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Monday, May 28, 2012

IAN STEVENSON - Reincarnation & biology - BIRTHMARKS.1

 IAN STEVENSON - Where reincarnation and biology intersect

4. BIRTHMARKS RELATED TO
PREVIOUS LIVES WITHOUT VERIFICATION OF POSSIBLE CORRESPONDING WOUNDS


Although it may seem perverse to present weaker before stronger cases, I do so with the intention of helping readers to become acquainted with the wide range of birthmarks that occur in these cases. In none of the nine cases of the group that 1 describe here was the presumably related wound on the previous personality observed by any informant. Indeed, for most of the cases such a person was not even identified from the child's statements, so these cases remain unsolved. Nevertheless, the subjects all showed some or much behavior that was unusual in their family but that plausibly accorded with what the subjects said about the pre- vious lives they claimed to remember. A few of the subjects said they remembered events between death in the previous life and their birth.
The first 3 subjects of the group were all Burmese children who said that they remembered previous lives as Japanese soldiers who were killed in Burma. (This sets the dates of death in the presumed previous lives as not later than the spring of 1945, when the British Army conclusively defeated the Japanese Army; Rangoon [now Yangon] was captured early in May 1945.)
U Tinn Sein, the first of these subjects, had a single birthmark on his chest. It was a flat round area of increased pigmentation (*). (Unlike most of the birthmarks of these subjects, which I said were not simple moles or nevi, his was just that.) U Tinn Sein described how in the previous life he, a Japanese soldier, had been near a lake outside the town in Upper Burma where he was born. An airplane had come over the town and, strafing the area with bullets, hit him in the chest. After dying, he said, he remained as a discarnate personality in the area of the lake. For diversion he sometimes frightened persons who walked that way by throwing stones at them. (This was a claim of poltergeist activity from the perspective of a discarnate agent.) After the devastation of the war, firewood was scarce in the town, and U Tinn Sein's future father came out to the area of the lake with a wagon to collect firewood. The discarnate Japanese soldier followed him home and became born to his wife.
In addition to giving the foregoing account and making some other statements, U Tinn Sein, as a child, showed a constellation of what I call "Japanese" traits. One of the most prominent of these was his conspicuous industry. He was indefatigable in working and scorned those who were not. The Burmese are not a lazy people, but their society provided the prototype for the idea that "small is beautiful," and they rarely wish to produce more than they need. When the child Tinn Sein came home from school, he would find his parents sitting at ease and talking amiably together. He would say to them: "Why are you not working? In Tokyo we had to go to work when the siren sounded, and we had to continue until it sounded again."
Another Burmese subject of this group, Maung Sein Win, also claimed to remember the previous life of a Japanese soldier in Upper Burma. He, too, said that he had been killed by a shot from an airplane. He said that he had died near the village where he was born. Unlike U Tinn Sein, he had two birthmarks, a small round one on the front of his left upper chest (*) and a much larger one, also round, on his left upper back (*). The larger one was about 2.5 centimeters in diameter; it was hairless, puckered, and scarlike in appearance. This is the first of eight cases (to be described in this book) with birthmarks corresponding to bullet wounds of entry and exit. The presumed wounds on the Japanese soldier whose life Maung Sein Win remembered were not verified; but I shall later describe cases in which such wounds of entry and exit were verified.
Maung Sein Win exhibited the unusual (for Burma) industriousness of the children who claimed to have been Japanese soldiers. He said that he had been a mechanic in the previous life, and he was gifted in the use of his hands. When he grew up, he built his own house. Perhaps his most unusual behavior was a marked phobia of airplanes. As a child, when he would hear one, he would run toward the nearest house and throw himself under it on the ground. (In Burmese villages, the houses are nearly always elevated off the ground so that there is an open space beneath them.)
Maung Myint Aung was the third Burmese subject of this group who claimed to remember the previous life of a Japanese soldier. He also was born in Upper Burma, in 1972. Unlike U Tinn Sein and Maung Sein Win, however, he said, when he began speaking about a previous life, that he had died in Rangoon, far away from his village. He said that he had been in the Japanese Army that retreated before the British. (As I mentioned, this occurred in the spring of 1945.) He finally found himself, along with four friends, in the Rangoon zoo, where they were in danger of being captured. Preferring death to capture, they all committed suicide. Maung Myint Aung said that he slit his throat, presumably with a large knife or bayonet.
Maung Myint Aung had a prominent birthmark on his neck. It was a horizontal area, about 1 centimeter wide, extending across almost the entire front of his neck. It had slightly increased pigmentation compared with the surrounding skin (Figure 3). It looked much like the healed scar of someone who had slit his throat and survived. I have a photograph of a Virginia man who slit his throat and did not survive (*). It shows a wound closely similar to the one Maung Myint Aung said he gave himself in the life as a Japanese soldier.
To return to Maung Myint Aung's narrative, he said that after dying he remained at the Rangoon zoo until one day he saw his (present) father and fol- lowed him home. (Maung Myint Aung's father confirmed that he had gone to the zoo in Rangoon, before Maung Myint Aung's birth. He was completely unaware that any discarnate Japanese soldier had attached himself to him there and fol- lowed him 400 kilometers back to his home.) Maung Myint Aung said that his father in Japan had died, but his mother was "still living." (This presumably referred to the time when the Japanese soldier left Japan for service overseas.) He was the oldest of seven children. He was unmarried. He did not give a name for the Japanese soldier, state his rank in the army, or give any address of where he had lived in Japan. He evidently remembered being more prosperous than were his (present) parents, and he sometimes offered to go back to Japan and bring money to them from there. He continued making proposals to go to Japan for money until he was about 7 years old.
Maung Myint Aung was one of many subjects of these cases who showed in their play the vocation of the previous life. He liked to play at being a soldier. He would organize games of soldiers among his playmates, assign himself the role of leader, and say that he was an officer.
In addition, Maung Myint Aung exhibited numerous "Japanese" traits. He preferred sweet foods, as do most Japanese people. He knelt on his knees as Japanese people do, but the Burmese almost never. He worshipped in a style unfamiliar to his parents and showed some resistance to their instructions to him about the forms of worship in Burmese Buddhism. He was hardworking and relatively insensitive to pain and physical discomfort. He was noted to be somewhat harsh and brusque. His father described his behavior as tending to be "crude, like that of a rough and ready soldier." Maung Myint Aung was also troubled by any comments or news adverse to Japan; for example, he did not like to be told that a Japanese soccer team had lost a match.
Lutfi Sankaya, a Turkish boy, had several birthmarks on his chest that showed diminished pigmentation; that is, they were markedly paler than the surrounding skin (*), Lûtfi said that he had been stabbed to death in the previous life. He gave some vague indications of where he had lived in the previous life, but the details were not specific enough to permit solving the case.
Duran Incirgöz (a Turk) was born with a large, round, scarlike birthmark on his right buttock (*). It oozed for some weeks after his birth. When he could speak, he said that he had been shot to death in a brothel. He had a marked phobia of prostitutes and brothels. His case is also unsolved.
Henry Elkin, a Tlingit of Alaska, had a small, roundish, scarlike birthmark on the front of his left chest (*) and a larger, irregularly shaped birthmark, also scarlike, at the same level on his left back (*). These seem to have corresponded to gunshot wounds of entry and exit. Henry Elkin himself, however, had no memories of how the person with whom his parents may have identified him had died.
Maung Aye Kyaw, a subject of Burma, had a large birthmark on the side of his head. It was hairless, puckered, and scarlike (*). He said he remembered the life of a man, Maung Shwe, who had been captured, shot, and killed by Communists at the time of the insurgency in Burma during the early 1950s. Maung Shwe's murderers threw his body into a flooded river, where it floated downstream until it bumped against a dock. From there the owners of the dock pushed it back into the river. One of the owners became Maung Aye Kyaw's mother. She must have become pregnant within a few weeks, perhaps a few days, of the arrival of Maung Shwe's body at her family's dock. As a child, Maung Aye Kyaw remembered being shot and then, in the discarnate state, following Maung Shwe's body as it floated down the river until it came to the dock owned by the family of his mother-to-be. This case illustrates what 1 call the "geographical factor," which 1 find helpful in trying to understand why a child of one village has memories of a life in another, often remote village or town, with which the child's family has no obvious connection. Maung Shwe's widow later married and then again became a widow. When Maung Aye Kyaw grew up, he sought out Maung Shwe's widow and married her.
Daw Aye Myint was another subject of Burma, who said that she remem- bered the previous life of a man who had been struck over the head with a heavy sword or chopping knife. Hers was thus a case of the sex-change type. Her birth- mark was a linear area of hairlessness, in part puckered, that extended for 15 centimeters across the top of her head (*). It was oozing at birth and continued to do so for some weeks afterward.
I will now summarize one of the richest cases—as regards details—in this group. It is that of Nirankar Bhatnagar. The previous personality about whom Nirankar talked was clearly identified, but his body was not found, and therefore we have no independent verification of the wound to which Nirankar's birthmark corresponded, as he said it did.
Nirankar was born in Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, India, in 1935. I did not meet him until 1976, when he was 41 years old. This was, to say the least, a late start in investigating a case. Nevertheless, the case had been investigated in 1938 by S. C. Bose, who wrote a report of it that I have been able to use. In addition, Dr. Satwant Pasricha (who worked with me on the case) and I found that some qualified informants were still living, and their memories seemed sufficiently reliable.
When Nirankar was about 21/2 years old, members of his family observed him filling small bottles with water, and when they questioned him about this, he said that his wife was ill and he was going to take medicines to her. He then gave some further details of a previous life—and death during a riot—that he was remembering. He said that his name was Mukhtiar and that Moslems had killed him. One of them—supposedly a friend—had sent for him, but when he arrived at the scene of the riot, he was struck on the head with a baton. He fell down and asked for some water. Instead of being given water, he was stabbed with a dagger.
All these statements did not come out in one flow, but probably over several days. Nirankar's family members were slightly acquainted with the family of a man called Shiv Dayal Mukhtiar whose house was about 100 meters from their own. They knew also that Shiv Dayal had been killed by Moslems during a partic- ularly bloody communal riot that took place in a nearby quarter of Kanpur in March 1931, that is, about 41/2 years before Nirankar's birth.
The word Mukhtiar is not a personal name, but rather a vocational title given to certain lawyers, of whom Shiv Dayal was one. He had been a much respected, much loved lawyer and municipal leader. The reports of the riot that I studied in the Indian newspapers gave counts of the bodies stacked up in piles, but few names of the killed were published. Shiv Dayal's was one of these. Because of Shiv Dayal's prominence and the slight acquaintance between the families, Nirankar's family knew nearly everything there was to know about how Shiv Dayal had died. That, however, was not much. He had disappeared into the area of the riot, and the police later recovered his body among the corpses. We therefore have no verification of Nirankar's statements that he was struck on the head with a baton and then stabbed.
Nirankar, however, stated one detail about Shiv Dayal's death that was almost certainly not known to members of Nirankar's family and that was correct. They decided to take Nirankar to Shiv Dayal's house, where Shiv Dayal's widow and one of his sons were still living. As they approached the house, Nirankar said:
"My name is inscribed here." In fact, Shiv Dayal's name was written in Urdu on the door. Inside the house, Nirankar met Shiv Dayal's widow and son. He then rebuked the widow for not giving him a gun that he—as Shiv Dayal—had asked for before going into the area of the riot. Shiv Dayal's son (whom we interviewed) had been only 7 years old at the time of his father's death, but he seemed to remember well the events leading up to it. According to him, the man who had sent a message to Shiv Dayal to come to the area of the rioting advised him to bring a gun. His wife, however, somehow got the gun away from Shiv Dayal or, more likely, persuaded him not to go with a firearm, which might have been con- sidered provocative in such an inflamed situation. He left without the gun. This is the detail connected with Shiv Dayal's death that I believe members of Nirankar's family would not have known. Nirankar certainly knew it and said more than once: "If I had been given a gun, I would not have been killed."
To return to Nirankar's first visit to Shiv Dayal's widow, informants credited him with recognizing various objects in the house, such as a typewriter, a walking stick, and shoes that he said were his. He was unable, however, to answer ques- tions that Shiv Dayal's widow put to him about particular documents and debtors.
Shiv Dayal's widow asked Nirankar whether he would like something to eat. Assuming the authoritative air of Indian husbands toward wives (at least of the 1930s), Nirankar replied: "You know what I like." She did, and she sent for rasgoolas, a sweet Indian dessert. Nirankar ate the rasgoolas, drank some water, and asked for betel nut, such as many adult Indians chew as a digestive after meals or between.
As a result of his statements and recognitions (of which I have not given a complete list here), Shiv Dayal's widow fully accepted Nirankar as her husband reborn. She treated him like a husband, sometimes inviting him to lunch and serv- ing him with food that she knew Shiv Dayal had liked. Shiv Dayal's son told us that he was equally convinced that Nirankar was his father reborn.
For his part, Nirankar adopted a paternal attitude toward Shiv Dayal's chil- dren. He saved his money to give to them and even sometimes set aside a portion of his food for them. (They were far from needing his assistance; but this was the child's manner of showing affection for them.)
I did not obtain consistent testimony about how long Nirankar continued to remember the previous life. His parents tried to suppress him, but he may have simply stopped speaking about the previous life while he continued to remember it. Eventually, but at what age I do not know, he did forget it.
I mentioned that the first observation of unusual behavior on the part of Nirankar occurred when he was seen filling bottles with water, which he designated as medicine intended for his wife. I am unsure how best to interpret this behavior. Shiv Dayal had been married twice. His first wife, with whom he had several children, died of tuberculosis after a prolonged illness during which Shiv Dayal may well have brought medicines to her, although I did not confirm this conjecture. Shiv Dayal married his second wife only a few months before his death. Subsequently, however, she became ill, and she died in 1938, only a few months after she met Nirankar. She took medicines which her stepchildren sometimes brought to her. Therefore, a second conjecture about Nirankar's behavior with the bottles of water supposes that he had some telepathic awareness that Shiv Dayal's second, still living wife needed medicines. If that is correct, he would be one of several subjects who have shown evidence of paranormal communications with members of the previous personality's family.
Nirankar had no phobias, such as of batons or daggers. Nor did he have a phobia of Moslems. He did, however, have an aversion for them. At times he showed a vengeful attitude toward them, and one informant had heard him say more than once: "That Moslem is coming. I will kill him." At the time I knew Nirankar in the 1970s, he acknowledged still having some dislike of Moslems.
Nirankar's birthmark was a hairless area of increased pigmentation near the top of his head and almost in the midline. It was somewhat irregular in shape, measuring approximately 8 millimeters long and 4 millimeters wide (*). This is one of the few cases for which I did not find a person older than the subject who could assure me that the apparent birthmark had been present at birth. I accept it as a birthmark, however, for two reasons: It did not in any way have the appear- ance of a scar from a postnatal injury; and although it did have the appearance of a nevus, these are almost never found on the scalp.
Nirankar said that Shiv Dayal had been struck on the head and then stabbed. He was not aware of having had other birthmarks that might have corresponded to a stab wound; and when I examined his chest, I could find none. If we accept Nirankar's account of the sequence of events, Shiv Dayal might have been in a state of obtunded consciousness, or even unconscious, when he was stabbed; and this might explain why Nirankar had only one birthmark. I shall defer further discussion of this possibility until Chapter 14.





5. BIRTHMARKS CORRESPONDING TO WOUNDS VERIFIED BY INFORMANTS' MEMORIES


In this chapter, I present summaries of cases in which informants verified the cor- respondence between the subject's birthmark or birthmarks and wounds on the previous personality. Such verifications never match in quality what we can obtain from a written record, such as a postmortem report; but, as I shall show later, I believe that we are justified in relying on them in most cases. For all but one of the cases in this chapter, I will condense the report to a single paragraph.
The first case of this group is that of Maung Zaw Thein Lwin, a subject of Burma who remembered the previous life of a man, U Mar Din, who, while trying to rob birds' nests at a temple, had fallen through a weak ceiling board and dropped about 5 meters onto concrete flooring below. He suffered multiple injuries, particularly of the head. Maung Zaw Thein Lwin's birthmark was a large, scarlike area at the back of his head (*). This was at the location of what was probably the most serious of the injuries noted on U Mar Din after he fell onto the concrete floor.
Yvonne Ehrlich was the subject of a same-family case of Brazil. Her case has only meager details and depends on a dream, a single remark she made, some similarities of behavior, and two birthmarks. The birthmarks were areas of distinct redness on the frontal part of her head and at its back. The first of these had faded by the time I examined Yvonne, but the other had persisted (*). Yvonne was identified as the reincarnation of her great-aunt, who had been killed during a bomb- ing raid on Vienna near the end of World War II. Her son confirmed the location of her principal wounds. Yvonne's birthmarks were at the same sites.
Mahmut Ekici was a subject of Turkey who remembered the life of a Turkish partisan engaged in resistance against the French, who were then (the 1920s and 1930s) occupying part of southern Turkey. The partisan was captured and stabbed once, probably with a bayonet, through the liver. Mahmut Ekici had a large depressed birthmark, really a small cavity in the skin, over his liver (*).
Som Pit Hancharoen was a Thai subject who was born with a large oozing birthmark near his left nipple (*). When he could speak, he spoke about the life of a man who, while drunk, had embraced a woman against her wishes. There was a throng at the fair where this occurred. The woman, mingling in the crowd, approached the man from behind, reached around his chest, and plunged a knife into his heart. He had time to say "she stabbed me" before dropping dead. The birthmark might be regarded as an accessory nipple; these sometimes occur in human beings. It also might have had more than one cause.
Ali  the subject of a case in Turkey, was born with multiple birthmarks on his abdomen. They had the appearance of healed stab wounds (*). He remembered the previous life of a man who had got into a fight with another man, who had killed him by stabbing him repeatedly in the abdomen.
The case of this group for which I will present most detail is that of Chanai Choomalaiwong, who was born in central Thailand in 1967. His parents lived separately, and Chanai was at first raised by his mother and maternal grandmoth- er, who owned a duck farm. From the age of 2, he lived alone with his grand- mother at a place called Nong La Korn. When Chanai was born, he was found to have two birthmarks, one at the back of his head (Figure 4) and one at the front, above his left eye (Figure 5). At that time his family had no understanding of their possible origin.
When Chanai was about 3 years old, his grandmother noticed that when he played with other children he would pretend that he was a teacher and would also say that he had been a teacher in his last life. Subsequently, he stated further details about this life. He said that he was called Bua Kai and had been shot and killed while on the way to his school. He said that he had parents, a wife, and children. He began to beg his grandmother to take him to Bua Kai's parents and claimed that he could show where they lived at a place called Khao Phra.
Eventually, when Chanai was still less than 4 years old, his grandmother decided to take him to Khao Phra. They went by bus to a town called Khao Sai, which is near Khao Phra. There Chanai led the way to a house. They entered, and Chanai recognized an elderly couple as "his" parents. They were the parents of a schoolteacher called Bua Kai Lawnak, who had been murdered in 1962. They examined Chanai's birthmarks, and these together with his statements impressed them sufficiently so that they invited him to return. On a second visit to Bua Kai's family Chanai recognized other members of the family and also some objects that had belonged to Bua Kai. He answered questions about Bua Kai's possessions with impressive accuracy.
Informants credited Chanai with making 14 correct statements about Bua Kai's life and death; he made one statement that we did not verify. In Chapter 1, I explained why I think most recognitions attributed to the subjects of these cases have little value. Too often, the circumstances permit the possibility, almost the likelihood, that the persons around the subject give him or her cues that could guide the recognitions. Nevertheless, in my report of this case in the monograph I list four recognitions that do not seem vulnerable to this criticism.
The most impressive of these occurred when Chanai was between 5 and 6 years old. He had continued visiting Bua Kai's family, and on this occasion he was with Bua Kai's twin daughters, Tim and Toi. They noticed an old friend of Bua Kai, whom Chanai had never seen before. They called this man over and asked Chanai whether he knew him. Chanai replied: "Yes, his name is San Am." He then went on to say that San Am and he had been friends. This was correct for Bua Kai.
Bua Kai's biography helps us understand Chanai's unusual behavior, and so I will next give an outline of Bua Kai's life. He was born in 1926. He grew up in the area of Khao Sai. He married a girl called Suan, and they had four children, two of whom were the twin daughters already mentioned, Tim and Toi. Suan was pregnant again at the time Bua Kai was killed.
Bua Kai trained and worked as a schoolteacher. That, however, was not his only occupation; he appears to have had a sideline as a gangster. (He had owned two guns.) He also had affairs with other women whose boyfriends or husbands may have objected to these. Someone shot at him while he was attending a fair in Khao Phra, but he escaped serious injury. After this attempted assassination, and perhaps because of it, he applied for a transfer and was assigned to a school near the large town of Tapanhin, which is about 25 kilometers west of Khao Sai.
On the morning of January 23, 1962, Bua Kai left home to go to his school on his bicycle. On the way, he was shot in the head from behind and died almost instantly. The police arrived and took away his body. A doctor examined it and spoke with Suan, who was summoned, and she also saw her husband's body, as did some other persons, including Bua Kai's younger brother Sai. Suan and Sai agreed that the bullet had entered at the back of Bua Kai's head and exited above his left eye. Suan said the doctor had also agreed with this course of the bullet.
Suan had enough knowledge of gunshot wounds to know that a wound of entry is nearly always smaller than the corresponding wound of exit.
By the time I reached the scene of the case in 1979, 17 years had elapsed since Bua Kai's death. No one could remember any longer the name of the doctor who had examined Bua Kai's body. I had the police records searched, and eventu- ally a report of the crime was turned up. It gave the date of the murder, but no other useful information. The police made no arrest in connection with the crime, although this was for lack of evidence, not for lack of suspects. Because there had been no trial, there were no court documents with which a postmortem report would have been filed.
Bua Kai's murder was widely known in the region where he lived. My inquiries showed that some members of the two families concerned had had some acquain- tance, but there had been no social relationships between them. Chanai's grandmother had no idea where she would find herself when Chanai finally persuaded her to take him to Khao Sai; she clearly did not know where Bua Kai's family lived.
Chanai belonged to a small group of subjects who preserved memories past the age of 7 or 8. He was also one of the few to say that he saw the previous per- sonality's body after its death. In 1979, at the age of 11, he made the following statement:
I don't know who shot me, because he shot me from the back. I was not conscious when I died. Afterward though, I felt my soul leaving the body. I could see myself lying on the road. My legs were still twitching. My blood was running onto the road.
Despite Chanai's just cited denial that he knew who had killed Bua Kai, on another occasion he said that he did know who the murderer was and expressed anger as he said this. In this he joined many other subjects who have shown anger toward the killer of the person whose life they remember.
Among other unusual behavior, I have already mentioned Chanai's play at teaching. He was also interested in guns and spoke about a wish to be a policeman or a soldier when he grew up; he did not intend to be a schoolteacher.
Chanai showed in several matters what I call an "adult attitude." By this expression I mean behavior toward other persons that an older person would ordinarily show toward younger persons, and sometimes toward persons of the previous personality's own age; it is often accompanied by a sense of superiority toward other persons. For example, Chanai expected Bua Kai's twin daughters to address him as "Father." Because they were 17 years old when he was 3, they objected; but he said that if they did not call him "Father," he would not speak to them, and they capitulated. Sai, Bua Kai's younger brother, would not show Chanai the deference due an older brother, and Chanai tended to shun him when he was in Sai's area. Chanai also showed a proprietary attitude toward Bua Kai's possessions. He became annoyed when he learned that some of them had been modified after Bua Kai's death.
For some years, Chanai came to visit Bua Kai's family in Khao Sai and Khao Phra. Sometimes he went with his grandmother, but he also visited them covertly by himself, on the bus; his grandmother would then have to come after him and bring him home. When he visited Tim and Toi, he brought them pieces of sugar cane, which Bua Kai had frequently done.
For their part, Bua Kai's family, after some initial surprise and skepticism, came to accept Chanai fully as Bua Kai reborn. There was even talk of their adopting him, but his grandmother would not allow this.
Figure 4 shows the small round birthmark at the back of Chanai's head. It was about 0.5 centimeter in diameter, hairless, puckered, and with increased pig- mentation. This birthmark corresponded to the wound of entry on Bua Kai. Figure 5 shows a larger birthmark at the front of Chanai's head. It was irregular in shape and measured about 2 centimeters long and 0.5 centimeter wide. It also was scar-like, hairless, and had increased pigmentation. It corresponded to the bullet wound of exit on Bua Kai.
I was able to meet Chanai again in 1986. He was then 18, married, and working as a telephone lineman. He said that he still remembered some details of the previous life, but had forgotten others. I examined Chanai's birthmarks again, and a colleague arranged for them to be photographed for me. The birthmark near Chanai's forehead had changed little since 1979 (*), but the one at the back of the head had moved up in relation to surrounding anatomical sites (*).
Maung Tin Win, a subject of Burma, remembered the previous life of a bandit (called dacoit in Burma, as in India) who was betrayed to government soldiers and shot. Maung Tin Win had a small round birthmark in his right lower abdomen (*) and a much larger birthmark on his right back (*). These corresponded to bul- let wounds of entry and exit on the bandit whose life he remembered. Maung Tin Win is the fourth subject I have so far described with two birthmarks correspond- ing to gunshot wounds of entry and exit. In Chapter 12 I discuss the importance of these cases.
Yahya Balci, a Turkish subject, remembered the life of a man who became involved in a quarrel with another man. His adversary shot and killed him. Yahya Balci had a small, almost perfectly round birthmark on his left abdomen (*). There was some question about his also having a birthmark on his back, presumably corresponding to the wound of exit, but when I examined him carefully I could not convince myself that he had such a mark. If one had been there, it had faded.
Aristide Kolotey, a Ghanian, was born with a long linear birthmark that extended almost from his neck down the front of his chest and to his lower abdomen (*). It showed diminished pigmentation. Aristide was said to be the reincarnation of an uncle who had gone swimming and drowned. The uncle's body was washed up on the shore and found to have a "cut in the middle of the chest." It was supposed that the uncle had dived onto rocks that he did not see and cut himself as he hit them. Aristide had no imaged memories of the uncle's life or death; but he did have a marked phobia of water.
The last subject of this chapter was Daw Aye Than, who was born with a long, scar-like birthmark extending across her right upper abdomen onto the left lower chest between her breasts (*). She remembered the life of a young girl who was caught in a fire from which she could not escape. The intense heat of the fire had expanded the air in the girl's intestines until they and the abdominal wall burst. Daw Aye Than's birthmark was said to correspond to the place where the girl's abdomen had broken open. Daw Aye Than also had asymmetrical breasts; her right breast was markedly lower than her left one (*). Daw Aye Than believed that the asymmetry of her breasts derived from the previous life; and it is conjecturable that the injured area of the body of the child whose life she remembered was larger than the visible linear birthmark suggested.


6. BIRTHMARKS CORRESPONDING TO WOUNDS VERIFIED BY MEDICAL RECORDS


The cases that I describe in this chapter belong to the most important group in the entire collection. The medical records, usually postmortem reports, verify the cor- respondence between the birthmarks and the wounds with a certitude sometimes approached but never reached by the testimonies of informants drawing on their memories.
I will present two of the twelve cases in some detail and give shorter summaries of the remaining ones.
Metin  was born in the village of Hatun Köy, near Iskenderun, Turkey, on June 11, 1963. Even before his birth, he had been provisionally identified, on the basis of dreams his parents had had, as the reincarnation of a relative who had been killed some 5 months before, during a postelec- tion riot in the village.
At his birth Metin was found to have a birthmark on the right side of the front of his neck. It was a small area of increased pigmentation (*). No informant told me to what wound this birthmark corresponded, and I did not know until I examined the postmortem report on  This showed that the bullet which killed  had entered his head behind the left ear and almost exited on the right side of the front of the neck. It did not, however, fully penetrate the skin; as sometimes happens, the resistance of the skin stopped the bullet before it exit- ed. The pathologist had made a small incision and extracted the bullet. The birth- mark therefore corresponded to the pathologist's postmortem wound. As for the bullet wound of entry, I could see nothing distinctly corresponding to that behind Metin's left ear. Nevertheless, I photographed the area and on the developed photograph found a round area of increased pigmentation (*). I believe that this corresponded to the wound of entry. (Perhaps I had failed to see the mark because of insufficient light when 1 examined Metin looking for it.)
Like many other children of these cases Metin showed powerful attitudes of vengefulness toward the man who had shot  He once tried to take his father's gun and shoot this person, but was fortunately restrained. He later became more pacific.
Tali Sowaid was born in August 1965 in the tiny village of Btebyat in the mountains east of Beirut, Lebanon. He had circular birthmarks of increased pig- mentation on each cheek. They were not prominent and yet, once seen, were easily discernible (*).
Soon after Tali began to speak, he started referring to the life of a man who had lived in the village of Btechney (which is about 4 kilometers from Btebyat at the top of its valley). He described how he had been having a cup of coffee before leaving for work when a man came up to him and shot him.
What Tali was saying corresponded exactly to the murder of a man called Said Abul-Hisn, who lived at Btechney. The assailant, a person of noted mental instability, seems to have mistaken Said for another man against whom he had a grudge. He came up to Said stealthily and shot him at close range. The bullet entered one side of Said's face and exited at the other, traversing the tongue on the way. Said was taken to a hospital in Beirut and given emergency surgical treatment. His tongue having swollen, it was necessary to make a hole in his windpipe (tracheostomy) in order to provide an adequate airway. Somehow, Said fell out of bed, and when this happened, his tracheostomy tube must have become obstructed, and he died. The incident of falling out of bed just before dying figured in Tali's memories.
I was able to study the hospital record in this case. It showed that the birthmark on Tali's left cheek, which was the smaller of the two, corresponded to the wound of entry, and the larger birthmark on the right cheek corresponded to the wound of exit. (This is the sixth case that I have so far described with birthmarks corresponding to bullet wounds of entry and exit.)
Tali's family owned their modest house, but his father was poor. In contrast, Said had been prosperous, and his elegant house contrasted markedly with the humble dwelling of Tali's family. Tali sometimes made invidious comparisons about the differences in the economic statuses of the two families. He identified strongly with Said and asked his family to call him "Said."
Tali showed a difficulty in articulating properly. He had special trouble in pronouncing certain "s" sounds, which require elevating the tongue. 1 interpret this defect as a possible residue of the damage to Said's tongue when the bullet passed through it.
Alan Gamble, a Tsimshian, was born in Hartley Bay, British Columbia, Canada, on February 5, 1945. On the basis of a dream and two birthmarks, he was identified as the reincarnation of Walter Wilson, a near relative, who had died several years before Alan's birth under the following circumstances.
Walter Wilson accompanied a friend, who owned a seine boat, when he went fishing off the coast of British Columbia. They were cruising near the shore when Walter noticed a mink running along near the water, and he decided to have a shot at it. The seine boat was towing a skiff, and Walter's shotgun was in the skiff with the barrel pointing toward the bow. He picked it up by the muzzle, but it slipped, the butt hit a board, and the gun discharged. The shots entered Walter's left hand, where he had just grasped the gun, and exited at his wrist. He bled profusely. His friend applied a crude tourniquet and turned the boat toward Prince Rupert, the closest town with a hospital. He was not, however, trained in first aid, and Prince Rupert was 10 hours away. The friend did not know to release the tourniquet from time to time, and when they finally arrived at Prince Rupert, Walter was unconscious and already suffering from incipient gangrene of the arm. Antibiotics were not available then and there. In the hospital, doctors amputated Walter's hand and part of his fore- arm, but this did not save his life, and he died in the hospital on February 18, 1942.
Walter's friend, the owner of the seine boat, was grief-stricken over Walter's death. Some uninformed and unkind gossips magnified the friend's suffering when they began to hint that he was responsible for Walter's death. He was there- fore greatly moved when Alan, as he began to speak, talked about Walter's accidental death in a way that fully exonerated Walter's friend.
Otherwise, Alan made few statements about Walter's life. On one occasion, when Alan was still a young child, he reacted fearfully when he saw a shotgun shell. He did not, however, develop a phobia of guns, and in adulthood he hunted with a gun.
Alan's two birthmarks were on his left hand and wrist. The smaller one (barely visible) was on the palm of the hand (*), and it corresponded to the gunshot wound of entry on Walter. The larger birthmark, which was much more prominent, was on the back of the wrist (*), and it corresponded to the gunshot wound of exit on Walter.
Sunita Singh was born in the Mainpuri District of Uttar Pradesh, India, in August 1967. At birth she was found to have an extremely large birthmark of the port-wine stain type. It extended over her upper right chest (*) and much of her right arm (*). In addition, she had three birthmarks on the lower part of the right side of her neck and the upper part of her chest (*).
Sunita's family did not understand her birthmarks until she was a few years old and began to speak about a previous life. Her grandmother happened to take her on a social visit to a neighboring village, where Sunita noticed a man and said: "He is my son." She gave the man's name, Ranvir. One of the women in this village seemed to frighten and even terrify her. After this, Sunita stated details of how in a previous life she had lived in this particular village. She had been mur- dered there, she said, by her daughter-in-law.
Sunita's statements referred to the life of a woman called Ram Dulari, who had lived with her son and daughter-in-law in the village where Sunita had become frightened. Her son, Ranvir, was often away, and the daughter-in-law had affairs with other men during his absence. Ram Dulari came to know of these and openly expressed her disapproval. In revenge, the daughter-in-law hired professional killers, who broke into the house at night (simulating a burglary) and killed Ram Dulari with a sword. Although the police made no arrests after Ram Dulari's murder, information and conjectures about it diffused into the surrounding villages, including Sunita's. Sunita's father thus knew normally everything that she stated about the previous life. Her mother, however, came from another village and said that she knew nothing about Ram Dulari's murder until Sunita began speaking about it. No one could imagine that Sunita's parents would have encouraged her to identify with Ram Dulari.
Sunita showed a marked fear of Ram Dulari's daughter-in-law when she happened to see her. It was the sight of this woman that had frightened her when she first went to Ram Dulari's village. On another occasion of seeing this woman, Sunita, cowering with fear, told her grandmother: "She will kill me again."
The postmortem report that we obtained showed a satisfactory correspondence between the sword wounds on Ram Dulari's neck and chest and Sunita's birthmarks. We learned that Ram Dulari's body was not washed before it was cre- mated. I believe the port-wine stain birthmarks on Sunita's chest and arm corresponded to the blood left on Ram Dulari's body when it was cremated.
Nasruddin Shah was born in a village of the Shahjahanpur District of Uttar Pradesh, India, in April 1962. His family were Moslems. His father was a poor, landless laborer. Nasruddin was born with several birthmarks, of which the most prominent was a lens-shaped birthmark on his left chest (*). His family did not understand its significance until Nasruddin began to speak about a previous life.
When he did speak, he said that he was a Thakur, that is, a member of the second highest ranking caste of Hindus. Without saying so explicitly, he indicated that he came from a nearby village called Phargana. He said that he was called Hardev Baksh Singh and had been killed with a spear during a quarrel over cattle. These and other statements that Nasruddin made were correct for the life of a man called Hardev Baksh Singh, a Thakur landowner of Phargana. During a quarrel over cattle, which became violent, one of his adversaries drove a spear through his left upper chest, and he died almost immediately. The postmortem report confirmed the close correspondence in location between Nasruddin's birthmark when he was born and the fatal spear wound in Hardev Baksh Singh. By the time we first met and examined Nasruddin (when he was 13 years old), the birthmark had migrated to a position lower on his chest than the position it had formerly occu- pied. (In Chapter 11 I discuss the movement of some birthmarks relative to other anatomical features.) A birthmark on Nasruddin's head had faded by this time.
The most remarkable feature of this case—apart from the principal birthmark—was Nasruddin's "Thakur behavior." Although born a Moslem, he considered himself a Hindu; moreover, he regarded himself as one of particular distinction. For example, he refused to engage in activities, such as collecting cow dung for fuel, that most village boys in India would undertake without question. Nasruddin also resisted the Islamic religion; he would not say Islamic prayers or go to the mosque.
Nasruddin's parents knew that reincarnation is not part of the teaching of their religion, but Nasruddin's statements and behavior convinced them that he was the reincarnation of Hardev Baksh Singh.
Henry Demmert III, a Tlingit, was born in Juneau, Alaska, on October 5, 1968. His parents separated soon after his birth, and he was raised (and adopted) by his grandfather, Henry Demmert, Sr., and his second wife, Gertrude.
Shortly before Henry's birth, Gertrude Demmert dreamed that her husband's deceased son by his first wife, Henry Demmert, Jr., was looking for his father and her. (In the dream he was not looking for the couple who became Henry's parents, but, as it turned out, for those who adopted and raised Henry Demmert III.)
When Henry Demmert III was born, he was found to have a birthmark on his upper left chest in the region of the heart (*). On the basis of Gertrude's dream and this birthmark, Henry was identified as the reincarnation of Henry Demmert, Jr. and given the latter's Tlingit name.
The life of Henry Demmert, Jr. was brief and tragic. He was born in Juneau in 1929. I think his mother must have died when he was still an infant, and he was raised by his father and his father's second wife, who was Gertrude Demmert. When he grew up, he spent some time in the Armed Forces and then became a fisherman. He married and had two children. He was a heavy drinker of alcohol.
On March 6, 1957, he attended a party that lasted all night and where alco- hol was abundantly consumed. Around 5:00 a.m. of the following morning he was stabbed in the heart. He was rushed to a hospital, but died less than 2 hours after being wounded. I was able to obtain a copy of the death certificate for Henry Demmert, Jr. It recorded his death as due to an "accidental self-inflicted wound." Some further details included: "Laceration of the left lung and heart causing exsanguination....knife wound pierced the heart."
Henry Demmert, Jr.'s family regarded his death as a case of murder. The police, however, found no witnesses willing to charge a suspect, and they made no arrests. It is possible that in struggling with another man, who may also have had a knife, Henry Demmert Jr.'s knife became pushed into his chest with the fatal consequences described.
Henry Demmert Ill's birthmark was located below and to the side of his left nipple. It was an elongated area of increased pigmentation, about 3 centimeters long and 8 millimeters wide. It was slightly narrower toward the inside, so that its shape was roughly that of the profile of a single-edged knife (*).
Henry Demmert III belongs to the small group of subjects, who, although identified as being someone reincarnated, say little or nothing about the presumed previous life. When he was about 2 years old, he made the only two statements he ever uttered about the previous life. He said, pointing to his birthmark, that he had "got hurt there." He added that this had happened when he "was big."
Unlike some other subjects who have remembered the previous life of an alcoholic or heavy drinker of alcohol, Henry Demmert III, when he was young, showed no desire for alcohol.
Narong Yensiri was born in the village of Tung Yai in northern Thailand on October 4, 1976. At his birth, his parents noticed several prominent birthmarks, of which the largest was at the lower part of his chest near the midline (*). Large parts of the skin of his back were heavily pigmented (*).
When Narong became able to speak, he began to refer to the life of his maternal grandfather. The grandfather was called Pan Srisukit, and he had been murdered under mysterious circumstances 2 years before Narong's birth.
Pan Srisukit was a farmer who also engaged in cattle trading and perhaps in stealing cattle. One day, two men came to visit him. They ate and drank together, and then Pan Srisukit went off with them without telling his wife where he was going or when he would return. Although somewhat accustomed to such behavior on the part of her husband, Pan Srisukit's wife became concerned when he did not return home after a couple of days. She notified the police, and a search eventually led to the discovery of Pan Srisukit's body in the forest. A doc- tor was called, and he examined the body at the scene. His report, which I could study, showed a good correspondence between wounds on the body and the birthmarks on Narong.
Pan Srisukit's wife had his body cremated at the site where it was found. The increased pigmentation on Narong's trunk may have corresponded to blood left on Pan Srisukit's body when it was cremated.
Necip  was born in Adana, Turkey, in 1951. Necip's mother had a dream before he was born in which a man she did not recognize showed himself to her with bleeding wounds. She did not know how to interpret this dream, but it made some sense when she saw, after Necip's birth, that he had seven birthmarks. Some of these were more prominent than others, and a few had faded by the time I first examined Necip, when he was about 13 years old (*).
Necip was late in speaking and late also, compared with other subjects of these cases, in speaking about a previous life. From the age of 6 on he began to say that he had children and asked his mother to take him to them. He said that he had lived in Mersin (a city about 80 kilometers from Adana). He said that his name was Necip and that he had been stabbed; as he described the stabbing, he pointed to various parts of his body to indicate where he had been stabbed.
His parents at first paid little attention to his statements, which they found more annoying than interesting. Their stance changed when Necip was about 12 years old. His mother took him to meet her father, who was then living, with his second wife, in a village near Mersin. Necip had never met his grandfather's second wife before, but he suddenly said that he recognized her as from the previous life that he claimed to have lived in Mersin. She had known a man in Mersin called Necip Budak, and she was able to confirm the accuracy of Necip's statements. This meeting increased Necip's wish to go to Mersin, and his grandfather took him there. There he recognized several members of the family of Necip Budak. They further confirmed the accuracy of Necip's statements for the life of Necip Budak.
It seems that Necip Budak had been a quarrelsome sort of person, especially when drunk. One day he began teasing and then taunting an acquaintance, who, perhaps drunk himself, stabbed Necip Budak repeatedly with a knife. Necip Budak collapsed on the street and was taken to a hospital, where his wounds were noted and where he died the next day.
Among the statements Necip made, the most impressive was his claim that he had once stabbed "his" (Necip Budak's) wife in the leg and that she thereafter had a scar on her leg. Necip Budak's widow admitted the truth of this statement, and, taking some ladies into a back room, she showed them the scar on her thigh.
Necip expressed great affection toward the children of Necip Budak and fond attachment toward his wife. Indeed, he manifested keen jealousy regarding her second husband and wanted to tear up a photograph of this man.
In the number of wounds matching birthmarks—six in all—Necip's case exceeds all other cases (having medical documents) that I have investigated. In the monograph I give a tabular summary of these and show their correspondence to the wounds on Necip Budak recorded in the hospital where he died.
Hanumant Saxena was born in 1955 in the Farrukhabad District of the state of Uttar Pradesh, India. Not long before Hanumant's mother conceived him, she dreamed that a man of the same village called Maha Ram appeared to her. Maha Ram had been shot dead only a few weeks earlier. In the dream, Maha Ram said to Hanumant's mother: "I am coming to you." Having said that, he lay down on a cot. The dream ended there.
When Hanumant was born, his parents noticed a large birthmark on the lower part of his chest near the midline (Figure 6). It was irregular in shape and really consisted of several birthmarks close together. The birthmark had diminished pigmentation in comparison with the surrounding skin. Hanumant later said that as a young child he had had no pain in the area of the birthmark, but his parents said that he sometimes had complained of pain there. He himself said that intermittently from the age of about 14 on he had had some pain in the area of the birthmark.
Hanumant's birthmark corresponded closely in location to the fatal wound on Maha Ram, and 1 shall say a little about him and how he died. Maha Ram was born in about 1905 in the same village as Hanumant, and his house was not more than 250 meters from that of Hanumant's family. He was a farmer who had some land and owned a bullock-cart, which he sometimes drove for hire. He married and had five children. His younger brother described him as a "simple, good fellow." He had no known enemies. Nevertheless, on the evening of September 28, 1954, he was standing near a teashop at the crossroads, not far from his home, when some- one shot him at close range with a shotgun. He died almost immediately. His assailant fled, and because he had not been identified, the police made no arrests. Because Maha Ram was such a harmless person, he might have been killed acci- dentally, his murderer, in the dark, having mistaken him for someone else.
The postmortem report showed that the main charge of pellets had hit Maha Ram in the lower chest in the midline; there was some scattering of wounds from shot around the principal wound. The Indian doctor who examined the post- mortem report with me (and who had no knowledge of the location of Hanumant's birthmark) sketched in the location of wounds on a human figure drawing (Figure 7). This shows the almost exact correspondence between the wounds and Hanumant's birthmark.
Hanumant began to speak when he was about 1 year old. When he was about 3 years old, he started referring to the life of Maha Ram. He said that he was Maha Ram, and, pointing to his birthmark, he said that he had been shot there. He made a few other statements that were correct for Maha Ram, and he recognized some people and places familiar to Maha Ram. In particular, he recognized Maha Ram's bullocks, which was perhaps not difficult because the bullocks were standing outside Maha Ram's house.
Hanumant liked to visit Maha Ram's house and to be with Maha Ram's mother, who still lived there. Hanumant's mother told us that he talked about the previous life until he was 5 or 6 years old, but his father said that he continued to visit Maha Ram's house until the age of 10. Unlike many other subjects of these cases, however, Hanumant never seems to have become intensely involved with the memories of the previous life.
Although I first learned of this case in 1964, it was in what was then for me a particularly remote part of Utter Pradesh, and I did not reach the scene of the case until 1971. By this time Hanumant was already 16 years old, but the informants seemed to have a good recollection of the main events in the development of the case. Two of them did not support Hanumant's claim to be Maha Ram reborn. Maha Ram's wife declined to be interviewed, possibly because she mis- look us for some kind of government officials whom it was better to avoid; and Maha Ram's oldest son rejected the claim, apparently because Hanumant had not recognized him. The other major informants endorsed Hanumant's statement that he was Maha Ram reborn.
Before leaving this case, I will draw attention to the possibility that there are many like it in India that neither our team nor anyone else ever learns about, let alone investigates. This case received no outside publicity, and we came across it almost accidentally. A systematic search for such cases in its area would undoubtedly reveal many others like it. Indeed, a judge of this district advised me to drop all my other projects and move to Farrukhabad. The homicide rate was extremely high there, and the judge seemed aware of the connection between violent death and cases of children who claim to remember previous lives.
Sunita Khandelwal was born in the town of Laxmangarh in the state of Rajasthan, India, on September 19, 1969. Sunita's father, Radhey Shyam Khandelwal, was a dealer in grains, seeds, and fertilizers. Despite owning his own business, he lived in modest circumstances, and I judged him to be a member of the lower middle classes.
Immediately after Sunita's birth, she was noticed to have a large birthmark on the right side of her head. When Sunita was born, the birthmark was bleeding, but her family applied talcum powder to it, and the bleeding stopped after 3 days. The mark was an approximately round, hairless, heavily pigmented area. It was slightly elevated above the surrounding skin and slightly puckered. When Sunita was 9 years old, the birthmark was about 2.5 centimeters in diameter (*). At her birth, Sunita was not identified as being the reincarnation of anyone in particular, and her family offered themselves no interpretation of her birthmark.
An interpretation came when Sunita, at the age of about 2, first began to refer to a previous life. She said that she was from Kota, where she said she had parents and two brothers. She added further details, such as that her family had a silver shop and a safe. At about the same time or a little later, Sunita said that she had fallen down "from a small height." She pointed to the area of the birthmark on her head and said: "Look here. I have fallen."
Laxmangarh is a small town with about 5,000 inhabitants. Kota, in contrast, is one of the largest cities in Rajasthan and in 1971 had a population of about 300,000. Rajasthan is the largest state in India, and, although both communities are in it, they are 360 kilometers apart.
What Sunita was saying about a life in Kota made no sense to Sunita's family. They had never been to Kota and had no connections with it. Nevertheless, Sunita asked and then demanded to be taken there. She had, however, given no personal names, and even when she added the details that her cousin (in the previous life) had pushed her down (before her fall) and that she had been 8 years old, her family had no substantial clues for finding in Kota the family to which she was referring.
Eventually, when Sunita was 5, a friend of the family urged Sunita's parents to allow her to be taken to Kota with the thought that perhaps a family corresponding to her statements could after all be found. The discovery of such a family might, it was hoped, please and appease Sunita, who had, from time to time, been refusing to eat unless she was taken to Kota. By the time Sunita was taken to Kota, she had stated a few more details, such as the quarter (Chauth Mata Bazaar) where the (previous) family's silver shop was located. She had also stated that the family's caste was that of the Banias (the businessman's caste), although this added lit- tle new information, because silversmiths would almost inevitably be Banias. Having arrived at Kota, the group set out to enquire among the silversmiths of Chauth Mata Bazaar for any family who had lost a daughter from falling.
They thus came to the shop of Prabhu Dayal Maheshwari. He had had a daughter, Sakuntala, who had fallen from a balcony and died soon afterward. She had been 8 years old. Sakuntala had been playing with her cousin on a balcony that had an extremely low railing. They might have been pushing each other playfully. Somehow Sakuntala lost her balance, went over the railing, and landed head first on the concrete floor below. Her mother rushed to her and found her unconscious with blood running out of one ear. She summoned her husband, who immediately took Sakuntala to the hospital, where she died a few hours later, on April 28, 1968. The hospital records showed that when she was admitted she was still unconscious and bleeding from the right ear. At that time Kota had no neurosurgeon, and treatment was entirely palliative. The hospital record gave a provisional diagnosis of "head injury." The bleeding from the ear indicated a fracture of the base of the skull. Death would have been due to hemorrhage and swelling of the brain.
As I mentioned, Sunita had not given any personal names, and so the ques- tion arose of whether some other family of Kota who had lost a daughter from falling might have matched Sunita's statements as well as that of Prabhu Dayal Maheshwari. This led me first to initiate a search through the medical records of the hospital in Kota where Sakuntala had died, which was the hospital to which all serious cases of head injuries would be taken. The records showed that only three other females (besides Sakuntala) had died of head injuries during 1968. The ages of these females were not given, and they might have been children or older women; nor were the causes of their injuries given, so they might have been injured in falls, in vehicular accidents, or otherwise. Still, there were other years to consider, and if one allowed for a period of 5 years before 1968, as many as a dozen girls might have died of head injuries in Kota during the 5 years before and including 1968.
The next step was to appraise the likelihood that all the other details stated by Sunita could apply as well to some other family. Before she went to Kota, Sunita had made 25 statements of which 21 were correct for Sakuntala, 2 incorrect and 2 unverified. In Kota she made 4 more statements, 3 correct and 1 unverified. Individually, many of her statements were nonspecific and would have applied equally to other families. Taken collectively, however, I think they would not.
A final point of importance is that the visit of Sunita to Kota became well known, and her case generated considerable publicity when her statements led to the family of Sakuntala. A Kota newspaper published an account of the case within a few days of Sunita's first visit. None of this public awareness brought forth information about another candidate family with the suggestion that it matched Sunita's statements as well as or better than Sakuntala's. After a careful appraisal of all the facts, I became convinced that Sakuntala was the correct child and that she alone had had a life and death with details that matched Sunita's statements.
I said that Sunita's parents had never been to Kota before the case developed. Prabhu Dayal had never been to Laxmangarh and did not, at the time the case developed, even know where it was located. Our enquiries did not end there, however; continuing them, we learned that Sunita's maternal uncle, who lived in Jaipur (the capital of Rajasthan), was also a silversmith and that he had been to Kota and had even had some business dealings with Prabhu Dayal. He had not, however, had any social relationships with him and knew nothing about the death of Prabhu Dayal's daughter. I concluded that he could not have been the conduit for Sunita's information about Sakuntala's family in Kota.
In most of these cases, the two families concerned exchange one or several visits, and they may keep up such exchanges for a few years, but rarely for longer. Eventually, they seem to go their own ways and resume lives independent of each other. This case presented an exception. Dr. Satwant Pasricha, who had initiated our investigation of the case in the 1970s, continued to follow it until 1990. Sunita had long since forgotten the details of the previous life, but she had maintained an affectionate relationship with Sakuntala's family and continued to visit them, especially on festive occasions. When, in 1989, Sunita married a law student, Sakuntala's family contributed generously to the costs of the wedding, just as if she were their own daughter.
Dellâl Beyaz was born in Samandag, Turkey, in July 1970. At her birth she was found to have a substantial birthmark at the top of her head, and it oozed for some days after her birth.
As have some other subjects of these cases, Dellal gave the first indications of having memories of a previous life when her mother overheard her talking to herself. She seemed to be calling to someone for help. Gradually she communicat- ed details about the life of a woman who, hanging out clothes to dry on the roof of a house, stepped back, and fell through a hole in the roof. She said that she was from Kavash. This is a district of the village of  which adjoins Antakya, the capital city of the province of Hatay; it is about 30 kilometers from Samandag.
Dellal's statements would have gone unverified longer than they did if a man from  who had relatives in Samandag had not happened to hear about them when he came to Samandag on a visit. DellaTs statements seemed to fit closely the life and death of a woman called Zehide Kose, who had lived and died at Zehide had been doing just what Dellal had said. She had been on the roof of a new house hanging out clothes to dry. A stairway opened on the roof with- out any guarding rail around the opening. Without realizing that the opening was there, Zehide had stepped back and, losing her balance, had fallen into the hole of the stairway. She hit the concrete below, head first. Taken to a hospital, she died there the following day of injuries to her skull and brain.
The hospital record, which I examined, confirmed the cause of Zehide's death. It made no mention of any damage to the scalp that would have corresponded to the birthmark at the top of DellaTs head; but this could easily have been overlooked beneath Zehide's hair.
I first examined DellaTs birthmark when she was a little over 5 years old. It was a round, hairless area almost at the center of the top of her head. It was a little less than 1 centimeter in diameter. It resembled the scar of a healed wound (*).
Dellal was one of the few Turkish subjects to describe an event that occurred after death in the previous life. She gave a correct description of the location of Zehide's grave.
Wilfred Meares, a Haida, was born in Queen Charlotte City, British Columbia, Canada, on November 22, 1961. Before she conceived him, Wilfred's mother, Ruby Meares, had had two dreams about a deceased relative, Victor Smart, who, she said, "kept coming to me." Even before that, this same relative, while he was still living, had said that, if he were to reincarnate, he would like to return as Ruby Meares's child.
Victor Smart was an amiable person, but he was an alcoholic. He also had the dangerous habit of riding in the passenger seat of a car with his back to the door. One day he was being driven with some friends in a car and was sitting in this fashion when the car crashed. The door opened, Victor shot out, and his head hit the pavement. The force was great enough so that he bit his tongue and broke his neck, dying instantly. I obtained a copy of the report of his death at the hospi- tal to which his body was taken; it contained the details 1 have just given.
Wilfred's birthmark was a hairless area at the back of his head that, when he was 12 years old, measured about 2 centimeters long and 5 millimeters wide (*).
When Wilfred could speak, he made a few statements about the life of Victor Smart. He showed friendships and animosities toward members of the fam- ily that accorded with those of Victor Smart.
Wilfred had a precocious interest in alcohol and would hang around adults who were drinking, expecting them to serve him some alcohol. It was observed, however, that he was always polite about this matter and never took a drink without being offered and given one. Ruby Meares told me that Victor Smart also had this admirable trait.
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IAN STEVENSON - Reincarnation & biology - BODILY CHANGES CORRESPONDING TO MENTAL IMAGES


 IAN STEVENSON - Where reincarnation and biology intersect
2. BODILY CHANGES CORRESPONDING TO MENTAL IMAGES IN THE PERSON AFFECTED


The bleeding wounds known as stigmata on the hands, feet, chest, and (sometimes) other parts of the body are among the best known and least understood of abnormal bodily changes. Different writers have attributed them all to sanctity, to hysteria, and to malingering (that is, self-inflicted wounding). As generalizations, these opinions are all incorrect. A few instances of persons wounding themselves, usual- ly from zealous identification with Jesus, have been exposed. In the great majority of cases, however, we can confidently exclude artifactual wounding; many of the subjects have been under close surveillance, and in a few cases observers have actually watched stigmata (or at least the bleeding) develop before their eyes.
St. Francis of Assisi was the first notable person to develop stigmata. His wounds came on toward the end of a long period of about 40 days that he spent by himself, during which he was entirely absorbed in contemplating the Passion of Jesus. (His stigmata were also among the most unusual ever observed in that protrusions somewhat in the form of clenched nails were said to have come out of his wounds.) In the seven and a half centuries following St. Francis's death, about 350 cases of stigmatists have been recorded. The stigmatists were nearly all religious persons, such as nuns, and a few were saints; St. Catherine of Siena and St. Gemma Galgani were two of these. St. Catherine of Siena had a vision of Jesus with his wounds and with rays of light running from them to her body. Her stigmata then occurred at the sites of her body where the rays seen coming from Jesus impinged on her.
Until the second half of the 19th century nearly all writers about stigmata believed them to be the result of a special grace bestowed on saints or saintlike persons. The attribution of saintliness thus might be given retrospectively to some- one who developed stigmata; whoever had stigmata must be saintly.
In the second half of the 19th century, some early psychologists began to study what we now call psychosomatic relationships and came to view stigmata as illustrat- ing these. They were in the first instance encouraged in this interpretation because nearly all the authenticated cases of stigmata had occurred in women. Women were notoriously more liable than men to develop what was then called hysteria, which was being understood with increasing clarity as a psychosomatic disorder in which beliefs about the body become expressed in changes in bodily functions. (Young women of child-bearing age are more hypnotizable—therefore more suggestible— than men or than women of other ages.) Then it was noted that some stigmatists, although pious in their ways, were far from being saints. Furthermore, the stigmata varied greatly in form, size, appearance, and even location. Nearly all stigmatists showed wounds at the feet, hands, and lower chest. Three stigmatists were credibly reported to have developed marks and deep indentations around the wrists as they relived the scene when Jesus was arrested and bound with ropes; the marks on the stigmatists' wrists seemed to reproduce the marks that binding ropes would make. (I ask readers to remember these last cases when I describe in later chapters children who had ropelike birthmarks that informants attributed to ropes binding the previous personalities shortly before they died.) Readers should also note the case described later in this chapter, the ropelike marks of which are shown in Figure 1.
The stigmatists' chest wounds showed important variations. Some of them had the chest wound on the left side and some had it on the right. The Bible does not say into which side of Jesus a Roman soldier thrust his spear; and because there was only one spear thrust recorded, right or left may be correct, but both cannot be. Such variations strongly suggested that stigmata were bodily changes produced by the mental images of the stigmatist.
There was other pertinent evidence. Some of the stigmata bore a close relationship to the wounds on the representation—for example, a statuette—of Jesus before which the stigmatist was accustomed to worship. An early 19th-century stigmatist had on her chest a Y-shaped lesion that matched an unusual Y-shaped crucifix in the church where she worshipped. And the biographer of another stigmatist (of the late 19th century) remarked on the close correspondence between the stigma- tist,s wounds and those on the statuette of Jesus before which this saint worshipped.
In the 1920s, a German physician had the good fortune to find a young girl—a Protestant—who easily went into deep hypnosis. This girl (Elisabeth K.) had a high degree of impressionability. She attended a slide show that vividly depicted the sufferings of Jesus as he was led to the cross and crucified. On the following day the girl complained of severe pain in her hands and feet (at the sites of the nails driven into Jesus' limbs). The physician, seizing this opportunity, hyp- notized the girl and told her to imagine that nails were being driven deeply into her hands and feet. The next day the girl had open wounds at these places (similar to wounds that thorns might make.). Subsequently, the physician readily induced in this girl simulacra of Jesus' other wounds, including those of a crown of thorns complete with triangle-shaped lesions, similar to wounds that thorns might make.
None of this newer evidence or revised appraisal of old evidence need detract from the reputation for sanctity that the great majority of stigmatists had and deserved. It does, however, undermine the idea that stigmata are a grace vouchsafed only to the elect. What then is the role of sanctity in the occurrence of stigmata? I suggest that the connection occurs through the concentration of the mind on particular parts of the body. Many saintly persons are almost fully absorbed in the life and death of Jesus and determined to be as much like him as they possibly can. It is difficult for the ordinary person to understand the intense identification with Jesus that some of them have achieved. In doing so, their concentration on his wounds acts to produce similar lesions in themselves. I do not mean to say that concentration is the only factor of importance in the occurrence of stigmata; but before returning to this topic I shall describe some other examples of the effects mental images may have on local bodily functions.
A mother sometimes develops imitative or "sympathetic" pains at the same location as her child has a pain, say from a toothache. Sometimes the imitative effects go beyond pain and include visible changes in the tissues affected. For example, one mother watching her little son at play saw a heavy window sash fall on his hand and crush three of his fingers. She immediately felt severe pain in the same fingers that had been injured in her son; and afterward her fingers became swollen and inflamed so that pus developed in them and had to be evacuated.
Hypnosis is not a state that I wish or need to define. It depends, in the first place, on the replacement of ideas in the mind of the subject with ideas in the mind of the hypnotist. This is what we mean by suggestion. Once the subject accepts the initial ideas of the hypnotist, he or she enters a state of increasing susceptibility to further suggestions offered by the hypnotist. In this way the hypnosis can be "deepened" and the subject also enabled to go into hypnosis more readily at the next occasion. Another important feature of hypnosis is heightened concentration of the mind. Hypnosis also facilitates the links between mental images and bodily functions that the images may influence. It greatly lubricates, so to say, the psychophysiological processes of the body.
We have no understanding at present of the mind's ability to select and influence the right processes in order to carry out a suggestion given during hypnosis. Consider our physical experience when we become thirsty. A dryness of the mouth leads us to describe ourselves as thirsty and needing more fluid. Already, however, the body will have made its own adjustments by reducing the excretion of water in the urine. This entails modifying the release of a certain hormone from the pituitary gland, the one that controls water excretion. Now let a person who is not dehydrated and not thirsty be hypnotized and told that he or she is thirsty. Soon his or her kidneys will diminish the excretion of urine just as they would if he or she had been dehydrated. Somehow the body has picked out the right hormone (or perhaps some other link in the process of urine formation) and implemented a decrease in the excretion of urine.
Hypnosis has been used to modify a wide variety of bodily functions through the offering of appropriate instructions to a hypnotized person. The heart rate can be slowed or speeded up. Bleeding can be stopped and menstruation start- ed at certain times. Breasts can be enlarged. Anesthesia can be induced, including an unusual type of anesthesia known as "glove and stocking anesthesia." This phrase refers to the abrupt line of demarcation at the upper end of the induced anesthesia, a line that does not correspond to the distribution of the nerves serving the arms and legs, but corresponds instead to the idea implanted in the subject's mind. (Glove and stocking anesthesia may also occur spontaneously in persons who give themselves this idea of what an area of anesthesia is like.) There is a rare condition called oedeme bleu in which an arm becomes swollen, painful, bluish, and of little use. It may follow some relatively minor injury to the arm that concentrates the patient's attention on it. In the 19th century oedeme bleu was induced and removed with hypnosis.
Between about 1880 and 1930 a large number of experiments were conducted to study the induction of blisters on the skin of hypnotized subjects. To indicate the proposed site for the blister, the hypnotist would sometimes touch the subject at the place with some object, usually a cold one. The subject was told, or led to believe, that he or she was being burned. Many subjects responded with a blister at the indicated site, as if they had been burned. Some of the early experiments were insufficiently rigorous in that the patient was not kept under surveillance, so that he or she might have scratched the indicated site in an effort to comply with the hypnotist's suggestion. Most experiments have avoided this mistake, however, and I believe that the evidence is strong enough to convince all but the most resolute skeptics that the phenomenon is genuine.
Most of the experimenters who induced blisters during hypnosis used a small stimulus of no unusual form—such as the tip of the finger—with which to touch the subject at the site where the blister was to occur. A few, however, applied stimuli in the form of letters of the alphabet (or some other unusual form), and the ensuing marks reproduced the recognizable form of the stimulus.
One experimenter thought that blisters induced during hypnosis might occur only if the subject had previously been burned at the site where blisters were to appear. I do not believe that any evidence supports this assertion as a generalization, although a previous burn at a particular site may facilitate the occurrence of inflammation and blisters suggested at the same site.
The examples I have given of bodily changes induced with hypnosis are largely derived from experimental demonstrations of the range and power of hypnosis. The changes in bodily function during hypnosis that I have mentioned cannot be induced in everyone. For many of the effects demonstrated, we now have other and quicker means of bringing about the results obtained, if we want them. For example, chemical anesthesia is superior to hypnosis for surgical operations.
Hypnosis, however, still has an important role to play in relieving pain. It may also be of great value in some intractable skin diseases. For example, warts have been successfully removed with hypnosis. Moreover, they may be removed from one area at a time, another demonstration of how the mind somehow finds the right part of the body for executing the instructions given. A particularly impressive improvement in a skin disease occurred when a hypnotist successfully treated a patient with intractable ichthyosis ("fish-scale disease"). He treated his patient limb by limb with improvements occurring successively in each limb as it was indicated by the suggestions offered.
The intense revival of memories of some earlier physical trauma may be accompanied by the appearance of wounds that closely resemble the original wounds. (It may be difficult to be precise about the resemblance if no firsthand observer of the original wounds is available to compare them to the later wounds accompanying the revived memories.) In the 1950s, several examples of this phe- nomenon were published. In one of the most impressive, the subject relived (with the help of ether) an occasion when, being in a hospital and requiring restraint, his arms had been tied with a rope. When the patient relived this experience, deep curved depressions appeared on his lower arms. They were exactly like those that occur on the flesh of a person tied with a rope. (I ask readers also to remember this case when I present, later in this work, the cases of persons with birthmarks that informants attributed to marks made by ropes that had tied the previous personality before he or she was killed.) In another published case a patient relived a severe caning inflicted on her by a sadistic father. He had used a carved cane, and the unusual pattern of the carving on the cane appeared on the skin of the patient as she relived being beaten with this cane.
No case of this kind has come under my direct observation. Two psychiatric colleagues of mine, however, sent me written accounts of cases they had observed. In both instances, the patients relived—one with LSD and one with hypnosis— memories of severe beatings. And in both cases, during the reliving, clearly visible marks—actual wheals in one case—appeared at the places where the patients said they had been beaten.
A rare type of physical change corresponding to a mental image sometimes occurs in the experiences of persons in India who come close to death and survive. After regaining consciousness, some of them say that they were mistakenly seized by messengers of the King of the Dead and taken to the "realm of the dead." With discovery of the mistake, they were sent back. Upon recovery, some of these subjects state that they were burned while in the realm of the dead, and they show areas of inflammation or scarring at the sites of the burning. The subject (Durga Jatav) of one of the most bizarre cases of this kind that I have encountered said that he resisted being dragged from life by the messengers of the King of the Dead. He struggled so much that in desperation the messengers cut off his legs at the knees. When the registrar (in the place to which he had been taken) exposed their mistake, they said that he could return; but he then asked to have his legs replaced. Somehow he was refitted with legs and sent back to terrestrial life. He regained consciousness in the bed where his family believed he had died. The remarkable feature of the case was the presence on this man's knees of large scar- like lines closely resembling scars that might occur after horizontal cuts with a knife (*). We obtained X-ray photographs of the patient's knees, but these showed no abnormality.
I shall now discuss what I consider the common factors underlying most, if not all, of the bodily changes that I have described in this chapter. Violence is the first of these. Readers will have noticed the prominent part that violence and physical injury have played in the spontaneously occurring cases. This is certainly true of stigmatism, in which the subject's attention becomes closely focused on the ordeal of Jesus' crucifixion. Physical injury is also prominent in the cases of the recurrence of wounds with the revival of memories of traumatic beatings or restraint. It also enters into the experiments with blisters induced during hypnosis, in which the subject believes he or she is being burned. Violence and the threat of injury are concentrators of attention. I wish to bring them forward here because of the high frequency of violent death, which I mentioned in Chapter 1, among the cases with birthmarks and birth defects related to previous lives. Violence is not, however, the only con- centrator of attention. Indeed, stigmatists concentrate on Jesus out of love for him and only secondarily become involved in the violence of his death.
At least two other important factors must enter into the production of physical changes corresponding to mental images. One is a factor of impressionability, now often called absorption. Highly impressionable subjects quickly "lose" them- selves in a scene viewed or imagined. If someone calls their name, they seem not to hear and do not respond. Many persons would have seen the slide show of Jesus' crucifixion without being affected as was Elisabeth K., who so readily developed stigmata at the site of Jesus' wounds; they lacked her capacity for absorption.
The third factor we must consider is the reactivity of the tissues of the skin. Persons vary widely in the sensitivity of their skins to stimuli. For example, 25% of persons who are firmly stroked on the skin with a blunt instrument will develop a definite flare around the area stroked, and 5% will show a wheal where the stroking instrument passed over the skin; but the rest will show nothing. It is sometimes possible to write letters on the skin (of the back, for example) of the sensitive patients; this condition is called dermographism, and I will describe an example of paranormal dermographism in the next chapter.
Another example of varying reactivity of the skin occurs in the formation of the dense, indurated scars known as keloids. These occur much more often in some persons than in others and more often in some races, such as Africans, than in others.
I do not mean this list of factors to be exhaustive; there may, for example, be subtle differences in the central and autonomic nervous systems that mediate con- trol of the blood vessels of the skin, and these may play an important part in the changes with which we are here concerned.
A formula that might represent the principal factors would be: CA + DI + PF = CS
where CA stands for Concentrated Attention or Absorption, DI for Duration of the Imagery, PF for the hypothetical Physiological Factor (or Factors), and CS for the resultant Changes in the Skin. Although this formula looks simple, I intend it to underscore the complexity of the subject and the deficiencies in our understanding of how physical changes corresponding to mental images occur.
I wish to emphasize that many of the physical changes I have described do not correspond to known configurations of nerves or blood vessels of the skin. I already mentioned this discrepancy in connection with glove and stocking anesthesia. It is equally true of the lesions of stigmatists and of blisters induced by hypnotic suggestion. Concerning the last-named phenomenon, some years ago a leading expert on hypnosis carefully reviewed the literature on such experiments and came near to concluding that the phenomenon must be genuine. He pulled himself back, however, because, he wrote, the occurrence of such blisters makes no sense in relation to the known distribution of the nerves and blood vessels of the skin. He is not the first scientist to deny facts discordant with his assumptions, but he does deserve credit for his candor. The term paranormal seems to fit phenomena such as stigmata and hypnotically induced physiological changes. It explains nothing, but has the merit of not denying the occurrence of phenomena for which we have as yet no satisfying explanation.


3. BODILY CHANGES CORRESPONDING TO ANOTHER PERSON'S MENTAL IMAGES


In the preceding chapter I concluded that some paranormal process must occur between the mental images in a person's mind and the production on his or her body of wounds, such as stigmata or blisters induced during hypnosis, the shapes of which have no relationship to the anatomical distribution of the blood vessels or nerves of the skin. Future research may someday show presently undiscovered patterns of nerves and blood vessels that could account for the correspondence between mental images and local bodily changes in the person having the images. Even so, we should still need the word paranormal in trying to understand how mental images in one person's mind may affect changes in another person's body. This chapter is about such changes.
The simplest examples occur as variants of what I call telepathic impressions. The word telepathy means communication between minds without the known sensory organs. In many instances of telepathy the percipient obtains substantial information, perhaps in the form of a visual representation, about the circumstances of another person, called the target person or agent. (The word sender, sometimes used for this person, is not so helpful, because the agent often plays no conscious active role in the communication.) In the variant of telepathy called telepathic impressions, almost no content is conveyed, only an impression that, say, someone known to the percipient needs help. Occasionally, a little more detail may be included, such as that the agent is in a hospital; and sometimes less detail is included. For example, a traveler away from home may feel unexpectedly impelled to turn around and go back because something is "wrong at home"; but the percipient does not know what is wrong there or who needs help. In a variant of the telepathic impression the percipient has a pain (or sometimes another physical symptom) that corresponds to a pain (or other symptom) in the agent. Here are three examples, the first from the 19th century, the second and third from my own investigations. I give more details of these three cases in my book Telepathic Impressions.
A woman awakened one morning with the impression of having received a sharp blow on the mouth. Without understanding this she dressed and went down to breakfast. Her husband, who had been out sailing, joined her. She noticed that he kept dabbing at his mouth with a handkerchief and asked him what he was doing. He then explained that while he had been sailing a gust of wind had suddenly come up, and before he could get out of the way the tiller struck him on the mouth, causing his lip to bleed. This had happened at almost the exact time his wife had awakened with the sense of being struck in the mouth.
In a case that I investigated, an American housewife and mother one morning suddenly experienced a sharp pain in her right leg and buttocks. She was startled and, although she was alone, she said "Oh." Somehow she identified her pain with some trouble to one of her children, who were then away at school. When they came home, she asked them whether anything unusual had happened to them at school. Her 10-year-old daughter then said that while she was playing in the school yard, a boy on a bicycle had run into her and hit her on the backside. She had cried "Oh." As nearly as they could tell, the daughter had been hit at the same time that her mother had had her unexpected pain at the same location.
My third example involved twin sisters. One was in Pennsylvania and known to be pregnant; but she was thought to be in good health, and her delivery was not imminent. Her twin sister was in Naples, Italy, with her husband, a physician. The sister in Italy suddenly developed severe pain in her chest and upper abdomen, with shortness of breath. Her husband could find no signs of physical illness to account for these symptoms. They later learned that her sister in Pennsylvania had gone into labor prematurely and had developed serious complications at the time she was having her symptoms. The twin in Pennsylvania suffered from pain in her chest and shortness of breath, apparently due to a clot in a vein that had broken loose and lodged in her lungs (pulmonary embolus).
Cases of this type require careful appraisal of their details. If we are to consider seriously the interpretation of such a case as an instance of telepathic impression, the temporal coincidence between the symptoms of the two participants must be exact or extremely close; the symptoms must be identical or closely similar and in the same organs or regions of the body; and finally, we must be confident that the percipient had no normal means of learning about or inferring the agent's symptoms before his or hers occurred. I believe the three cases 1 described meet these criteria.
Mediums, who are persons apparently able to communicate with discarnate personalities, occasionally take on the symptoms of a communicator's fatal illness. In one published case of this kind, the medium began to choke and cough as she described the death of a communicator from heart disease. (Patients with what is called congestive heart failure frequently cough.) The medium had no normal knowledge of the communicator's mode of death. In another case, a medium developed symptoms in a knee when she handled a glove that belonged to a young woman who had injured her knee in a bicycle accident and continued to have pain there. The sensitive knew nothing of this accident or symptom.
Olga Kahl, a Russian clairvoyant living in France during the 1920s, provided some of the most impressive evidence of the representation of mental images in one person by bodily changes in another. Before describing the standard experiments involving her, I should mention that she showed extreme impressionability, even as a child and young adult. On one occasion she misplaced a string of pearls; the loss pre- occupied her, and while the pearls were missing, she developed round areas of red- ness on the skin of her arms which suggested the form of the missing pearls. On another occasion, when living in Istanbul, she watched a group of dervishes, one of whom pushed a skewer through his cheek; the next day she developed an abscess of the cheek at the corresponding site where the dervish had pushed the skewer through.
Olga Kahl's experimental routine provided for a visitor or experimenter to write (hidden from her) a name or perhaps a design on a small piece of paper. The visitor rolled the piece of paper into a ball, which he kept in his hand with- out showing it to Olga Kahl. After a short interval, the name or design would appear on the skin of Olga Kahl's arm (sometimes on her upper chest) (*). The letters would stand out in red, evidently from extremely localized changes in the superficial blood vessels. Sometimes a letter of a name was omitted, but then a space would be left for it, as if at some level Olga Kahl was aware of the entire word. Olga Kahl sometimes facilitated the process of her kind of dermographism by rubbing the part of her body where the letters were to appear; but such rub- bing covered the entire area affected, and no one ever observed Olga Kahl in any endeavor to scratch the words on her skin. (In the last chapter I described dermographism, but that of Olga Kahl involved no actual tracing of letters on her skin.)
Some of the leading French and English scientists who studied such phenomena during the 1920s investigated Olga Kahl. All expressed themselves fully satisfied that her dermographism was genuine. I am not asserting that the mental image in the mind of the experimenter (who wrote the word or design on a piece of paper) directly influenced Olga Kahl's skin. Perhaps her mind obtained a copy, so to speak, of the experimenter's mental image and reproduced that on her skin. At times, she seemed to know what the target word was before it appeared on her skin, but at other times she did not.
The most widespread evidence of the effect of one person's mental images on the body of another living person occurs in cases of what are generally called maternal impressions. This is the phrase used to designate the supposed causal connection between some event that shocks or frightens a pregnant woman and a defect in her later-born baby. A typical case—a published one—is that of a preg- nant woman who happened to see on the street a man with partly amputated feet. She became distressed and began to fear that her baby would be born with similar defects. In fact, it was; parts of its feet were absent, and the defects in its feet cor- responded to the ones on the man its mother had seen.
The reality of maternal impressions is accepted in most parts of the world today. It was accepted without challenge in the West until the early 18th century. Advances in anatomy and physiology then showed that there is no physical connec- tion between a pregnant woman and her gestating baby through the placenta or oth- erwise that could mediate the expression in the baby of a mental image in the mother-to-be. The skepticism that these observations stimulated spread slowly. In the
19th century and through the first two decades of this one, the leading medical journals of the United States, Great Britain, and Europe published numerous reports of maternal impressions. Occasionally, a dissident voice would draw attention to the fact that some or many women were frightened when pregnant, expected to have a malformed baby, but then delivered a normal one. On the other side, one 19th-century author pointed out that the absence of any nervous or other known connection between the mother and child signified nothing, because of the possibility that "mind does in some mysterious way operate across matter." (This admirable refusal to deny phenomena because we cannot explain them foreshadowed the beginnings in 1882 of the scientific study of paranormal phenomena by more than 30 years.)
In 1890 a pediatrician of the University of Virginia reviewed 90 cases of maternal impressions that had been published between 1853 and 1886. He concluded that in 69 (77%) of the 90 cases there was "quite a close correspondence" between the impression upon the mother and her baby's defect. He, too, was aware of the growing skepticism about such cases and commented that "thinking men came to doubt the truth of those things which they could not understand."
I decided to review the evidence for maternal impressions. In doing this, I read reports of approximately 300 cases in medical journals, books, and other publications of the United States, Great Britain, France, Germany, Italy, Holland, and Belgium. From these I selected 50 cases for a detailed analysis. I chose cases in which the cor- respondence between the stimulus to the pregnant woman and the baby's defect was close. I also chose cases in which both the stimulus to the mother and the defect were unusual. As an example of the latter I mention the case of a woman whose brother had to have his penis amputated for removal of a cancer. While she was pregnant, her curiosity impelled her to have a look at the site of her brother's amputation; she afterward gave birth to a male baby without a penis. I have obtained figures for the incidence of some birth defects in the general population, and that for congenital absence of the penis is 1 in 30,000,000. Other birth defects figuring in these cases are more common, but most are rare or even extremely rare.
An unexpected finding of my analysis of these cases was the discovery that the seemingly causative stimulus to the mother occurred much more often than would be expected by chance in the 1st trimester than in the 2nd and 3rd ones. It seems likely that pregnant women would be equally liable to be exposed to some frightening stimulus at any month of a pregnancy; this observation therefore suggests that susceptibility of the embryo is one important factor in maternal impressions. The 1st trimester is also the one during which the embryo is most sensitive to noxious drugs, such as thalidomide, and to viral infections, such as rubella (German measles).
Some further useful information emerged from my analysis. In more than half the cases, the woman was closely involved with the wounding of another per- son—an eyewitness, perhaps—or was wounded herself. These woundings acted as the stimulus for the maternal impression. The duration of the woman's exposure to the stimulus seems to have had little effect on the occurrence of a maternal impression. In at least two cases, a woman's fear did not quite match her curiosity about some wound, so she just peeked for an instant at the wound; but that sufficed. Most of the women became "shocked" or "frightened" by the stimulus. Some forgot about it quickly, others became obsessively preoccupied with it and could not stop thinking about it. Some of the women were afraid their babies would be affected, others were not, and a few were (mistakenly) confident that their babies would be normal. The beliefs of the women concerned about the effect on the baby had almost no predictive value.
I have been able to investigate seven cases of maternal impressions of different types and will summarize two of them here.
The mother of the first subject (Calvin Ewing) was a Tlingit of Alaska named Sylvia Ewing. She was born with a small hole—in medical terms, a sinus—near the inner corner of her right eye. This was immediately recognized as a defect corresponding to a chronic stye at the same place from which a deceased relative had suffered. On the basis of this correspondence, an announcing dream, and some evidence from Sylvia's behavior, she was identified as the reincarnation of this relative. Hers was a straightforward case of the reincarnation type, although a somewhat weak one with regard to the strength of the evidence. (I give a detailed report of her case in the monograph.) In childhood, Sylvia suffered a certain amount of discomfort from the sinus, which discharged fluid, especially if she had a cold. She also underwent cruel teasing about the defect from her schoolmates.
In due course Sylvia grew up and married. When she became pregnant, she began to fear that her baby would have a defect like hers. She told me: "I was afraid he would look like me. That is all I thought about—whether he would look like me." Her husband confirmed her statement by saying: "She was always worrying about whether the baby would have a hole in the eye like hers."
After the baby was born and brought to Sylvia, the first place she examined was his eye "to see if he had a hole." He had, and it was at exactly the site of her own—near the inner end of the right eye.
Unlike his mother, this baby boy was not identified as the reincarnation of a deceased relative or of anyone else. There were no identifiable causative factors other than the mother's fear of the reproduction of her defect in her child.
The correspondence between the two defects in this case was exceedingly close both in location and size. Figure 2 shows a photograph of the child's sinus, which can be compared with a photograph of the mother's sinus (*).

In the second case, a male baby (Sampath Priyasantha) was born in Sri Lanka without any arms and with severely deformed legs (*). One of my assis- tants learned about these unusual defects and sent me a photograph of the baby. I decided to investigate the case as soon as I could, but by the time I was able to reach Sampath Priyasantha's village he had died. He had been able to crawl about a little and was just beginning to speak when he died at the age of about 20 months. He had said nothing about a previous life.
The village was somewhat remote, and having taken the trouble to reach it I decided to ask a few questions. From other cases that I had studied—and that I describe later in this book—it occurred to me that Sampath might have been the rein- carnation of someone known to his family who had died after having his arms badly injured, perhaps in an industrial accident. I therefore asked the baby's father whether he knew of anyone who had died after having his arms injured. "Yes," he replied. "There was a man I killed by cutting off his arms and legs with a sword." He then went on to tell me how this had happened. The murdered man was a young ruffian of the village, a notorious bully, and a member of a family given to violence. (The brother of this man told me that he had personally killed three of the family's enemies; they had lost their father when a bomb that he was preparing dropped from his hands and blew him to pieces.) A quarrel broke out over a dog belonging to the bully's family that had come onto the property of Sampath's father and eaten some food. Sampath's father decided to finish with the offensive young man. Without much difficulty, he and his brother got him drunk and lured him over to their side of the village. They then cut off his arms and legs and left him to die. (I obtained a postmortem report in this case, and, with some discrepancies, it confirmed the murderer's account of what he had done; limbs were described as "dangling," not totally severed.)
The murdered man's mother was enraged at her son's death. She repeatedly cursed the murderer and his family, saying that they would be punished for killing her son by having a defective child. (Informants differed as to exactly what she said in cursing the family, but the baby's mother definitely thought the angry mother had specified that she would have a defective child.)
The murderers were arrested and sentenced to imprisonment. The father could come home sometimes on leave, and his wife had another baby, a normal female. The parents thought they had perhaps neutralized the curse. Then the dreadfully malformed Sampath Priyasantha was born, and they realized that perhaps they had not.
The villagers we interviewed for this case were divided between those who believed that Sampath Priyasantha was the reincarnation of the murdered man and those who believed he was simply sent to the murderer's family as punishment for the murder they had committed. In particular, the murdered man's mother could not accept the possibility that her son, who had "done nothing" in her view, should be condemned, if reborn, to a life in a defective body. In view of her curse of the murderer's family, a maternal impression remains a plausible interpretation of the case, but it is unlikely that we shall ever be able to reach a firm conclusion on the matter.
I have devoted more than half of this chapter to maternal impressions because readers should remember this phenomenon as they consider the best interpretation for the cases in succeeding chapters. In most of them, the child's mother knew about or had even seen the wounds on the deceased person whose life the child (usually) claimed to remember when it could speak. So we need to ask whether the correspondences in these cases could have arisen from maternal impressions instead of through some other paranormal process, including reincarnation. This explanation could not apply in some 25 cases in which the mother did not see or know about the wounds on the deceased person; but it could certainly be relevant in many other cases.
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IAN STEVENSON - Reincarnation & biology - INTRODUCTION

IAN STEVENSON - Where reincarnation and biology intersect

1.INTRODUCTION


Children who claim to remember a previous life have been found in most countries where they have been sought. Reports of such children occur frequently in countries and cultures in which the belief in reincarnation is strong: the Hindu and Buddhist countries of South Asia, the Shiite peoples of Lebanon and Turkey, the tribes of West Africa, and the tribes of northwestern North America. We also have many (but fewer) reports of cases from Europe, North America, and elsewhere. I have published some 70 detailed reports of such cases, and, in recent years, several colleagues have published between them reports of another 15 cases.
I have deliberately referred to reported cases in the various countries and cultures that I mentioned. I use this word to emphasize that we have little information about the real incidence of the cases. In the 1970's a systematic survey of cases in a district of northern India showed that about one person in 500 claimed to remember a previous life. There are grounds for thinking that the incidence of cases may be higher in Lebanon and among the tribes of northwestern North America, but we have no figures from surveys that might confirm this opinion.
The cases are certainly found more easily in the non-Western countries and cultures that I mentioned earlier. Their strong belief in reincarnation allows a child who wishes to speak about a previous life to do so without being disbelieved or rebuked as such a child may be in the West. I believe, however, that the reasons for finding cases more readily in some non-Western cultures than in Western ones are deeper than the simple matter of permission for a child to speak about a previous life. This work is not the proper place to consider such an important topic. I would say, however, to Western readers: Do not make the mistake of thinking that because a phenomenon occurs more often in India than in your neighborhood it is no concern of yours. I say this for two reasons. First, a case may have occurred in your neighborhood without you (or I) knowing about it. Second, and more important, if reincarnation should prove to be the best interpretation of these cases, wherever they occur, this would have important implications for all of us.
In most of these cases the evidence consists mainly of statements from informants, often recorded months or even years after the case has developed. Such cases suffer from the serious defect that the accuracy of the informants' memories may have diminished with the passage of time; even worse, the two families concerned in a case may have mingled their memories and given the child more credit for accuracy in its statements than it deserves. It is possible to exaggerate these sources of weakness, but it is foolish to ignore them. In a small number of cases, however, we—by which 1 mean my colleagues and myself—have been able to reach the scene of a case within weeks of its development. In a still smaller number—only about 1% of the 2600 cases in our collection—someone, usually a member of our team, has made a written record of what the child has stated about the previous life before anyone verified these statements, and we have then verified them ourselves.
During my first visit to Sri Lanka in 1961 I investigated the case of Wijeratne (*), who had a severe birth defect said to derive from a previous life. (An asterisk after the name of a subject means that the monograph has a relevant figure or figures.) A few months later—on the other side of the world, in Alaska— I studied the cases of Charles Porter (*) and Henry Elkin (*). They were Tlingits who had birthmarks respectively related to a fatal stabbing with a spear and a gunshot wound. Despite this early introduction to the occurrence of birth defects and birthmarks in these cases, it took several years before I fully appreciated the importance of this type of case. Once I had this insight, I conceived the plan of collecting the reports of many such cases into a single large work.
The cases having birthmarks and birth defects are important for three reasons. First, the birthmarks and birth defects provide an objective type of evidence well above that which depends on the fallible memories of informants. We have photographs (and occasionally sketches) which show the birthmarks and birth defects. And for many of the cases, we have a medical document, usually a postmortem report, that gives us a written confirmation of the correspondence between the birth- mark (or birth defect) and the wound on the deceased person whose life the child, when it can speak, will usually claim to remember. As I shall explain later, despite the obvious difficulties that the concept of reincarnation poses for Western thought in general and modern science in particular, the birthmarks and birth defects in these cases do not lend themselves easily to explanations other than reincarnation.
Second, the birthmarks and birth defects derive importance from the evidence they provide that a deceased personality—having survived death—may influence the form of a later-born baby. I am well aware of the seriousness—as well as the importance—of such a claim and can only say that I have been led to it by the evidence of the cases.
Third (and perhaps most important), the cases with birthmarks and birth defects provide a better explanation than any other now available about why some persons have birth defects when most persons do not and for why some persons who have a birth defect have theirs in a particular location instead of elsewhere. We need to judge this claim against present knowledge of the causes of birth defects. Research on birth defects has identified several causes of them: genetic factors, certain viral infections, and chemicals (such as thalidomide and alcohol). Yet these and other recognized causes account for less than halt of all birth defects. (The figures assigned to birth defects of "unknown causes" vary in different series but range between 43.2% and 70%.)
Even taking account of the identified medical causes, modern medicine has nothing to say about why a particular person has a birth defect when another per- son does not. Indeed, modern medicine, with its reductionist and mechanical approach to illness, rarely recognizes a person as anything more than the behavioral expression of his or her body. From this perspective, there is no person other than the body. Thus, if someone is born with a birth defect, physicians nearly always attribute this to chance. The cases of this work suggest that for some birth defects we can say why a person has a birth defect and why the birth defect is in one location instead of in another.
Scientific publications have a rule that is sound, if austere: An author should not state his or her conclusions before presenting the evidence that supports them. I have departed from this rule because I think my readers need to remember, as they read further, the three different values of the cases with birthmarks and birth defects: They provide objective types of evidence, they suggest the influence of a discarnate personality on a later-born baby, and they help us understand why, in some cases, a person with a birth defect has it at a particular location.
In the preceding paragraphs I have mentioned birth defects more than birthmarks and will now say something further about the latter. Unlike birth defects, nearly everyone has a birthmark. In fact, one survey showed that the average adult has about 15 birthmarks on his or her body. Yet except for a few rare instances of pedigrees showing the inheritance of birthmarks at the same location, nothing is known about why a person has a birthmark at one location instead of another. As with birth defects, the cases of this work suggest an answer to that question, at least for some birthmarks.
Furthermore, most of the birthmarks that 1 describe differ from the kind of birthmark that almost everyone has. These latter are small areas of increased pigmentation that are called nevi by physicians and moles by most laypeople. Some of the birthmarks of the cases 1 describe are of this type, but most are not. Instead, they are hairless areas of puckered, scar like tissue, often raised above surrounding tissues or depressed below them; a few are areas of decreased pigmentation. Some are bleeding or oozing when the baby is born. Those that resemble nevi and moles in appearance are often larger than "ordinary" nevi and also often occur in unusual locations.
The birthmarks and birth defects occur within the context of a case that nearly always has other features. Not all of these figure in every case, and the first thai 1 shall mention is rare. A case may begin when a person—usually an elderly one who believes death is approaching—expresses a wish to be reborn to a particular couple who, the dying person believes, will make good parents. The person may express a further desire to change some physical trail so that in the next life he or she would, for example, be born without flat feet. Predictions of these kinds occur with some frequency among the Tlingit of Alaska and also among the lamas of Tibet. People of other cultures, so far as my experience goes, rarely make them.
The next feature in the development of a case is often a dream or dreams in which a deceased person appears and expresses an intention to be reborn to particular parents. I call these announcing dreams. The dreamer is usually a woman who will be the mother of the baby in whose body the announcing deceased personality intends to reincarnate. Sometimes other members of the family, or even friends, may have announcing dreams. Although such dreams occur in many different cultures, they are particularly prominent features in the cases of the Tlingit of Alaska and the Burmese. The time of their occurrence varies in different cultures. Among the Tlingit, the announcing dream usually occurs just before the birth of the child in question. In contrast, among the Burmese the dream nearly always occurs before the conception of the child. This accords with the Buddhist belief, at least in Burma (now called Myanmar), that once conception has occurred the deceased personality becomes tied to the developing embryo and can no longer communicate with other persons through dreams. Recognizable announcing dreams rarely occur in the cases of Sri Lanka, the United States (other than the North American tribes), and Lebanon. In Sri Lanka and the United States, there are few "same-family" cases, by which I mean that the subject of the case and the person whose life it will claim to remember belong to the same family. Therefore, if a mother-to-be or other person did have a dream about a discarnate person, the dreamer might not recognize the person dreamed about, and so noth- ing comprehensible could be announced or remembered. As for Lebanon, the Druses of that country and surrounding countries believe that persons cannot exist incorporeally (until the Day of Judgment). According to their belief, a person is reborn in a new physical body the instant he or she dies; this leaves no time for sending messages in dreams.
A variant of the announcing dream occurs that I call a departing dream. In such a dream, a person who has died appears to a member of his or her family and tells the dreamer in what family he or she will reincarnate or perhaps has already reincarnated. In a few cases, the information thus conveyed has enabled the family of the deceased person to locate and meet the newborn baby said to be the reincarnation of that person.
When a baby is born, its parents will immediately notice any major birth defect. They may, however, overlook birthmarks, especially if they are small. Much depends on the care with which they examine the baby. This, in turn, varies with the importance they give to identifying the baby as a particular person reborn. Some cultures, such as those of the Tlingit of Alaska and the Igbo of Nigeria, attach great importance to such identification. In those cultures, if you had been, for example, a famous warrior or even a successful trader, you can pick up some of your previous prestige as you are reborn—provided, that is, that your parents recognize you for who you were. This may require careful examination of a baby for birthmarks. I remember from my early work in Alaska an elderlyTlingit totem-pole carver who deplored to me that no one of his tribe any longer knew how to examine babies for birthmarks. He might have been even more dis- appointed with the Indians of Asia, many of whom do not expect to find birth- marks on babies and may miss many because they do not look for them.
In our investigations of these cases, we require that one or more informed adults testify that he or she noticed the birthmark immediately after the child's birth or, at most, within a few weeks of the birth. Sometimes we have been shown a boy of, say, 8 years of age who had numerous marks on his body, from insect bites, cuts, abrasions, and furuncles, as well as a possible birthmark. The parents have not always been sure which, if any, of these marks was present at the child's birth.
The fourth feature in the development of a case occurs when the child (whom we should now call the subject) begins to speak, or soon afterward. If a child is going to speak about a previous life, it nearly always begins to do so between the ages of 2 and 4. A few may begin earlier and before they have learned to speak coherently. They may mispronounce words and use gestures to communicate what they want to say. At first, what they say may make no sense to the parents, who only understand the child's words when it can enunciate clearly. A few children do not speak until after the age of 4. I studied the case of one child in Lebanon who had some dreams about a previous life when he was about 6, and then said almost nothing about it until he was 12 years old; but he was exceptional.
In most cases the child continues to talk about the previous life until he or she is about 5 to 7 or 8 years old. At this age the memories usually appear to fade. This, however, is a matter difficult to judge, and it seems that some children continue to remember the previous life, but stop speaking about it. They "go under- ground," as it were. This may happen especially with a girl who could speak loquaciously about having a husband and children up to the age of 8 or 10; but at a later age, the girl would be embarrassed, maybe even compromised, if she continued to talk as if she were a married woman.
Most of the children speak about the previous life with an intensity, even with strong emotion, that surprises the adults around them. Many of them do not at first distinguish past from present, and they may use the present tense in referring to the previous life. They may say, for example: "I have a wife and two sons. I live in Agra." Although some children make 50 or more different statements, others make only a few but repeat these many times, often tediously. At the other extreme, some children whom adults have identified as a deceased person reborn (perhaps on the basis of dreams or birthmarks) make no statements at all about the previous life with which they are identified.
The content of what the child states nearly always includes some account of the death in the previous life. This is particularly true if the death was violent, but occurs also—less frequently—when it was natural. Beyond that, the child usually speaks about the family of the previous life. Remembering the parents of that life, the child may use some phrase like "my real parents" to distinguish the parents of the previous life from its parents. The child often asks, and frequently importunes, its parents to take it to the previous family. Sooner or later most parents accede to these requests, partly to appease the child and partly to satisfy their own curiosity about the accuracy of what the child has been saying. Critical neighbors who hint that the child is narrating fantasies may further stimulate the child's parents to have it vindicated against such aspersions.
If the child has given sufficient and adequately specific details, especially of proper names and places, it is usually possible to identify a deceased person the facts of whose life closely match the child's statements. (We call this person the "previous personality," a phrase that acknowledges a terrestrial existence while allowing that the personality is no longer tied to a physical body; I may use the term even when no matching deceased person is found, but is only conjectured.) If a previous personality is found whose life corresponds to the child's statements, we speak of the case as "solved." In many cases, however, the child's statements are not sufficiently specific or, for other reasons, no matching person can be found. Such cases are "unsolved." They are difficult to interpret. In many respects they have features similar to those of solved cases, but in the absence of verified details they may be nothing but fantasies.
If the child's parents know or find the family to which the child has been referring and the two families meet, they understandably exchange information about what the child has said and how much of that is correct or wrong. The child may also recognize spontaneously (or on request) various persons, objects, and places known to the previous personality. I attach little importance to these recognitions because of the strong possibility that persons present could give the child cues, albeit without intending to do so. The informants themselves often give the child's recognitions great weight in their appraisal of the case, and I have known informants to reject an entire case because the child—perhaps by then much frightened by a crowd of onlookers—failed to recognize them.
The first three features in the development of a case (if they occur)—prediction of rebirth, announcing dreams, and birthmarks or birth defects—fix in the parents' minds a belief about the identity of the child in its previous life. This entails the risk that they will encourage or even guide the child to speak about the previous life of the person identified. I have known a few cases in which a parent has damaged an otherwise good case by overenthusiastic instigation of the child to speak about the presumed previous life. The best assurance we have against the frequent occurrence of such behavior lies in the comparative indifference of most of the parents (in the Asian countries) to what the child states. If a child has a birth defect, they—believing in reincarnation—attribute the defect to some previous life; it does not matter much to them which previous life it may have been. Moreover, a substantial number of parents, far from encouraging their children to speak about previous lives, take measures to suppress such expressions. In India, we found that 4I'< of the parents in a series of cases had done this. The parental measures of suppression have no observable effect. The children nearly always stop speaking about the previous lives (and seem to forget them) between the ages of 5 and 8 whether they are suppressed or not. The endeavors at suppression, how- ever, probably pacify the parents.
There are several motives for such suppressive measures. In India it is widely believed—without any evidence whatever—that children who talk about previous lives are fated to die young. In addition, parents often object to the content of the previous life the child describes. If the parents belong to the middle levels in social and economic terms and the child talks about a previous life in a much higher station, they may not wish to hear the child repeatedly bragging about having many servants and demeaning the clothes and food they are providing for it. Equally unwelcome would be talk about life at a much lower level, such as that of a street-sweeper, or about some sordid murder.
Mention of these last types of statements brings me to the fifth important feature of the cases: the child's unusual behavior, by which I mean behavior that is unusual for the child's family, but harmonious with what can be known or conjectured about the person of whom the child speaks. If the child recalls a previous life in superior social circumstances, it may refuse to participate normally in the life of its family. I have known children of lower caste Indian families who, believing that they had been (and in their view still were) Brahmins, would refuse to eat their family's food, which they considered polluted. Conversely, a child remembering the life of a street-sweeper may show an alarming lack of concern about cleanliness.
Phobias, nearly always related to the mode of death in the previous life, occur in about 35% of the cases. A child remembering a life that ended in drowning may be afraid of being immersed in water; one who remembers a life that ended in shooting may show a phobia of guns and loud noises. If the death occurred during a vehicular accident, the subject may have a phobia of automobiles, buses, and trucks. These phobias often manifest before the child has begun to speak. There is no model for them in other members of the family, and the child has undergone no experience since its birth that could account for the phobia; hence the possibility that it derives from the previous life, as the child, when it can speak, says it does. As with phobias following a trauma in this life, the phobias of these children tend to diminish as they become older.
Philias also occur often. They frequently take the form of a desire or demand for particular foods (not eaten in the subject's family) or for clothes different from those customarily worn by the family members. Under this heading also come instances of cravings for addicting substances, such as tobacco, alcohol, and other drugs that the previous personality was known to have used.
A few subjects show skills that they have not been taught (or sufficiently watched others demonstrating), but which the previous personality was known to have had.
In cases of what we call the "sex-change" type, the child says it remembers a previous life as a person of the opposite sex. Such children almost invariably show traits of the sex of the claimed previous life. They cross-dress, play the games of the opposite sex, and may otherwise show attitudes characteristic of that sex. As with the phobias, the attachment to the sex and habits of the previous life usually becomes attenuated as the child grows older; but a few of these children remain intransigently fixed to the sex of the previous life, and one has become homosexual
Particularly vivid examples of unusual behavior occur in subjects who claim to remember previous lives as natives of a country different from that of their parents. Examples of subjects of such "international cases" occur often in Burma. We have studied the cases of at least 20 Burmese children—now all adults—who said when they were young that they had been Japanese soldiers killed in Burma during World War II. None gave sufficient details to permit verification of its statements. All, however, showed a number of traits that I call "Japanese." By this I mean that they behaved in ways that were typical of Japanese people (especially Japanese soldiers) at the time of World War II. Such traits include industriousness; insensitivity to pain; complaints about the heat and the spicy food of Burma; and demands for raw fish, sweet foods, and strong sweet tea. (The Burmese drink a weak tea without sugar.) In all these behaviors these children differed markedly from their parents and siblings.
The deaths remembered by the children are predominantly violent. The overall percentage of violent deaths in the previous life is 51%, but the incidence varies (in solved cases) from a low of 29% among the Haida of northwestern North America to a high of 74% in Turkey. These incidences far exceed those of violent death in the general populations of the countries where the cases occur.
As I mentioned, the children usually remember the mode of death in the previous life, especially if it ended violently. And they often remember the other persons concerned in the death—usually murderers. The children often show strong animosities and attitudes of vengefulness toward these persons, especially if they happen to meet them. The animosity may generalize to other members of the same group. For example, a child in India who remembered a previous life that ended in murder by a Moslem might show a hatred for all Moslems.
Many of the children express memories of the previous life in their play. Some children play with other children toward whom they assume the role of the adult person whose life they remember. Thus, a girl who remembered a previous life as a schoolteacher would assemble her playmates as pupils and play at instructing them with an imaginary blackboard. A child who remembered the life of a garage mechanic would spend hours under a family sofa "repairing" the car that it represented for him.
A few children enact in their play the mode of death in the previous life, especially if it ended in suicide. One child who remembered a life that ended in suicidal hanging had the macabre habit of walking around with a piece of rope attached around his neck. Two children who remembered drowning themselves used to play at drowning.
I find it convenient to subsume all the various types of unusual behavior these children show under the collective term "behavioral memory," which distinguishes this kind of memory from the cognitive memories and mental images of events that find expression in the child's statements about the previous life. The behavioral memories, such as phobias and likings for particular foods, often last after the child can no longer remember any of the imaged memories.
Readers may not appreciate from what I have described that remembering a previous life is almost never a pleasant experience. Too often the children are troubled by confusion regarding their identity, and this becomes even more severe in those children who, conscious of being in a small body, can remember having been in an adult one, or who remember a life as a member of the opposite sex. To these tormenting awarenesses may be added a tearing division of loyalties between present and previous families.
The cases of the children who claim to remember previous lives have four features that occur so regularly that I have presumed to call them "universal." These are: the early age of speaking about the previous life (between the ages of 2 and 4); the later age of ceasing to speak about the previous life (usually between the ages of 5 and 8); a high incidence of violent death in the previous life; and frequent mention of the mode of death in the previous life.
Other features vary, sometimes widely, from one culture to another. I have already mentioned the relatively high incidence of announcing dreams in Burma and among the Tlingit of Alaska, and their paucity in the cases of Sri Lanka and the United States (other than tribal groups). Similarly, the incidence of cases of the sex-change type varies widely. In Burma about 26% of cases are of this type, and the percentage of such cases is also high in Nigeria (18%) and Thailand (13%). In India, however, sex-change cases comprise only 3% of the total; and in Lebanon and among the tribes of northwestern North America sex-change cases seem not to occur at all. There is a similar, although narrower range in the median length of the interval between the previous personality's death and the subject's birth. This extends from only 4 months among the Haida of northwestern North America to 34 months among the Igbo of Nigeria.
Our investigation of a case of this type begins as soon as we can reach its scene. Ideally, we would like to arrive there before the two families concerned have met, but this is rarely possible. As I mentioned, we sometimes do not reach the case until months and even years after its development. I have said that the case usually begins when the subject is a young child; but he or she may be an adult before we arrive at the scene of the case. If the subject has a birthmark or birth defect, the case is still worth studying, although it is obvious that the avail- able witnesses will be fewer and their memories of the development of the case probably weaker than those of informants we meet while a case is still fresh. The delay in investigating the older cases partly accounts for the paucity of information that will be found in my reports of some of them (in the monograph).
When we do reach the case—be it early or late—we begin with interviews on the side of the subject and its family. We interview the child (if it will talk with us), its parents, and such other persons as can provide firsthand testimony about the child's statements and any unusual behavior it may have shown. These may be older siblings, grandparents, teachers, and other informed persons. We examine, sketch, and photograph the child's birthmarks or birth defects. We ask for any written documents, such as identity cards, diaries, or horoscopes, that may pro- vide exact records of dates.
Next we go to the family of the claimed previous life (if the case is solved) and conduct a series of interviews with members of the family, who must, similar- ly, be firsthand witnesses of what they describe. A particularly important part of the inquiry is concerned with any previous acquaintance between the two families or the possibility that they had some mutual acquaintance (even if they themselves did not know each other). We want to exclude as well as we can the possibility that the child might have overheard other persons talking about the details con- cerning the deceased person of whom the child has been speaking.
In the cases with birthmarks and birth defects, we have spared no effort to obtain postmortem reports or other documents that establish the location of the wounds on the deceased person concerned. These records were made before the subject was born and without any thought of their use for our research. The med- ical documents have great value in themselves. In addition, as I shall explain later, they tend to increase confidence in the accuracy of the testimony of informants for most of the cases for which we have no medical documents.
Ahead of my readers lie 13 chapters—most of them about children who claimed to remember previous lives and who had relevant birthmarks—that they will read before coming to Chapter 15, in which I discuss the several possible interpretations of these cases. These interpretations are the ones that seem most pertinent to me, but there may be others that I have not been able to imagine. I think it will help readers if I summarize these interpretations now. Readers may thus be thinking about them as they study the case reports ahead.
One must first be adequately confident about the authenticity of each case. Is the account given here an adequate report of what actually happened? Whenever I think of the word authenticity, I remember that informants tried to recall events that happened weeks, months, and sometimes years before they spoke with me. Their memories were imperfect and their biases often obscure. With rare exceptions they spoke to me through interpreters; the interpreters tried their best to give a full translation, but inevitably something was lost, or perhaps distorted. My note-taking, even after many years of practice, was imperfect. Next, when writing the case reports I had to select from my field notes what to include
•in a published report. (A second selection occurred in the preparation of this synopsis; but I have already exhorted readers to reach no firm judgment without studying its parent monograph.) Given these important sources of error, what defenses do we have against them? There are several. First, whenever I could, I obtained the testimony of several informants whose statements I could compare. Second, I had the good fortune, for most cases, to have interpreters who worked with me for many years and who shared my interest in exactitude. Finally, the cases, even of widely separated cultures, show some similar features. I must admit, however, that in the end the reader has to accept my assertion that I would not have published these case reports unless I believed that they are authentic. This does not mean that I claim all details are accurate, only that what the reader can examine corresponds adequately to events that happened.
Given the authenticity of the cases, what are the next steps toward a rational explanation of them? We must first consider normal explanations. Among these there is the possibility that the child's family had mistakenly identified a deceased person whose wounds happened—just by chance—to correspond, more or less, to birthmarks on their child. They then decided that their child was the reincarnation of this deceased person; and they encouraged the child to think this also, until the child came to believe it. All this could be entirely innocent; but it can happen. I have described elsewhere one case (Kenedi Alkan) that developed in this way, and there may be a few others not known to me. I do not think there can be more than a few. I say this partly because the parents—surprising as this may be to many Western readers—are often slow to identify their child with a deceased person; and partly because the correspondence between wounds and birthmarks and the child's correct statements about the life of the deceased person usually leave no doubt that the correct previous personality has been identified.
Suppose that we find an indisputable correspondence between wounds on a deceased person and birthmarks (and other features, such as statements) of a child. How shall we explain the correspondence? Suppose further that the two families had no knowledge of each other before the case developed. We now have to consid- er what are called paranormal interpretations. The first of these is that the correspondence between birthmarks on the child and wounds on the identified deceased person have occurred by chance and that the child has obtained the information included in its correct statements about the deceased person by extrasensory perception. The principal difficulty with this interpretation is that the children con- cerned in these cases show no ability for extrasensory perception of the kind required in most cases, except in connection with their claimed memories.
A second paranormal explanation supposes that a discarnate personality controls or "possesses" the subject and imposes memories of its life on the child. This interpretation does not explain the almost invariable fading or amnesia of the child's apparent memories between the ages of 5 and 8 years. Why should possessing personalities all withdraw their influence, as it were, when children are at about the same age? This interpretation also does not explain the birthmarks, unless we suppose that the possession occurs before the child's birth. We then may ask how this situation would differ from reincarnation.
A third paranormal explanation supposes that the child's mother, knowing about the deceased person's wounds, somehow reproduces them on her baby. This is the process known as a maternal impression, and I shall give examples of it and discuss it in Chapter 3. Suffice it to say here that such a process entails that the mother would also impose the principal features of the concerned deceased per- son's personality on the child, so that it would identify with that person and utter statements apparently derived from the person's memories of his or her life. I find this explanation plausible to a certain extent. It could not, however, apply to 25 cases that I have investigated in which the child's mother had no knowledge of the deceased person's wounds. It also supposes that the mothers have more time, inclination, and ability to impose an identification on a child than I think they have.
If we reject all the foregoing interpretations and can think of no other, we may consider reincarnation the best one. We should not decide that it is the best however, until we have carefully appraised and rejected the others. I will repeat and amplify these interpretations in Chapter 15.
I do not expect my readers to accept readily the idea that the mind of a dead person can influence the form of a later-born baby. In order to make this idea easier to assimilate, I describe in the next two chapters ways in which images in the mind of a living person may produce local changes in that person's own body and, less often, in the body of another living person. After these two chapters I turn to the descriptions of the birthmarks corresponding to wounds (or other marks) on deceased persons.
I will conclude this chapter now with a few remarks about my presentations of the case reports, which will avoid later unnecessary repetitions or digressions in the text.
In its statements the child is expressing what certainly seem to it to be memories. This may not be the view, at least initially, of its parents, and it may not be that of my readers. It would, however, be tedious for me to keep reminding my readers that I am referring to "claimed memories" or "seeming memories." I have therefore often omitted such qualifying words as ostensible, claimed, and so on. This does not mean that I intend to beg the main question of this research, which is whether the claimed memories are real memories or have some other explanation. By real memories I mean mental images that correspond to events that other informants say occurred.
When I describe a birthmark or birth defect on a subject, it should be under- stood that—with rare exceptions—no one else in the child's family has a similar abnormality. In the few cases in which the subject and previous personality belong to the same family and a genetic factor might account for the subject's abnormality, 1 will mention this possibility.
Unless I note exceptions, the families concerned in the cases in India are Hindus; those of Sri Lanka, Burma, and Thailand are Theravadan Buddhists; those of Turkey are Alevis (a Shiite sect of Islam); and those of Lebanon are Druses. The Igbos of Nigeria and the natives of Alaska and British Columbia are usually Christians formally; but they nearly all adhere more or less to their traditional religions, which include the belief in reincarnation.