Part 10 (2/2)
Besides the small knife for splitting rattan, which is the special implement of the Dayak woman, the fair s.e.x of the Penyahbongs has a parang, a spear, an axe, a bone implement used in working rattan mats, and a rattan bag which is carried on the back. The women in several Dayak tribes also possess such feminine accessories. With the Penyahbongs the male chiefly hunts, the female doing all the work. She makes the house, cuts the sago palm, and prepares the sago. When setting forth to bring home the animal killed by her husband she carries her own parang with which to cut it up, placing it inside the rattan bag on her back. With one or two other women she may go out with the dogs to kill wild pigs with a spear. When searching for the many kinds of fruit found in the utan her own axe is carried with which to cut the tree down, for she never climbs to pick the fruit. As for the durian, she waits until it falls ripe to the ground. The woman also brings water and firewood, does all the cooking, and then calls her husband that he may eat. Basketry is not known, but the rattan mat and the mat of palm leaves on which these natives sleep are nicely made by the women, who also manufacture the large mat on which the stamping of sago, by human feet, is performed. In changing abode women carry everything, the men conveying only the sumpitan and the darts, probably also a child that is big enough to walk, but the small child the woman always carries. If the men go to war the women remain behind and defend themselves if attacked.
Although the woman thus bears an absurdly large share of the family burden, nevertheless it cannot be said that her lot is an unhappy one, because she is not the slave of the man, as is the case, for instance, with the Australian savages. From time immemorial their society has known no other conditions, and the married couples are generally happy. Both of them treat their children with affection, and though the husband may become angry, he only uses his tongue, never strikes her, and he has no polygamous inclinations. Divorces, though permissible, do not occur, because there is a natural feeling against illicit relations with the husband or wife of another. Moreover, the rest of the community would resent it. Bangsul, who had been there seven years, had never heard of divorce.
When a man is near death his family and others gather around him to see him die, but without attempt to restore him to health. When dead his eyes are closed, he is washed, and a new chavat of fibre as well as a new s.h.i.+rt of the same material is given him. Tobacco is put in his mouth, four cigarettes on his abdomen, and on his chest and stomach are placed sago and cooked wild pig or some other meat for him to eat. Four bamboos filled with water are set upright near by. His sumpitan with its darts, poison for the darts, the parang, s.h.i.+eld, and his musical instruments if he has any--in short, one sample of everything he had is laid down by his side.
What little else may be left goes to the widow. When a woman dies she is treated in the same way, but the nose flute is the only instrument that accompanies her.
A tree is cut down and from the log a dugout is made in which the corpse is placed, a board being loosely fastened as a cover. This coffin is placed on a simple platform in the utan. There is no feast attending this rite. I visited the burial-place (taaran) of Tamaloe on the other side of the river about a kilometre away. It was difficult to find, for the small s.p.a.ce which is cleared of jungle whenever there is a funeral very soon grows up again. Only two boxes, each containing the corpse of a child, were in good condition, the rest having fallen down and disappeared through the action of rains and wild pigs.
After the husband's death the widow eats only every second day for a month; after that she is free to eat, but for a year she weeps twice a day, morning and evening,--though sometimes she forgets. The father, mother, and sister of the deceased also take part in the one-year period of wailing twice a day. After that period has elapsed the widow may remarry. For the widower there are practically the same regulations, though he does not weep loudly, and after eight months he can look for another wife; but first he must have taken a head.
CHAPTER XVIII
A STRANGE MAMMAL--ANIMAL LIFE IN CENTRAL BORNEO--A SUPERB AND SILENT REALM--VISIT TO A SALT WATER EXUDATION--Pa.s.sING THE DIVIDING RIDGE--A MOUSE-DEER CHASE--ON THE KASAO RIVER
I was planning a visit to the headwaters of the Busang River, to be made in connection with our future journey. Few natives, if any, have entered that region, which was described as very mountainous, though the mountains cannot be very high. But all who were approached on the subject, whether Penyahbong or Malay, absolutely declined to take part in an expedition to that country, because they would be killed by an animal called nundun, which is very numerous there. They might be able to tackle one, they said, but as soon as you encounter one there are hundreds more coming for you, and there is nothing else to do but to run for your life. Those regions, although known to be rich in rubber trees, are shunned by all natives.
Unless this is an altogether fabulous animal, which is hardly likely to be the case, because the Punans and Bukats confirmed its existence, it would appear to be a kind of bear which perhaps in fruit seasons gathers in great numbers, and which is ferocious.
Nundun, in Penyahbong and Bukat called bohang (bear), is said to run faster than a dog, is killed with the sumpitan at twenty to thirty metres distance, and is eaten. It is further declared that its habitat extends through the hilly regions between the headwaters of the Busang River and the Upper Barito, and that it is especially numerous near the kampong Kelasin. If any one with the hope of possibly finding a new species of mammal should care to follow the matter up, Kelasin on the Upper Barito would not be an extremely difficult place to reach, with good men. Both the lieutenant and I, having so many rifles, were much inclined to defy the terrors of the nundun, but desirable as this expedition would have been, it had to be given up because of the formidable difficulties in getting men, even if we followed the route over the watershed which is used by the natives.
Bangsul had undertaken to negotiate with us on behalf of the Penyahbongs and the Malays, and although in some ways he was an estimable man, his Malay characteristic of turning everything to his own advantage at times got the better of him and delayed an agreement. At first they demanded a sum amounting to seven florins a day for each of the twenty-nine men needed, but as fourteen Malay rubber-gatherers arrived very opportunely, it was agreed that we should be taken to the Kasao River for 300 florins and my six prahus. The natives had some trouble deciding how the prahus should be divided among them, the kapala insisting upon having the largest and best for himself.
This question having been settled through Bangsul, on March 22 we departed. Our prahus were poled most of the way on a stream which, though rather shallow, ran with a swift current, and at times made my heavily loaded craft take water. In Borneo it usually requires as many days to get up-stream as it takes hours to come down.
We stayed for the night at a former camping place of rattan seekers, a small, narrow clearing on the river brink, on which tents and sheds were huddled closely together in the way military men prefer when travelling in the utan. The paddlers had asked us to be ready at daylight, but at seven o'clock in the chilly and very foggy morning they were still warming themselves around the fire. An hour later, when we had finished loading the prahus, the river began to rise incredibly fast, at the rate of ten centimetres per minute in the first six minutes, and in two hours and a quarter it had risen 2.30 metres, when it became steady. In the meantime we had remade our camp, hoping that the river might permit us to travel next day. Three of the Penyahbongs went out hunting with the only sumpitan we had, and shortly afterward returned with a pig.
Early in the afternoon we were much surprised by the appearance of a prahu with three Dayaks who had a dog and a sumpitan and brought a pig which they had killed in the morning. They were the chief, with two companions, from Data Laong on the Kasao River for which we were aiming. The rumour of our party had reached his ears, and with thirty men he had been waiting for us on this side of the watershed. Their scanty provisions soon ran out, and after waiting nine days all had returned home except the present party, whom we welcomed. The new men proved a valuable addition to our crew. The kapala, who was attached to my prahu, was active and gave his orders as if he knew how, a great relief from a weak Malay that hitherto had been at ”the helm.” When the men with the poles were unable to move the boat against the current, the small, but strongly built man, with a few very powerful pushes, would bring it forward, making it vibrate by his strength.
At Tamaloe animals and birds were not plentiful, the call of the wah-wah usually imparting a little life to the mornings; and I once heard a crow.
I do not remember to have seen on the whole Busang River the most familiar of all birds on the Bornean rivers, an ordinary sandpiper that flits before you on the beach. Birds singing in the morning are always rare except in the localities of paddi fields. The one most likely to attract attention on a forenoon is the giant hornbill, and as we advanced up the Busang its laugh might still be heard. Much more unusual was the call of some lonely argus pheasant or a crow. A few of the beautiful white raja birds were observed.
Wild pigs and deer continued plentiful, but the monkeys seemed gradually to disappear. Fish there were in plenty, but they were now of smaller kinds, not agreeable to eat, having an oily taste and mostly very bony. At all our camping places ants of various kinds were numerous, also inside of the tent, but they did not seem to be obnoxious. Just before sunset the loud voices of the cicadas began, and after dark lovely moths were attracted by my lamp, while during the night bats flew in and out of my tent. The humidity of the atmosphere was great. Safety matches would not strike fire unless kept in an airtight box. My cameras were inside of solid steel boxes, provided with rubber bands against the covers, making them water-tight. Nevertheless, upon opening one that had been closed for three weeks the camera inside was found to be white with mould.
It was rough and hard travelling on account of incessant low kihams to be pa.s.sed, or banks of small stones over which the prahus had to be dragged.
The Penyahbongs had not yet learned to be good boatmen, often nearly upsetting the prahu when getting in or out. Occasionally long quiet pools occurred, and the scenery here was grand and thrilling. Graceful trees of infinite variety bent over the water, bearing orchids of various colours, while creepers hung down everywhere, all reflected in a calm surface which seldom is disturbed by the splas.h.i.+ng of fish. The orchids were more numerous than I had ever seen before. A delicate yellow one, growing in spikes, had a most unusual aromatic fragrance, as if coming from another world.
In the morning a curtain of fog lies over the landscape, but about nine o'clock it begins to lift, and creeping up over the tree-tops gradually dissolves in the sun-light, while between the trees that border the river the deep-blue sky appears, with beautiful small c.u.mulus clouds suspended in the atmosphere. With the exception, perhaps, of a large blue kingfisher sitting in solitary state on a branch extending over the water, or a distant hornbill with its cheerful grandiose laugh, there are no evidences of animal life, nevertheless the exquisite scenery seems to lure the beholder on and on. To pa.s.s through this superb and silent realm was like a pleasant dream. There are no mosquitoes and consequently no malaria.
We were progressing through a country of which little is known accurately beyond its somewhat hilly character, and the fact that it is uninhabited except for small transient parties of Malays searching for rattan or rubber. The upper part of our route to the divide, a comparatively short distance, had not, to my knowledge, been traversed by white men before.
Errors were corrected on the map of the watershed region.
One day at noon, while we were waiting for the largest prahu to overtake us, fresh tracks of pig were discovered on the bank, and the Saputan dog, a very wise animal, was landed. A few minutes later he began the peculiar barking which indicated that he had caught the scent, and one man seized a sumpitan and ran off into the utan as fast as his legs could carry him, holding the weapon in his right hand in a horizontal position, spear end first. It sounded as if the dog might be holding the pig in the water a little higher up, but this was soon found to be a mistake when the barking was heard close by. The Saputan kapala then jumped from my prahu, drew his parang, and with wonderful elastic movements disappeared in the utan. Two or three minutes later they returned, one man bearing in his arms a scarcely half-grown live pig, which had been hit by the sumpitan. The whole affair lasted barely ten minutes.
At another place, where we were again waiting for the big prahu, the Penyahbongs amused themselves with wrestling in water up to their shoulders. After some dancing around, the fight would invariably finish by both disappearing and after a few seconds coming to view again. This caused much merriment, especially to the wrestlers themselves, who laughed immoderately when reappearing.
We entered the tributary Bulau, and a couple of hours later arrived at its junction with Bakkaang, at the source of which we expected to cross the watershed. The river, which was rather narrow, would be difficult to ascend unless we had showers. Luckily rain fell during the night, and although delayed by trees that had fallen across the stream, which was from six to ten metres wide, we made a good day's work and camped at an attractive old clearing of rattan gatherers.
I spent the next forenoon in an excursion to a place within the jungle, where birds and animals sometimes congregate in great numbers to obtain the salt water which issues from the earth or rocks. This masin (salt water) was known to the Malay rattan seekers in our party, who had snared birds and deer there. In the dry season hundreds of birds of various kinds would gather. By wading up a small stream for twenty minutes we reached a place where water exuded from a rock, especially at its top, and by following the stream upward for another twenty minutes we arrived at the larger one, where the ooze from the rocks overflowed the ground. Only tracks were seen, but our guide said that after three rainless days in succession birds and animals would be sure to come there. Myriads of yellowish-gray flies covered the ground as well as the rocks, and after having taken some specimens of algae, also some white gelatinous stuff with which the Malays rub themselves when afflicted with beri-beri, I returned to camp.
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