THE TRIBES OF NORTHERN SIAM
Until recent years little has been known or said of the inhabitants who
occupy the remoter districts of Siam. Owing to its debilitating climate
and the many dangers of travel in jungle and wilderness, explorers have
thus far made but meagre contributions to our knowledge of the shy and
savage tribes in the north and west. In spite of our ignorance, however,
it is admitted that these various races found in the Indo-Chinese
peninsula present problems of great ethnological interest, the solution
of which will some day explain the origins of many language and race
puzzles now quite insoluble. To most foreigners, Siam is the city of
Bangkok and its neighborhood; yet, to obtain a fair conception of the
kingdom, as one of the foremost states of Asia, we must understand the
variety and extent of the country, a few glimpses of which we may have
through the reports of those who have penetrated its wilds.
For the most part, we are told by Mr. McCarthy, whose six years'
experience in superintending the government survey, entitles him to
respect as an authority, "the people settle on the banks of the rivers
and are employed chiefly in cultivating rice. There are but few villages
distant from the large rivers, and in the mountainous parts of the
kingdom the towns and villages are built in open flat valleys,
picturesquely surrounded by the mountains, which are clothed with
forests from top to bottom, the undergrowth being so heavy that one
seldom or never sees any sport which would change the monotony of daily
trudging through mountains, where one's view is confined to within ten
yards around. There is one peculiar feature in this population of
different nationalities, and that is that they do not amalgamate with
one another; thus it comes about that near Bangkok itself villages of
Burmans and Annamites are found living in separate communities,
preserving their own language and customs."
The region to the west of the Meinam is mostly mountainous and a perfect
wilderness of jungle, the country being sparsely inhabited. A short
distance from the broad valley the high range appears which forms the
water-shed between the Gulf of Siam and the Bay of Bengal. The portion
of this range which lies above the Malay peninsula appears to be drained
on its eastern slope, not by the "Mother of Waters" itself, but by its
neighbor, the Mei-Klong, running almost parallel with it from the
heights of the Karen country to the Gulf. "This river to Kanburi," says
Dr. Collins, an American missionary who was the first to cross the wild
district between Bangkok and Maulmein, "is an exceedingly winding,
broad, clear, shallow stream, with a slow current and well-defined
banks, on which are a few villages and many separated habitations. The
best land seemed to be in the hands of Chinese, who cultivate tobacco,
sugar-cane, cotton, and rice. Many of the Chinese located on the banks
of this river, as in other parts of Siam, have married native women and
form the best element of the population. Quite a number are Roman
Catholics, while all are sober, industrious, orderly, and prosperous."
After leaving his river-boat at Kanburi, the missionary pursued his
journey across country by elephant through the regions occupied by the
Karens, a simple and hardy race of mountaineers, who worship the forest
spirits. This folk occupy in small numbers the border-land between Siam
and Lower Burmah. "We saw," continues Dr. Collins, "very few signs of
animal life in the forests; generally a profound silence reigned, broken
only by the wild songs of the Karens, or the cracking of bamboos in the
pathway of the elephants. It is true, in the early mornings we would see
along the river banks whole families of monkeys basking in the warm
sunshine, and talking over the plans of the day, but as we passed along
they would retire into the depths of the forest. These forests could not
be infested with tigers and other dangerous animals, as we frequently
passed Karen families on foot, journeying from one village to another.
The Karens have settlements all through the jungle. Their small villages
consist of a few rude bamboo huts, and around them are cultivated their
upland rice and cotton, while the mountain streams furnish them fish in
abundance. Sometimes they raise fowls, and cultivate sweet potatoes, the
red pepper, and flowers. They seldom remain over two or three seasons in
the valleys, but move away to fresh land. Our forest paths led through
many abandoned Karen villages and plantations, where now rank weeds and
young bamboos supplant the fields of rice and cotton. The Karens with
whom we came in contact were mountain heathen Karens. They seemed to
possess no wealth, cultivating only sufficient land to clothe and feed
themselves. The women were fairer than the Siamese or Birmese;
and it was a pleasant sight to see them always cheerful and
industrious--pounding paddy, weaving their garments, or otherwise
occupied in their simple household duties, and lightening their toil by
singing plaintive native songs." Owing to a tradition that they would
one day receive a religion from the West, these people are said to be
peculiarly amenable to the influence and instruction of Christian
missionaries.
Of the Lao or Shan tribes owning allegiance to the King of Siam, we have
spoken very briefly in the second chapter of this volume. They probably
represent the mixed and deteriorated remnant of the aborigines who were
originally driven from Central China to occupy, under the national name
of _Tai_, the forests and coasts of Indo-China. Such accounts as we
possess of these peoples are fragmentary, and often strangely
contradictory, their tribal names and divisions being applied by
different travellers to a great variety of localities. In general,
although the names are often used interchangeably, the word _Lao_ seems
to be given to that part of the great Shan (or Tai) race who live in the
north and east of Siam, some of their tribes coming down as far south as
the Cambodian frontier. Mr. Carl Bock, in his notes taken on the spot,
explains that "there are six Lao states directly tributary to Siam, all
entirely independent of each other, but with several minor states
dependent upon these larger ones. The rulers in all these states, even
the smaller ones, are autocratic in their authority. Their chiefs hold
office for life, but their places are not hereditary, being filled
nominally by the King of Siam, but really on the election and
recommendation of the people, who send notice to Bangkok on the decease
of a chief, with a private intimation of their views as to a successor.
Tribute is paid triennially, and takes the form of gold and silver
betel-boxes, vases, and necklaces, each enriched with four rubies of the
size of a lotus-seed, and a hundred of the size of a grain of Indian
corn. Besides these are curious representations of trees in gold and
silver, about eight feet high, each with four branches, from which again
depend four twigs, with a single leaf at the end of each. The gold trees
are valued at 1,080 ticals (£135) each, and the silver ones at 120
ticals (£15) each.
"Of all Laosians, those living in the extreme north are the most
backward, and from what has been said it will be gathered that the
instincts of the people generally are not of a very high order. They are
mean to a degree; liberality and generosity are words they do not
understand; they are devoid of ordinary human sympathy, being eaten up
by an absorbing desire to keep themselves--each man for himself--out of
the clutches of the spirits. Their highest earthly ambition is to hoard
up money, vessels and ornaments of gold and silver, and anything else
of value; as to the means adopted for obtaining which they are not
over-scrupulous. They are extremely untruthful and wonderfully apt at
making excuses, and think no more of being discovered in a lie than of
being seen smoking. I give them credit, however, of being, generally
speaking, moral in their domestic relations.
"If a man's face is an index to his feelings, then the Laosians must be
bereft of all capacity to appreciate any variety of mental emotions. It
is the rarest phenomenon to see any change in their countenance or
deportment, except--there is always one exception to every rule--when
they are aroused to anger. This statement is more particularly true of
the men, but even the women--demonstrative as the sex usually are--are
seldom moved to either laughter or tears. Whatever news a Laosian may
receive, whether of disaster or of joy, he hears it with a philosophic
indifference depicted on his calm, stoical countenance that a European
diplomatist would give a fortune to be able to imitate. But when any
sudden feeling of anger or any latent resentment is aroused, then the
passion begins to display itself, if not in any great change of facial
expression, at any rate in general demeanor and in quick, restless
movements of impatience and irritation."
A rather more favorable estimate of Laosian character is made by the
missionaries who live among them, and presumably know them better.
"Considering their disadvantages," says Miss McGilvary, "the Laos are a
remarkably refined race, as is shown by many of their customs. Should a
person be telling another of the stream which he had crossed, and
wished to say it was ankle-deep, as he would feel a delicacy in
referring to his person, his expression would be, 'I beg your pardon,
but the water was ankle-deep.' If one wished to reach anything above
another's head, he would beg the latter's pardon before raising his
hand. A great and passionate love for flowers and music also indicates a
delicacy of feeling. Although before missionaries went there the women
did not know how to read, they were always trained to be useful in their
homes, and a Laos girl who does not know how to weave her own dress is
considered as ignorant as a girl in this country who does not know how
to read.
"The holiday which most interests the missionaries' children is the New
Year, when all, and especially the young, give themselves up to a
peculiar form of merry-making, consisting in giving everyone a shower.
Armed with buckets of water and bamboo reeds, by which they can squirt
the water some distance, these people place themselves at the doors and
gates and on the streets, ready to give any passer-by a drenching,
marking out as special victims those who are foolish enough to wear good
clothes on such a day. It is most amusing to watch them, after
exhausting their supply of water, hasten to the river or well and run
back, fearing the loss of one opportunity. Sometimes several torrents
are directed on one individual; then, after the drenching, shouts of
laughter fill the air. On this day the king and his court, with a long
retinue of slaves, go to the river. Some of the attendants carry silver
or brass basins filled with water perfumed with some scented shrub or
flower. When the king reaches the river's brink he goes a few steps into
the water, where he takes his stand, while the princes and nobles
surround him. The perfumed water is poured on the king's head, afterward
on the heads of the nobles, and they plunge into the river with noisy
splashings and laughter. The custom is also observed in families. A
basin of water is poured on the head of the father, mother, and
grandparents, by the eldest son or by some respected member of the
family. The ceremony has some religious significance, being symbolical
of blessings and felicity; a formula of prayer accompanies the ceremony
in each case."
Like remote and uncivilized tribes the world over, the Laos are
extremely and fanatically superstitious. Their fears of the supernatural
are far more influential in directing their daily lives than their
respect for the doctrines and practices of Buddhism, which is their
accepted religion. An interesting account of one of their ruling
delusions is quoted from Mr. Holt Hallett's article on Zimmé (Cheung
Mai) in _Blackwood's Magazine_ for September, 1889. "The method
practised when consulting the beneficent spirits--who like mortals are
fond of retaliating when provoked--is as follows: When the physician's
skill has been found incapable of mastering a disease, a
spirit-medium--a woman who claims to be in communion with the
spirits--is called in. After arraying herself fantastically, the medium
sits on a mat that has been spread for her in the front veranda, and is
attended to with respect, and plied with arrack by the people of the
house, and generally accompanied in her performance by a band of village
musicians with modulated music. Between her tipplings she chants an
improvised doggerel, which includes frequent incantations, till at
length, in the excitement of her potations, and worked on by her song,
her body begins to sway about and she becomes frantic and seemingly
inspired. The spirits are then believed to have taken possession of her
body, and all her utterances from that time are regarded as those of the
spirits.
"On showing signs of being willing to answer questions, the relations or
friends of the sick person beseech the spirits to tell them what
medicines and food should be given to the invalid to restore him or her
to health; what they have been offended at; and how their just wrath may
be appeased. Her knowledge of the family affairs and misdemeanors
generally enables her to give shrewd and brief answers to the latter
questions. She states that the _Pee_--in this case the ancestral, or,
perhaps, village spirits--are offended by such an action or actions, and
that to propitiate them such and such offerings should be made. In case
the spirits have not been offended, her answers are merely a
prescription, after which, if only a neighbor, she is dismissed with a
fee of two or three rupees and, being more or less intoxicated, is
helped home. In case the spirit medium's prescription proves
ineffective, and the person gets worse, witchcraft is sometimes
suspected and an exorcist is called in. The charge of witchcraft means
ruin to the person accused, and to his or her family. It arises as
follows: The ghost or spirit of witchcraft is called Pee-Kah. No one
professes to have seen it, but it is said to have the form of a horse,
from the sound of its passage through the forest resembling the clatter
of a horse's hoofs when at full gallop. These spirits are said to be
reinforced by the deaths of very poor people, whose spirits were so
disgusted with those who refused them food or shelter, that they
determined to return and place themselves at the disposal of their
descendants, to haunt their stingy and hard-hearted neighbors. Should
anyone rave in delirium, a Pee-Kah is supposed to have passed by. Every
class of spirits--even the ancestral, and those that guard the streets
and villages--are afraid of the Pee-Kah. At its approach the household
spirits take instant flight, nor will they return until it has worked
its will and retired, or been exorcised. Yet the Pee-Kah is, as I have
shown, itself an ancestral spirit, and follows as their shadow the son
and daughter as it followed their parents through their lives. It is not
ubiquitous, but at one time may attend the parent, and at another the
child, when both are living. Its food is the entrails of its living
victim, and its feast continues until its appetite is satisfied, or the
feast is cut short by the incantations of the spirit-doctor or exorcist.
Very often the result is the death of its victim. When the witch-finder
is called in he puts on a knowing look, and after a cursory examination
of the person, generally declares that the patient is suffering from a
Pee-Kah. His task is then to find out whose Pee-Kah is devouring the
invalid.
"After calling the officer of the village and a few headmen as
witnesses, he commences questioning the invalid. He first asks 'Whose
spirit has bewitched you?' The person may be in a stupor, half
unconscious, half delirious from the severity of the disease, and
therefore does not reply. A pinch or a stroke of a cane may restore
consciousness. If so, the question is repeated; if not, another pinch or
stroke is administered. A cry of pain may be the result. That is one
step toward the disclosure; for it is a curious fact that, after the
case has been pronounced one of witchcraft, each reply to the question,
pinch, or stroke is considered as being uttered by the Pee-Kah through
the mouth of the bewitched person. A person pinched or caned into
consciousness cannot long endure the torture, especially if reduced by a
long illness. Those who have not the wish or the heart to injure anyone,
often refuse to name the wizard or witch until they have been
unmercifully beaten. Or the sick person naming an individual as the
owner of the spirit, other questions are asked, such as, 'How many
buffaloes has he?' 'How many pigs?' 'How many chickens?' 'How much
money?' etc. The answers to the questions are taken down by a scribe. A
time is then appointed to meet at the house of the accused, and the same
questions as to his possessions are put to him. If his answers agree
with those of the sick person, he is condemned and held responsible for
the acts of his ghost.
"The case is then laid before the judge of the court, the verdict is
confirmed, and a sentence of banishment is passed on the person and his
or her family. The condemned person is barely given time to sell or
remove his property. His house is wrecked or burnt, and the trees in the
garden cut down, unless it happens to be sufficiently valuable for a
purchaser to employ an exorcist, who for a small fee will render the
house safe for the buyer; but it never fetches half its cost, and must
be removed from the haunted ground. If the condemned person lingers
beyond the time that has been granted to him, his house is set on fire,
and, if he still delays, he is whipped out of the place with a cane. If
he still refuses to go, or returns, he is put to death.
"Some years ago a case came to the knowledge of the missionaries, where
two Karens were brought to the city by some of their neighbors, charged
with causing the death of a young man by witchcraft. The case was a
clear one against the accused. The young man had been possessed of a
musical instrument, and had refused to sell it to the accused, who
wished to purchase it. Shortly afterward he became ill and died in
fourteen days. At his cremation, a portion of his body would not burn,
and was of a shape similar to the musical instrument. It was clear that
the wizards had put the form of the coveted instrument into his body to
kill him. The Karens were beheaded, notwithstanding that they protested
their innocence, and threatened that their spirits should return and
wreak vengeance for their unjust punishment. In Mr. Wilson's opinion,
the charge of witchcraft often arises from envy or from spite, and
sickness for the purpose of revenge is sometimes simulated. A neighbor
wants a house or garden, and the owner either requires more than he
wishes to pay or refuses to sell. Covetousness consumes his heart, and
the witch-ghost is brought into action. Then the covetous person, or his
child, or a neighbor falls ill, or feigns illness; the ailment baffles
the skill of the physician, and the witch-finder is called in. Then all
is smooth sailing, and little is left to chance."
The following paragraphs from the same article give an agreeable picture
of Cheung Mai, or Zimmé, the chief town of this region, and the
headquarters of an important branch of the American Presbyterian
Mission.
"The city of Zimmé, which lies 430 yards to the west of the river, is
divided into two parts, the one embracing the other like the letter L on
the south and east sides. The inner city faces the cardinal points, and
is walled and moated all round. The walls are of brick, 22 feet high,
and crenelated at the top, where they are 3-1/2 feet broad. The moat
surrounding the walls is 30 feet wide and 7 feet deep. The outer city is
more than half a mile broad, and is partly walled and partly palisaded
on its exterior sides. Both cities are entered by gates leading in and
out of a fortified courtyard. The inner city contains the palace of the
head king, the residences of many of the nobility and wealthy men, and
numerous religious buildings. In the outer city, which is peopled
chiefly by the descendants of captives, the houses are packed closer
together than in the inner one, the gardens are smaller, the religious
buildings fewer, and the population more dense. The floors of the houses
are all raised six or eight feet from the ground, and the whole place
has an air of trim neatness about it. Dr. Cheek estimates the population
of the area covered by the city and its suburbs at about one hundred
thousand souls....
"It is a pretty sight in the early morning to watch the women and girls
from neighboring villages streaming over the bridge on their way to the
market, passing along in single file, with their baskets dangling from
each end of a shoulder-bamboo, or accurately poised on their heads. The
younger women move like youthful Dianas, with a quick, firm, and elastic
tread, and in symmetry of form resemble the ideal models of Grecian art.
The ordinary costume of these graceful maidens consists of flowers in
their hair, which shines like a raven's wing and is combed back and
arranged in a neat and beautiful knot; a petticoat or skirt, frequently
embroidered near the bottom with silk, worsted, cotton, or gold and
silver thread; and at times a pretty silk or gauze scarf cast carelessly
over their bosom and one shoulder. Of late years, moreover, the
missionaries have persuaded their female converts and the girls in their
schools to wear a neat white jacket, and the custom is gradually
spreading through the city and into the neighboring villages. The elder
women wear a dark-blue cotton scarf which is sometimes replaced by a
white cotton spencer, similar to that worn by married ladies in Burmah,
and have an extra width added to the top of their skirt which can be
raised and tucked in at the level of the armpit. On gala occasions it is
the fashion to twine gold chains round the knot of their hair, and
likewise adorn it with a handsome gold pin. The Shans are famous for
their gold and silver chased work; and beautifully designed gold and
silver ornaments, bracelets, necklaces, and jewel-headed cylinders in
their ear-laps are occasionally worn by the wealthier classes."
Notices of the wilder tribes who inhabit the northeast of Siam are
extremely inadequate, the region being practically unvisited by
Europeans, and almost unknown to its titular sovereign, the king. The
French expedition under Lagrée passed through the lower edge of the
country on their toilsome journey up the Mekong in 1867, and M. de Carné
furnishes us with some particulars of the natives in and about the chief
centre, Luang Phrabang. "One must go," he says, "to the market to judge
the variety of costumes and types. At a glance at this mixed population
the least skilful of anthropologists would see beforehand the
inextricable confusion of races and languages which he will meet at a
short distance from Luang-Praban. Numbers of savages who have submitted
to the king come every morning to the town to sell or buy. They live in
the mountains. Their dress is extremely simple; so much so that it could
hardly be lessened.... The Laotians, who are very proud of their
half-civilization, look on these savages as much inferior to themselves,
and indeed as almost contemptible. Every group of three miserable huts
of theirs has a name of its own, known in the neighborhood; but the most
important village of the people, who may be regarded as the original
owners of the country, is called by the common and scornful name of
Ban-Kas [or Bang Kha,] a kraal of savages. The stranger refuses to
accept this estimate formed by perverted pride. The savages are hard
workers, and the finest fields of rice and noblest herds of cattle I
have seen have been in their parts of the country. They are all shy at
first, but they are easily brought to be familiar. How often have I in
my walks had to ask these children of the woods for shelter from the
sun, or water to quench my thirst, or a mat on which to forget my
fatigue! They did not understand my words, but divined with the quick
instinct of hospitality the wants which brought me among them, and
hastened to satisfy them. I have enjoyed positive feasts in these huts,
where the bamboo, worked in a hundred ways, spread all the luxury before
me it could display; and I cannot recall without gratitude the
recollection of a collation made up of sticky rice, smoked iguana legs,
and pepper, which a savage, some sixty years of age, whom I met in the
forest, to whom my long beard caused astonishment rather than fear,
offered me one day."
This was during the Mohammedan rebellion in southern China, when the
natives south of the empire enjoyed a comparative degree of peace and
prosperity. Since the conclusion of this and the Taiping insurrection,
and the sharp conflict of the French in Annam, great numbers of Chinese,
many of them the dregs of their country, have flocked to this wild
region, and under their different "flags" or bands have for many years
past inflicted untold misery in the gradual extermination of these
harmless natives. The devastators of this beautiful region are known
generally as Haws. Our latest and most exact information about them
comes from Mr. McCarthy, who was sent with a party by King Chulalonkorn
to investigate the raids perpetrated in the kingdom by these wandering
robbers. "The term Haw," he informs us, "is the Lao word for Chinamen,
but it is now being applied to those worthies who employ their time in
plundering. It is supposed that they were originally remnants of the old
Taiping rebellion, who settled in Tonquin and lent themselves as
soldiers to the then Annamite governors. In time they became too
powerful for the governors and either exacted a large annual payment in
silver or became governors themselves. They ranged themselves under
different standards, the principal colors of which were black, red,
yellow and striped (red, white and blue). The name of the chief of the
standard was written in Chinese characters on the principal one. The
bands were composed of Chinese from Yunnan, Kwangsi, and Kwangtung [the
three southern provinces of China]. They ravaged the countries near
them, extending their operations yearly, the governors of which used to
employ another band to revenge their wrongs; and in this way the
different flags were constantly fighting one against another until the
French war in Tonquin, when they became united for the single purpose of
fighting the French.
"It was the Haws of the striped banner who overran Chiang Kwang or Muang
Puen about the year 1873, and extended their ravages as far as Nongkai
[on the bend of the Mekong in about latitude 18°]; here, however, they
were destroyed by the Siamese. They came back, and the same Siamese
general, Phraya Rat, who defeated them before, was sent against them
again. He was wounded, however, shortly after making his attack upon
their position, and the Haws eventually escaped. The honor of destroying
the place fell to Phra Amarawasie, the son of the prime-minister, who
has done credit to the training he received at the Royal Academy of
Woolwich. On the northeast of Luang Phrabang, Phraya Suri Sak, a general
in whom the king has always placed implicit trust, has been operating
against Black Flags and Yellow Flags. These Black Flags are excellently
armed with Remingtons, Martini-Henries, Sniders, and repeating rifles,
and their ammunition is of the best, being all solid brass cartridges
from Kynoch of Birmingham. I understand that an arrangement has been
entered into by which the Haws are to be suppressed by the combined
action of the French and Siamese. Let us hope that these beautiful
countries will soon be restored to prosperity, and the inhabitants left
free to lead the peaceful lives they so much desire."[9]
FOOTNOTES:
[9] Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society for March, 1888.