the
ground, with a couple of wooden clamps, a neat little trough made by
splitting a joint of bamboo in half, so that the ends are closed by the
two knots. At last the yellow metal has attained the right consistency,
and the fundi lifts the crucible from the fire by means of two sticks
split at the end to serve as tongs. A short swift turn to the left—a
tilting of the crucible—and the molten brass, hissing and giving forth
clouds of smoke, flows first into the bamboo mould and then into the
holes in the ground.
The technique of this backwoods craftsman may not be very far
advanced, but it cannot be denied that he knows how to obtain an
adequate result by the simplest means. The ladies of highest rank in
this country—that is to say, those who can afford it, wear two kinds
of these massive brass rings, one cylindrical, the other semicircular
in section. The latter are cast in the most ingenious way in the
bamboo mould, the former in the circular hole in the sand. It is quite
a simple matter for the fundi to fit these bars to the limbs of his fair
customers; with a few light strokes of his hammer he bends the
pliable brass round arm or ankle without further inconvenience to
the wearer.
SHAPING THE POT

SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB

CUTTING THE EDGE

 FINISHING THE BOTTOM

LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

BURNING

FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

 LIGHTING THE FARTHER SIDE OF
THE PILE

TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL

NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

Pottery is an art which must always and everywhere excite the
interest of the student, just because it is so intimately connected with
the development of human culture, and because its relics are one of
the principal factors in the reconstruction of our own condition in
prehistoric times. I shall always remember with pleasure the two or
three afternoons at Masasi when Salim Matola’s mother, a slightly-
built, graceful, pleasant-looking woman, explained to me with
touching patience, by means of concrete illustrations, the ceramic art
of her people. The only implements for this primitive process were a
lump of clay in her left hand, and in the right a calabash containing
the following valuables: the fragment of a maize-cob stripped of all
its grains, a smooth, oval pebble, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, a
few chips of gourd-shell, a bamboo splinter about the length of one’s
hand, a small shell, and a bunch of some herb resembling spinach.
 Nothing more. The woman scraped with the
shell a round, shallow hole in the soft, fine
sand of the soil, and, when an active young
girl had filled the calabash with water for her,
she began to knead the clay. As if by magic it
gradually assumed the shape of a rough but
already well-shaped vessel, which only wanted
a little touching up with the instruments
before mentioned. I looked out with the
MAKUA WOMAN closest attention for any indication of the use
MAKING A POT. of the potter’s wheel, in however rudimentary
SHOWS THE a form, but no—hapana (there is none). The
BEGINNINGS OF THE embryo pot stood firmly in its little
POTTER’S WHEEL
depression, and the woman walked round it in
a stooping posture, whether she was removing
small stones or similar foreign bodies with the maize-cob, smoothing
the inner or outer surface with the splinter of bamboo, or later, after
letting it dry for a day, pricking in the ornamentation with a pointed
bit of gourd-shell, or working out the bottom, or cutting the edge
with a sharp bamboo knife, or giving the last touches to the finished
vessel. This occupation of the women is infinitely toilsome, but it is
without doubt an accurate reproduction of the process in use among
our ancestors of the Neolithic and Bronze ages.
There is no doubt that the invention of pottery, an item in human
progress whose importance cannot be over-estimated, is due to
women. Rough, coarse and unfeeling, the men of the horde range
over the countryside. When the united cunning of the hunters has
succeeded in killing the game; not one of them thinks of carrying
home the spoil. A bright fire, kindled by a vigorous wielding of the
drill, is crackling beside them; the animal has been cleaned and cut
up secundum artem, and, after a slight singeing, will soon disappear
under their sharp teeth; no one all this time giving a single thought
to wife or child.
To what shifts, on the other hand, the primitive wife, and still more
the primitive mother, was put! Not even prehistoric stomachs could
endure an unvarying diet of raw food. Something or other suggested
the beneficial effect of hot water on the majority of approved but
indigestible dishes. Perhaps a neighbour had tried holding the hard
roots or tubers over the fire in a calabash filled with water—or maybe
an ostrich-egg-shell, or a hastily improvised vessel of bark. They
became much softer and more palatable than they had previously
been; but, unfortunately, the vessel could not stand the fire and got
charred on the outside. That can be remedied, thought our
ancestress, and plastered a layer of wet clay round a similar vessel.
This is an improvement; the cooking utensil remains uninjured, but
the heat of the fire has shrunk it, so that it is loose in its shell. The
next step is to detach it, so, with a firm grip and a jerk, shell and
kernel are separated, and pottery is invented. Perhaps, however, the
discovery which led to an intelligent use of the burnt-clay shell, was
made in a slightly different way. Ostrich-eggs and calabashes are not
to be found in every part of the world, but everywhere mankind has
arrived at the art of making baskets out of pliant materials, such as
bark, bast, strips of palm-leaf, supple twigs, etc. Our inventor has no
water-tight vessel provided by nature. “Never mind, let us line the
basket with clay.” This answers the purpose, but alas! the basket gets
burnt over the blazing fire, the woman watches the process of
cooking with increasing uneasiness, fearing a leak, but no leak
appears. The food, done to a turn, is eaten with peculiar relish; and
the cooking-vessel is examined, half in curiosity, half in satisfaction
at the result. The plastic clay is now hard as stone, and at the same
time looks exceedingly well, for the neat plaiting of the burnt basket
is traced all over it in a pretty pattern. Thus, simultaneously with
pottery, its ornamentation was invented.
Primitive woman has another claim to respect. It was the man,
roving abroad, who invented the art of producing fire at will, but the
woman, unable to imitate him in this, has been a Vestal from the
earliest times. Nothing gives so much trouble as the keeping alight of
the smouldering brand, and, above all, when all the men are absent
from the camp. Heavy rain-clouds gather, already the first large
drops are falling, the first gusts of the storm rage over the plain. The
little flame, a greater anxiety to the woman than her own children,
flickers unsteadily in the blast. What is to be done? A sudden thought
occurs to her, and in an instant she has constructed a primitive hut
out of strips of bark, to protect the flame against rain and wind.
This, or something very like it, was the way in which the principle
of the house was discovered; and even the most hardened misogynist
cannot fairly refuse a woman the credit of it. The protection of the
hearth-fire from the weather is the germ from which the human
dwelling was evolved. Men had little, if any share, in this forward
step, and that only at a late stage. Even at the present day, the
plastering of the housewall with clay and the manufacture of pottery
are exclusively the women’s business. These are two very significant
survivals. Our European kitchen-garden, too, is originally a woman’s
invention, and the hoe, the primitive instrument of agriculture, is,
characteristically enough, still used in this department. But the
noblest achievement which we owe to the other sex is unquestionably
the art of cookery. Roasting alone—the oldest process—is one for
which men took the hint (a very obvious one) from nature. It must
have been suggested by the scorched carcase of some animal
overtaken by the destructive forest-fires. But boiling—the process of
improving organic substances by the help of water heated to boiling-
point—is a much later discovery. It is so recent that it has not even
yet penetrated to all parts of the world. The Polynesians understand
how to steam food, that is, to cook it, neatly wrapped in leaves, in a
hole in the earth between hot stones, the air being excluded, and
(sometimes) a few drops of water sprinkled on the stones; but they
do not understand boiling.
To come back from this digression, we find that the slender Nyasa
woman has, after once more carefully examining the finished pot,
put it aside in the shade to dry. On the following day she sends me
word by her son, Salim Matola, who is always on hand, that she is
going to do the burning, and, on coming out of my house, I find her
already hard at work. She has spread on the ground a layer of very
dry sticks, about as thick as one’s thumb, has laid the pot (now of a
yellowish-grey colour) on them, and is piling brushwood round it.
My faithful Pesa mbili, the mnyampara, who has been standing by,
most obligingly, with a lighted stick, now hands it to her. Both of
them, blowing steadily, light the pile on the lee side, and, when the
flame begins to catch, on the weather side also. Soon the whole is in a
blaze, but the dry fuel is quickly consumed and the fire dies down, so
that we see the red-hot vessel rising from the ashes. The woman
turns it continually with a long stick, sometimes one way and
sometimes another, so that it may be evenly heated all over. In
twenty minutes she rolls it out of the ash-heap, takes up the bundle
of spinach, which has been lying for two days in a jar of water, and
sprinkles the red-hot clay with it. The places where the drops fall are
marked by black spots on the uniform reddish-brown surface. With a
sigh of relief, and with visible satisfaction, the woman rises to an
erect position; she is standing just in a line between me and the fire,
from which a cloud of smoke is just rising: I press the ball of my
camera, the shutter clicks—the apotheosis is achieved! Like a
priestess, representative of her inventive sex, the graceful woman
stands: at her feet the hearth-fire she has given us beside her the
invention she has devised for us, in the background the home she has
built for us.
At Newala, also, I have had the manufacture of pottery carried on
in my presence. Technically the process is better than that already
described, for here we find the beginnings of the potter’s wheel,
which does not seem to exist in the plains; at least I have seen
nothing of the sort. The artist, a frightfully stupid Makua woman, did
not make a depression in the ground to receive the pot she was about
to shape, but used instead a large potsherd. Otherwise, she went to
work in much the same way as Salim’s mother, except that she saved
herself the trouble of walking round and round her work by squatting
at her ease and letting the pot and potsherd rotate round her; this is
surely the first step towards a machine. But it does not follow that
the pot was improved by the process. It is true that it was beautifully
rounded and presented a very creditable appearance when finished,
but the numerous large and small vessels which I have seen, and, in
part, collected, in the “less advanced” districts, are no less so. We
moderns imagine that instruments of precision are necessary to
produce excellent results. Go to the prehistoric collections of our
museums and look at the pots, urns and bowls of our ancestors in the
dim ages of the past, and you will at once perceive your error.
MAKING LONGITUDINAL CUT IN
BARK

DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG

REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

 BEATING THE BARK

WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

SOFT

MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

To-day, nearly the whole population of German East Africa is
clothed in imported calico. This was not always the case; even now in
some parts of the north dressed skins are still the prevailing wear,
and in the north-western districts—east and north of Lake
Tanganyika—lies a zone where bark-cloth has not yet been
superseded. Probably not many generations have passed since such
bark fabrics and kilts of skins were the only clothing even in the
south. Even to-day, large quantities of this bright-red or drab
material are still to be found; but if we wish to see it, we must look in
the granaries and on the drying stages inside the native huts, where
it serves less ambitious uses as wrappings for those seeds and fruits
which require to be packed with special care. The salt produced at
Masasi, too, is packed for transport to a distance in large sheets of
bark-cloth. Wherever I found it in any degree possible, I studied the
process of making this cloth. The native requisitioned for the
purpose arrived, carrying a log between two and three yards long and
as thick as his thigh, and nothing else except a curiously-shaped
mallet and the usual long, sharp and pointed knife which all men and
boys wear in a belt at their backs without a sheath—horribile dictu!
[51]
Silently he squats down before me, and with two rapid cuts has
drawn a couple of circles round the log some two yards apart, and
slits the bark lengthwise between them with the point of his knife.
With evident care, he then scrapes off the outer rind all round the
log, so that in a quarter of an hour the inner red layer of the bark
shows up brightly-coloured between the two untouched ends. With
some trouble and much caution, he now loosens the bark at one end,
and opens the cylinder. He then stands up, takes hold of the free
edge with both hands, and turning it inside out, slowly but steadily
pulls it off in one piece. Now comes the troublesome work of
scraping all superfluous particles of outer bark from the outside of
the long, narrow piece of material, while the inner side is carefully
scrutinised for defective spots. At last it is ready for beating. Having
signalled to a friend, who immediately places a bowl of water beside
him, the artificer damps his sheet of bark all over, seizes his mallet,
lays one end of the stuff on the smoothest spot of the log, and
hammers away slowly but continuously. “Very simple!” I think to
myself. “Why, I could do that, too!”—but I am forced to change my
opinions a little later on; for the beating is quite an art, if the fabric is
not to be beaten to pieces. To prevent the breaking of the fibres, the
stuff is several times folded across, so as to interpose several
thicknesses between the mallet and the block. At last the required
state is reached, and the fundi seizes the sheet, still folded, by both
ends, and wrings it out, or calls an assistant to take one end while he
holds the other. The cloth produced in this way is not nearly so fine
and uniform in texture as the famous Uganda bark-cloth, but it is
quite soft, and, above all, cheap.
Now, too, I examine the mallet. My craftsman has been using the
simpler but better form of this implement, a conical block of some
hard wood, its base—the striking surface—being scored across and
across with more or less deeply-cut grooves, and the handle stuck
into a hole in the middle. The other and earlier form of mallet is
shaped in the same way, but the head is fastened by an ingenious
network of bark strips into the split bamboo serving as a handle. The
observation so often made, that ancient customs persist longest in
connection with religious ceremonies and in the life of children, here
finds confirmation. As we shall soon see, bark-cloth is still worn
during the unyago,[52] having been prepared with special solemn
ceremonies; and many a mother, if she has no other garment handy,
will still put her little one into a kilt of bark-cloth, which, after all,
looks better, besides being more in keeping with its African
surroundings, than the ridiculous bit of print from Ulaya.
MAKUA WOMEN