Australia’s Malay History & Heritage: Cocos (Keeling) Islands

  [NH: Here is a draft of a blog published with New Mandala but now difficult to access on the Net]

Title

Australia’s Malay History & Heritage: Cocos (Keeling) Islands

Byline

Radal Feyrel, Melathi Saldin, Monika Winarnita, Paul Thomas, Alistair Welsh, Nicholas Herriman

Lead

Looking at a graveyard on the Cocos (Keeling) Islands gives us insight into Australia’s ongoing multicultural history and heritage. This escapes the confines of a black-and-white understanding of our past.

 

Figure 1. A family gathered graveside on Hari Raya

The History Wars of the 1990s was a public debate that brought contrasting ways of understanding Australia’s past. But our figuring of history should not be limited to two opposing positions. Focusing on centuries of diverse cultural interactions in our coastal North offers a broader view. It enables us to recognize Australia’s multicultural history, a history that predates the voyages of Cook and the settlement at Sydney Cove. In what follows, we will adopt a multicultural view to understand the Cocos Malays of the Cocos (Keeling) Islands. This small island community wishes to maintain their traditional practices and has made claims for Indigenous status. Their historic cemetery contains some Christian tombstones of the former ruling family as well as graves of their own Muslim ancestors. Indeed, they continue to use this cemetery to this day, where they maintain their uniquely Southeast Asian and Muslim traditions. They gather at this graveyard to perform crucial rituals. We see these practices as a form of heritage. This provides a lens through which to better understand Australia’s broader multicultural history and heritage.

 

Figure 2. Praying at the grave of a man.

History Wars and our diverse heritage 

Prior to the 1990s, public awareness of Australia’s history had largely focused on the exploits of European explorers and settlers. But, thanks to the efforts of a number of historians, Australians became increasingly aware of the destruction and suffering, as well as the struggle and resistance, of Indigenous Australians. This valuable new direction sparked a public debate known as Australia’s ‘History Wars’. The topic of Australia’s past now became a pressing social and political matter. Unfortunately, the public debate in the ensuing three decades has, at times, fallen into simplistic dichotomies of Black and White and who was ‘good’ or ‘bad’. To create a better understanding of Australia’s multicultural history, we need to go past these dichotomies. One clear way forward is to focus on our Asian and Pacific histories of our coastal north. 

This new vista on Australia’s past has been neatly described as turning Australia’s map upside down. Turning the map upside locates the beginning of Australia’s human history in the north. Of course, this began with the arrival of Indigenous Australians more than 60,000 years ago, when they came from the north to inhabit what was then a larger Australian landmass. But, as Regina Ganter explains, less well known are our Asian and Pacific histories. These histories began with groundbreaking publications of the 1970s. Bridge and Barrier (1972) focused on island peoples in the Torres Strait. It showed how they provided a crucial link in an extensive trade network incorporating northern Australia and New Guinea. This link belies the idea that Australia was an isolated continent before European arrival. Then, in his 1976 Voyage to Marege, Campbell McKnight described our historical connections with Indonesian fishermen. Building on earlier visits, these fishermen made annual trips, from the 1750s, to Australia’s north coast. Over the next two centuries, the Indonesian fishermen interacted with northern Indigenous coastal peoples, including the Yolngu, creating deep intercultural links, which influenced both societies. At the outbreak of WWII, from the Cocos (Keeling) Islands to Christmas Island, Broome, Derby, Wyndham, Darwin, Cooktown, and on to Cairns, diverse communities could be found with Indigenous, Asian, and/or European people. These resulted from a history of mixed relations in the coastal north. But our multicultural history has been partly obscured while the public has debated over the roles of Indigenous versus European.

What is most exciting about our multicultural history is that we can point to a rich, ongoing heritage. “Heritage” traditionally refers to something we inherit from our past and want to keep for future generations. But as we show, heritage can be even more than that. It can be something that is relevant for local communities, and also for all Australians, because heritage relates to who we are. It can also be about our practices which connect us to the places around us.

Figure 3. A woman's grave adorned with sandals and flowers.

Research Site: Home Island

The Cocos (Keeling) Islands are part of Australia’s Indian Ocean territories. They consist of two atolls as island groups. North Keeling Island is an uninhabited designated national park. 27 kms to the south, lie the Cocos Islands. They are comprised of 27 or so islands on the main atoll, only two of which are inhabited. On West Island live around 200 ‘expatriate’ Australians, mostly teachers, technicians, other government employees, and their families. 

Around 400 Cocos Malays live on Home Island. They could be considered Australia’s oldest continuous Muslim community, indeed, they recently pushed for Indigenous status. And although they are Australian citizens, their early history is closely tied up with Southeast Asia’s past. It seems their ancestors first came together in Singapore, Borneo, and Java in the early 1800s. They were the slaves of a trader named Alexander Hare, who took them, via South Africa, to the Cocos Islands in 1826. For context, that was prior to the formation of European settlements in Melbourne, Adelaide, and Perth. Hare was promptly ousted by another adventurer, John Clunies Ross. In 1831, Clunies Ross took over the islands and their Malay inhabitants for himself and 4 succeeding generations of his family. In 1955, the Cocos Islands became an Australian territory. After this, the Australian government bought out most of the Clunies-Ross land in 1978. Under a UN-supervised vote of self-determination in 1984, the Cocos Malays voted to fully integrate with Australia. Since that time, the Cocos Malays have adopted and adapted their Muslim and Malay traditions, customs, and heritage as part of a diverse Australia. And, as we will show here, their cemetery not only plays a crucial role in contemporary religious life but also pays testament to their long multicultural history. 

Pulu Gangsa Cemetery

Cemeteries in Australia, being the final resting places for people of many backgrounds, serve as unique spaces, where we can observe an array of cultural rituals and beliefs. A striking example of this cultural tapestry can be found in the history of the cemetery on Home Island, known as Pulu Gangsa. Its origins trace back to around 1900, this small island to the north of Home Island was established as a burial ground. Following the turmoil of World War II, resourceful locals joined Pulu Gangsa to Home Island. This land bridge has withstood seven decades of swells, tides, and even cyclones. So, strictly speaking, it is no longer a separate island, but instead could be considered as a peninsula of Home Island.

 

Figure 4. Pulu Gangsa is a peninsula on the north side of Home Island.

Pulu Gangsa cemetery is about the size of a football field. As you walk in, you feel immersed in tranquillity. Aside from your footsteps, the only things you can hear are the rustling of trade winds through the leaves and the distant sound of waves crashing on the reefs. The air carries the sweet fragrance of flowers from the Frangipani trees planted among the graves. Coconut palms line the edges of the grounds, providing shade. Between the palms you can catch glimpses of both the powerful breakers on one side and the serene lagoon on the other.

Within Pulu Gangsa cemetery, you encounter a collection of wooden and stone grave markers belonging to the Muslim Cocos Malays. Those markers with pointed tops resemble spoons. They are the resting places of men. In contrast, those with flatter or more rounded tops are designated for women. The newer graves are adorned with scarves and are sheltered beneath protective umbrellas. The bereaved often leave offerings, such as bottled water, flowers, and sandals, as tokens of respect for the departed spirits. In times gone by, it was also a tradition to provide the deceased with cigarettes or their favourite food, if that was what they enjoyed in life.

 

Figure 5. Photo of various graves. At the back left, a white umbrella sits over what appears to be a recent grave. Photo thanks to Marcie Connelly-Lynn.

Adjacent to these markers lie Christian gravestones, the final resting places of certain members of the Clunies-Ross family. You might stumble upon the gravestone for John Sidney Clunies Ross, the fourth in the lineage of the Clunies-Ross rulers. There is also a memorial for Inin, the first wife of the third Clunies-Ross ruler.

 

Figure 6. Christian graves of John Sidney and Inin. Photo thanks to Marcie Connelly-Lynn.

With both Muslim and historic Christian graves, the cemetery is part of the Cocos (Keeling) Islands’ cultural heritage. Indeed, it is listed in the Western Australian and Australian Heritage Database.  Preserving it is a concern. With rising sea levels, locals are worried that the graves will be washed away. But the graveyard is not just a historical remnant to be safeguarded. It still plays a role in three different kinds of Cocos Malay ritual. 

Funerals

The first ritual of Pulu Gangsa cemetery we wish to consider is funerals. When a local Cocos Malay passes away, a dedicated committee assumes the solemn responsibility of conducting the funeral rites. These rites adhere to Islamic and local customs, with one step being the purification of the deceased through a sacred cleansing ceremony known as "wudhu." Following this, a payung (“shade” or “umbrella”) is created. This is also sprinkled with water.

 

Before leaving for Pulu Gangsa

Figure 7. White payung held over the deceased.

The body is then transported to the cemetery. For this, the mourners use the local form of transport, 4-wheelers and golf buggies, to take themselves and the body to the cemetery. At the graveside, the mourners recite a prayer for the spirit of the dead. The body, wrapped in a white shroud, is placed in the grave and then covered with soil, in accordance with Islamic practice. So Islamic customs of washing and burying the body are combined with Malay customs like the white umbrella and frangipani trees as well as with local practices such as the offerings at the graves. These provide a poignant tribute to the cultural richness found within the cemetery's sacred grounds.

Figure 8. Men, dressed in white, and shading from the heat with umbrellas, perform prayers graveside.

End of the Fasting Month

Another notable ritual associated with the cemetery occurs at the culmination of the Islamic fasting month, known as Hari Raya Idul Fitri. This sequence of ceremonies signifies the joyous conclusion of fasting and devotion. The term "Hari Raya" translates to "Days of Celebration," reflecting the festive nature of the event. However, it also serves as a time for contemplation of sombre religious duties and obligations. On the first morning of Hari Raya, the Cocos Malays partake in the tradition known as "Melawat Tanah Kubur," which translates to "traveling to visit the graveyard." In 2014, Herriman and Winarnita observed this ritual, discerning two primary aspects. 

Figure 10. A wife asks forgiveness of another wife, while their husbands do the same.

First is asking forgiveness. Hari Raya is seen as the beginning of a new year. And it is a time when the wrongdoings to other people of the past year can be forgiven. Cocos Malays usually do this at the cemetery. Families, in matching outfits, visit the graveyard together. Men greet other men and women other women. This intensely emotional ritual involves fairly formulaic Cocos Malay expressions. Feyrel Radal, for instance, greets male family heads saying something like: 

Hari Raya Greetings. Please forgive any of my wrong doings or thoughts. May our food and drink we have shared be acceptable. Please forgive any of my words that were in error or arrogant, harsh, or inappropriate. Hopefully, we will meet again in the future. I hope that God keeps you well and secure. Until we meet again in the coming year. (Selamat Hari Raya, ma’af zahir dan batin. Makan dan minum minta dihalalkan. Kata yang tersilap atau tersalah, atau yang tertinggi, bahasa yang kasar yang tidak enak minta diampunkan. Mudah-mudahan dapat dijumpa lagi lain tahun. Semoga tuhan beri kesehetan dan keselamatan. Sampai jumpa lagi di tahun yang akan datang.)

Such ritual speech is quietly performed while gently shaking hands. Eye contact is limited. While one person speaks, the other nods silently.

 

Figure 11. Asking forgiveness.

The other major aspect of the ritual is tending to the graves of deceased loved ones. Family members clean the graves, spread flowers and water, and then perform prayers. Feyrel Radal explains:

we ask forgiveness for the dead and wish that they are put in the right place, which is hopefully heaven [not one of the other worlds between hell and heaven, where] if you're not a good person, you'll be stuck. We ask God to forgive them for what they have done. Most people read the Koran. Some people just pray. They bring flowers to decorate the graveyards and water to cool the place. When we were kids, we believed they wore the flowers, drank the water, some people brought cigarettes and lollies, but now there's not that belief anymore. Now we believe that when you are dead you are gone. Some families still believe that. At the kenduri (ritual meal) they give Coca-Cola if they [the deceased] liked to drink that. 

When it is a recently deceased person, the prayers are understandably tearful affairs. It is difficult to do justice to the emotional significance of this ritual. So, instead, we wish to draw attention to several things. The Hari Raya rituals can be found in similar form in most parts of Muslim Southeast Asia. The difference here is that it occurs in Australia, and the graveyard it takes place on points to the Cocos Islands’ rich multicultural history. This multicultural element is also multifaith, as Muslim and Christian graves share the same graveyard. And, finally, ritual is undertaken at what might be considered a sacred heritage site. So it is very much a lived and performed heritage. These are some basic observations that can be gleaned from the Hari Raya graveyard ritual.

Wedding rituals

The final ritual usage of Pulu Gangsa graveyard which we touch upon occurs just before the culmination of wedding ceremonies. Weddings can involve years of planning and months of preparation. For instance, the bride and groom’s families separately put on meals every evening. This all culminates on the Friday and the Saturday of the wedding.

As Radal Feyrel explains, on the Friday, the bride and groom are particularly busy. In the morning, an imam washes off the turmeric that has been applied to whiten the bride and groom’s faces. Then the couple put on ceremonial dress and, accompanied by their family, head over to the graveyard. This is the first time the couple meet each other after being separated for a week. They sit by the graves of family members who have recently passed away. There they ask for forgiveness in order to have good luck on their wedding day and in their marriage. After about half an hour, they return to the village. On that night is the nikah, the religious marriage. The following day, Saturday, the festivities begin; these involve a rich variety of music and dance. 

Figure 12. Bride and groom sitting by a grave.

Discussion

We have observed how the Cocos Malays utilize Pulu Gangsa graveyard in three significant ceremonies: funerals, Hari Raya, and weddings. This graveyard is not simply a relic or a piece of history; it is an enduring aspect of importance for the Cocos Malays, representing what we define as ‘heritage’. Moreover, it holds significance for all Australians, serving as a tribute to our ongoing multicultural story. The term ‘multicultural’ is subject to debate, but in this context, it is an acknowledgment of cultural diversity beyond the scope of White Australia. There is still much work to be done in recognizing our Indigenous history, as well as in understanding and appreciating other ethnicities. But the Cocos Malay history and heritage, as evident in the graveyard, represent one strand within the intricate tapestry of Australia’s multicultural history and heritage. 

Conclusion

Research from the 1970s onwards has expanded our vision of Australia’s history and heritage. In particular, the idea of ‘turning the map upside down’ provides a radical new vista on coastal locations in our North. The rich heritage associated with the Pulu Gangsa graveyard on Home Island is an example of this. Attending to these kinds of places and practices will enable us to better recognise our multicultural past.

Cocos Malay Pantun

One of the accounts in 30 Stories, 30 Years is a history written by Adiismah Mansa from the Year 8/9 class, who interviewed James Bin Jamin about his captivating poetry. This is Adiismah Mansa’s entry in the book:

Cocos poems are composed of four lines which are based on real life situations. I spoke to my great uncle, Benjamin James, about these pantun, as they are called. He told me of a time when he was stuck in a forest for seven days. Based on this experience, he made this poem:

Tuju hari di dalam utan,

Air tak minum nasi tak makan

Sehari hari tak lihat tuan

Rasa kusut tubu badan

 

Translation:

Spent seven days in the forest

Had no water to drink and no rice to eat

Day to day I didn’t see the master (John Clunies-Ross)

My body felt tangled

When James and his friends accidentally arrived on West Island he made this poem.

Seninit terebang[sic.] melayang

Paro paro kain tegilis

Suda tesala di negeri orang

Tau tau bawak diri

Translation:

A seringgit (bird) soaring across the sky

 (This sentence can’t be translated due to old style Cocos Malay.)

Already mistakenly arrived at someone’s land

Now it’s up to him to behave himself.

Every time James creates a poem, he recites a special verse called doa tenang hati. He recites this verse in the belief that he will recall the newly-made poem clearly later. This might be why he is the only person on Cocos who remembers so many of these poems.

James made poetry so he wouldn’t get bored while working. Pantun were once so popular that almost everybody made them and, occasionally, battles would be held. Whoever had the best poem(s) would win. The rules were simple: the poem had to make sense, it had to have a meaning behind it, it had to be based on a true story and the audience had to like it. It was the audience who judged the poems and declared the winners. James won many of these battles, but his brother, Capstan, would win almost every time he competed.

When James was a young man, he didn’t have pen or paper. He could not write his poems so he created and recited them orally. It is amazing to us now how he can remember many of these poems, given that he did not write his poems down and especially since he is now 94 years old!

The pantun form of poetry is common through the Malay world.

Pantun battles to were also noted by Carl Gibson-Hill, an English medical doctor and later curator of Singapore’s Raffle’s Museum. Gibson-Hill was stationed at the Cable Station on Pulo Tikus (Direction Island) in the early 1940s. Among his insightful records on the Cocos Malays, he describes the Selon rituals which occurred as part of wedding and other ceremonies:

The Selon was usually danced only by men…During the course of it one of the performers would quote or compose pantuns, which had to be answered by the other (though responses sometimes came from the audience). The pantuns were generally introduced by the lines,

Raksaksa yang sayang he!

Raksaksa yang sayang he!

Liah nona yang jau,

Raksaksa yang sayang he!

A considerable number of these verses were written down for me but unfortunately the texts are now lost. (Gibson-Hill, "Notes", 174)

So much for the context, but what about the meaning of James’ poetry? Deeply metaphorical, pantuns can also be funny, ribald, sentimental, ironic, serious, whimsical, and even nonsensical. So, though Jame’s pantun is ‘based on a real life situation’, it is impossible for any person of sound body and mind to be ‘literally’ lost on these tiny isles where lagoon and ocean are rarely more than a couple of hundred yards away. Similarly, in the second pantun, negeri orang is translated well as “someone’s land” but it might also mean something like “foreign shores” or simply overseas. Perhaps it refers to Christmas Island (700 miles away), Keeling Island (15 miles to the north) or simply West Island (a short sail across the lagoon). However, Cocos men of James’ generation would not accidentally get blown to West Island where, since WWII, ‘foreigners’ have lived. Did he think of West Island as another realm or was he hinting at something else? I could only guess at what James is alluding to and what his audience understood in these 

I want here to focus particularly on the reference to his tuan, the last ‘King’ of Cocos, Clunies Ross V. Tuan can simply mean "mister" (as a term of address for European man) or can have more hierarchical connotations of "master". Although intriguing, the reference to the ‘master’ is not unprecedented. Consider Abdullah bin Abdul al Kadir (1796–1854). Abdullah one of the more famous figures in Malay literature. Among other things, Munshi was a scribe for Stamford Raffles, a man famous as the founder of Singapore. Indeed, Raffles features in one of Abdullah’s poems:

Singapura negeri baharu,

Tuan Raffles menjadi raja

Bunga melur, cempaka biru,

Kembang sekuntum di mulut naga.

This could be translated as:

Singapore is a new realm,

Master Raffles reins as king,

Jasmine and frangipani flowers

blossom as one in the dragon’s mouth

Although Munshi was not a Cocos Malay, he may well have an incidental connection. Munshi was Raffles’ scribe. Raffles was friends with Alexander Hare. And Alexander Hare was the first ‘king’ of the Cocos Malays. So I’d like to imagine that Munshi met Hare. This would establish only a few degrees of separation between Munshi and our Cocos Malay poet, James bin Jamin. 

Interesting though these discursions may be, even larger questions demand answers. How did generations of self-styled Cocos ‘masters’—whether called tuan” or otherwise— maintain rule over them? What were the larger historical developments that allowed this all to happen? This is something I attempt to answer in my book The Cocos Malays: Perspectives from Anthropology & History.

Notes

Gibson-Hill writes:

During the course of it one of the performers would quote or compose pantuns, which had to be answered by the other (though responses sometimes came from the audience). The pantuns were generally introduced by the lines, Baksaksa yang sayang he Î Raksaksa yang sayang he Î Liah nona yang jau, Eaksaksa yang sayang he ! A considerable number of these verses were written down for mer but unfortunately the texts are now lost. A great many of them were verv similar to, or identical with, pantuns that have been pub- lished from the Malay Peninsula. A few had definite local allu-sions, and would seem to have been produced on the island. Some certainly were, as they contained references to events on Pulo Tikus, of which details had reached the kampong. Two, which were explained to me with great delight by my boatman, brought in my peculiar habit of collecting bird skins, and putting dead fish in glass jars. (Gibson-Hill, "Notes", 174)

Sharing Breastmilk & Creating Family

Wet nursing is now uncommon in the West, but can be found many in other cultures. Many Cocos Malay women have breastfeed someone else's biological child, making that child into part of their family. This creation of family through shared milk contrasts with Western ideas that family comes from sharing the same 'blood'. Instead of wet nurse, I'll just call them breastfeeding mothers. 

Breastfeeding motherhood

Breastfeeding motherhood is almost intertwined with adoption for Cocos Malays. However, for the purposes of analysis, I'll keep them separate here. Here are some biographical notes Monika and  I collected from people who have a 'breast-feeding mother':

• Mak Dem told me she found out, as a child, that she had a 'breast-feeding mother'. After giving birth, her biological mother had health problems and was taken to West Island for medical care. So another woman had breast-feed Mak Dem. After Mak Dem found out about this, she began addressing her breastfeeding mother simply as 'mum' (Mak); similarly she calls her breast-feeding mother's husband 'dad' (Pak). She does not use the she would normally use for an adult--other people would address the couple as Nek Zal. Put another way, this husband and wife are related to Mak Dem because of the breast milk the wife shared.

• Mak Mae is a mother whose baby, Mae, has two breastfeeding mothers. Mak Mae is a Cocos Malay woman who has moved to Home Island from the Cocos Malay community in Katanning. Before she moved, she gave birth to her daughter Maesha. When Mak Mae started working in Katanning, another Cocos Malay woman offered to breast feed Maesha. Although the two women had gone to high-school together in Katanning they hadn't been so close. Mak Mae said she initially she was taken aback by the request, but she agreed. As a result, the two mothers (biological and breast) became very close. Maesha also considers the breast-feeding mother with deep affection, Mak Mae told me. So the breastfeeding brought these 3 people (birth mother, breast-feeding mother, and child) into a close bond. 

• Mrs Nek Sofia told me that her breast-feeding mother already had a biological son. Nevertheless, she wanted a daughter. So she asked Mrs Nek Sofia's biological mother if it would be alright to breastfeed Mrs Nek Sofia. Mrs Nek Sofia's mother acquiesced. Mrs Nek Sofia's husband said that Mrs Nek Sofia was, in effect 'adopted' by the breast-feeding mother. Mrs Nek Sofia agreed with this when I asked her. I'll discuss adoption more in a subsequent blog.

Milk siblings:
Mr Nek Sumila & Nek Ramdan 

• Aini / Mak Sofia. Nek Sofia told us that her next-door neighbour, and sister-in-law, Nek Kelem asked if she could breastfeed Aini. Nek Sofia agreed. Nek Sofia said it was always impromptu, based on when Nek Kelem wanted to breastfeed the Aini (presumably when her breasts were full). Aini's grandparents, Nek Sofia's biological parents, also looked after her. So Nek Kelem just came in to breast feed, more than to look after Aini for extended periods. Aini would also sleep at Nek Kelem's house.

• Nek Arena, an imam (Islamic preacher/scholar) told me he is a 'breast-feeding or breast-milk father' (bapak susu). His wife had breastfed Ayesha the biological child of Haji Hajat; Ayesha calls Nek Arena "bapak" or father. "It's a very strong bond," he added, between the breastfed child and Nek Arena, his wife, their children and grandchildren.

• Nek Ramdan said that she has a milk brother. Her mum breastfed Nek Sumila. Nek Sumila is also her mother's anak angkat; because he was dibuang by the Mokta family. He lived with Nek Ramdan's family and, importantly, got married at their house (i.e. the groom's part of the wedding celebrations were held at his house). 

Local understandings

These actual stories contrast with the theories people have about breastfeeding.

• Nek Arena also had an interesting take on breast-feeding mothers. He explained that the bond with a breast-feeding mother is stronger than just with an adopted child [but I think it depends on the scale of adoption]. If you only feed off a breast once or twice, then you're not a breastfed child. More than that three times, then you can be accepted as breastfed child. 
• Nek Rezeki (Bujang/Bohari's mum and Kylie's mother in law) said that tak boleh breastfeed someone else's child, according to hukum agama. Also she said that because we now have 'susu kaleng' it's not necessary to breastfeed another's child "dulu tak ada susu kaleng". Nek Rezeki has seven kids which explains why . "Kita tak tahu dulu".

I'm not sure if these opinions are widespread, but I never heard anyone else mention them. 

Cultural and social context

Stories like this are common in the Indonesian-Malay world, where you frequently meet people who have family through breastfeeding. In other words, breastfeeding can be seen as creating family; in the same way that Westerners are familiar with the idea of marriage and giving birth as creating family. Cocos Malays we spoke with emphasised the bond and the connection with he breastfeeding parents and milk siblings. How can we compare this to prevailing Western attitudes?

Finding children delightful

Delight in raising children

First, Cocos Malays view raising children differently. Raising children is idealised as a delight. Children are thought to be a blessing; parenthood (and, perhaps, grandparenthood) is possibly the greatest achieved status. Not having children is 'bored at home' (boring di rumah) in the words of Nek Shah. (This reminds of my fieldwork location in Java, where not being a parent leaves a person lonely (kesepian); being childless is something to be pitied (kasihan).) The attitude is slightly different to the Western approach; it tends to be indulgent of children. Perhaps it would be too imprecise and generalised to say that in the West raising children is viewed as a bit of a chore for which the child should be grateful; among the Cocos Malays raising children is a godsend for which the parent should be grateful. This might help explain why some lactating women seek to breastfeed other children.

Responsibility for raising children

Another reason is a sense of collective responsibility for children. As Cocos Malays see it, children aren't just their biological parents' responsibility. This is exemplified in the way the mothers and sometimes the father who attend the local playgroup and better beginnings program at the school would collectively look after the young children and babies, passing them around and taking care of them. Maybe the reason for this collective parenting is because they are all related. Yet, I think it is more than just that. In the Indonesian village where I undertook fieldwork the collective parenting much more pronounced and not confined to relatives. As another example, one local gentleman seemed to have a very low opinion of me. I was still unable to engage him in so much as a nod when we were in other's presence. One day I was inside and didn't notice my child quietly crying outside. The man took time, and not in a condescending or aggravated manner, to let me know. It was, as far as I could tell, merely out of concern for my child; and I am grateful to him for that. It did not mark the beginning of friendly relations between us; nothing really changed. Whatever he thought of me, he still looked out for my child in a caring fashion. This sense of collective responsibility may also contribute to understanding the sharing of breastmilk.

Breastmilk means something different

Another important factor pertains to the meaning of breast milk. Human breast milk obtains different significance in different cultures. For the Cocos Malays, sharing it with another person's biological child remains deeply meaningful. Nek Arena told me of a special prayer for the mother who provides breast milk; it is a "doa memulangkan air susu" . In that prayer, to paraphrase him, what we sucked from our mother we want to return to her. This prayer is also used for the breast-feeding mother. But it signifies the relationship continues on to the hereafter (akherat). Nek Sofia said susu is like blood; it makes you family. Shana said that the susu is more important than blood; it nourishes you, gives you life. English speakers use the expression 'blood is thicker than water' to emphasise the closeness of kin; we could say for the Cocos Malays that 'milk is thicker than water'.

Still taken from Mead's video, showing a mother breastfeeding another child, while her own child remonstrates

Bateson and Mead misunderstood Balinese breastfeeding. 

Controversial anthropologists, Gregory Bateson and Margaret Mead made a video showing Balinese mothers teasing their biological children by breast feeding the children of other mothers. Implicitly drawing on Freud, Bateson & Mead interpret the Balinese mothers as intensifying the attachment with their biological child and encouraging sibling rivalry. I think the opposite. I Balinese adults punish inappropriate behaviour in children by teasing and laughing at them. The mothers are simply teaching children Balinese values, such as 'you need to control your temper'; 'you cannot be possessive or jealous of your mother'. They are also showing kindness and neighbourliness by breastfeeding someone else's biological baby. I think Bateson and Mead couldn't see all this because they assumed that the mother would 'naturally' feed her own biological child.

Westerners tend to assume a natural breastfeeding connection between mother and biological son.  Breastfeeding is thought to be a deeply personal, unique, and at the same time natural, bond between biological mother and child.Bateson & Mead assume that the biological mother will breastfeed child--an assumption built in to Freud's theories The idea that the biological mother should be the breastfeeder. Even the pro-breastfeeding, quasi-feminist pamphlets seem to rely on this value, which Marxists like Habermas would understand as a bourgeois family value. However, to understand the breastfeeding mothers in Cocos Malay perspective, maybe it is more useful to think that any lactating woman could be the breastfeeder.

Westerners idealise breastfeeding as a natural connection between mother and her biological daughter.

Translating "Mak Susu" & "Mak Tetek"

Cocos Malays have two terms for what we have translated as breastfeeding mother--mak susu and mak tetek. I have been cautioned to use, when speaking Cocos Malay the polite term "mak susu". "Mak" means mother or mum. As in English, it is a form of address (e.g. "Mum, can I have a present?") and reference (e.g. "Where does your mum live"?). "Susu" presents more of a problem, meaning "breast"; "milk"; and "breast milk".  However, the common, and coarse,  term for breastfeeding mother is "mak tetek" . "Tetek" can mean "boob", "tit", and "nipple". In Indonesian, influenced presumably by Javanese, "netek" means to suckle, but we have not heard this verb used on Home Island. One woman explained to me in mixed Malay-English, a Mak Susu is "when you isap another person's tetek".

Translating 'mak susu'

People in English-speaking cultures are familiar with the idea of a 'wet nurse'. A wet nurse is a woman who, for a variety of reasons, was employed to breastfeed another person's child. A number of Cocos Malays we met were breastfed by a woman (or two!) aside from their own biological mother. In Cocos Malay, these people are referred to as "mak susu" (a politer term) or "mak tetek" (coarser). To translate, instead of 'wet nurse', I'll use the word "breastfeeding mother" (although  "milk mother" might have been more accurate). The term for husband of the breastfeeding mother is, "pak susu", which I'll translate as "breastfeeding father" (similarly "milk father" might have been better here) . The biological children of these people I will call, following the anthropological tradition, milk siblings (they are 'milk brothers' and 'milk sisters').

• "diambe" is a word that often comes up
• Nek Ramdan is a Mak Tetek to Pak Izahan. Pak Izahan is a twin. 

The Special Gift: Adoption & kinship

The Cocos Malays possess a specifically cultural practice of child adoption. The Malay term for  "anak angkat". A literal but loose translation would be 'taken up child', but it is usually translated as "adopted child". The parents don't sign papers and Australian law doesn't recognise it. The adopting parents' role can range from something akin to what Westerners would call a 'god-parent' (largely symbolic parenthood); to a kind of shared parenting (in which the child can go back and forth from the biological to adopted parents); and, at the other extreme, an intensive role in raising a child.

Everyone we spoke with seemed to have a slightly different take on Cocos adoption in general. So we have focused on actual stories. But often even what constituted the facts of these stories are inconsistent (e.g. who requested the adoption). It's probable that Cocos Malays themselves might find my account inaccurate.

A childless couple receives the 'special gift'

I ran into one of my friends, Rahman. He and his wife, Sinti, have been married for several years. They have been trying, without success, to conceive a child. He told me that they had adopted a child called Rubiya from Mak & Pak Nabila. Now, as is the Cocos Malay custom (see my blog on teknonymy) Rahman and Sinti are known as Mr & Mrs Rubiya [Pak & Mak Rubiya]. They have Rubiya for five days/week; and Pak & Mak Nabila have Rubiya for two. 

A few days later I bumped into Mak & Pak Nabila as they were walking their procreative daughter, Rubiya, in her pram as their first daughter Nabila was riding alongside. I asked them about the adoption. They are both fluent English speakers and explained to me in no uncertain terms that there is no way that they would just give away their daughter. They felt very sorry for Rahman and Sinti not being able to conceive their own child. It would be inconsiderate to let Rahman and Sinti be without when they were already blessed with children. And, at the same time, they love both their daughters equally--it would be inconceivable  for them to just give one away and never see her again. Because their houses are only 3 minutes walk away, they are constantly in contact. So I guess you could say that, viewed from the Cocos Malay perspective, giving Nabila to Rahman and Sinti was the 'natural solution' "We're all family anyway" But why did Mak & Pak Nabila, and not someone else on Home Island, give their child? Put simply, Mak Nabila and Sinti are related. First, they are 'sisters', but not in a sense that is usually recognised in the West. They both suckled from the same woman, their "mak netek" or "ibu susu". I guess because Mak Nabila and Sinti are so close. Second, as Sinti explained to my wife, both Mak and Pak Nabila are her cousins from her mother and father's side essentially, her adopted child is thus a close family member, that they are all related and part of an extended family. I think she said something like "we're all family anyway".

Becoming adopted parents

When parents give birth to their first child (call her Ayesha) in Cocos Malay society they, take the child's name. The dad becomes Pak Ayesha and the Mum, Mak Ayesha. I have written about this practice of teknonymy, as anthropologists call it, in another blog. 

What I didn't realise when I wrote that blog is that you can get a teknonym even if you are unmarried! A single woman Monika spoke to adopted her neighbour's child and took a teknonym. The biological mother's teknonym came from her first child. Asi got her teknonym from the second child. 

Additionally, Asi's fiancé  got his teknoym from this second child, even though the two of them are not married.

Examples of adopting

• Nek Sofia was the youngest biological child in her large family. She was adopted by her Mak and Pak Susu. They had a son but hadn't had a daughter. They were neighbours. The her Mak & Pak Susu had two more kids after they adopted her. She only remembers two things clearly. She remembered that by the age of 6 or 7 she wanted to go to sleep with her biological family. At the age of 10 or 11 she said that she would live back with her biological family. She still would visit her adopted family for meals. These day she visits Geraldton, where her adopted parents live. Her adopted brother sends her sate from Katanning; and her daughter sends sate from . The fish she sends are fish from the inside (lagoon fish) not outside fish (like tuna, sailfish etc.)
• Emira (Emi):  Arena told me that Nek Fazrih gave Emirah to her  adik younger cousin (or perhaps younger sister) Mak Emi. In this case there was what is regarded as a close family relationship between the giver and receiver.
• Mak Zizi (Grace) : Someone gave their fifth child to Grace. There was a connection between Grace and the child's biological mother. Grace requested the baby (kalo anak itu lahir saya minta anak itu). 
• Faizie: Lala is engaged to Azra. they've been a couple for 8 years. Mak Faizie is Lala's mother's niece [making them cousins]. Mak Faizie is Faizie's biological model. The situation in the family was 'difficult' [perhaps because Pak Faizie was from Malaysia?]. Faizie became Lala her anak angkat because he called her "mak" from the age of two when he started sleeping at her house sleeping. She's had the boy, Faizie, since he was 4 years old. That was when Faizie's father, Elzan, passed away last year. At that point, Faizie started calling Lala's fiance, Azra, Pak. However, the biological still goes by the name of Mak Faizie; which runs against the common practice of the adopting parent taking the child's name. Lala and Azra plan to Perth after they get married. Faizie will not go with them, because now his Dad has died, Faizie, at the age of 5 years notwithstanding, has become his mother's wakil (or formal representative). [This is the first case I've heard of in which an unmarried woman became a Mak Angkat].
• Nek Salbiah explained that her first child died. The baby girl was born with a kind of 'cut' in the head. Her husband was cutting wood, someone warned him, "don't cut wood your wive's pregnant--it's bad luck"--but the fact that this man voiced this warning was the bad luck. Then they had two sons--Wedding and Wezen. Then Nek Farid, Nek Salbiah's younger sister, had two boys and three girls. The couple wanted a daughter; so they adopted the three girls. Nek Salbiah helped look after the three girls. Nek Salbiah said that Nek Farid had requested. Because they didn't have a daughter, she and her husband were very happy to look after the girls. The girls called the "mak" and "pak" and visited them on Hari Raya. So Nek Salbiah explained that all her anak angkat. Siang malam makan di sini sejak bayi. 
• After the interview finished, Mak Alfin, Nek Salbiah's daughter-in-law said that it is not true that the girls called the "mak" or "pak", it was only "wak"; and maybe it was the first child who could be considered an anak-angkat, but not the other two. Nevertheless, she said, her mother-in-law does love all three girls, because they bathed them, wiped their bums, fed them, cooked for them. They really did take care of them, but the girls don't really treat them like adopted parents; they always go back to their mothers. Their mother never told them to call Nek Salbiah  "mak". And when the girls got married, the tarob was at Nek Farid's not at the adopted parents.
• Mak Alfin says that the girl who Nek Fifi has adopted calls her Mak but she doesn't want to acknowledge this. If you acknowledge someone, in her opinion, you are responsible for the child, you will be . She gives her selawat and food because the child lacks care. It's as if she wants to be adopted.
• Nek Sumila said that he had an Indonesian adopted parents. The couple were on Home Island, apparently as part of a religious congregation or gathering. It wasn't clear if Nek Sumila was still be in contact with them

From the child's perspective

The parents do not seem to push the adoption too hard. It seems that the kids have big say. Children kids often decide which of their parents' house' they will sleep. Often it seems the kids decided 'seenak-enaknya' (just as it suits them).

I'm not sure what this all looks like from the child's perspective. Most people seem to agree that they tend to 'milk' it. When they are young they get typically get spoiled with food and drink, special treats. As they get older, if they get in trouble with one set of parents, they go and stay with the other parents.

From the Imam's perspective

I asked Nek Arena, a religious specialist (imam) about this. His opinion was different to other I came across. H: 

Allah Ta'ala supaya Azrin dan Munirah bleh mempunyai anak. Ikut, mengikut, supaya Azrin boleh mempunyai anak. 

In his opinion, an adopted child, according to Islam, may not inherit from the adopted parents; or at least not inherit anything if there is an 'actual child' 

The biological parent has the right to put on Nikah (religious aspect of wedding) not the adopted parent. Even if the biological father has died, it has to be another biological male who marries  Maureen lamented that she couldn't put on the wedding for her adopted child. Nek Arena explained that, according to tradition, the "jemput makan" or "party" is also at the biological father's house. However, the adopting father "tetap ada di samping". (by contrast, when Allen's adopted son got married, it was at Allen's house, and Nek Fifi ada di samping--but maybe this only reinforces the point because in the case it was a formalised arrangement).

Fluidity of adoption

The practice is fluid. The kind of adoption I'm interested is not once-and-for-all. For example in one instance, an infertile couple began adopting a chid through weekly visits. They took their teknonym from the chid. However, the mother did conceive. They began to scale back the visits and the teknonym began not to be applied any longer.

What makes a couple want to give the 'special gift' 

On Home Island, Nek Arena told me of a case in which a young boy was continually unwell. It was thought that something between the kids and the biological parents, something unseen ('alus') was affecting the child. The biological parents decided that he would be adopted.

Mak Laila's second daughter had a blood problem--low in white cells?. So diambe anak angkat by the next door neighbour Nek Fifi. [Eventually Mak Laila and Nek Fifi had an affair.] Nek Fifi will be responsible for the child financially, but the child also lives with Nek Fifi full time.

What makes a couple want to receive the 'special gift'

By pull factors, I mean what makes a couple want to adopt a child:

• Not having a child.
• Not having a child of a specific gender.
• Replace a child who had passed away (childbirth etc)
• The people who receive the child may be The childless married couple
• To be blessed eventually with a biological child, the adopted child helps bring about 'good luck' to the household and eventual fertility, or to the woman if she is 'single'
• To help a family member, a neighbour or a friend in difficult need of babysitting, a single mother, a young mother with heavy responsibility either ritual or employment, mother with many children -- doing a good deed and getting the love of a child in return who calls you 'mak' or 'pak' which is an honorific given to you whether or not you are single/married in the case of an anak angkat or adopted child.

Challenges

All this suggests to me that it is very difficult to understand if one starts by assuming a biological family as a natural unit. I don't think Cocos Malays share this assumption. Instead, the family is much more fluid.  shouldn't go too far with this. When speaking with me English, Cocos Malays often refer to the biological parents as actual parents. In other words English term 'adopted child' is sometimes used. To distinguish what I would, awkwardly and ambiguously call the 'biological child, the English term "actual child" is also frequently used.  In Cocos Malay, the term  'anak betol' (an actual child) explained as 'anak dari kandong sendiri' or 'anak yang dilahirkan dari kandongannya sendiri' seem to be common .

• Pak Emi  (policeman brother of Haji Adam) adopted Emi from Nek Sari
• Nek Fifi (Haji Zaitol) had all boys but were looking for a girl Norain from (Mimi) Mak Pak Lelah (Suranah and Asman)
• Mak Arena from Balong Kokos was an anak angkat
• Saufie
• Jane Collin is adopted.  Madie Sigma (guy in Parth) is her biological brother. This adoption was formalised; she took [her grandfather's ?] name.
• Ashari Allen (who got married after we were in the pink house) his biological dad is nek fifi. But he was raised by Pak Allen Medis (Nek Awlia; Pak Ashari--pak ashari is nek fifi's nephew). Maybe I could talk to Ashari???

Adoption in Banyuwangi, East Java

What makes biological parents want to make the special gift of a child?  In Banyuwangi Indonesia, I heard of cases where  the newborn baby is too much for the biological parents. The parents already had too many children, or particularly, gave birth to twins. I have also heard of cases in which the biological parents were not married. For instance, an unmarried woman gave birth to a boy. The boy was taken up by the unmarried woman's father, who, in a sense, adopted his grandson. Another reason is that one or both parents might have died. In other words, the situation made it more difficult to raise the child. Most generally, it seems, in my fieldwork location, there was a sense of 'kasihan'--a sense of pity towards couples who do not have a child--and a desire to help out.

In Banyuwangi it is common for a married couple who already have at least one biological child to give a baby to a childless married couple. Sometimes the married couple is not childless. They may only have daughters and thus they might be given a son. The practice is usually informal; there are no adoption papers etc. In one case I knew of, there was some misgiving over inheritance--the adopted child had inherited from his adopted parents. This was contrary to the rules, at least as local people understood them, of Islamic inheritance.

 I think I also recall cases in which the giving couple felt they were too poor to raise another child ; they would give their child to a married couple who were able to raise the child. In such a case whether the receiving couple were childless or had children of only one gender was not so important.  As I recall, the two couples will often be related or if not have some other connection such as living in the same village.

Adoption in Australia'Western' style adoption

Westerners would be familiar with adoption in a number of circumstance. For example, if a young child's parent's die, if a child is 'born out of wedlock'*, if the biological parents are deemed legally unfit to raise a child. that child may be adopted. Since the 1970s, gay and lesbian parents have turned to adoption to build families.

In Western conceptions of self, possession, and giving; giving is a way of transferring ownership from one individual to another. To take it to an extreme, in the West, an individual is a completely separate unit, extricable from his or her social context. What the individual owns is entirely this individual's business; no one else has say. When this individual gives a gift; the gift becomes the possession of another individual. The giver has no special claim or say over it anymore, This becomes complicated in cases of adoption though...

*A child is said to be 'born out of wedlock' if the child's biological mother is unmarried or she is married, but the biological father is not thought to the woman's husband. The phrase is uncommon these days, but even up to the 1960s it was thought to be a big problem.

Prophet's Birthday: Procession

Like other Muslim communities the world over, the people of Home Island celebrate the birth of the Prophet Mohammad with celebrations and reverence. They also add their own Cocos Malay twist.

Men chanting

Birth of the Prophet

Muslims celebrate the birth of the Prophet Mohammad on a day called Maulud Nabi. Maulud Nabi occurs once every lunar year. In this blog, I describe the first part of the Maulud Nabi celebrations on Home Island.

Procession / Ngarak

The first part of the ritual was a procession (ngarak). Home Islanders began gathering for the festivities at the mosque from 7am. Then with a few announcements Mr Nek Shah got the the procession going.

An imam makes a few announcements before we set off. Behind him,
the Cocos (Keeling) Islands and Australian flags

At the front were the imam and wakil imam. Behind them were boys from the religious school (they study the Koran and Hadith after school everyday) carrying banners.

Imams at the front with wakil imam, and boys carrying banner behind them.

Further back marched the tambourine men (orang rebana) who chanted. The chanting was loud, joyful and welcoming. Unlike a Christmas pageant, there were few spectators. The emphasis was on joining in, rather than just watching the procession.

At the rear was the rest of the procession--Home Islanders and a few mainland Australians who had made the trip over from West Island to join in.

Women and children, further back in the procession.

The procession did a lap around the kampong (village). The pace was cracking initially, so the whole procession took about 25 minutes to complete, returning back to the mosque.

Procession comes to an end.

After that, the next part of the ritual involved readings and eating. I'll discuss that in my next blog.

Anthropological Analysis

Ethnomusicology

Ethnomusicologists study music and dance in a larger cultural context. As I understand it, ethnomusicology is the anthropology of music and dance performance. Ethnomusicologists are not just interested in 'big ticket' ritual or ceremonial performances like the procession I've described in this blog. They also focus on things like mothers singing lullabies, humming around the house.

Procession

From ethnomusicologists we get a sense of the procession as a distinct form of ritual and that performance can be found in many cultures.  often accompany rites-of-passage. In Western marriage rituals, the bride walks down the aisle with musical background. In the famous New Orleans funerals of the past, the musicians accompany the performers. The term seems to be "processional performance".

Ethnomusicology of Cocos Malay culture

Other ethnomusicologists, Dr David Irving and Dr Jenny McCallum, are undertaking a research project on the history and practice of Malay music traditions among the Cocos Malays. This is not just on the Cocos (Keeling) Islands--they researched Maulud Nabi this year among the Cocos Malays of Katanning. Their research will form an important contribution to our understanding Cocos Malay culture.

Ethnomusicology in other contexts

You might also want to read at the work of Monika Winarnita, who is the other half of this research project on Cocos Malay culture. Her book specifically focuses on Indonesian migrant women's dance performances in Perth, Western Australia:  http://www.sussex-academic.com/sa/titles/SS_Asian/Winarnita.htm. Drawing on ethnomusicology, Monika shows how these women would like to perform their Indonesian cultural identity as migrants in Australia. Although mostly amateur housewives, they see themselves as cultural ambassadors, teaching Australians about Indonesian culture. They perform created dances which show their mixed identity--and as part of her participant-observation, Monika joined in. The dances are mostly performed at multicultural festivals. In doing this, they are trying to belong and 'reinvent' themselves as part of the Indonesian community in Australia.

Different kinds of parents

In my culture, you can expand your family by marrying or sexually reproducing. Cocos Malays also use other ways.

Different forms of parenting

Aside from 'biological' parents, Cocos Malays recognise three other common 'relatives' who look after children: breastfeeding parents (that is a wet nurse and her husband); adopted parents; and grandparents. Nenek's personal experiences of child-rearing incorporate all three. As she related to Monika, she has six biological children (3 shared with other mothers) and one 'milk son':

• The milk son. Nenek said she had breastfed (i.e. wet nursed) another woman's biological son. The boy's mother requested because she did not produce enough milk, her "body was infertile" (tubuh tidak subur). The boy's grandparent and Nenek 's father are siblings. Nenek explained that the boy "is my son and I'm his mak susu" (wet nurse, milk mother). This sense of "son" and "mother" has a literal dimension. The boy could not marry any of Nenek's biological daughters because the daughters were, effectively, the boy's siblings. Anthropologists would say that the daughters are the boy's 'milk siblings'.
• The adopted daughter. A local Cocos couple who had one son and no daughter asked if they could adopt one of Nenek's daughters. Nenek consented. This daughter would spend most of her time at her adopted parent's house but would go home to her biological parents house to sleep at night. The adopted parents had hoped by having Nenek's daughter as an adopted child they would be blessed with another child. 8 years later they had their own biological daughter.  The adopted parents still play a role in Nenek's daughter's life as an adult and they remain close. 
• Another adopted daughter. Nenek has another daughter. She was adopted by Nenek's niece. The niece had been married for a long time but didn't have a child, so the niece adopted Nenek's daughter.  Now this daughter has two sons and a daughter; Nenek's niece is considered their grandmother and take oldest son's name (see my blog on teknonyms). When we arrived in 2016, the two mothers (biological and adopting) were waving goodbye to their daughter and grand-daughter who were heading to the mainland for a short trip. 
• Adoption brings the two grandmothers together. The niece is working full-time. So the grandmothers divide up the labour of looking after the grandkids. The niece looks after the older two boys. Nenek looks after the granddaughter. Nenek explained that this granddaughter is important to her because she looked after this granddaughter since she was very young. On Tuesday when Moni was supposed to meet Nenek, Nenek cancelled because she had to help her granddaughter with her introduction day to kindergarten.
• The breastfeeding mother. When she had her youngest daughter, Nenek had the opportunity to go on the Haj (pilgrimage to Mecca). She left her daughter with her family in Cocos. While Nenek was on the Haj, her grandmother gave her daughter to another woman to be breastfed for six months (as the grandmother thought the child was still quite young). It hadn't been organised before she left; Nenek only found out when she got back.
• To summarise, Nenek has 6 biological children. 3 of them are 'shared': a daughter, who was adopted by another local couple; a daughter who was adopted by her niece; and a daughter who was breastfed by another woman while she was on the Haj. Nenek also breastfed another boy; becoming his 'milk mother'.
• As she explained it; she didn't plan it this way; it was up to Allah; it's not really up to us humans. 
• In most societies families are made through marrying people and having children. Many societies have yet other ways of making family. For the Cocos Malays, the kinds of parenting--adoption, milk parenting (wet nursing), adoption and milk grandparenting--are all common ways of caring for children and making family bonds.

In subsequent blogs, I will analyse these different kinds of parenthood in more detail.

Grandmas with their grandchildren. This is an end-of-year party for government school program. Called "Better Beginning" it is designed to prepare pre-school children for school

Anthropological Analysis

Kinship

The first thing to say is that this blog is concerned with what anthropologists call kinship. If in English we say that "my cousin Jan is related to me through my father's side"; what we mean by "related" is the object of kinship studies. Or if you say, "family is everything"; what you mean by "family" is what we study in kinship. Kinship is, in basic terms, the anthropological study of what counts as 'family' or who counts as a 'relative' different cultures. As this definition implies; every culture has a slightly different understanding of who relatives are and what family consists in. I have already discussed an aspect of kinship in another blog. In that blog, I described some of the words--teknonyms--that Cocos Malays use to explain situate a person in terms of his or her family. As this indicates, the kinship of a society can have a variety of facets. Analysing these requires putting yourself in 'their' shoes.

Putting yourself in their shoes isn't easy...

Anthropologists try to 'put themselves in other people's shoes'. We try to understand the world from another culture's point of view; we try to see the world from the perspective of people who are different from us. Doing this is daunting; even for experienced anthropologists. This is especially the case when we try to understand customs which, when viewed from within our own culture's standards, seem strange or even offensive. For example, an Indonesian anthropologist might struggle to understand the culture of 'parties'  (replete with drinking alcohol, fornication, and violence) in Australia; or putting old people in homes. Conversely an Australian anthropologist might struggle to understand 'adoption' practices in Indonesia. Both anthropologists have to get beyond their own 'natural' assumptions if they want to understand what is going on.

...so we use strategies.

If you are new to studying anthropology, it sometimes seems like your lecturers and professors took up the anthropological perspective easily. It may seem they were born thinking and the way they do. But what anthropology teaches us runs against the grain even for lecturers and professor; things we assumed to be natural turn out to be, to a large degree cultural. This notion can be intellectually and emotionally challenging. So to help deal with the challenge, anthropologists (Australian, Indonesian, or from wherever) tend to employ several strategies, in particular; reflexivity, methodological relativism, and holism.

Dusk on Home Island

Reflexivity

So here's how I would approach Cocos Malay kinship using reflexivity: I grew up in a culture where the bond between biological mother and child is thought of as natural. For instance, when I raised the topic of Cocos Malay adoption with an Anglo Australian mother, she said "if someone wanted my baby, I would be like, 'just try to get him off me'". This implies that she would do everything in her power to stop her biological baby being separated from her. Given my cultural background, this really resonated with me, so I think the attitude is common enough. Even though we talk about new families, and extended families, unconventional families etc. these seem to measured against a very clear norm. When we are not thinking like anthropologists, we assume it is 'natural' for animals, especially mothers, to protect their offspring. So adoption has many negative connotations for Westerners; the common idea is that biological family is solid, indissoluble unit--a shelter from the storm of modern society. The widespread practice of adoption and milk parents slightly breaches this Western ideal. But then, we do give our children to day care 9-5; then send them to to school. We entrust our children to teachers; sometimes to nannies and au paires. We formalise and depersonalise this through contracts and pay. The Cocos Malay have informal relationships based on lifelong care and connection, on a sense of personal obligation, gift-giving, and responsibility. When I think about it using the principle reflexivity, the kinship practices I'm describing in this an subsequent blogs, start to make more sense. Anyway, this is only one step. Principles like methodological relativism and holism will also be useful to putting oneself in the another's shoes. And though the goal of empathetic understanding remains most likely unattainable, we anthropologists hope that applying these principles will provide a solid basis from which the real business of anthropology--the analysis of cultural and social aspects of human life--can proceed.

Anyway, more about Cocos Malay kinship and anthropology in subsequent blogs.