Heritage Through Folk

Maldivian folklore is as rich in mysticism and wonder as the islands themselves, and lays out bare the lives of our indigenous ancestors. The oral tradition of the Dhivehi people have preserved an important past, and offers more than simply history; it bonds together the dead, the living, and those yet to be born.

Heritage through Folk by Oevaali Art Shop weaves together a rich, captivating narrative of art from over 10 prolific Maldivian artists. Featuring individual iconic styles, these recollections and interpretations of old Maldivian tales delve deeper into our heritage, and taken as a whole, reflects the complexities of telling the Maldivian story.

The exhibition explores issues of our authentic identity and self; what it means to have indigenous ancestors, and a history intertwined with folk tales, tradition and mysticism.

Stories as ancient as they are, never venture to the origins of the Maldivian islanders. Through hundreds and thousands of years; within the legends, myths and stories, in the accounts of foreign kings, religious scholars and shipwrecked travellers; it would seem that the Dhivehi islanders; the primordial children of the sea, were already there — living in their islands.

Ink, Pigment Powders & Resin on Wooden Board, 60 cm
Raniya Mansoor & Ali Ajikko, 2018


Drawing from ancient beliefs of the old people, the mild shades of daybreak provokes calmness and peace of mind. This work symbolises the contentment, happiness and simplicity of the Maldivian islanders.

It is said that at childbirth, ancient Maldivians would find a soft, young coconut shell (kihah) and delicately place the placenta inside, after which it would be buried on the island with a coconut palm planted at the same spot. And so the islanders had growing, along the length of their lives, a palm which was planted at the moment they were born.

By oral tradition, the Maldive palms rose from the islanders themselves. The coconut is believed to resemble a skull, with two hard spots for the eyes and the softer opening for the mouth, from which a new palm will grow. In the Dhivehi language, the same word nāsi refer to the human skull, as well as the coconut shell. It is believed that the varying shades of skin in the islands correlate with the different cycles of the coconut, and are named as so.

Today the silhouette of the palm represents Maldivian nationalism, and the palm, with eleven fronds is centralized in the Maldivian national emblem.

The legend of Koimala is an old story retold many times in different ways, and marks a turning point in the Maldivian civilisation.

It is said that Koimala's ship was guided by a magnificent white bird, to the islet we now know as Dūnidū. Close by was a sandbank, where the native fishermen of Girāvaru would cut and cook their fish, staining the surrounding beach and lagoons red with blood; giving meaning to it's appropriate name - Mahalē. It was here that Koimala encountered the oldest known tribe of the archipelago - the Girāvaru people - a free-spirited community, leading simple island lives sustained by fishing.

Koimala is believed to have built the first house in Mahalē. He planted a papaya tree - the first tree to grow on the island. This island is now know as Māle’, the capital of the Maldives.

Thousands of years ago in the island of Feridū in Ari Atoll, a famous mālimi (navigator) known as Bodu Niyami Takurufānu went on a voyage out at sea. His boatmen were fishing and caught great big fiyala (Mahi-Mahi). The head of the fiyala is delicious, and Bodu Niyama ordered his men to keep the head of the fish for him. When he realized later that one of his men had not only picked clean the head of the fiyala, but also thrown it to the sea, he flew into an irrational rage, and ordered the helmsman to sail towards the head of the fiyala.

And so they sailed, it is said, for eighty eight days until finally they reached the edge of the world. A surreal looking enderi (black coral) rose above the ocean like a majestic black tree, and strong currents of water dropped down to infinity over the edge beyond it. A big and peculiar fish leapt around the waters around the black tree. The navigator traced the shape of the fish on a piece of parchment, rolled it into his bamboo flask and whispered a magical chant. As the ship made it's way back to the Maldivian islands, so did the tunas, in large schools trailing the boat, and there they settled into the blue depths of the Maldivian oceans.

This ancient lore is the myth of the first tunas; and since the day the ship returned to the Maldives, there have always been schools of tuna in our seas. Considered the "King of the Fishes", Skip Jack Tuna (kalhubilamas) is now known as the Maldive Fish and continues to be a preferred staple on any Maldivian dining table.

Dhivehi Madulu, or the Mandala corresponds with the geographical cardinal points known in old Dhivehi as the Uttara (N), Dakusana (S), Fūrubba (E) and Fakusama (W).

Mandalas represent a universe or a microcosm of the universe, perfectly connecting every element from the edge to the core.

In a landscape dominated by the sea, and a seafaring people within it, being correctly oriented is of utmost importance. Creating order out of chaos was essential. Without accurate mapping, ancient islanders perceived themselves living in a great Mandala - a calm inner eterevaru lagoon, with their islands safely within. Beyond lies the futtaru, an unpredictable open sea.

Natural atolls such as Miladummadulu, Malosmadulu and Kolumadulu carry the word Madulu (Mandala) in their very names, mystifying the science of geography altogether.

Harmony was paramount in the island life. Change was feared and mistrusted. Suspicion was justified towards one who might appear to upset the delicate balance. Islanders were indignant and disgruntled by the unfamiliar visitors, or outside influences. It was a matter for alarm and worry, and a dreadful anticipation of an impending danger, or an incredible foresight for such a danger in the far-future.

The danger that an outbreak of illness may wipe out an entire island terrified the ancient Maldivian islanders. Lethal and sudden illnesses struck the islands periodically, causing distress and suffering. The island sorcerer or the fanditaveriyā would be sought to ward off the affliction with elaborate rituals and save the island.

Fever, boils and death were attributed to the Vigani, an amorphous evil, living inside of sick men and women, and consequently, they would be made to live far, far away from the village, within the forest or the beach. Fear ruled over mercy and compassion.

Among the spirits within the island, it is believed that the dakō appeared when the diseases of the Vigani spreads on the island. In Southern Maldives, the dakō is believed to be the companion of the Vigani, as it comes along with it.

The ambivalence within the Dhivehi woman, and the surrounding ocean is a recurring theme. A beautiful woman and nurturing mother could be provoked to become a vicious, fearsome and powerful terror. A nourishing and bountiful ocean could quickly be a vast, dark, haunting and dangerous place. The Dhivehi woman, and the Maldivian seas are double-edged swords in folklore, and possibly the most feared aspects of ancestral Maldivian island life.

In the Maldivian traditional wisdom, the worst sins of a man or woman are greed and arrogance. Many tales told and retold highlight the dangers of greed and arrogance, and the outcomes of behaving like so usually would lead one to ruin and despair.

The story “Fruits of Greed” tells the tale of Kayddā & Maniku, who meet a beautiful woman in the forest. Upon seeing them wailing in despair over the poverty of their family, she provides them with a few gold coins. Kayddā & Maniku take the strange woman’s gift, and as she advised, built a small fishing boat. Eventually, their family begins to live a happy and contented life without struggle. However, greed convinces them to go back to the forest for more gold coins, leading them to face the wrath of the woman of the forest, who was no longer beautiful nor kind as she had been before.

“All of a sudden a monstrous being appeared in front of them and they held each other in terror. It was not the lovely girl they had expected, but a hideous-looking woman. Her face was too horrible to behold, with a wide mouth full of huge sharp teeth, a wild mane of hair and hands with long nails, stained with blood. She looked cruelly at them with bloodshot eyes and spoke with a roaring voice, “Why did you come here again? Did I tell you to come?”

The frightened couple didn’t dare to utter a word. Instead, they turned around in panic and fled as fast as they could. When Kayddā and Maniku arrived home, they were panting and shivering. The very next day, while Maniku was out fishing, his sailboat crashed against a hidden coral reef and sank. He barely managed to save himself and came back home with only the clothes he wore. After this he and his wife Kayddā became again a poor wretched couple. They lived as miserably as they had been living before.”

— Xavier Romero-Frias; “The Fruits of Greed”; Folk Tales of the Maldives; 2012.

Acrylics & Gold Leaf Ink on Canvas, 100 x 70 cm

Mariyam Shany Ahmed (Manje)

Illustrates the story of a beautiful spirit who gave a poor couple gold coins to help them get by. The couple overtime became greedy and went against their vow to the spirit. The artwork shows a young pleasant woman painted with accents of gold leaf paint on and around her, and a hibiscus behind her.

It is said that in the darkness of long Maldivian nights, a regal-looking female spirit, whose skin is the colour of the deep ocean makes a stately entrance in her own splendor. Her permanent companion, Haiybōrāhi; the seven-headed snake looms behind her like a blue shadow, and attending to her are her seven daughters.

Believed to be a manifestation of the Hāmundi, this spirit causes fear in children. Perched atop the thatched roof huts, her mere presence ignites cold fright in the hearts of children and continuous crying follows her wake through the village.

Crying children was considered unusual in the Maldive islands. When a child wept, the islanders react immediately to still the child; using bananas and sweets; or simple silliness. Continuous crying was an ill omen, and believed to be a result of a pernicious spirit that if the child was not stilled soon, more evil would ensue and eventually lead to illness and death. Powerful magic in the form of fanditha was done against such spirits and demons.

The story of Kalobolā ('black head') describes a terrifying encounter, often retold in the bandhi form of verse, and tells the tale of the night-spirit whisking away a crying boy eastwards, from island to island in South Huvadu Atoll. In some versions of the story, the boy returns safely after an adventure; in more disturbing versions he returns with one eye plucked out, or he does not survive the journey at all.

The forests of the islands were considered dangerous, particularly after the sun sets.

Beautiful women within the trees dominate many stories in Maldivian folklore - the Handi is a manifestation of female power. She emerges from the deepest depths of the forest when the sun is low, and the sky is golden. Her voice is eerily soothing and she might converse in alluring raivaru or Maldivian couplets; song. Her face shines like the moon, her body adorned with fine gold and copper jewelry. Deep red wild flowers decorate her long black hair as it flows in the wind. She can go from beauty, benevolence and pleasure, to fearsome, terror and grave harm in the blink of an eye.

A burning fever is the first symptom of her presence.

Clay & Foam on Balsa Wood Base
Imma Rasheed, 2018

Represents the double face of femininity; from beauty to terror, gentle to powerful — the Handi.

The women of the island, like their matriarchal Dravidian ancestors, secured their own way. The gentle and equally powerful duals of women were appreciated and revered, and taken as a whole.

This is symbolised by their daunting role within the core of Maldivian mythology.

The waves crashing at the shore, followed a narrow and winding path to the village huts. The deeply feared Vigani, and the frightening Kaddovi; spirits of the dead, were believed to move in straight lines.

Villages were built with a deeper purpose, than simply following a sociological plan - sanctifying spaces was essential.

This is a story set in Kandûdû Island, on the southern rim of Miladummadulu Atoll, a thriving and populous island - once upon a time.

A young woman was resting on a dark log of wood that had drifted upon the beach, and could not help reliving her lascivious secret dreams by the sea. She returns to the same log time and time again, with lust in her heart and the ocean beneath her feet. The log, one evening, becomes a man - a tall, dark, and strong Maldivian fantasy. The man walked resolutely to the Island Chief’s house, finds the door open and enters the threshold. The Island Chief’s daughter finds him in the lamp-lit veranda of her house, with windswept hair and dark glistening skin. He only looks at her, and she is captivated. They had a beautiful, ravenous, passionate love and lived together in happiness.

Like her dream sadly, it was short lived, for the island sorcerer had long suspected that the Island Chief’s new son-in-law was not quite human, but a Bēri - a spirit from the sea. With powerful magic, the sorcerer shunned the man from the island, and his devastated wife longed for her lover from the sea, until the day she died.

They say the reason why Kandûdû Island is deserted is because the Bēri returned with anger, and haunted the islanders. No one lives there anymore.

Acrylics on Canvas
100 x 120 cm
Raya Mansoor, 2018

“Oditan Kalege stayed awake at night and watched what his wife does, on the dark nights of the new moon. Seeing his wife becoming a monster at night, Oditān Kalēge decided that he had to stop Dōgi Āihā’s bloodshed there and then.

Thus, without wasting more time, the sorcerer gathered firewood, built a fire close to her.

Furious at seeing him, Dōgi Āihā Kālēge thrust her right hand forward, raised three huge waves of fire from the sea, and hurled them after him. The massive effort left her exhausted. Instantly she died. Meanwhile Oditān Kalēge saw the three flaming waves fast approaching him. Being near an islet, he hastily made for its beach. The moment he stepped on the sand, he was beyond their reach. Hence, they turned into waves of water, and so he was saved.

To this day, at a point near the beach of Golā Konā in Haddummati Atoll, ocean swells break constantly into series of three waves. Natives of the atoll attribute this natural wonder to Dōgi Āihā Kālēge. They say that her magic fire waves became normal ones and stayed there forever.”

— Xavier Romero-Frias; “Oditān Kalēge and His Wife”; Folk Tales of the Maldives; 2012.

100% of the sales of paintings in our 2018 Exhibition go straight to our participating local artists of Maldives.

Heartfelt thanks to participating artists who donated to the Kuda Kudhinge Hiyaa Orphanage in the Maldives with their earnings.