A friend in need--Tour round the valley--Meet the Chief
Commissioner--March to Cachar--Tour through the Tankhool
country--Metomie--Saramettie--Somrah--Terrace cultivators--A
dislocation--Old quarters at Kongal Tannah--Return to the valley--A
sad parting.
On the 26th of November, my old friend Lieutenant Dun (now Major
Dun, D.S.O.), joined me. Knowing I wanted a friend to cheer me
in my loneliness, he had very kindly accepted the permission of
his department to accompany me on a tour through the hills to the
north-east of Manipur. No European was more deservedly popular of
late years among all classes in Manipur, where he had visited me
once or twice before. I felt his kindness deeply, he was always a
charming, genial and highly intellectual companion, and many a long
and tiring march was cheered by his society. On the 2nd of December,
we started on a preliminary tour round the west and south of the
valley, visiting the Logtak lake, with its floating islands, its
island-hill of Thanga, with its orange gardens and place of exile,
and large fishing establishment. When I first arrived in Manipur,
oranges were a rarity. Now, owing to the enterprise of the Maharajah
in planting trees, they were fairly common, and here we were able
to gather them. The orange tree is capricious and all soils will not
suit it, and up to the fifth or sixth year it is always liable to be
attacked by a grub that kills it, after that it becomes hardier. I
never was very successful with orange trees, though I took great
pains with them. From the Logtak lake, we marched to a place called
Thonglel, in the hills, where we were met by all the representatives
of the Kukis in that direction, thence to a place called Koombee,
a settlement of Loees, low-caste Manipuris. Afterwards we marched to
Chairel on the main river into which all the rivers of Manipur flow
before it enters the hills to the south of the valley. After visiting
Shoogoonoo, a frontier post, we returned to the capital, on December
11th, after a very pleasant tour of one hundred and forty-six miles
in nine marching days.
We next marched up the road to the Naga Hills, meeting the Chief
Commissioner, Mr. Elliott, at Mao, and returning with him to Manipur,
where the usual visits were exchanged. After a day or two's halt,
the Chief Commissioner set out for Cachar and I accompanied him to the
frontier at Jeeree Ghat, returning to Manipur by forced marches. The
bridge over the Mukker had been broken by a fallen tree, but the river,
so formidable in the rains, was easily fordable. A short time before
reaching the summit of Kala Naga, a pretty little incident occurred,
which I have never forgotten. Some of my coolies were toiling up the
steep ascent with their loads, when two young Kukis met us with smiling
faces as if something had given them great pleasure. They immediately
made two of the men with me put down their loads, and took them up
themselves to relieve the wearied ones. On my enquiry who they were,
they said they were friends of my coolies and had come to help them. It
was one of the prettiest sights I ever saw, the pleasure the two men
seemed to derive from doing a kind act. Dun and I reached Manipur
on the 10th of January. Soon after my return, in fact before the
evening, a Lushai was brought to me who had been found in the jungle
with his hands tightly fastened together by a bar of iron fashioned
into a rude pair of handcuffs. He appeared to be mad, but harmless,
and had probably been kept in confinement by his own people and had
escaped. I had the irons taken off, and ordered him to be cared for,
but he soon ran off in the direction of his own country.
On the 21st of January, Dun and I set off on our tour through the
Tankhool country. We marched via Lairen and Noongsuangkong, already
described. The country had been surveyed, but the surveyors had
taken names of villages given by men from the Naga Hills district,
and they were unrecognisable to the native inhabitants. Much of my
march, after leaving Noongsuangkong, was through a new country,
and a very interesting and lovely country it was. The benefits
of being under a strong government were evident in the peace that
reigned everywhere. The Manipuri language also had spread, and in some
villages seemed to be used by every one, while in others even children
understood it. It was evidently the common commercial language.
On the 26th, we halted on the Lainer river, the large village of
Gazephimi being far above us at some miles distant. It was late in
the afternoon but Dun wanted to see all he could, and accompanied
by some hardy Manipuris started. They all returned in a suspiciously
short space of time, just at nightfall, Dun having astonished every
one by his marching powers. He described the villagers as a surly,
morose set, the description always given of them.
On January 28th we reached Jessami, a fine village of the Sozai tribe;
they much resembled the Mao people. They crowded round us and were
much pleased when we showed them our watches, and allowed them to feel
our boots and socks. Some of the houses were large and well stocked
with rice. One old man took us into his house and showed us a shield
carefully wrapped up in cloth that bore the tokens of his having slain
fifteen people. The village contained no skulls, and our friends told
us that they obeyed orders and killed no one. We enquired about the
snowy peak of Saramettie, which was visible from some point not far
distant, but the people assured us that they had never heard of it.
On the 29th, some Metomi men came in with a young man who acted
as interpreter, he having been captured, and then kept as a guest
in Manipur for some time, to learn the language, by Bularam Singh,
who was the Minister accompanying me. He seemed quite pleased to see
his old host. The Metomi people were a strange set, quite naked,
except for a cloth over the shoulders in cold weather. They are
slighter built than the Angamis and Tankhools. They could count up
to one hundred, and three of their numerals, four, six and seven,
are the same as in the Manipuri language. They wear their hair cut
across the forehead like some of the tribes in Assam. Their patterns
of weaving rather resembled those of the Abors and Kasias, but were
finer. They wore ear-rings of brass wire very cleverly made, the wire
being imported through other tribes.
On the 31st, having heard that I should be well received, Dun and
I started for Metomi, with an escort of Manipuris. We first made a
descent of 2000 feet to the Lainer, which we forded, the water being
knee deep; there were the remains of a suspension bridge for use
in the rainy season. We then ascended for about 1000 or 1500 feet,
till near the village, when I halted my men and sent on my Angami
interpreter, and one of the Metomi men, to ask that a party might
come down to welcome us, as I had reason to think that the villagers
were undecided as to what they should do, and I feared to frighten
them. After waiting a long time, we heard a war-cry, and we all
started to our feet and seized our arms, in case of an attack; the next
minute, however, there was another cry, showing that the people were
carrying loads. Soon after a long line of men appeared, each carrying
a small quantity of rice, and the heads of the village came forward,
presenting us with fowls, and heaped up the rice in front of me. We
then walked on to the village, distant about a mile and a quarter,
along an avenue of pollarded oaks, backed by fir trees. At last,
after passing a ditch and small rampart, we reached the outer gate,
then passed along a narrow path, with a precipice to our right, and a
thick thorn hedge to our left for about eighty yards, as far as the
inner gate, on entering which we found ourselves in the village. We
were then led along a series of winding streets till we came to the
highest part.
This was the most picturesque Naga village I have ever seen, and
reminded me of an old continental town, the ground it covered, being
very hilly, and the houses, constructed of timber with thatched roofs
with the eaves touching one another, built in streets. Sometimes one
side of a street was higher than the other, and the upper side had
a little vacant space railed in, in front of the houses.
The houses were more like those of the Tankhools than the Angamis,
and contained round tubs for beer cut out of a solid block of wood,
in shape like old-fashioned standard churns. The village contained
pigs and dogs, and the houses were decorated with cows' and buffaloes'
horns. We were welcomed in a friendly way, but our hosts did not
seem to like the idea of our staying the night, of which we had no
intention. Our watches and binoculars greatly interested them. We
tried in vain to induce the women to come out, the men saying they
feared lest we should seize them. This seemed very strange, as it was
the only hill village I ever saw where the women had the slightest
objection to appear. As the Manipuris always respect women, it could
not be due to their presence, even had they had experience of them,
which was not the case. On leaving the village, we passed through
a splendid grove of giant bamboos, and then turned into our old path
again. Metomi was said to contain seven hundred houses, but that seemed
to me a very low estimate. We reached our camp near Jessami at 7 P.M.,
narrowly escaping a severe scorching, as some torch-bearers who came
to meet us, set fire to the grass prematurely, and we had to run hard
to escape the flames. I wanted to make a vocabulary of the Metomi
language the next day, but the whole village had a drinking bout,
and every one was incapacitated during the rest of our stay.
We marched to a place called Lapvomai on February 3rd, and next day,
wishing to explore the country beyond, Dun and I, with a picked party
of Manipuris, crossed the ridge above the village, and descending
to the stream below, began the ascent of the great Eastern range,
encamping in a most lovely spot in a pine forest. Every one was
too tired to search for water, so the Manipuris went supperless to
bed. Dun and I had brought a supply, which we shared with our few
Naga followers, the Manipuris being prevented from doing the same,
by their caste prejudices. Early next morning we started up the hill
again, leaving the bulk of our party a mile or two in advance of our
halting place, to search for water and cook. We, with two or three
plucky Manipuris, whom hunger and thirst could not induce to leave
us, pursued our upward path. At last we came on patches of snow, and
in a hollow tree found the remains of a bear which had gone there to
die. After a toilsome ascent, often impeded by a thick undergrowth of
thorny bamboo, we, having long passed the region of fir trees, reached
the summit at 8000 feet, only to find, to our great disappointment,
a spur from the main range blocking our view. As this range might have
taken another day to surmount, and after all be only the precursor
of another, we reluctantly traced our steps backwards, and reached
our party who found water and cooked their food. We witnessed some
amusing instances of rapid eating, on the part of our hungry followers,
who had well deserved their dinner. We then descended to the stream,
and encamped on its banks after being on foot for eleven hours.
Next day, we marched to our old encampment at Lapvomai. On February
7th, we marched to Wallong, passing through lovely scenery, a series
of deep valleys and ravines and high hills, with a splendid view down
the valley of Thetzir and Lainer, and beyond, the junction of the
latter with its north-eastern confluent, we finally encamped close
to a very remarkable gorge. On the 8th, we had another march to the
village of Lusour, where I greatly pleased a woman and some children,
by giving them red cloths, the former would have denuded herself to
put hers on, had I not prevented her. Next morning, before starting,
we had our breakfast in public, and ordered some boiled eggs; the
hill people are supremely indifferent to the age of an egg, and even
seem to think the richness of flavour enhanced by age, so that almost
all brought to us were either addled or had chickens in them. At
least two dozen were boiled before we found one that we could eat,
and as soon as an egg was proved to be bad, there was a great rush
of Tankhools to seize the delicacy, and our bad taste in not liking
them gave great satisfaction.
On February 9th, we reached Somrah, a most interesting but severe march
of eighteen miles. We first crossed a ridge 8000 feet in height, where
among other trees we found a new species of yew--Cephalotaxus. After
reaching the summit, we made a gradual descent along an exceedingly
steep hillside, where a false step would have landed us in the stream
2000 feet below. After this we descended more rapidly, and, crossing
a stream, followed a beautifully constructed watercourse through
some recently cleared land. We traced our way along its windings
for some miles, and then, after another ascent, at last came to a
lovely undulating path through a forest of firs and rhododendrons,
the latter just coming into flower. The path at length, after an
ascent of 200 feet, brought us to the village, a finely built one of
the regular Tankhool type, with over two hundred houses, built with
stout plank walls, and having an appearance of much comfort.
The next day we went to Kongailon, one of the Somrah group, making
a descent of 2000 feet to cross a river, and again ascending 5600
feet. We passed many skilfully constructed watercourses and much
terrace cultivation, indeed, the Somrah villages have the finest
system of irrigation I have ever seen, and the long parallel line of
watercourses on a hillside present a most remarkable appearance. At
Kongailon, we halted a day to explore the country, and receive
deputies from various villages. From the ridge behind the village,
at a height of from 7000 to 8000 feet, there was a fine view of the
Somrah basin--valley it cannot be called; it is a huge basin, the rim
of which consists of hills, having an average height of over 8000 feet,
the villages being on the inner slopes or on bold spurs.
On February 12th, a very severe march took us to Guachan,
a miserable-looking village full of very dirty people, many of
whom were naked, their bodies being covered with a thick coating
of dirt. We had to halt next day to rest the coolies, and to have
a path cleared ahead. On February 14th, we again started, halting
on the Cherebee river, at a height of 4400 feet. On our way, while
passing along a lovely ridge, covered with rhododendrons in flower,
we had a fine view of Saramettie, with its snow cap.
Next day, we marched over Kachao-phung, 8000 feet high, and encamped
on its slopes at 7600 feet. So perverse are the ways of the hill-men,
that the road, a well-used one, was carried within fifty feet of
the summit, though it would have been easy to cross at a much lower
level. We encamped in a primeval forest of huge trees, the branches
of which, moved by the fierce wind that blew all night, waved to and
fro with such a threatening noise as to preclude sleep for a long time.
On the evening of the 12th, one of our coolies was brought to me,
who had dislocated his shoulder. We had no doctor of any kind with us,
and no one who understood how to reduce it. Dun and I tried our utmost,
and I put the poor fellow under chloroform, to relax the muscles and
spare him pain, but, alas! with no result. I tried to induce him to go
to Manipur, and be treated by my native doctor there; but he objected,
and preferred going to his home; so I gave him a present and let him
go, and very sorry we were to see him relinquish his only chance
of getting right again. Every one ought to be taught practically
to reduce a dislocation; I had often heard the process described,
but never seen it done, and my lack of experience cost the poor Naga
the use of his arm. It is one of the saddest parts of one's life
in the wilds of India to meet cases of sickness and injury without
the power to give relief. Simple complaints I treated extensively,
and with great success, but it was grievous to see such suffering in
more complicated cases, and to be unable to do anything. A skilful and
sympathetic doctor has a fine field for good work in such regions. A
sick savage is the most miserable of mortals.
The good points of the Manipuris, as excellent material for
hardy soldiers, were brought out very prominently on these long
marches. No men could have borne the fatigue and hardships better or
more patiently than they did. It quite confirmed me in the opinion
I had long since formed that, taken every way, the Manipuris were
superior to any of the hill-tribes around them. I remember that
when at Jessami, one of the Manipuris, at my suggestion, challenged
any Naga, who liked, to a wrestling match, none would come forward,
though the villagers were a fine sturdy set. It was impossible, also,
to help noticing, as we went along, the very remarkable aptitude the
Manipuris possess for dealing with hill-tribes. The Burmese tried in
vain to subdue the Tankhools, and in one case a force of seven hundred
men, that they sent against them, was entirely annihilated. However,
as the Manipuris advanced, the different tribes, after one struggle,
quietly submitted, and on both occasions when I marched through the
north-eastern Tankhool country, the people were in admirable order,
and behaved as if they had always been peaceful subjects of Manipur.
Next morning, though the thermometer was at thirty-six degrees,
the Manipuris felt the cold so severely from the terrible wind
that had been blowing all night, that they did not attempt to cook
before marching, but started off and hurried down the hill to get
to a warmer region. I never knew the hardy fellows do this before,
and it shows the influence of a piercing wind in making cold felt,
as I have often seen them quite happy on a still night with the
thermometer at twenty-six degrees or lower.
Five more marches brought us to Kongal Tannah, where I encamped on the
ground we occupied in 1881-1882 when I was Boundary Commissioner. On
our way, we received a visit from Tonghoo, the redoubtable Chussad
chief, now a peaceful subject of Manipur, a man of the usual Kuki type,
imperturbable and inscrutable. Next day, I inspected the boundary
pillars I had set up, and found them intact, a satisfactory proof
that the settlement was not unacceptable to either Manipur or Burmah.
We marched back by the old route, encamping as we had done more than
four years before in the deep valleys of the Maglung and Turet. On the
24th, from the crest of the Yoma range, we saw the valley of Manipur
once more at our feet, and in the evening encamped at Ingorok. Next
day, I parted from my friend, I riding into Manipur, and Dun going
north for a few days' more survey of the country. He rejoined me
on March 2nd. Thus ended one of the hardest, but, at the same time,
one of the pleasantest marches I ever made, all the pleasanter for
the society of such a clever and charming companion. We spent one
more week together, and then Dun went back to his appointment in the
Intelligence Department, to my great regret, and I settled down to my
usual routine work, constantly varied by interesting little episodes.