ABSTRACT
The Naga tiger-man or tekhumiavi2 who uttered these words describes a phenomenon that in one form or another has revealed itself in the sculpted, painted, oral and printed histories of the world: humans and nonhuman animals take on, share or exchange attributes, as in the broad concept of theriomorphism.3 Yet therianthropy (Greek therion ‘wild animal’ and anthropos ‘human being’, also often referred to as ‘lycanthropy’, with lycos being ‘wolf ’ but also more generally any wild animal) has remained a subject of mythical, popular fascination; a subject hot at the Hollywood box-office, but rarely investigated in the sciences. With the re-emergence of the nature/culture debate, heightened by concerns over the effects of population growth and global warming on human and nonhuman animal habitats (e.g. Cassidy and Mills 2012; Descola 1994; 1996; 2013; van Dooren 2011; 2014; Kohn 2007; 2013; Latour 2013; Viveiros de Castro 1998; 2004), a look at more complex forms of human and nonhuman interaction is helpful in elucidating hidden truths about the inextricable life-links that bind humans, nonhuman animals, and the natural world. This chapter is an initial exploration into this phenomenon in the context of the Naga-inhabited areas in the Indo-Burmese borderlands where it is known to have existed among a few particular groups, but is virtually unknown among younger generations as a traditional practice. The reasons for its ‘disappearance’ are questions that require more in-depth research, though a few general working hypotheses will be presented here. These include pressures associated with population growth and the depletion of forest habitats, and the notion that puritanical forms of Christianity introduced by American Baptist missionaries have eroded traditions that accommodated therianthropy. The latter have perhaps contributed to rupturing what appears to have been a
pre-Christian Naga nature/culture continuum. The emergence of a pan-Naga mythology is a more recent development, and linked to Naga nationalist assertions of difference vis-à-vis the dominant Hindu political discourse of the Indian state. Here the tekhumiavi, as a mythic figure with both tragic and heroic qualities, is re-emerging as a symbol that embodies the nature/culture continuum, thus representing the unity of the Naga and their vast ancestral land that underpins Naga nationalist narratives and political assertions. For those living in the bustling urban areas of Kohima and Dimapur, the
tekhumiavi is an urban myth, and represents the ‘wildness’ of the distant rural village. A young undergraduate at Baptist College in Kohima raises his arm and points somewhere to the north or the east – ‘over there, the old traditions are still practised’. It is indeed in the ‘north’ that I first came to know about the ‘tiger-man’. Chatting with a group of Ao Naga youths in Mokokchung in 2002, I noted in my notebook a series of descriptions that seemed strange at first, as they usually included the seemingly contradictory phrases ‘a village nuisance’ and ‘a great and powerful mystery’ in the same sentence. Ten years later in Kohima, most of my older informants seem uncomfortable with the subject, and often just state something along the lines ‘those are old practices, but now we are Christians’. Though rumours about ‘this’ or ‘that’ person exhibiting peculiar ‘tekhumiavi-like’ behaviour circulate regularly around Kohima Village (adjacent to Kohima Town), I infer that these are things one does not discuss outside of one’s family or close age-group friends. However, while on a hike to the Dzülakie forest, my companion – a road contractor – shared a personal experience he attributed to the mysterious activities of a tekhumiavi:
Even though we have big dogs in our compound, he reached the pens where we have rabbits and took them. I know it was a tekhumiavi because I have felt his presence before. You know, they have both the spirit of a man and the spirit of a tiger; and he moves like a shadow without making any noise. I felt he was following me. I don’t have a problem with them, in fact I know an old Chakhesang tekhumiavi who lives in Kohima […] though he was very old the last time I saw him.4
