Position and defences. With the exception of those situated on spurs running down from the great mass of Wokha Hill, a Lhota village is invariably built on the very top of a ridge. The two essentials of a site are that it must be easily defensible from a Naga point of view, and near a spring. Unlike the Sema, the Lhota rarely calls a village after its founder. An almost unique example is Mangya, which is said to have been founded by Mangyasang. More usually some peculiarity of the site, or incident connected with the village, gives it its name. Seleku is so called because many flying squirrels (selek) were found when the site was cleared. Niroyo is the place of a plant with red berries called niro. Lungsa (olung = stone, osa = platform) is so called from a flat-topped rock near the eastern entrance of the village. Okotso is said to mean the place where the pigs of Pangti were eaten by tigers (woko = pig, tso = eat). Villages captured by the Lhotas from the Aos, such as Yimbang, Akuk, Mekula, still retain their Ao names only slightly corrupted. Often a village retains the name of its parent village, with Yanthamo (“new village”) added, e.g. Are Yanthamo. To defend his village the Lhota used neither masonry walls like the Angami, nor hedges of living cane like the Konyak. The outer defence was a ditch cut across the ridge in a conveniently narrow place. The bottom and edge of this were studded with “panjis,” and it was crossed by a rough-hewn plank which was taken up at night, [22]or in case of attack. The inner defence was a stout fence of sticks and bamboos, also bristling with “panjis.” This was carried right round the village except in places where the steepness of the ground gave adequate protection of itself. The door was of bamboo, studded with “panjis.” A few sticks are still stuck up along the line of the old fence every year at the Pikuchak “genna,” and whenever the village performs the Oyantsoa “genna.” Huge trees stand at the entrance to most Lhota villages. These were preserved to form a wind-screen for the village and to provide convenient look-out posts for sentries. War between Lhota villages was rare, and a powerful village surrounded by friends would regard defences as unnecessary. Similarly nowadays Tuensang, the most powerful village of the Changs, has no village fence. It is situated in the middle of a circle of friendly Chang villages. The warriors of Tuensang emerge from the circle to smite their foes, and then retire behind their friends again. Woe betide the friend who is so remiss as to let a party of avenging enemies into the circle.

A Lhota village is as a rule built along a ridge and has a main entrance at either end, with smaller paths running down to the fields from the sides of the village, and may contain anything from a dozen to 350 houses. The entrance to the World of the Dead being on Wokha Hill, the spirits of the dead must leave the village in that direction. The path leading towards Wokha Hill is accordingly known as etchhilan (“dead man’s road”). It is a curious sight, flanked with offerings to the dead (sochipen) and bamboo erections (nritangpeng) showing the prowess in war and hunting of those recently deceased.

Communication. From village to village there are narrow permanent paths along which men can only go in single file. As far as possible they keep along the very top of the ranges, for in the old days to use a path running under the shoulder of a hill would have been to risk having a spear thrown at you from above. Where the rock is soft sandstone, as it is near Tsori, toe-holes are cut in very steep ascents. Where the rock is hard a notched pole helps the traveller up the bad places. [23]Small streams and ditches are bridged either by a single big tree or half a dozen stout poles laid side by side. Across broader streams, such as the Chebi, cane bridges are constructed. Long pieces of cane are stretched across from convenient trees on either bank. Between these a V-shaped cradle of cane is constructed, on which are laid long bamboos to form a foot-way. Long cane tie-ropes up and down stream prevent the bridge from swinging. The far-seeing Lhota often plants young trees of a suitable kind near the bridge-head trees to provide substitutes in case the old trees are washed away or die.

The village. A village usually consists of one long street with a line of houses on each side facing inwards. In the middle of the street are the “genna” stones standing opposite the houses of their owners. The somewhat limited space is further crowded with old fallen “genna” stones, graves and stacks of firewood. The villages are swarming with pigs, dogs and cattle, and the state of the street in wet weather can be better imagined than described, though some attempt is made to keep the actual doorways of the houses clean by scraping away the filth with shovels (mirothenga) made of the shoulder-blades of cattle or mithan. Sanitary arrangements are non-existent. Pigs and dogs do the necessary scavenging in the jungle surrounding the village. In every village one piece of jungle is strictly reserved for men and another for women. Not all villages consist of one long street. At places such as Yekhum, where the ground slopes awkwardly, the houses are built according to the lie of the land and are in broken lines. Similarly at Pangti, which is on a fairly broad, level site, there are several rather badly defined streets and the houses face in all directions.

Unlike the Angamis, the Lhotas do not keep their rice in their houses but in little thatched granaries (osung) of bamboo which are raised on posts above the ground and stand in neat little groups just outside the village. By this arrangement the food supply is generally saved even if the village be burnt. It is absolutely forbidden to spread clothes to dry on the roof of a granary. To do so would cause all the rice to go bad. [24]

The “Morung.” Every village, except the very small ones, is divided into two or more “khels” (yankho). Sometimes, but by no means always, a little strip of open ground marks the division between “khel” and “khel.” In some villages these “khels” mark the divisions of clans. For instance, at Tsingaki there are two Kikung “khels” and one Nguli “khel.” But this is not common. Usually a “khel” appears to be nothing more than a convenient division of a village in which men of various clans live. Sometimes some feature of the site gives the “khel” its name, e.g. Hayili (“level”) khel in Akuk. Sometimes, as in the Wokhayankho (“Wokha men’s khel”) in Pangti, the first inhabitants have given a name to the “khel.” Usually a man lives and dies in the “khel” in which his forefathers lived and died before him. But he is perfectly free to go to another “khel” if he wants to. In every “khel” there is a common bachelors’ house or “morung” (champo),1 a building which plays an important part in Lhota life. In it no woman must set her foot. At the champo raids were planned and discussed, and to it all heads taken were first brought. It is the sleeping-place of every Lhota boy from the time he first puts on his dao-holder till he marries, this rule being only relaxed in the case of boys who are allowed to remain at home and nurse an ailing and widowed mother, or when the champo falls into such a state of disrepair that it is no longer habitable. In the latter case boys are allowed to sleep in a separate room in their parents’ house. The champo usually stands at the end of, and facing down, the village street. Though not to be compared with the huge “morungs” of the Aos and Konyaks, it is the best architectural effort of which the Lhota is capable. In length a typical champo extends to forty feet, with a breadth of [25]fifteen feet at the front and twelve feet at the back. The roof-tree is low in the middle, and curves up to gables at the front and back, that at the front being about sixteen feet high and that at the back a foot or so lower. Two specially fine bamboos are selected for the roof-tree. Part of the root is left on them and forms a horn-like projection at each end of the roof-tree. To each horn is fixed a little cross-piece, from which are hung tassel-like ornaments of reed-stem. The house is thatched with either thatching grass or the leaf of a small palm called oko (Levistonia assamica). The eaves reach almost to the ground and are brought forward in a half-circle in front to form a sort of verandah roof. In the middle of the space covered by this verandah roof stands the front post (humtse), which is elaborately carved with conventional representations of mithan heads and hornbills, and is carried through the roof up to the high gable. Behind it is another carved post (humtse tachungo). At the base of this post are the oha stones on which the good fortune of the champo depends, and to it used to be fastened a piece of skin from the first head taken after a new champo was built. This piece of skin is called humtse lama (“post warmer”). It was believed that it brought strength to the post and luck to the village. So strong was and is this belief, that as late as 1913 Tsingaki was punished for buying a piece of a head to be used as humtse lama from the independent Sema village of Satami.2 At the back of the champo is another carved post.

The interior of a champo is not attractive. It is dark, dirty, smoky, stuffy and full of fleas. Yet a Lhota talks of his happy champo-days much as an Englishman talks of his schooldays. The floor is sometimes levelled earth and sometimes a bamboo platform raised about two feet above the ground on posts. The walls are of bamboo. There is a door at each end and a passage about two feet [26]wide down the middle, in which fires are lit on cold nights, the smoke finding its way out as best it can in the absence of chimneys or windows. Where the floor is of bamboo four logs are laid down to form a square, the interior of which is filled in with earth rammed firmly down. On this the fire is made. On either side of the passage are cubicles with bamboo partitions, along the sides of which are sleeping benches of rough-hewn planks, or bamboo “machans.”

The time varies in different villages, but a champo is generally rebuilt every nine years. Almost invariably it falls in ruins before the time is up, but on no account must it be rebuilt till the due period has elapsed. The ceremonies connected with the rebuilding are interesting. The Puthi having announced that the rebuilding will take place in so many days, the boys of the champo collect bamboos, thatching grass, posts, tying-bark and whatever is needed. If a new carved post is required the best carver in the village gets to work on it. Every champo has land belonging to it. With the rice from this land a pig and a big cow are bought. These are killed on the day before the work of rebuilding is begun, and the carcases kept in a little hut specially built by the side of the champo. Next day is the first of five days’ emung,3 which must be kept by the whole village. During these days no one may work in the fields, or weave cloth or make pots or bring into the village meat from a tiger’s kill. If a stranger enters the village he will probably be ill, and he cannot leave it till the five days’ emung are over. On this day the ceremonies begin. The Puthi formally begins the breaking down of the old champo, by pulling a piece of thatch off the roof and throwing it onto the ground. The Puthi’s attendant (Yenga) then removes the oha stones from in front of the humtse tachungo and lays them down a little distance from the champo. The roof is next carefully cut in two lengthways and laid on the ground in such a way that the two halves lean up against one another and form [27]a shelter. Under this the boys of the champo must sleep that night. The posts are pulled out and laid on the ground, the whole building is dismantled and the site cleaned and re-levelled. The work of rebuilding is then begun. This again the Puthi initiates by a formal act. Beginning with the humtse tachungo he digs a little hole with the butt of his spear at the places where the three carved posts are to be set up, and pours or spits a little “rohi madhu” into each hole. The posts are then put up, new ones being substituted for any which may have decayed, and the champo is rebuilt as quickly as possible. Before leaving the work for the night the Puthi places a little ginger sprinkled with “madhu” on two crossed leaves at the foot of the humtse tachungo in order to keep away evil spirits, to whom ginger is particularly obnoxious. Thatching alone is left till next day, which is a day of less work and more play. Everyone feasts and puts on his best clothes, the men wearing full dancing dress. The first bunch of thatch having been put in place by the Puthi, the braves of the village dance, some on the ground and some on the roof of the “morung,” all singing the pangashari, a slow chant in which the war-like deeds of the village in the past are recounted. This song goes on all the time the thatch is being put on. A similar dance on the roof is performed by the Konyaks of Namsang and Tamlu when a “morung” is rebuilt. The thatching being finished the oha stones are replaced by the Yenga at the foot of the humtse tachungo. All the men, led by the Puthi, then slowly dance in a rough column of fours formation round the village, ho-hoing as they go. The chant is called yanungshari. The carcases of the pig and cow are taken out of the little hut in which they have been kept and cut up and distributed to all males, the Puthi receiving as his share half the head of the cow split longitudinally. A feature of this, the second day of the ceremonies, is the dog-killing which takes place. Every champo in the village kills a small dog. That belonging to the champo which is being rebuilt is carefully fattened up beforehand and tied up in front of the Puthi’s house. When the time comes to kill this dog an admiring throng gathers round while the oldest man of the “khel” sits [28]by the dog and gives it a bone to keep it quiet. He then covers it with his cloth. Opposite to him stands the man reputed to be the finest warrior in the “khel,” and the following dialogue takes place. Warrior: “Move away.” Old man: “Will you take care?” Warrior: “I will take care.” Old man: “Do not hurt the dog.” Warrior: “I will kill it quickly.” At these words the old man uncovers the dog and moves aside. The warrior then attempts to split its skull exactly in two with one blow of his dao. When the dog falls about a dozen bucks and boys dance round and round it chanting, “He has killed it, he has killed it.” The head is cut off and brought to the champo, where it is carefully examined to see if it has been well and truly split. If the blow is found to have been a crooked one, the man who killed it is laughed at, told he is no warrior, but a boaster and a wind-bag. The head is then thrown away by the old man who attended at the killing.4 In the evening a mock fight takes place between the young men and women of the village, both married and unmarried. The women pretend to try to push their way into the champo, while the young men keep them out. This mock fight is believed to increase the fertility of the women who take part in it. On the third day the slow dance round the village is repeated while the yanungshari is again sung. Most of the day is spent in feasting and drinking. On the fourth day the dance and chant are again repeated, but very few men put in an appearance, presumably because most of them have bad headaches after two days’ heavy drinking. The chief performers are a few hard-headed bucks and irrepressible small boys. On the fifth day, the last emung day, everyone rests.

The Head-tree. Perhaps the most conspicuous object in a Lhota village is the head-tree, mingetung, generally a magnificent specimen of ningetung (a tree of the Ficus family). It is usually situated on a mound well in the middle of the village. Against its branches were leant the long bamboos from which were hung the heads of enemies taken in war, and at its [29]roots are kept the mysterious oha stones. These are counted and a fence is put round the tree whenever the oyantsoa “genna” is performed. The fortune of the village is regarded as in a way dependent on the mingetung. So sacred is it that in some villages it cannot be photographed. To break a twig off it would entail the performance of the oyantsoa “genna” (village renewing “genna”), which must also be performed if the mingetung dies or a branch falls. The place of the mingetung can never be changed. That at Lungla has been blown down. A small tree close by is being used instead till a new mingetung can be induced to grow on the old site, a vain hope, as the old site is a mound of shale without so much as a blade of grass on it. When a new village is founded a site is always selected on which there is a tree suitable for use as a mingetung. Under the new tree must be put a twig stolen from the mingetung of the parent village, though the parent village makes every effort to prevent this theft, as it entails the performance of the oyantsoa “genna” and is very likely to bring bad luck to the parent village. A curious belief is prevalent in Phiro. Skulls which had fallen from their strings were often picked up and jammed into interstices in the bole of the head-tree. At Phiro the mingetung is growing round and gradually covering these old skulls. This is regarded as a sign that the days of head-hunting are gone, never to return.5

Water supply. Springs issuing from the side of the hill below the village supply Lhotas with their water. Sometimes it is drawn from a muddy pool of unappetizing greenish water, but often there is a good flow into a basin dammed up with rough masonry. Small fish have been put into the Niroyo basin, and are carefully preserved in order that they may keep the water clear of scum. At almost all springs there is a small dam, and over it a low fence so that women who draw water stand below and not in the supply from which they draw. Unlike the Ao, the Lhota does not fancy water after the village have washed their feet in it. When the [30]path from the fields does not happen to pass near a stream, water is often led to it in bamboo pipes from a long distance in order that men coming up after the day’s work may have a drink and a wash.