The Spider God Teaches Natural Childbirth

The Spider God Teaches Natural Childbirth

(A Legend from Palau)

Palauans of today say that long, long ago, as the time of pregnancy became complete, the family and village began preparations for both a funeral and a birthing. Childbirth meant a bloody cutting, a slicing open of the woman’s abdomen. It was believed that a child must be cut out of the womb. Midwives were skilled in the knowledge of healing herbs and blood-clotting ointments. They also were skilled in the making of sharp knives from bamboo. Once the labour pains began and the woman moaned for help, a midwife would come with her bamboo knives.

Such it was for the women of Palau until one day, not so very long ago, the spider demigod, Mengidabrutkoel, fell in love with a human, a beautiful Palauan maiden.

Mengidabrutkoel was a magnificent spider, a wise spider. He spun a web between the long grey limbs of a breadfruit tree and there he caught many flies to eat. His long arching legs climbed quickly from one leaf to another. His body shimmered as he passed from shadow to sunshine. But today Mengidabrutkoel was not satisfied. He was hungry for a new taste. But what? This hunger kept him restless and so he left, looking for another tree that could offer a different taste.

The mountain apple! Tart and juicy fruit, so good after so many days of eating bugs. Mengidabrutkoel changed into a young man with long legs and hurried to a valley where mountain apple trees grew along a jungle stream.

Mengidabrutkoel, now a man and no longer a spider god, was climbing up the tallest tree to pick the ripest apple when he heard someone laughing. A group of young women were bathing in the stream. They were busy talking and hadn't noticed the intruder.

He watched as one of the maidens turned her head. Her eyes widened. But she did not scream or yell. She smiled. The young man felt warmth and tingling that he had never felt before. He stared at the beauty of her long hair, which cascaded like water down her back. Her dark eyes sparkled and showed no fear. Something about her invited the young man to stare back, offering and accepting friendship.

Every day for several months the two young people met at the mountain stream. And then they were married. Soon the woman conceived and her pregnancy became known. Only then did the spider god husband learn that childbirth meant death for most women. As the birthing time grew near, his despair deepened. He had never felt such pain.

The spider god left his wife. He walked and walked, not knowing or caring where he was going. When he stopped and looked up, he realized he was standing under an ancient tree, the breadfruit tree that once was his home. He climbed to the tallest branch, changed back to his spider form and called out to his mother. He told her the reason for his grief.

“Do not weep, my son,” replied his mother. “There is no reason for this cutting of the womb and killing of the mother. Listen to my directions. Follow them and your wife will not die. There is no need to slice open her belly. The child can be born between her legs. Listen and remember. When her labour pains begin, help her to bear them in silence. Let no one know that the child is coming. Let no one interfere. Keep the women and their knives away from her.” She smiled. “Fill your human web. Hold your child after the long struggle into this world . . . and hold your wife.”

And thus he did. The spider once again forsook his lofty home. He swung down from his web and ran back to the village. Only one thought possessed his mind. His wife. She was so full with a child when he had left. Was he already too late to save her life?

The hot sun was high above. The village was quiet. Children were sitting under shade trees weaving pandanus. Women were working in nearby taro patches, weeding and digging. The men and boys were paddling along the reef, throwing and pulling in fishing nets. Faster he ran, for as he neared his wife’s hut, he could hear her soft moans.

The spider god hurried to his wife and saw the pain and fear on her face. “Let us do what my mother instructed. She promises that you and the child will live.” The spider god carefully arranged the birthing mats and held his wife as the pains grew stronger and stronger. “Do not cry. Let your screams stay silent. We must not let the women know your birthing time has begun. I will not let their sharp knives touch you. You don't need to die. Our child shall have his mother and I shall have my wife.”

Not until the final moments of birth did his wife cry out, pleading for relief. Immediately the calls of the women were heard like echoes around the village. “Come. Hurry, run! Chant away dark spirits hungry for young life. Chase the spirits who wait as the cut is made. Hurry, soon a new one shall be pulled free.”

The spider god husband stood defiantly next to his wife. No one dared touch her without risking her own life. All fell silent. Anger filled the air; stares cut with hate like knives poised to fight. And then a new sound softened the stillness. A baby’s first cry.

Anger turned to confusion and then amazement. A child had been born. The child was fine and so was the mother.

The spider god beckoned to the women. “Come, the cord must be out.” And then he knelt beside his wife and watched as the cord binding child to mother was severed. He waited for the final birthing to finish. The women of his wife's clan took the cord and afterbirth to plant with a sapling tree to mark this place forever as the child’s home.

As the women left they murmured, “We have done as his mother goddess directed. We will use our bamboo knives to cut the cord. We have seen that a woman can give birth without them.”

Sources:

Micronesian Legends

Nancy Bo Flood, Beret E. Strong, William Flood

2002

Pages: 44-46