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 seems to contrast with Western ideas that family comes from sharing the same 'blood'. But appearances are deceiving.

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.

• 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 breastfeed, more than to look after Aini for extended periods. Aini would also sleep at Nek Kelem's house.

Milk siblings:
Mr Nek Sumila & Nek Ramdan 

• 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). 

• 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.
• 
  

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 procreated 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 other things are going there. I think 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 the child she procreated.

Westerners tend to assume a natural breastfeeding connection between procreative mother and child.  Breastfeeding is thought to be a deeply personal, unique, and at the same time natural, bond between procreative mother and child.Bateson & Mead assume that the procreative 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. 

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.

What kind of language is Cocos Malay?

Cocos Malay is the mother tongue for the people of Home Island. It's older than modern Malaysian and Indonesian but shares the same roots as these languages. Here is a sentence you might hear on Home Island:

"Habis lonceng, dorang pigi belakang pulu" (Cocos Malay)

There are many ways the Cocos Malay sentence translate this into English, I'll just stick with:

 "After the lunch bell, they're going to the ocean side of the island" (English)

The first thing to note is that the Cocos Malay sentence is clearly a Malay language. Let's compare it with another Malay language, Indonesian. Again the Cocos Malay is:

"Habis lonceng, dorang pigi blakang pulu" (Cocos Malay)

Rendered in Indonesian this might be:

"Habis lonceng, orang-orang pergi ke belakang pulau" (Indonesian)

I've used colors to highlight the similarities in the words. For the benefit of Indonesian speakers, I should note that the Cocos Malay has some idiomatic and unique meanings. "Belakang pulu" refers to the ocean side of any island in the Cocos atoll. "Dorang" (or sometimes "dong") is a plural form of person. And "lonceng" has a unique sense of the "lunch bell" in this context. Without knowing Indonesian however, you can see the resemblance between the two languages

Where is Cocos Malay spoken?

Cocos Malay almost certainly emerged on the Cocos (Keeling) Islands. But as Cocos Malays have emigrated, so has the Cocos Malay tongue. As far as I know, the Malay of the Cocos (Keeling) Islands is also spoken in the Cocos Malay diaspora, that is, in Christmas Island, Perth, Katanning, Port Hedland, Bunbury and in Tawau, Malaysia. It might be that the differences of the Malay spoken in these diverse locations outweigh the similarities. But for the meantime, it's probably safe to say it's the same language spoken in all these locations. As far as numbers; there are probably a little over 5000 speakers. They comprise about 4000 native speakers in Malaysia; 400 on Cocos (Keeling) Islands; 400 on Christmas Island, and a similar number on the Australian mainland.

What kind of language is Cocos Malay?

What language family does Cocos Malay belong to? I should first warn you, I'm a sociocultural anthropologist, not a linguist! With that caveat in mind, there are different ways of categorizing and bracketing the languages of the world. I think this is one way of doing it for Cocos Malay.

1. Austronesian

First, Cocos-Malay is an Austronesian language. We think that around four thousand years ago, one of the great migrations of human history occurred. The Austronesians began their grand journey. They probably started from Taiwan. First, they sailed to (maybe on their outriggers) and inhabited the islands of Southeast Asia. Then they head further east (to the Pacific) and a lot further west (to Madagascar). Such a widespread migration of a single people in pre-modern times is probably hard to match. I think the spread of the indigenous people through the Americas would come a close second.

This map depicts the commonly accepted picture of Austronesian migration, spreading from its earliest point (Taiwan 3000 BC) to its
most recent (New Zealand 1300 AD). It probably should include a small area of Cambodia, where Cham people speak an Austronesian language.

Anyway, the first point to make is that the language the Cocos Malays speak today is directly related to their Austronesian speaking ancestors from 4000 years ago.

2. Malayo-Polynesian

Second, among the Austronesian languages there are two major kinds:

1. Non-Malayo-Polynesian. Basically, these are the indigenous languages of Taiwan otherwise known as Formosan.
2. Malayo-Polynesian. This incorporates the languages spoken everywhere else in the Austronesian world. From Hawaii to New Zealand, the Philippines to Malaysia you can find Malayo-Polynesian languages, spoken by Austronesian populations.

So the Cocos Malay dialect could be grouped among the Malayo-Polynesian languages.

3. Western Malayo-Polynesian (WMP)

Third, among the Malayo-Polynesian languages, Cocos Malay belongs to the 'Western' branch. Malayo-Polynesian can be divided into:

1. Eastern Malayo-Polynesian. This incorporates the Pacific Ocean or Oceania; Polynesia, Micronesia, and parts of Melanesia. It is the yellow part, "Oc", on the map below
2. Western Malayo-Polynesian, the 'Malayo' part. This incorporates Madagascar, Malaysia, Indonesia. It is indicated as "WMP" on map below.
3. Central Malayo-Polynesian. These languages are spoken in Eastern Indonesia, the small area just to the north of Australia. See "CMP" on the map below.
4. South Halmahera West New Guinea. See the small area SHWNG squashed between the other three.

This map shows the Austronesian world, but divides it into 4 language areas. 

In the above map, the huge yellow area to the right incorporates Oceanic languages or EMP. The smaller WMP area is to the left. And squashed in between are SHWNG and CMP.

While Oceanic (or EMP) incorporates the largest area, but WMP incorporates by far the most speakers numbering in the millions.

(Note that in the areas with stars the indigenous peoples do not speak an Austronesian language, but rather the 1,000 or so Papuan languages.)

Several languages in the WMP have been influenced by, for example, Arabic, Sanskrit, Chinese languages, and subsequently colonial languages.

With only around 5000 speakers, Cocos Malay is not one of the largest WMP languages.

4. Malayic /Malay-Indonesian

Fourth, within the Western Malayo-Polynesian languages, one of the large branches is the Malayic (also known as Malay-Indonesian) languages. Cocos Malay is similar to modern Indonesian, Malaysian, and other varieties of Malay (such as spoken in Kupang and Bangka in Indonesia; Pattani in Southern Thailand). They all derive from a similar language Malayic or Malay-Indonesian language. Most probably this was spoken by the Melayu (Malay) people of Sumatra and peninsular Malaysia.

Summary

So there you have it. Cocos Malay is a Malayic language. Malayic languages belong to the Western branch of Malayo-Polynesian languages. The Malayo-Polynesian languages themselves belong Austronesian family. The next question is what distinguishes Cocos Malay from other forms of Malay, including modern Malaysian and Indonesian? I will take a more detailed look in a later blog.

Analysis

This blog has situated Cocos Malay in progressively smaller language groups from the huge (Austronesian) to the small (Malayic /Malay-Indonesian). Personally, what really interests me is the maps. These indicate that a single culture complex united such apparently diverse cultures as from Madagascar to Hawaii.

That was at least until about 1500, when societies on the Western seaboard of Europe (Portugal, Spain, and later England, Holland, and then France) started colonizing the world. As a result, the majority of people in Hawaii and New Zealand now speak English and in several Oceanic nations French is spoken. In other places, 'creoles' or 'pidgin' languages prevail. Nevertheless, Austronesian languages survive and flourish.

Was there a uniquely Austronesian culture? Initially, the Austronesian migrants probably spoke a single language, Cribb explains in his Digital Atlas of Indonesian History. For survival:

The Austronesians brought with them the technologies of pottery, outrigger canoes, and bows and arrows, as well as domestic pigs, fowl and dogs, and they cultivated rice and millet, along with other crops. Rice and millet at this stage were crops suited to temperate and sub-tropical climates, and they apparently did not become established in [in the tropical climate of] Indonesia until somewhat later; their place in the Austronesian diet was [initially] taken by taro, breadfruit, bananas, yams, sago and coconuts.

Austronesian religion probably included animism (the belief that spirits inhere in local trees, hills, streams, etc.); ritual meals to feed and reward these spirits; and maybe other things. For instance, dolmens, But it's difficult to sustain the argument of a uniquely Austronesian culture-complex, because we find these things elsewhere in the world and not always in Austronesian cultures. Still, when in 1497 Vasco de Gama set sail around the Cape of Good Hope; and, in 1521, when Magellan, coming from the other direction, rounded the Magellan Straits, there may have been a definable culture-complex linking these cultures of the Indian and Pacific Oceans.

But actually, this large-scale type thinking is not part of my anthropological background. I have been more influenced by the detailed study of small places. In particular, the anthropology from Malinowski (say 1920) to Geertz (1970) tended to have microscopic focus. Anthropologists looked at big themes (e.g. kinship) in little places (e.g. a village) in relation to specific issues (e.g. gift-giving).
The context in which I learned anthropology was skeptical about considering a culture (e.g. Cocos Malay 'culture') as a cohesive and unique single entity, and even more wary of the idea of a larger cultural complex.

But anthropology hasn't always been like that. In the early days (1880-1920), anthropologists Tylor and Frazer tried to search for the original forms of all human culture (an approach which could be called 'Origins and Evolution'). Boas studied how one culture influenced another (an approach known as 'Diffusionism').  In the 1960s, Levi-Strauss, taking his structuralist approach, treated indigenous cultures of North, Central, and South as a single Amerindian culture complex. 

If you want to look at more recent examples large, big-picture anthropology you could look at Europe and the People without History, in which Eric Wolf uses a Marxist approach to talk about swathes of the world in a single breath--and it works! Scott, also using a Marxist approach, takes a grand view of a huge area of Asia in The Art of not being Governed. Tim Ingold and Marshall Sahlins are two other original and exciting thinkers who take a step back and try to apprehend the larger scene.

Quarantine Station--Cocos (Keeling) Islands

What was it like working on the Cocos Quarantine Station? On Monday, November 28 2016, I was lucky enough to join my daughter's social science class at Cocos Islands District High School as they tried to answer this question.

National Library of Australia photo of Ostriches at Quarantine Station taken in 1995

These Grade 2-3 social scientists are uncovering local history. The topic of concern this week--the defunct Quarantine Station--once formed an important part of what we now call the 'biosecurity' of Australia. By joining them, I had the chance to learn a lot about life on the Cocos (Keeling) Islands.

Nek Diana (Nek Didi); Mr Wicks (Pak Tali); Mak Maesha

The field trip was organised by Social Studies teacher Mr Wicks. Fortunately, Nek Diana, a former employee at the Quarantine Station, agreed to give us a tour. The children had prepared all the right questions; Nek, Mak Mia and Mak Mae helped translate and keep everything running smoothly; I simply had to relax and learn.

National Library of Australia photo of Quarantine Station taken in 1995

Quarantine Station

Basically, the West Island quarantine station provided animal quarantine. Animals being imported to Australia were temporarily kept there. The animals were destined for farms and zoos. Vets could work out if the animals had diseases which could spread to Australian animals. Mostly the animals were healthy, but the workers at the station had to keep them healthy by washing, exercising,  and feeding them. The Quarantine Station apparently operated from 1981. A set of stamps was even issued, in 1996, to commemorate the Quarantine Station. 

Cocos (Keeling) Islands Quarantine Station First Day Cover

The Quarantine Station seems to have wound down in the 2000s. However, 8 elephants were housed here before being cleared for transportation, in 2006, to zoos in Sydney and Melbourne. (You can see them on Cocos in a documentary entitled Flight of the Elephants at around the 34:00 minute mark.) And, more recently, the excellent buildings were put to good use in 2012, housing Sri Lankan asylum seekers. 

Nek Didi

Nek Didi

The Quarantine Station was mostly staffed by workers from the Australian mainland. However, two Cocos Malays, in particular, worked there for many years: Nek Didi and Nek Kaya. So I was very lucky to join in Nek Didi's tour. 

The concrete for the brick buildings was laid by the Cocos Co-op under Nek Ainul and Nek Jamil. Workers from Australian mainland helped build the structures.

Before the tour began Nek Didi explained to us that the animals' blood would be tested. This would ensure that sick animals would not make it to the mainland. Either they would be cured at the Quarantine Station or put down. For larger animals, Nek Didi told us, they would use a gun. The area of the Quarantine Station is large because the animals needed space to exercise.

The tour

First, Nek Didi took us to the barn where they had a machine for making animal food. This machine mixed and pressed grass clippings to make food pellets for the sick animals.

Then we looked at the composting area, where all the waste and dead carcasses were transformed into fertiliser for the fields of the station. The composting area was behind the shed where all the hazardous materials were stored.

Shed for hazardous materials, behind which the composting occurred.

After that, Nek Didi took as into the barns where the animals were washed.

Barns for animal washing? 1995

Mr Wicks and students inspect the same (?) washing facilities in 2016.

Following this, we went to what I think is called the stocks or a stockyard, where a herd of animals is sorted into a single file, leading, ultimately, to the stocks.

Stockyard

At the stocks, the animal is held still for the sample to be taken.

Stocks

Then we saw the animal hospital and laboratory, where the blood samples were analysed.

Bacteriology desk

Finally, we headed up to the mess and single men's quarters. The mess, as the students learned, is a place where people eat. Quarters are places to live for a short while; these quarters were for men who did not have their wives with them, or were unmarried. Nek Didi sometimes resided in the single men's quarters during his working years, because his family lived on Home Island.

Mess hall

The Sri Lankan asylum seekers were temporarily housed in the single men's quarters in 2008; and they used the mess hall and kitchen.


I think this was Pak Didi's favourite part of the tour. Maybe he liked that it was all well maintained. Maybe it was because he had so many nice memories from the time after 'knocking off' (finishing work) for the day. He was very happy to see the BBQ and remember the good times

Mess hall 

Analysis: Social Studies and Social Sciences

Social studies at school typically includes history and geography. At university, students and lecturers branch this out to study political science, anthropology, sociology, politics, archaeology, and so on. Along with history and geography, these studies are called 'disciplines' at university. So, for example, politics is known as one of the disciplines. At university, some people also use the word 'social sciences' to cover all these disciplines.  

Generally, social sciences are distinguished from the 'hard sciences' such as maths, chemistry, and physics. The social sciences are concerned with human life The way social scientists work is basically the same as social studies in school. When social scientists try to understand something, like what life was like working in the Quarantine Station--they start out asking 'who, what, when, where, why, and how' questions. They try to find out how things looked to people involved; like asking Pak Didi about his life working there. They try to visit place that they write about, like going to the Quarantine Station. So whether in social studies and social sciences we use the same techniques to try to understand human life better.

Mess kitchen

One thing that my social studies experience taught me was how much life for Cocos Malays changed as they increasingly became part of Australia. I could see this in how different life was for Pak Didi. Prior to working at the quarantined station, he told me he had collected coconuts as part of the Clunies-Ross's economy. He remembered how hard his life had been; waking while it was still dark, sailing out alone on his jukong, working all day alone collecting coconuts; returning exhausted; only to be paid in the despised plastic tokens. He seemed bitter and disconsolate when remembering that life. He it was like being a fish in a tank

The contrast with work on the Quarantine Station was palpable. He was sad to see the run down state of the animals' area. But he came particularly nostalgic and content when we came to the mess and single men's quarters, which are still in pretty good shape. So I could see how Pak Didi's life experience formed a small part of the large transformation that the Cocos Malays have undergone during Pak Didi's lifetime.

The social studies trip to the Quarantine Station with Nek Didi was a great learning experience for me. It was all thanks to the planning and insight of Mr Wicks, the assistance of Mak Mae, Mak Mia and Nek; the enthusiasm of the social studies students; and, most of all, the expert guidance of Nek Didi. So thank you to Cocos District High School for allowing me join the field trip

Stages of Life

Every culture has a different sense of the periods or divisions constitute a life-span.

How do we go about living our lives? At what stages do we 'grow up', get married, have kids? At various periods in their lives, people enjoy certain privileges, are burdened by other responsibilities, and must behave differently. We could think of these stages “stages of life” or “life stages” or as part of the “lifecycle”. Some of these are based around certain biological 'realities', such as birth, puberty, bearing children, and death. Other stages are not so clear.

Humoring baby on the ferry.

Residents of Home Island conceive of their lives and, indeed, live different lives to people on the Australian mainland.

Nek Sumila cradles a baby, to the delight of  some fans.

Birth

Nek Sofia recalled that, in the past, a baby's placenta had been taken in a jukung and thrown overboard from a jukung. The further out the the jukung went, the more outgoing or adventurous the child would grow up to be. (I have the impression that being outgoing or adventurous is not an especially valued trait, as it may lead to the child eventually moving away from the Cocos Islands--an undesirable result). Apparently this and other birth ritual have been interrupted by the requirement for expecting mothers to deliver in Perth. Home Islanders I spoke with regretted this. Monika said she had spoken with someone who felt that having not been born on the Cocos Islands, the new generations would never be truly Cocos in the way of preceding generations. 

Newborn

Early on in life, youngsters go through several stages quickly. The first could be called, in the absence of any specific local term that I’m aware of, “newborn”. This lasts from birth to 40 days old. The main priority in this period seems to be that mother and newborn should rest at home.

Childhood

At 40 days old a new lifestage, I'll call "childhood", is initiated through a hair cutting ritual. I have written on this in my blog "First Haircut".

Anthropologists call hair cutting rituals “tonsure”. I first came across the term in relation to the Thai prince. For Thai people, the ritual cutting of a tuft of a male's hair (around the age of 12-14)  is cut his a deeply meaningful event, and initiates the boy into adulthood. On Home Island, tonsure occurs earlier in life.

Men chanting for a child's 40th day celebration.In the immediate foreground is a man's white hat. In the middle were three dishes of yellow rice and whole chicken with a white towel on top. Next to these were blue bowls with rice porridge. The porridge, red and white in color, has a special name in Java--here it is simply "porridge" (bubur).

Over the next decade or so, the child will begin school, commence afternoon classes in Koranic Arabic (ngaji), start high school, and possibly continue high school on the mainland. If the child is a boy, he will be circumcised as well.

At school, reading a English book.

I’m also unsure about how to characterize these years in terms of life stages. One person told me that initially the term anak (young child) is used, then budak (child around primary school), and then anak muda (around high school age). However, anthropologists can not just go by what local people tell us. We need to understand what people say and also observe and participate in what they do. So I'll have to postpone commenting on this.

Parenthood

Marriage is the biggest ritual on Home Island. However, it only changes on status from single to married. This is (along with being sick or healthy, present or away, a pilgrim or not pilgrim) a different ritual status, but I don’t think we could identify it as a stage of life. Instead, marriage allows one to produce a legitimate child. Having a legitimate child allows one to progress to the next life stage: parenthood. The life stage I’m calling parenthood occurs only if one begins nurturing a child. There is no change with subsequent children: the main thing is that you have at least one child.  Infertile couples often adopt from a sibling or a cousin who has more than child. 

Death

The final life stage is death. Death rituals are quite involved, with ritual meals being repeated in the first week after death and then at 40 days one year and 1000 days. This appropriately changes one’s ritual status from being alive to being dead. The gravestone marks this ritual status.

Nek Suma's grave stands alone, outside the cemetery. He is affectionately referred to as "baldy".

Visiting in 1836, Darwin made note of a death ritual, in very deprecating terms:

After dinner we staid to see a half superstitious scene, acted by the Malay women. They dress a large wooden spoon in garments — carry it to the grave of a dead man — & then at the full of the moon they pretend it becomes inspired & will dance & jump about. After the proper preparations the spoon held by two women became convulsed & danced in good time to the song of the surrounding children & women. It was a most foolish spectacle, but Mr Liesk maintained that many of the Malays believed in its spiritual movements. The dance did not commence till the moon had risen & it was well worth remaining to behold her bright globe so quietly shining through the long arms of the Cocoa nuts, as they waved in the evening breeze

Nevertheless, it seems the "spoon" may refer to the shape of the grave marker. Death rituals are very different currently, as I have described in "Ritual Meals on Home Island".

Mourners gathered at house of bereaved

One part of the death rituals (i.e. funeral) is the transporting of the corpse from the home of the bereaved the cemetery are, which is called "Swan Island" (Pulu Gangsa). In fact, Swan Island is no longer an island as it has merged with Home Island.

At Swan Island

Life stage and name change

The terms one uses when talking about someone (term of reference) or talking with someone (term of address) reflect these stages. 

Mak Mia, Mia, and Pak Mia

Parenthood is marked by a name change. For example, a married couple have a daughter named Mia. Mia’s father is now called "Pak Mia" and her mother is called "Mak Mia". If a child named “Abdul” is adopted by an infertile couple, and if the arrangement works, the adoptive father will become known as Pak Abdul and his wife will be Mak Abdul. I have written about this naming practice, teknonymy, as anthropologists call it, in another blog. A person who never has a legitimate child either through birth or adoption is apparently not entitled to be called Pak or Mak. 

The teknonyms on Home Island are absolute, not relative. Where I did fieldwork in East Java (2000-2002) you typically only use the term “Pak” (father) to someone who is of your father’s generation. By contrast, on Home Island it does not matter if the man you are talking to is older or younger than you, you still call him “Pak” (father), provided he has children. Similarly, in Indonesian, the term “adik” (younger brother/sister) is sometimes used to refer to someone a little younger. In Cocos Malay, the cognate “adek” is absolute. I heard, for example, today a mother address her pre-schooler son as “adek”. 

The absolute nature of these titles seems so important that it carries through into English usage on Home Island. When Anglo-Australians greet each other on West Island they might say “G’day mate”; the term “mate” indicates an equality between two men. By contrast on Home Island, the fatherhood is respected and honored. So even when talking in English, I am sometimes greeted with “G’day Pak” or "How's it goin' Pak" .

Becoming a grandparents marks the next stage of life. There is also a specific teknonym of grandparents being “Nek”. More formally, the grandfather might be addressed Nek [D]atok (the bracketed bit is mostly dropped, with people just saying "Atok") and the grandmother, Nek [Peremp]uan. 

Being a great-grandparent possibly marks a further life stage after being a grandparent, and that is. I’ve heard very old grandparents or a people who have cecet (great-grandchildren). I think a formal term of address is "Nek [B]uyut" or sometimes they are also called 'Nek Atok' or 'Nek Wan'.  

Progression through life stages

The idea of life stages seems quite simple and natural: childhood, adulthood, old age, etc. However, this is deceptive. So progression through life stages can be initiated suddenly through a biological event (birth) and through ritual (40 days’ tonsure). It can also be a combination of both (death).

In different cultures, for example, adulthood occurs when you turn 18 or 21 or earlier or later. Some cultures don’t even recognize “adulthood” but might have various other stages.

The onset of what is conceived of as a life stage can occur slowly, such as what is called "middle aged" in the West, currently. In some cultures, without a ritual you cannot progress. For example, you might have stopped breathing among the Berawan, but you cannot make the progression from living to spirit world of the dead without ritualized treatments. Or, in central Australian societies, you might be fifty years old, but if you haven't been circumcised you are still a boy, cannot socialize with men as equals, and cannot receive the knowledge that men posses. Traditionally, in the West, you could not be married unless you went through the marriage ritual known as "wedding". 

Thus, progression through life stages is not necessarily a natural, biological occurrence. 

Age set and age grade

Related to "life stage" are the concepts of "age set" and "age grade/age class". An "age set" is like the "Class of 1969"--once you are part of it you stay in that group forever--really, forever, in some cultures. 

Class of 1969--an Age Set

An "age grade" or "age class" is like being a "first-year", "Freshman", or "rookie"; you and others  or your age go through it the same time and the leave that grade for another e.g. "second-year", "sophomore", "senior player".

Age groups (Nadel calls them "age classes"). Korongo and Meskain pass through these, from Nadel "Witchcraft in Four Societies"

As Nadel notes, the Korongo of Africa recognize 6 age classes for males aged 12-50+. These are associated with different wrestling duties and places of residence. The Mesakin, by contrast, recognize only 3 throughout a similar chronological period.

In summary, you progress through an age grade, while you stay in an age set forever.

Life stages and anthropology

Life stages, sets, groups, or classes are not things cultures intrinsically possess. Rather, we should think of these as imperfect concepts that anthropologists apply to cultures. So, when we see distinct rights, responsibilities, and behaviors associated with a period of life, we might label that a "stage of life", or a "age set", or an "age group". But we must remember that, in many cases, one could interpret and debate what constitutes a stage of life in any culture. 

For more on life stages please listen to my short podcast entitled “Lifecycle” : https://itunes.apple.com/au/itunes-u/the-audible-anthropologist/id574638820?mt=10

Spirals of community life

I am holding onto two of the spikes of the spider shell's shell.
It is cracked open so you can see the spirals leading up to the top of the shell.

The spider shell is a marine animal whose shell has a line of 7 spikes sticking out. The shell and the animal inside spirals up to a pinnacle.

Spider shell visible at the top of frame. This
underwater photo was taken around high tide.

The animal has two long, flexible shafts that can protrude out of the shell and retract. At the end of these are eye balls. Spider shells also have one leg which they stick out of the shell and use to move, quite effectively.  On February 13, I helped our neighbours prepare this delicacy as part of long and ongoing preparations for an April wedding.

Cracking open part of the shell reveals the spirals inside.

As the trailer load of shells indicates, we were preparing the meat on bulk.  Apparently, the spider shells had been gathered at low tide, a long way out on the reef. 

Once brought back to the land, the preparation process begins with [ketuk] breaking open the shells in order to expose and extract the animal from the shell. 

 We got the spider shells out of buckets (see blue bucket full of spider shells and empty red bucket). We held them on the anvil ( Nek As is wearing a glove to hold the spider shell) and then bashed (ketuk) them with the hammer. Then we threw the shells onto the trailer in the foreground.

Extracting the meat

The shell is extremely strong. Even experienced hands like Nek Neng and Nek As required at least 2 or 3 very sharp hammer blows to break a shell open. With this number, I could crack open the small shells, but I needed generally at least 4-6 blows for the larger shells.

After cracking open the shells and taking out the animal inside, the women cleaned off (rawat [sic.]) the ‘crap’ [tahi]; and finally rinsed [bilas] the white meat.

Rawat (taking care of) the meat, involving separating entrails etc.

Rawat: the white meat is kept, while the entrails etc. are pushed
 into the hole in the middle of the table, so they fall ino the tray below.

The two women dressed in blue to the left of the frame are rinsing (bilas or cuci) the meat.
The pink and blue house in the background, Ocean Villa, is where I'm staying.

Spider shell meat has many uses.

Shell

Nek As told me they also used to get the shell of a young spider shell, clean it and polish it, and sell it to white people (orang putih) on West Island for 3 ringgit.

Gong gong just taken out of the cauldron and
 strained of the water in which they were boiled.

(“Ringgit” could refer to the currency during the Clunies Ross times, but, seeing as it sold to ‘foreigners’, as it were,  it probably refers to “pounds” or “dollars”. Indeed, people still use the term “ringgit” for dollars”.)

Food and bait

Male spider shells are not consumed but can be used for bait.My Blog “Teach a man to fish” shows how spider shell meat and entrails are  used for bait. The entrails, by themselves can be used to attract fish while angling (in Australian English this is called "burley"). 

Female spider shells we were preparing are specifically referred to as female spider shells.

The legend of gong-gong

...here's some they prepared earlier. From boiled to dried gong gong.

So how did Cocos Malays find out spider shells are edible? Nek Iwat (owner of a local store) related a local legend to Monika. Originally, he said, locals had only used spider shell for bait. An Indonesian told the locals on Home Island that humans could eat spider shell too. And that man’s name was “Gong Gong”. It didn’t sound like a common Indonesian name, so Monika asked if the man might have been ethnically Chinese (as some locals claim they were descendants from the Chinese Indonesians). No, she was told, he was an Indonesian from Banten.

Fried gong gong makes a nice, crunchy snack.
It tastes very similar to crackling.

Another version of the story comes from Haji Wahid. According to him, "Gong Gong" is the name of a Singaporean Chinese who came to Home Island. He was connected with Clunies-Ross (the last 'king' of Cocos), as Clunies-Ross shipped the coconuts to Singapore.

Finally, Nek Kaya told Monika that it was a visitor or visitors from Australia who first started eating gong-gong. Home Islanders learned from them. Whatever the origins, it happened that we were extracting the meat for food.

Ways to prepare gong-gong

As food, gong gong has many uses, people happily listed to me. You can use gong gong for soup. You can dry it for later use. You can also fry it.

A line from the Cocos School Song, recited at school assemblies, extolls spider shell soup.

Gong gong Crackers (Kerupuk gong gong)

Gong gong Crackers (Kerupuk gong gong)

We were extracting gong gong for use later as sate (little bits of meat speared on wooden stick and barbecued over a fire). The meat was then frozen to be defrosted and cooked later.

Preparation of gong gong is labour intensive. Harvesting it at low tide, hauling it back to land, cracking it open, cleaning, to washing takes a lot of time and energy. Monika heard that there is a local couple who actually specialise in doing it, and sell it for $25/bag. They go further out to get big gong gong. So why didn't the people who taught me to crack open gong gong shell just buy it?

Onions, carrots, rice, and spider shell meat. Put them
 together, and you've got gong gong soup.

I think it is because the gong gong we were preparing will be used for the wedding. This wedding often comes up when people talk to me. The wedding they refer to is the wedding of Ashari, the grandson of Nek As, in April. With preparations starting at least two months earlier, this wedding (like most first marriages apparently) will be a huge event for the community. The celebrations, I’m told, will last a week. So, everyday, close friends and family are helping out at Ashari's parents house, giving their time and energy to  prepare for the festivities. In 'return', they are given drinks and, if they happen to be around in the evening, fed. Giving and receiving is already occurring on a large scale at this house and it will increase as we get closer to the wedding.

The spirals of the spider shell might make a good metaphor for the wedding preparations. Initially involved in the preparations are family and close friends. As the wedding approaches, more people will help out. Before the wedding, many Cocos Malays who have emigrated will also return for the rituals. Eventually, the whole community will be involved.