BANDJERMASIN, THE PRINCIPAL TOWN IN DUTCH BORNEO--NORTHWARD ALONG THE
EAST COAST--BALIK PAPAN, AN OIL PRODUCING CENTRE--SAMARINDA--TANDJONG
SELOR--THE SULTAN-UP THE KAYAN RIVER
Fifty miles from land the sea assumes a different aspect through the fresh
water of the great Barito flowing on the surface. Its red hue is produced
by particles of soil brought from the inland of Borneo. In the beginning
of December I arrived at Bandjermasin, the principal town in Dutch Borneo,
inhabited for the most part by Malays and Chinese. It is the seat of the
Resident of the vast South and Eastern Division and has a garrison. The
sea loudly announces its presence here, the tide overflowing much of the
low ground, hence the Malay name, _bandjir_ = overflow, _másin_ = salt
water. Large clumps of a peculiar water-plant float on the river in
Bandjermasin in great numbers, passing downward with the current, upward
with the tide, producing a singular, but pleasing sight. It is originally
a native of America and has attractive light-blue flowers, but multiplies
to such an extent that the growth finally may interfere with traffic. In
India I saw a lagoon completely choked with it.
There is one hotel where the table is fair and the beds are clean, but
blankets are considered unnecessary, and only sheets are provided. The
climate was not as hot as I expected, nights and mornings being
surprisingly cool. Early in July of the following year the morning
temperature was about 73° F. (23° C). Malaria is rare here, but there are
frequent indications of beri-beri.
Friends invited me to go on an excursion to a small island, Kambang, where
there are a number of monkeys to whom Malays who desire children sacrifice
food. On our arrival the animals came to meet us in a way that was almost
uncanny, running like big rats in the tall grass on the muddy beach. Many
remnants of sacrificial offerings were strewn about.
Two years later I was again in Bandjermasin, when an elderly American and
his wife appeared upon the scene-tourists, by the way, being very unusual
here. At the breakfast table they asked a young Dutchman the whereabouts
of the church and museum, and he replied that he did not think there was
either in the town. As a matter of fact there is a small wooden Dutch
church hidden away in a back street. Moreover, in 1914 the Resident, who
at that time was Mr. L.F.J. Rijckmans, had a house built, in Malay style
of architecture, for the safekeeping of Bornean industrial and
ethnological objects which had been on view at the exhibition at Samarang
in Java, thus forming the nucleus of a museum which at some future time
may be successfully developed. The Kahayan Dayaks, not far away to the
north, make exquisite cigar-cases from rattan, while the Bugis weave
attractive cotton goods, resembling silk, with an original and pleasing
colour combination.
The Europeans have a lawn-tennis court where they usually play every
afternoon. In Bandjermasin is the headquarters of a German missionary
society whose activities are confined mainly to the Kahayan River. They
are Protestants and worked for a great number of years without making any
noteworthy impression on the natives, but of late years they have been
more successful. Catholics, who came later, have a station on the Mahakam
River. The government wisely has separated Protestant and Catholic
missionary activities, restricting the former to the southern part of the
country, the latter to the northern.
There is no difficulty about getting up along the east coast northward as
far as the Bulungan, which was my immediate aim. The Royal Dutch Packet
Boat Company adheres to a schedule of regular fortnightly steamship
connection. On the way a stop is made at Balik Papan, the great
oil-producing centre, with its numerous and well-appointed tanks and modern
equipment, reminding one of a thriving town in America. One of the doctors
in this prosperous place told me that his two children of four and six
years enjoyed excellent health. Dysentery was prevalent among the coolies,
and occasionally cases of malaria occurred, but malaria is found even in
Holland, he added.
As we sailed up the Kutei River in the early morning, approaching
Samarinda, an attractive scene presented itself. Absolute calm and peace
reigned, a slight morning mist rising here and there before us and giving
a touch of charm to the vista of modest white houses that stretched along
the beach in their tropical surroundings. Samarinda lies almost on the
equator, but nights and mornings are always cool, even to a greater degree
than in Bandjermasin. Northeast Borneo and North Celebes have a
comparatively cool climate, but from Samarinda southward it is warmer. I
called on the assistant Resident, in whose office a beautiful blue
water-rail, with a red head, walked unconcernedly about. He advised me that
this was the worst time for travelling, when the northwest monsoons, which
are accompanied by much rain, are blowing.
The peace and contentment among the natives here, mostly Malays, impresses
one favourably. They are all very fond of their children and take good
care of them. The crying of children is a sound that is rarely heard. It
was my fortune to travel over two years in the Dutch Indies; it is
gratifying to state that during that time I never saw a native drunk, cit
her in Java or Borneo. My visits did not extend to the Muruts in the north
of Borneo, who are known to indulge excessively in native rice brandy. Nor
was I present at any harvest feast, but according to reliable report,
"strong drink is seldom or never abused" by the tribes of Borneo. The
Muruts and the Ibans are the exceptions.
Two days later, among mighty forests of nipa-palms, we sailed up the Kayan
or Bulungan River and arrived at Tandjong Selor, a small town populated by
Malays and Chinese, the number of Europeans being usually limited to two,
the controleur and the custom-house manager. It lies in a flat swampy
country and on the opposite side of the river, which here is 600 metres
wide, lives the Sultan of Bulungan. I secured a large room in a house
which had just been rented by two Japanese who were representatives of a
lumber company, and had come to arrange for the export of hardwood from
this part of Borneo.
Accompanied by the controleur, Mr. R. Schreuder, I went to call on the
Sultan. He was a man of about thirty-five years, rather prepossessing in
appearance, and proud of his ancestry, although time has so effaced his
Dayak characteristics that he looks like a Malay. Dato Mansur, his
executive, met us at the landing and escorted us into the presence of the
Sultan and his wife, where we were offered soda-water and whiskey, and we
remained an hour. They are both likeable, but the Sultan appears rather
nervous and frail, and it is rumoured that his health has suffered as a
result of overindulgence in spiritualistic seances. He gave an
entertaining account of natives living in the trees on the Malinau River.
As it had been impossible for me to obtain cartridges for my Winchester
rifle, the Sultan was kind enough to lend me one of his before we parted,
as well as two hundred cartridges. He also obligingly sent Dato Mansur up
the river to Kaburau, the principal Kayan kampong (village) to secure men
and boats for an intended expedition inland from there.
The main business of Tandjong Selor, as everywhere in Borneo, is buying
rattan, rubber, and damar (a kind of resin) from the Malays and the
Dayaks, and shipping it by steamer to Singapore. As usual, trade is almost
entirely in the hands of the Chinese. The great event of the place is the
arrival of the steamer twice a month. When the whistle is heard from down
the river a great yell arises from all over the town. The steamer is
coming! People by the hundreds run down to the wharf amid great excitement
and joy. Many Malays do not work except on these occasions, when they are
engaged in loading and unloading. The principal Chinese merchant there,
Hong Seng, began his career as a coolie on the wharf. He has a fairly
well-stocked store with some European and American preserved articles, and
was reliable in his dealings, as the Chinese always are. He was rich
enough to have of late taken to himself a young wife, besides keeping his
first one. His two young sons who assisted him had been at school in
Singapore, and were proud to air their knowledge of English.
The house where I lived was on the main street, on the river bank, and in
the evening the little shops on either side started playing nasty, cheap
European phonographs the noise of which was most disagreeable. Most of the
records were of Chinese music, the harsh quality of which was magnified
tenfold by the imperfections of the instruments. When the nerve-wracking
concert became intolerable, they were always good enough to stop it at my
request.
However, there was one feature about this remote place which was
repugnant--the prevalent flogging of children with rattan, mostly among
the Mohammedan Malays. Not a day passed without wails and violent cries
arising in some part of the town, especially during the forenoon, although
I did not perceive that the children here were more incorrigible than
elsewhere. The Dayaks never beat their children, and later I did not
observe similar cruelty among Malays. Wise though King Solomon was, his
precept not to spare the rod should be regarded in the light of his large
family, "700 wives, princesses, and 300 concubines." Even in the training
of animals, better results are obtained by omitting the lash.
In the beginning of January, 1914, I was able to start for Kaburau. The
controleur courteously provided for my use the government's steamship
_Sophia_, which in six hours approached within easy distance of the
kampong. My party consisted of Ah Sewey, a young Chinese photographer from
Singapore whom I had engaged for developing plates and films, also
Chonggat, a Sarawak Dayak who had had his training at the museum of Kuala
Lampur in the Malay Peninsula. Finally, Go Hong Cheng, a Chinese trader,
acted as interpreter and mandur (overseer). He spoke several Dayak
dialects, but not Dutch, still less English, for Malay is the lingua
franca of the Dutch Indies as well as of the Malay Peninsula. As we
anchored for the night I heard for the first time, from the hills that
rose near by, the loud defiant cry of the argus pheasant. How wildly weird
it sounds on a quiet evening!
The next morning the Kayans met us with boats to take us up to their
kampong, Kaburau. Some women were pounding paddi (rice) under the large
communal house which, in accordance with the custom of the country, was
raised from the ground on posts. Dogs were much in evidence, both on the
ground below and on the gallery of the house above. The canine species
kept by the Dayaks have erect ears, are rather small and their colour is
usually dull yellow. Here they were variously coloured, some entirely
black, and fights among them were of frequent occurrence. Ascending the
ladder I found a large tame bird of the stork family chained to the
gallery, for the Dayaks often keep birds and animals in their houses.
The chief very hospitably had prepared one room for all four of us to
lodge in, which did not exactly suit me, as I like to have a place where
at times I may be _chez moi_, for the night at least. There was no suitable
place outside for my tent, so I decided to paddle a few hundred kilometres
up the river to a dilapidated camping-house for travellers, put up by the
Dayaks under government order. Such a house is called pasang-grahan and may
be found in many out-of-the-way places in Borneo.
Though generally crude and unpretentious huts where travelling soldiers or
Malays put up, these shelters are very useful, especially for the night.
There is another kind of pasang-grahan, comfortable structures provided
with beds, similar to the rest-houses in India. In the more civilised
parts these are built for the use of officials and other travellers. The
one referred to had roof and walls of palm leaves, and as a matter of
course, stood on piles. Though said to be only three years old it was
already very shaky; still after clearing away the grass and some of the
jungle next to it, we established quite a comfortable camp.
Chonggat brought in a number of birds and animals here, among them the
lovely raja bird, snow-white except for the deep blue head, and with a
very long graceful tail. It is also called paradise flycatcher
(_terpsiphone_), and is found from Sumatra up into middle China. In Borneo
it is quite common, being observed also on the Mahakam in the central part
of the island. According to the legend, it formerly cost a man his life to
kill it. This man soon showed himself to be an excellent worker who took
his business very seriously and did not allow himself to be distracted
when I amused visiting Kayans with simple moving pictures and by playing a
music-box. The jungle, dripping with dew in the early morning, did not
deter him, and at night it was his custom to shoot owls and hunt for deer
or other animals. After arranging his tent with little or no help from the
Dayaks, he would next put up a frame-work on which to dry his skins, under
a roof of palm leaves; here a fire was always kept, without which the
skins would have spoiled in that damp climate. Chonggat had a fine
physique, was always pleasant and willing and was possessed of more than
ordinary intelligence withal. Also keenly humourous, he enjoyed my initial
mistakes in Malay, though maintaining a proper respect for the leader of
the expedition.
In the evening, having retired for the day, he, as well as the Chinese
photographer could be heard in their respective tents studying English
from small guidebooks which they had brought along. He told me that his
earnings were invested in a small rubber plantation which he and his
brothers worked together. Chonggat was a good example of what a native of
Borneo can accomplish under proper civilizing influences.
One morning he brought in a king cobra (_naia bungarus_) which he had shot,
and as life was not yet extinct I got a good photograph of it. This serpent
was about three metres long, but these very poisonous snakes, called ular
tadong by the Malays, attain a length of seven metres. They are beautifully
formed for quick movement, and will attack human beings, the female being
particularly vicious when it has eggs. "When I see ular tadong coming
toward me," said Chonggat, who was no coward, "then I run." There are
several species of very poisonous snakes in Borneo, but according to my
experience they are not very numerous. Two small ones, about thirty-five
centimetres long, are the most common varieties encountered in the jungle.
They are sluggish and somewhat similar in appearance, dark brown and red
being the principal colours. One of them has its under side decorated with
transverse sections of beautiful scarlet alternating with black.
Ah Sewey, the photographer, was also an efficient man, but at first we had
immense difficulty with the developing. One cannot count on water cooler
than 75° F., and at that temperature the films come out well, but in the
beginning many plates were spoiled. For the photographer in the tropics
the use of formalin is an absolute necessity. He must also face other
difficulties, avoiding among other things the possibility of having his
films, when drying, eaten by small species of grasshoppers.