ISTANBUL :üNIVERSITESI

EDEBiYAT FAKÜLTESI

Türkiyat Araştırma Merkezi

BEŞiNCi -- MiLLETLER- ARASI -

<-TÜRKOLOJi- KONGRESİ ·Istanbul, 23-28 Eylüi ·1985

. Tebliğler

lll. TÜR/( TARIHi . · - cilt J

EDEBİY AT F AKÜLTESİ BASIMEv! . İSTANBUL - 1985

NEW DATA ON UZIBEK SHAMANISM

V. N. BASILOV

New materials_ on sJ:ulmanisJ?. in Central Asia considerably widen our knowledge of the beliefs entertained by the aboriginal populaJ;ion _of the area in the ·19th- 20th centuries and at earlier periods.- As the descrip­tions of the a.ricient Turkic beliefs .supplied by written sources are ·only too elim :;ı.nd incomplete, every use should be made of the available ethnQgraphical data to study the religious ideas and clııts of the ancient Turks. So,· this paper's purpose is to put in to · circulation some new eth-

- nographical material related to sham,anic -activiti~s. .

The paper is basea on a 'story told by a shamanness_Momokhal (born 1908) and taken down in summer 1983 by B. Kn. Karmysheva and this author (both are from the Institute of Ethnography of the USSR Aca­demy of Sciences). Momokhal is an Uzbek woman of the Kungrad group and lives in- Shurob village (Gagarinskij district, Surkhandar'·inskaya oblast, the Uzbek SSR) together with the fa.mily of her married son. Her sn:iaıı hous~ stands next to her son's. ~omokhal is a joyful, vivaciou~. open-hearted and sineere lady, an~ it did not take us long to have a good relations with her.· She willingly to_ld us everything we anted and pains­takingly repea,ted. over and over again: the things that remained unclear.

As sh!'lmanisriı is- withe.ring out of daily life it becomes increasingly difficult _to obtain any fz:esh data on it and any new information on it is therefore of much interest now. Momokhal's stqry has, moreover, some details_ im portant for our understunding and ing of shamanism as a ge-ner'al phenomeiıon. · ·

Momokhal got Jl?-arried at th~- age of twen~y. having been betrothed to her future husband, a young man from a neighbour family, at thirteen: For seven years her father clld not give her to the yoimg man waiting for h~ to work off his «kalyni». Momokhal was eight when İıer Iİıother's father, Le. her grandfather, Alim-bakshi died at the age of eighty four. H~ ·was a famous ~tory-teller of his .locality and second to none. He tt5ed

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to teli and sing epic stor~es (Uzb. «dastans») .and composed verses him­seli. Once, ·having never seen a real train himself, he was able to deseribe . it very vividly in his verses .. He played dombra, tambourine and Jewish harp (Uzb. «'kovyz») and was a great j oker and merry-maker. He sang even when ploughing . and particularly liked · singing the dastan «Alpamysl!-». Being very ·broadminded and independent, he never stooped his he ad to ishans or mullahs and, as Momokhal put it, ' «lived by his own head»!

How did Alim-bakshi obtain his talerif of a folk storyteller? .Once he met a saint prophet Khydyr v,rho first pointed to his forehead ;.ı,nd, then .to a sport under the lower lip and askı;!d: «Shall I give it"to yow for~head .or to your palate ( «manglaiyngg~ beraiynmi, tanglaiyngga berai) ?» The gr'and:father answered: «Give it to my palate ( «tangliı.iymga her:»)!» Kaydyr spat into his mÔuth and disappeareQ. (g~iib holgş.n). If the old man. mentioned his forehead he would have beconie rich, but he preferred· the fate of a folk story-teller. · KJ.:ı.ydyr . granted .Alim-bakshi wi~h the helping spirits - chiltans who made him sing and gaye him

. inspiration, and it was with their help that he could word his speeches. · .( «chiltoİılar tiliga solgan~>) . «For seven generations th~ · ·chiltans · have joined us now» "' the old .man used to say. The money that he earned Alim­bakshi «gav·e away to chiltans» ~.hich means that he did not keep: it ·to himself but spent it to treat the · children in the village. He would buy, say, some fruit for the children or, else, · would buy some ri ce and aş-k his wife to cook pilav for the youngsters. «These chlldren are like crll.mbs of bread. They know· nothing· · and cannot · tell .-o fire· from a hearth. Helpless. It's plenning to the God to' feed and make them happy. One~ who does so, will have a lucky hand (kol zhengil boladi) » - in these words, which she repeated after the ishan who had initiated her, Momokhal explained ;tıe-r grruıdfather's attitude to children. Next to his house Alim­ba:kshi planted two İnulberries with thick shadows . . Usually he ·carefully swept th.e place under them to keep it always smooth and clean. For thr.ee days during the Kurban-lıait and Ruza-liait holydays women toget­her with their childien gathered under those trees and Alim-bakshi pla­yed for them. Some women played his tambourine er «kovis» · (jewish harp) : thems~lves, and söme· of them even danced there. Alim-bakshi's ı,.vife wquld spre:;ı.d out a table-clotiı.' and treat the guests to some tea and brea.d. · · · · · · -

La.ter on, the grandfather's helping spirits came over to Momokhal. «My. grandfather~s chiltan s caught me ( « bov<?mning chiltonlarİ me~ kelib

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ushladilar») » - said ;Momokhal and grasped her collar to show how it happened.

According to her story, by twenty seven, when she had already three children, she saw a terrible dream: standing next to her was aman with thin braids (Nzb. «kokil») that re,ached down to the floor. An old man handed her a short sword and said: «.Cut his hea~ off». She obeyed and did so. Then, having caught it by the braids, she carried the head around all throught the night and up to the daybreak, and it was not too heavy for .her ·at all. It is ve'ry important to say that she sa w 'that dr~am w hile being sitk: her leg ached so that she could not waJ.k and was carried out of the house on a blanket. The ishan who lived in their village was invi­ted to see her. The ishan said a prayer for her and that same night she saw the horrible dream. Later on, she told it to the ishan who, having listened .through, grew sad, bit his lip and nodded his head apprehensively. «You have taken· 'it onto your self, my daughter ( «olibsiz boyingizga, kiz») » - he said meaning the burden of sh aman ÇJ.uties. Belııg shy of the ishan, as she reported, Momokhal.did not ask him what the dream meant. But his prayers helped her a'nd slıe felt ' her leg better. ·

Years later, Momokhal .haçl more children and folır of them died. She explained their deaths as willed by Gad: «Allah has taken them. God needed this death. A true slave of God never dies: It is my lot». But one day she saw anotQ.er dream in w~ch she was visited by an old female

. witch-doctor (Uzb. «kushnach-kampir»), with a tambouringe (Uzb. «dap») ·with rmging pendants in one. hand. That old lady, «ma,ma» (Uz b. «grandniother») 'took ~omokhal by her callar and said: · «Either you take this tamb9urine from my hand.S and begin shamanizing « (kaşib kyla­sang») or you.'will .remain childless, ·and I shall find strenit;h to take the remaining three of your children away .from you. ı' shall ma:ke you go out with the tambourine to the people». And Momokhaı · did not tell the «mama» in her dream either «l sliall take»· or «l shall not take».

The.·m~aning of the ' dream seemed to be quite .clear but, according to Momokhal, she lingered for 'one year ı;nore when she fell ill again. Her eyelids grew swollen and baggy, ~nd closed her. eyes, and her leg would not ıriove. Momokhal came to see a female fortune-teller (Uzb. «palçi»). By. that time ·S?-e was forty.

(Although. Momokhal was very ccioperative and readily told her story over and over., it has. not been easy for us to reconstruct the his­tory of her shamanic initiation. Momokhal spoke only of the things that

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were important to her personally and of heı prophetic drearrıs, before all. And it' was almost by chance that she would · mention her having practiced some minor magic-aniınistic rituals even before the time of the troubles she described. Momokhal began her doctoring prob?-bly in the 1940's. Her husband did not come back from the war, a;nd she has been bringing up her children alone. So, life was not ql}ite easy for her. Moreover, women of the village used to come asking Momokhal ' to take care of same rituals and cqre their people. Such an attitude to her seems to have been caıİsed by everybody's kno~ledge about her grandfathe.r•s· chiltan-spirits. Momokhal concen~ed. Judging by her story, she was thirty five or, po·ssibly, more at the time. It is difficult to be sure of whether she went to the isha;n for her blessing at that time or not. Anyhow, being shy of her 18-year old son, she restricted her.self to taking care of unim­pprtant rituals only).

The fortune-teller said: «The hope of the forty chiltans of your grad­father is upon you («bobangning kirk chilton umidi bo.r senda»). ·If you do not become a shamanness you will rem~iri an ~valjd. You must serve the forty chiltans {kirk chiltonning hizmatini kilasang) and· have the blessing of th:e ishan for that (eshondan kol olib)». The fortune-teller alsa ordered her to arra.nge a shamani c initia:tion ri tual: «Slaughter a calf and cut its flesh into three. portlons and shamanize for t~ee days (oiin kyl) » . .

The fortune-teller alsa added: «You P,ave fallen ili because th~ spirits are dissatisfied. They say: She is afraid of her son more thari of us. And you sb.olJ,ld be afraid not ·of your son but of the spirits. You niust take up s~amanizing with all of your zeal». Having learnt that, her elder son told her: «To live at ease it is bett~r for you to do ı.yhat you want», and thus he allawed her to become a sham3J1D.ess. «< ' am very grateful to him» - Momokhal said. ·

.After that Momokhal made a tambourine b,~rself out of a seive she had taken from her mother's uncle {onamning togasi) for the purpose. She removed· the sei.ving net from the frame and pulled a goat skin on to it instead. Then. she invited a shaman (bakshi), who was a Kungrat Uz­bek from a neighbouring village, to hold the .iiıitiation ceremony. She personally brought the shaman· to her house, having put hl.m onto a don- . key. She deseribed him to be a powerful sham~ who co'uld teli fortunes by looking ata twenty-copeks. eo~.

The ceremony was attended by ma.ny people. One of the events at the ceremony w:.as «Zikr» (halka soladi). The shaman played his ·tambouri-

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ne · and Momokhal ~ h ers: The «Zikr» was participated also by children: «for they also need game». Having spat onto her tambourine the shaman gave her his blessing and said·: «Now, take a blessing (i.e., «hand»- «kol>>) from an ishan to become a powerful ~edicine-woman· ( «kushnach»).

In this way, in the la te 1950's Momokhal becaıne a shamanness, . having obtained blessings from both a shaman and a clerical person. · (According to MompkhaJ, the ishan reminded herat that time: «< have told · you löng ago to become a shamanness») . In the Iate 1970's she acquired one more ri tual object for herself - a whip ( «'kamçil»). ·She thinks that this whip was directly given to her: by the· chiltans of her · grand­father.

It happened three times in her dreams that she saw somebody giving her a whip. First, she sa w herself astride a horse saddleless~ ·and the horse wam taking her somewhere. All of a sudden her uncle by her mother stood out in their way and, haviıig stopped the horse, said: <<Come off your horse! Where are you going to? You have your children stili. Then he took the bridle off the horse and it to her.' The horse disappeared. The Uncle gave her a whip and added: «Take care of your children («bolala­zingga egalik kyl»). Momokhal's explanition was that the horse was a maliciçms spirit «dev» ~hom she had earlier that day friglitened away­from a boy during a seance of shamanizing. The dev was taking revenge on her for curing the boy. He wanted to ruin her but the chiltans have iiıtervened. She thinks it possible that one of the chiltans assumed the appear'ance of her uneie.

Anather time she dreamt of her mother sayJ.ng that it was anather uncle (fröm her father's side but a relative of Alimbakşi) who · gave Momokhal a whip. And, at last, in her third dream she bought a whip for 15 roubles from an -old-aged neighb.our who was a relative · of Alim~bakşi.

After that Momokhal's eyes pecame poor and she went to a lady ~ortune-teller for an . advice. Of course, the drean;ıs were discussed and the fortune-teller said: «Thus your forty chiltans offered you a whip. If you do not take it you will go blind. The chiltans V{ill take your eyes, and you will walkaround with a s~ick». «Yes»- Momokhal agreed.

Where cim one get an old~fashioned whip? After prolonged inquiries she ·came to a man who kept a w hip that forinerly belonged to an ishan. (Having grown old, the ishan dismissed the whip becaus~ .he would not ride hishorse any more). Momokhal was persuading the man to sell her

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the whip, but the owner would not agree to accept her money: «You will say a prayer and it' s enough». However, Momokhal explamed bin;ı that· in her dream she was instructed about the price of the whipfift<~en rouble~, and the ·owner accepted the money.

The next. step was to give out a ritual meal to celebrate the whip's acquisition. (Essentially it was a sacrificial meal for the chiltans). And there were, of course, instructing dreams again. ·In a dream M:omokhal şaw aman who b.rought and sold her for 25 roubles ·a dove-coloured goatling for the ritual meal. The lady fqrtune-teller, whom Momokhaı told of her dreams, explained .the .meanirg of this dream aıid . advised her go~ng to an ishan, and having her whip consecrated· .. Mon:ı,okhal went ·to the ishan who spat onto the whip and thus gave her his blessing.

Mokomhal'~ story is iiıteresting in many respects. Apart .from every­thing· else; it ~OJ?.tains some data which explain the n:ature of «sha~n:anic disease». Of great im portance for a man to contract .the «shamanic dise­ase» were external circumstance's i.e. the p~ychological atmosphere ın the .immediate surroundings of a would-be shaman, Every~ody's expecta~ tion that spirits must choose a new shaman had a ·~eat effect ·an the psychological state of rıiind of a would-be shaman, on his or her thoughts, imagination and emotions. Momokhal mentioned that her p.eople asked her to become a sh~manness for they knew as well as she did ~hat because of her gi'andfather's helping-spirits şhe was a most suitable . ~ould-be . · shamanness. The. dreams of the shamanness appear to be an iİıteresting evidence for us. They accompany Momokha.l's periods of sickness, tp.ey reflect her psyc.hological state and show an intensive but not alwıı,ys conscious process of mental work go ing on i.iı her mirid. Dreams · sum up . the results of such a work. Like the dreams of same other shamanness, Momokhal's serve· as a sign hıdicating the necessity to accept initiation. Through these dreams spirits · instruct a chosen person directly or indirectly as to the ways fo be followed by h:im or her. ·

In the störy of Momqkhal we may find a strange contradiction. Mo­mokhal •knew that the inheritable spirits could choose her. Moreover, the is han made it rather clear to her ~hat her lot was to become a · shaman­

.ness, and she began to practise simple magic-an~stic rituals. Now; ·seve­ral of· her children died one after. anotJ:ı.er. In the ligh.t of the traditional concepts, she could have thqught; and not once, about the spirits as the reason ·for her troubles, and taken some relevant steps .. And, at last, a grey-haired old woman came .to Momokhal in her dream with a poterit warning; but, strangely enough, Momokhal · was hesitant for one· year

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:r;nore. What is the reason behind that strange and ruinous delay? The reason should1 'Probably, be sought in the traditional stereotype which has pres·erved the traits of archaic norms of behavior: a would-be shaman must suffer but not escape from suffering, and the period of the tortures must be long enough. I have learnt of such delays and· unwillingness to nia:ke with initl.~tion from the stories told by a number of other Uzbek shamannesses. I shall stress again that the · point in question is a ver.y ancient stereotype·. It is. weiı known that among many peoples and, in p~rticular, :~mong the Altaians, Tuvlnians, and Yakuts the .<~shamanic disease» mea.İıt that spirits were «re-'creating» and bringing up a would­be sha~an .. That tormenting operation was thought to be a prolonged one; a shaman's sufferings were se en as a co ndition and promise of his or her future rriight. The ·«shamanic disease» is an · extremely archaic phenomenon. M. Eliade and other researchers are quii:e justified in their opin~on of it as an altered form of the -. initiation ritual. And although. no . written sources report on- the «shamanic diesase». among the ancient Turkic «kams» (i.e., shamans), there is no doubt that this classical ele­ment of shamanism was known to the ancient Turks too.

Of interest also is the description of shamanic spirits given in M_o­mokhal's narrative. In the Uzbek tr adition mostly the shamans' helping spirits are represented by pari. :But Momokhal's helping spirits are, be­fore all, cbiltans (kyrk .chiltan gaiib eren). Even the acquisition of a tambourine in the dream from an old woman is tied up with cbiltans. If we believe Momokhal then the· lady fortune-teller, ·who interpreted the dream for her, also connected the necessity to take the tambourine. with the V?ill of chiltans (although the spirit in the image of an old wo­man does not belo:ı~.g to the class of «Chilt~»).

. . . . Momokhal's notions about chiltans do. not differ from the popular

beliefs. Her chiltans ·are saints headed ·by the invisible prophet Khydyr (Khizr) hirn,;,elf the one who brings one luck and welfare. Her chiltans nile the world (duniaiıi egasi), talk to God personally, and ·usually stay in the ·water and are called therefore «people of the water» ( odami o bi). To confirm this Momokhal.'told us. a legend about saint sufi Divana-i Mashrab. Mashrab asired a king .to give him his daughter for a wife. But the padishah 'did not want to refuse him outright just because Mashrab was a poor dervish. So, on the advice of his court (vazir), the padishah ~sked the dervish to find and bring him two precious lamps ( «zhawh ar­çirak») . Mashrabe went to a river and cried outloud: «Üh, God!», and began splattering · water from · the r i ver on to the · shore . . Chiltans co me

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out of the .water and asked what he was -doing so for: The water - they said- flows back into the river, so why? Mashra& sobbed and asked the chiltans' help to marry the padishah's daughter, :ind they brought him forty precious _lamps out of the water. . · ·

If ven.erated, shiltans protect people as ancestor spirits do (ota~ babamizning arvohlari). As if is· customary Momokhai cooks sacrificial meals for her chiltans, and she knows wb,en they should be offered the meaıs· by an unpleasent feeling all over her body ( << badani sizadi») . She feels herself better as soon as a meal has been offered to the chiltans. «Puring my.life I have given ma.ny .- (meals) to the chiltans»- Momokhal . said. when ı::rieal is set for chiltans on .a · table-cloth, wick lamps stuck into a pie~e of clay lying on a charger are .lightened. TJ;ıe aslı from tJ;ı~ lamps is shaken off into water which is drunk later by people as curative because it is connected with chiltans.

Momokhal categorically refused to die ta te us the text .of incantations with which she usually addresse4 herself to the chiltans for fear that, having been disturbed without serious business, they would be offended and. pıinish her ( «Orkamni tutadi»). It happens always from the time of AdaiD: aıid Eve that when.

Apart from the forty ·chiltans - ·Momokhal exp~ained - she is also protected by the said «grandmother» ( «mama») who lives in the ski es. On the whole, in Moinokhal's vl.ew, the word «mama» · denoted all anees­tar sp iri ts both male ~d femaie. But this particular «mama» stands . o~t .conspicuously apart. She patrohizes birth-giving («tugdiradi>>). It happens· alway~ from the times of Adam ai:ıd Eve that when she comes and «throws her shadow» (saya saladİ) the delivery is made easier for wo­men and cattle bringş posterity. Even when birth-giving is lınder doc­tors' c~e at hospitais, nothing happens without the «grandmother». It is for this reason that locaı' Uzbek women sametimes respectfully call a hospital ör maternity house <~chiİlya-hona» (and also «chiltan-hona>>.. be­cause chiltans help women in labour too) . Momokhal do es ·not know the «grandmother's» name and refers to her as the : midwife of people and cattle ( «malding enagalarim,. adamning enagalarim»). As this «grap.~­

mother» gave her the ta,mboıirine, Momokhal invokes her every time she shamanizes. · ·

Guch a characteristic ·of the female protecting spirit explains .. why' Momokhal acts as a midwiİe herself. In general, she thinks· its best for a midwife («enaga») to be a ·woman who, first, successfully brought up her

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own he.althy children and, second, :who can doctor children, i.e., a shaman­ness even at the lowest · level. Such a woman was to tak e the blessing . ( «take the h and'») of· an ishan who thus became ·her patrön («pir») : «Kol alib kulak tartib yürgan ~yalni enaga kyladi»-. .

The image of a mythical midwife, who. chose Momokhal as a sha­manness, show for us in new light the connection between shaman:ism and midwifery. This connection is quite natural and very old. Among mı:)..ny peoples shamans considered it their duty to fight childlessness and relieve birth-giving. The nameless mythical «grandmother»-nıidwife de-: serves special consideration. In the Uzbek beliefs this ?hatacter has been found for the · first time and to understa~d i ts sources we shall ha ye to take up comparable· materials. It seems ;nost lil~eJy that this «mama», who lives in the. skies and patronizes the appearance of everything living .in · this world, had· been the Goddess of fertility. For · instance, such a Goddess, Umai, who probably is de'picted on the famous Kudirge stone, was wotshipped by: aricient Turks. Our data on Umai o~ the ancient Turks are scanty, and the 'ethnographical materials on· t:ııe surv?-vals of the Umai cult among the Kirghizes and Saian-Altai peoples deseribe her, before all, as a protector of pregnant women, young mothers and babies. A deity similai to Umai has survived in a bright and .complete form in the beliefs of the Tungus-speaking peoples. Oirıosi-:mama - the goddess ·of fertility - is expressively deseribed in a Manchurian legeiıd about a _ Nis­han shamanness (having saved . the soul of a dead young man from the world, of the .dead, the shamanness meets in the other world a mighty goddess on whom everything living on eartıi depends).

Among the Yakuts the role of the protector of child-bearing is pla­yed by the Goddess Ayisyt who is well known in · ethnographical litera­ture. Her cult was mostly centered in th.e hands of women and a lle­shaman «going» tq Ayisyt sametimes put on a woman's dress. Ayisyt was believed to be able to send a baby'~ soul to a childless· woman. Ayisyt could be addressed to only by «white» shamans who were obliged to take care of their ritual purity, i.e., in particular, they were not to take part in funeral ceremonies·. It is interesting to note in this conne~tion that the joyoU:s Momokhal flatly refused to talk about funeral ritualism: «< don't like speaking about it. ·My soul does not .feel SO». And it was not a single c~e. There are m~re evidences about ·some other s:P,amann~sses who were avoiding funerals and never touched repast meals not to provoke the wrath of spirits believed to send immediate and dire sickness onto ·a she-culprit. ·

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As it has been noted· in Soviet ethnographical lierature, a majority of the images of shaman spirits among the Uzbeks are tied up in their origins with Iranian mythology. But the ~mage of the old «mama» - the midwife of the world - takes us to the domain of beliefs entertained by the ancient Turks who . were worship'ping the goddess of fertility under different names. It follows from the data presented that female shamans were not just requesting .help and ~ssistance from this . goqdess but sta­yed und~r her direct ·protection. Now, as the materials on the close re­lationship between shamans and the goddess of fertility come from th~

. peoples (Uzbeks, Yakuts.) who had no direct contacts for many centur.ies, · it is possible to think that the relationship of shamanism and this goddess

is of a very long standing and has existed, probably, fr<?m as. early as the ancient ·Turkic era. ·

Anoth~r point of interest is the obvious connection of shamanistic spirits with music and poetry . . The same fa:mily spirits made the grand­father a folk narrator and his granddaughter • a shamanness. This fact confirms the frequently asserted supposition that ·in the antiquently shamanism and the practice of folk narrators were intimately intert­wined.