Jungian Therapy, Jungian Analysis, New York

The Myth of Fuusai (Melanesia)

• Maxson J. McDowell

Jungian therapy jungian analysis new york city jungian therapist/analyst carl jung therapy

The Myth of Fuusai (Melanesia)

Collected by Elli Kongais Maranda on Fou'eda Island, April 1968. Translated from the Lau.
Journal of American Folklore 86 (1973): 4-7.

The Myth of Fuusai. It starts with the snake, the snake. That lady lived in a rock, lived on, and she gave birth to a child. She gave birth to a girl.

Myths, legends, and fairy tales all seem to portray - and thereby support - the development of an individual conscious personality. Such a development is uncommon and a product of culture: without myths and legends consciousness is weaker and less reliable.

A snake penetrates from one region to another by slithering through small openings. Symbolically it initiates consciousness by sliding almost imperceptibly out of a dark realm -- unconsciousness -- into a new more illuminated area. Because it goes back and forth (like Odin in germanic myth or like the devil) it represents continual traffic between the two realms. Its sinuous motion suggests the movement by which consciousness develops - not direct and purposeful, the shortest distance between two points, but by oscillation to left and right - discovering the unexpected, like a road trip continually interrupted with sideways excursions to see what lies beyond view.

Giving birth to a human is a repetition, another image which symbolizes the creation of a new, more human, that is, more conscious, realm of being. That the baby is a girl suggests that consciousness begins in the feminine, as is also suggested by the female snake.

The relationship between the snake-mother and her daughter represents an early two-person stage of consciousness. In the first years of life the infant grows in a two-person world, developing attitudes towards its own body, touch, intimacy, love, feeding, defecation, autonomy, control, anxiety, security and many other related issues. The next, three-person, stage is what Freud called the oedipal stage, when the child learns to share his or her mother with another intimate family member. Attitudes towards sharing, the social world, and hence culture itself, are developed.

Consciousness develops through these phases in the first years of life and develops again through those phases in symbolic processes later in life, for example during adolescence. It is these subsequent, more cultural developments which are the subject of this myth.

And then she heard of -- the girl was already a maiden -- and she heard of the dance in Fuusai. She heard of that dance, and she wanted to go and watch it. And she went, went and watched the dance. Watched the dance of panpipes. She went like that.

Snake Dancer. Rah Lava Island, Torba Province, Vanuatu

Panpipes. Narasirato, Solomon Islands

When she was almost there, she stole in, hiding herself as she went. The women of Fuusai wondered, "But where is that beautiful girl from that stands here? Why has this girl come?"

The girl steals into the dance, hiding herself, like a snake. Another repetition, another image of entering a new realm.

In dance the body moves sinuously at the hips, like a snake. The girl is drawn to this human movement which also represents consciousness. Dance - aesthetic rather than practical - creates symbolic images, explores symbolic ideas. Dance combines pelvic, instinctual life with feeling, beauty, and the intellect. All of these must be integrated for consciousness: consciousness is not just in the intellect.

Music also (the panpipes) integrates different realms of being into a crafted product, and is thus another symbol of consciousness.

Going to the dance arouses the girl's feelings and her imagination; she begins to form bonds and fantasies about the other dancers and onlookers. The girl is beautiful, which also evokes bonds and fantasies.

Still another day it went again like this. Two watchings of the dance were finished, her mother, that snake, asked her, "Where did you go? I missed you." And her daughter spoke, told her, "Oh, I watched that dance in Fuusai." And that snake said to her daughter, "You were not born of any man. You were not born of any woman. If you still go, you will crush me." And she spoke to her daughter, "Should a man see you, and if he marries you, when he sees me it will not be good. For I am not human, I am a thing of the ground."

Inevitably, the girl will find herself a man. The snake foresees the transformation and wants to hold her daughter back. This is the regressive tendency of the unconscious which, though it gives birth to consciousness, yet tries to conserve its own power.

That snake spoke like this to her three times. Her daughter did not take heed. When it came to the sixth visit to watch the dance, Abunaili saw her and said, "I will just take a look at that girl. A girl like this I did not see in the village of Fuusai, I did not see in this Abualakwa. A woman like this I did not see in the area of this village." And Abunaili said, "Tomorrow I will look for that woman, that girl." [Whispering: "Afubora is the name of that woman."]

And Abunaili stood waiting, when the panpipes were being danced. That girl watched the dance, the dance was about to start. That girl went. She hid herself. Abunaili watched her movements. He looked and saw the girl appear. Abunaili walked ahead, held her hand. The girl said, "Let me free. I was not born of any man, I was not born of any woman."

Abunaili spoke, "Nobody is born of nobody. One is born of people." That girl said, "Oh, me, of a thing of the ground I was born." Abunaili said, "Never mind, you are my wife. Never mind if you were born of a thing of the ground." And Abunaili married Afubora. Married her to Fuusai.

The phallic force pushes past objections to achieve its goal. It initiates further consciousness by violating the present order, by pushing for the inner marriage.

And Afubora spoke thus, "In the future, if you see my mother, will it be well? If you see my mother and it is well, you shall dwell with riches." She spoke only like this, she did not utter the name of her mother, she spoke guardedly.

Afubora seeks to unify past and future, but she knows Abunaili will not accept all of her. Her unity is threatened by the arrogance of new consciousness.

In speaking guardedly, Abufora is keeping her thoughts secret from Abunaili. Thus consciousness continues to evolve in their conflict. Because she must conceal it from him, she becomes more conscious of her own private inner life. She is integrating the phallic power of discrimination as she seeks to relate to him.

And Abunaili built a house for his wife. And those two lived on. And a child was born. Those two had a child, and then they went to the garden, taro garden. Afubora waited for Abunaili to go before her, and she deceived him: "Go on ahead, I will go and gather the bamboo for the digging."

The birth of their child shows that their new more conscious relating is initiating new psychological life. More deception again means more discrimination of inner life, more consciousness.

Afubora followed after, Abunaili went before her. She took her child, gave it to her mother, gave it to the snake in the rock. And her mother coiled around it. Coming back to the village, she deceived her husband: "Go on ahead, I will collect things, then I will go." And Abunaili led the way. Afubora went off, passed by the opening of the rock, took her child.

Again Afubora seeks to unify past and future, by sharing her child with her mother.

Three times she had given her child to her mother. The fourth time arrived. And Abunaili wondered, "To whom does that woman give my child?" And Abunaili was digging in the garden, and, at noon, Abunaili lied to his wife, lied to Afubora: "Oh, stay where you are, I will just go for a walk. I will look for an areca nut." Abunaili lied thus to his wife. Abunaili happened to take a stone ax in his hand, and he went to Fuusai. When he came to Fuusai, he asked the women of Fuusai, thus: "But to whom does that old woman of mine give my child?" He asked, and the married women of Fuusai all denied: "Oh, we do not look after this child. Should a woman of Fuusai look after him, she would not hide him, we would see him."

Again, consciousness evolves as Abunaili lies to his wife, and then seeks to discover the truth of her actions.

Abunaili went back, searched. Abunaili passed by the rock, heard the crying of a child. The snake was coiled around it. Abunaili walked to the rock. He looked and saw his child embraced by the snake. Abunaili was startled and amazed. "Oh, that woman, she gives my child to a strange creature. She lies to me that a woman of Fuusai is looking after him." Abunaili walked forth, reached for the child to get it from the snake. Took the ax, cut the snake to pieces. Cut her to two pieces. The snake collapsed inside the rock.

By bisecting the snake, Abunaili discriminates further, makes more distinctions, separates the snake's original unity with nature.

Afubora worked on, prepared the garden. Blood gushed forth from her nostrils. It ran to the top of her breasts. And she said: "Oh, now my mother is dead. My husband has killed my mother. A sign of that has come to me."

The unity between mother and daughter is so strong that blood flows from the daughter's body when the mother is cut.

And Afubora stood up. She wailed. She did not take bundles of things, she did not cut a bundle of taro, she reached for her rainwrap and for her bag, and she left the garden. She came, arrived, looked into the rock, and saw her mother prostrated. Those two pieces of the snake. And her mother spoke, that snake: "My daughter dear, I told you, when you went to the dance in Fuusai. I forbade you, and you did not obey. You have crushed me. I told you. Your husband, Abunaili, had he seen me and had it been well, if he had accepted me, shell strings would have poured in, food would have grown like anything. Had he killed a man in these eight sites of bravery, no man could have killed him. His word would have been supreme, had he accepted me. He has finished me like this, and his word will have no power."

The natural fertility of original unity is lost.

The snake spoke thus to her daughter Afubora, "Bring the dark cloth and wrap me in it. Bury me." The snake spoke to her child. Afubora wrapped (afu) her mother in the dark cloth (bora), took her, and buried her. After burying her, she returned to Fuusai. She went and arrived in their house and sat down at the housepost.

Bark painting, Ruban, New Guinea.

Abunaili was carrying the child. And Afubora wailed, wailed to her husband: "Dear husband of mine, dear Abunaili, what did I tell you? That time when you held my hand, the day when the panpipes were danced in Fuusai. I told you: 'Let me free, I was not born of any man, I was not born of any woman, I was only born of a thing of the ground.' And you did not heed me. You pressed on to marry me. Had you seen my mother and had it been well you would still have me as your wife, but today you killed my mother, you spoiled everything. Had you accepted my mother, your word would be supreme in these eight sites of bravery. Had you asked for shell strings, for dolphin teeth, they would have come to you. Food would have been abundant. But you cut my mother, all these things will never be yours." Afubora spoke like this, wailed. She wailed thus, and her legs were hidden by the ground. [-Here it is like Abunamalau.-] Abunaili did not look at her, he only sat straight. She wailed, and it reached her waist. She wailed, and it reached under her breasts. She wailed, and the ground reached her armpits.

And Afubora spoke to Abunaili: "Dear husband of mine, dear Abunaili, you will live on in Fuusai. You will marry again a woman in this Fuusai, in this Safangidu, in this Abualakwa. You will again build a house for her. She will again feed a pig for you. She will again make a taro garden for you. She will again make a yam garden for you. She will again bear a child for you. You killed my mother, I am leaving you."

Abunaili was startled, looked, the ground hid Afubora. And she spoke from underground. And she withdrew following an underground passage. A passage that they call the cave of Lilibu. She followed it. She went and came up again. She came up in Langane.

That man of Ofahao saw that girl, her coming up, her coming into daylight. He looked, went to her, and saw. "Where is this beautiful woman from?" He walked forth, Filihau. And he came and asked that girl, "Where are you from?"

And Afubora spoke, "I am a woman of the ground. Therefore I do not live in any village. I do not live in any house. I was born of a thing of the ground."

And Filihau said, "Never mind. I will marry you anyway." And Filihau married that girl Afubora. He married her to Ofahao. And they call her the Lady of Langane. She started as the Lady of Fuusai. Many things follow from her, from this woman. Many words. Many holy things, traditional. They follow her words, they follow her name.

Her names are many: Afubora, the Cut Woman, the Woman Who Withdrew into the Ground, the Quick Woman. These all are her names. [-This story is too sacred to tell into the tape recorder.-]

She gave birth to eight men in Ofahao. These eight men are: Amasia, Etifonu, Maoma'iluma, Biru'ilalo, Kafa'igou, Suulaola, Maesiana, Ruru. These eight men originated the lineages of Langane. These are in the genealogy of Belo. Ofahao lineage, Maanakao lineage, the third man's lineage Malililiboso, the fourth man's lineage Lower Bina, the fifth man's lineage Upper Bina, the sixth man's lineage Acleade, the seventh man's lineage Arue, the eighth man's lineage Afuafua.

Question: What about the child she left behind?

Answer: He lived in Fuusai, the lineage of Fuusai. He was Gounakafogwarea. Today those things he started are in Fuusai. The mana of that snake is in Fuusai. When she arrived in Langane, there is her second mana.

Jari's marriage (New Guinea)

from Ian Hogbin: "The Island of the Menstruating Men: Religion in Wogeo, New Guinea", 34-5. Toronto, 1970.

The culture heroine, Jari, with that lack of logic that is so common, inaugurated the wedded state not with her initial match but with her second. She was the daughter of a snake woman, a fact she kept concealed from her husband. It was her practice to wait till he had gone out fishing before summoning her mother to the house to care for their infant while she herself worked in the gardens.

One afternoon he returned early and, alarmed at the sight of the baby encircled by the serpent's coils, killed the reptile with his axe.

Jari was heartbroken at the loss of her parent and declined to stay. She took the precaution of piling the house, the cooking pots, and a basket of taro into her vulva and then went over to the other side of the island.

There, while walking along the shore, she saw a man fishing from the branch of a Callophyllum tree that overhung the water. This was Kamarong, a wild culture hero from the forest. "Tell me where your dwelling is that I may take shelter," she called to him. But he only shook his head, for he had no conception of what the word "dwelling" meant.

Canoe's protective spirit, Maravo lagoon Solomon Islands.

Accordingly, Jari took poles, rafters, walls, and thatch from her vulva and put up a residence for them both. "Now, where are the cooking pots?" she asked. Again he shook his head - his food had hitherto consisted solely of fish smoked over the fire. "Well, if I supply the pots, will you show me your gardens?" Jari now enquired. As he was also ignorant of agriculture she was forced to delve once more and produce her own taro.

Kamarong was delighted with the meal and agreed to clear an area of ground for her. "I'll bring home fish if you will become my wife and do cultivation and cooking," he said.

She hesitated to accept the proposal because he stank so abominably. The poor fellow had no anus and was obliged to use his mouth for evacuating as well as swallowing. After some thought she made him bend over with his head towards the ground. She then took a length of bamboo and pierced his rectum. At last she could live with him.

These two, Jari and Kamarong, were the first married couple. She worked in the gardens and cooked the food, and he spent his days fishing, activities in which their respective magic remains effective.

Watumbale of Lasi clan, a snake spirit (Guadalcanal, Solomon Islands)

from Ian Hogbin: "A Guadalcanal Society: The Kaoka Speakers," 1964: 73, 78-9, Holt, Rinehart, Winston.

A snake spirit assures abundance in the garden... All snake spirits are female...

Snake spirit, Goonoomoo. Lithograph, multiple stones, 1984. Copyright: Johnny Bulunbulun

In San Cristoval (the islands from which snake spirits come) Watumbale had a human daughter who married and gave birth to an infant. When she went to the gardens the mother was in the habit of leaving the child in the care of its snake grandmother. One day the husband reached home first and became alarmed at the sight of the baby in the coils of a serpent, which he did not know was really a spirit. He took a stick to kill it, but it escaped to the sea and swam to the north coast of Guadalcanal.

Here it wandered about from water hole to water hole in search of a home until eventually it came to Moli village in the southeastern corner where it finally settled.

Villages built shrines at the places where it had stopped. Pigs were sacrificed at these shrines ... Regular offerings are made at the opening of the main yam harvest, occasional offerings when planning a feast to ensure extra supplies.