RESUMPTION OF MY JOURNEY UP THE KAYAN RIVER--LONG PANGIAN--BERI-BERI--
HINTS ON PROPER PROVISIONS--KENYAHS FROM CENTRAL BORNEO--EFFECT OF A
SPIDER'S BITE
Shortly after my arrival in Tandjong Selor, fifty Dayaks, mostly Kenyahs,
Oma Bakkah, and some Kayans, arrived from distant Apo Kayan on a trading
expedition, and I considered this rather fortunate, as it would largely
solve the difficult question of prahus and men for my journey up the
river. The controleur and the Sultan also co-operated in assisting me to
make a start, but when at last all seemed in readiness, the Malays allowed
one of our prahus to drift away down toward the sea; after other similar
delays I finally began my expedition up the Kayan River.
At the old pasang-grahan near Kaburau, I found that during our two weeks'
absence surprising changes had taken place in the vegetation of the
immediate surroundings. The narrow path leading from the river up the
embankment was now closed by large plants in flower, one species looking
like a kind of iris. The grass which we had left completely cut down had
grown over twenty centimeters. (Three weeks later it was in bloom.) It was
the month of March and several big trees in the surrounding jungle were
covered with masses of white blossoms.
It is about 112 kilometres from Tandiong Selor to Long Pangian, our first
halting-place, and, as the current of the river is not strong until the
last day, the distance may be covered in four days. When low the Kayan
River is light greenish-brown, but when high the colour changes to a muddy
red-brown with a tinge of yellow. We used the dilapidated pasang-grahans
as shelters, but one night we were obliged to camp on the river bank, so I
had the tall, coarse grass cut down on the embankment, which was a few
metres higher than the beach. Underneath the tall growth was another kind
of grass, growing low and tangled like a mat, which could be disposed of
by placing poles under it, lifting it and rolling it back, while at the
same time the few roots attaching it to the ground were cut with swords.
In less than fifteen minutes I had a safe place for my tent.
The Dayaks, however, who have little to concern them except their prahus,
in which is left whatever baggage they may have, as usual slept in the
prahus or on the stony beach. During the night the river rose a metre, and
some of the men awoke in water. The Chinese mandur, notwithstanding my
warnings, had tied his prahu carelessly, and in the middle of the night it
drifted off, with lighted lamp and two Dayaks sleeping in it. Luckily some
of the others soon discovered the accident and a rescuing party brought it
back early in the morning. The "kitchen" had been moved up to my place,
and in spite of rain and swollen river we all managed to get breakfast. I
had a call from the chief of the near-by kampong, who spoke excellent
Malay, and had visited New Guinea twice on Dutch expeditions, once with
Doctor Lorenz. One characteristic of the climate which had impressed him
much was the snow, which had been very cold for the feet. He was kind
enough to send me a present of a young fowl, which was very acceptable.
Long Pangian is a small settlement where ten native soldiers are kept,
under the command of a so-called posthouder, in this case a civilized
Dayak from the South, who met us at the landing in an immaculate white
suit and new tan shoes. It was warmer here toward the end of March than at
Tandjong Selor, because there had not been much rain for a month. The soil
was therefore hard, and in the middle of the day so heated that after a
shower it remained as dry as before. A few Chinamen and Bugis who live
here advance rice and dried fish to the Malays to provision expeditions
into the utan which last two to three months, receiving in return rubber
and damar. The Malays come from lower down on the river, and a good many
of them leave their bones in the jungle, dying from beri-beri; others ill
with the same disease are barely able to return to Long Pangian, but in
three weeks those who do return usually recover sufficiently to walk about
again by adopting a diet of katsjang idju, the famous green peas of the
East Indies, which counteract the disease. The Malays mix native
vegetables with them and thus make a kind of stew.
The rice traded in Borneo is of the ordinary polished variety, almost
exclusively from Rangoon, and it is generally supposed that the polishing
of the rice is the cause of this illness. The Dutch army in the East seems
to have obtained good results by providing the so-called silver-fleeced
rice to the soldiers. However, I was told that, in some localities at
least, the order had to be rescinded, because the soldiers objected so
strongly to that kind of rice. Later, on this same river, I personally
experienced a swelling of the ankles, with an acceleration of the heart
action, which, on my return to Java, was pronounced by a medical authority
to be beri-beri. Without taking any medicine, but simply by the changed
habits of life, with a variety of good food, the symptoms soon
disappeared.
It is undoubtedly true that the use of polished rice is a cause of
beri-beri, because the Dayaks, with their primitive methods of husking,
never suffer from this disease, although rice is their staple food. Only on
occasions when members of these tribes take part in expeditions to New
Guinea, or are confined in prisons, and eat the rice offered of
civilization, are they afflicted with this malady. In my own case I am
inclined to think that my indisposition at the commencement of my travels
in Borneo was largely due to the use of oatmeal from which the husks had
been removed. Rolled oats is the proper food.
Modern research has established beyond doubt, that the outer layers of
grains contain mineral salts and vitamines that are indispensable to human
life. Facts prove that man, if confined to an exclusive diet of white
bread, ultimately dies from malnutrition. Cereals which have been
"refined" of their husks present a highly starchy food, and unless they
are properly balanced by base-forming substances, trouble is sure to
follow. Scurvy, beri-beri, and acidosis have been fatal to many
expeditions, though these diseases no doubt can be avoided by a judicious
selection of provisions that insure acid and base forming nutrition in the
right proportion. [*]
[Footnote *: For an illuminating example of poorly balanced food, see
_Physical Culture Magazine_, New York, for August, 1918, in which Mr.
Alfred W. McCann describes the disaster to the Madeira-Mamore Railway
Company in Brazil, when "four thousand men were literally starved to death
on a white bread diet." In the July number may be found the same food
expert's interesting manner of curing the crew of the German raider
_Kronprinz Wilhelm_, which in April, 1915, put in at Newport News, in
Virginia, with over a hundred men seriously stricken with acidosis. The
crew had enjoyed an abundance of food from the ships they had raided and
destroyed, but a mysterious disease, pronounced to be beri-beri, was
crippling the crew. As the patients failed to respond to the usual
treatment, the ship's chief surgeon consented to try the alkaline treatment
which Mr. McCann suggested to him. The patients rapidly recovered on a diet
consisting of fresh vegetable soup, potato-skin liquor, wheat bran,
whole-wheat bread, egg yolks, whole milk, orange juice, and apples. No
drugs were administered.
It may be added that Dr. Alfred Berg (in the same magazine, September,
1919) recounts the cure of an absolutely hopeless case of stomach trouble
by the vegetable juice prepared according to McCann's formula. He has
found the results gained by the use of this soup in diet "so remarkable as
to be almost unbelievable."
The formula in question, as taken from McCann's article, is: "Boil
cabbage, carrots, parsnips, spinich, onions, turnips together for two
hours. Drain off liquor. Discard residue. Feed liquor as soup in generous
quantities with unbuttered whole-wheat bread."]
As a precautionary measure during my further travels in Borneo I adopted
the green peas of the Orient in my daily diet, and when properly cooked
they suit my taste very well. Every day my native cook made a pot of
katjang idju, to which I added as a flavour Liebig's extract, and when
procurable different kinds of fresh vegetables such as the natives use.
Almost any kind of preserved vegetables or meat, especially sausages, is
compatible with this stew, which is capable of infinite variations. For a
year and a half I used it every day, usually twice a day, without becoming
tired of it, and this regimen undoubtedly was the reason why the symptoms
of acidosis never reappeared.
I may add that besides this dish my main food was milk and biscuits,
especially those made of whole wheat. In the tropics no milk will keep
beyond a certain time limit unless it is sweetened, which renders it less
wholesome. I found Nestlé & Company's evaporated milk serviceable, but
their sterilised natural milk is really excellent, though it is expensive
on an expedition which at times has to depend on carriers, and in
mountainous regions like New Guinea it would be impracticable to carry it.
Under these conditions one is content to have the evaporated or the
sweetened brand. Sterilised milk, although perhaps a luxury, is a
permissible one when travelling by boat, but the fact that it remains
sound only a limited time should be borne in mind. However, it helped me
to resist the adverse conditions of travel in the equatorial regions, and
to return to civilisation in prime physical condition. When I had
opportunity I ate the rice of the Dayaks, which is not so well sifted of
its husks, and is by far more palatable than the ordinary polished rice. I
found the best biscuits to be Huntley and Palmer's College Brown,
unsweetened.
As regards one's native companions, the Dayaks or Malays are quite
satisfied as long as they get their full rations of rice and dried fish.
This is the food they have always been accustomed to and their demands do
not go further, although cocoanut-oil for frying the fish adds to their
contentment. Katjang idju was usually given them if there was sugar enough
to serve with it; they do not care for it unsweetened. I have dwelt at
some length on the food question, because information on this subject may
prove useful in case others are tempted to undertake journeys of
exploration and research in the East Indies. To have the right kind of
provisions is as important in the equatorial regions as in the arctic, and
civilised humanity would be better off if there were a more general
recognition of the fact that suitable food is the best medicine.
Our Dayaks from Apo Kayan, who had proved very satisfactory, left us at
Long Pangian. They had to wait several days before their friends caught up
with them, so they could continue their long journey. This party of
Dayaks, after spending one month at home in gathering rubber, had
travelled in five prahus, covered some distance on land by walking over
the watershed, and then made five new prahus in which they had navigated
the long distance to Tandjong Selor. Ten men had been able to make one
prahu in four days, and these were solid good boats, not made of bark.
Already these people had been three months on the road, and from here to
their homes they estimated that at least one month would intervene,
probably more.
The rubber which they had brought was sold for f. 2,500 to Hong Seng. They
had also sold three rhinoceros horns, as well as stones from the
gall-bladder and intestines of monkeys and the big porcupine, all valuable
in the Chinese pharmacopoea. Each kilogram of rhino horn may fetch f. 140.
These articles are dispensed for medical effect by scraping off a little,
which is taken internally with water. On their return trip the Dayaks
bring salt from the government's monopoly, gaudy cloths for the women,
beads, ivory rings for bracelets and armlets, and also rice for the
journey. Should the supply of rice become exhausted they eat native herbs.
At Long Pangian we were able to develop plates effectively by hauling
clear and comparatively cool water from a spring fifteen or twenty minutes
away. By allowing six cans (five-gallon oil tins) of water to stand over
night, and developing from 4.30 next morning, we got very good results,
though the water would show nearly 76°F. My kinematograph was out of
order, and desiring to use it on my journey higher up the river, I decided
to go again to Tandjong Selor in an endeavour to have it repaired. The
delay was somewhat irritating, but as the trip down-stream consumed only
two days, I started off in a small, swift boat kindly loaned to me by the
posthouder. Fortunately Mr. J.A. Uljee, a Dutch engineer who was in town,
possessed considerable mechanical talent: in a few days he succeeded in
mending the apparatus temporarily.
As I was preparing to return, another party arrived from Apo Kayan. They
were all Kenyahs, Oma Bakkah, who came in seven prahus, and proved so
interesting that I postponed my journey one day. The government has put up
a kind of lodging-house for visiting Dayaks, and the many fine implements
and utensils which these men had brought with them made the interior look
like a museum. Their beautiful carrying-baskets and other articles were
standing in a continuous row around the walls. These Kenyahs did not seem
to have been here before and were agreeable people with whom to deal. I
have not, before nor since, seen such a tempting collection of the short
sword of the Dayak which has grown to be almost a part of himself. In the
northeast these famous swords are called mandau, but the designation
parang is more extensively used, and I shall employ that name. One
exceedingly fine one, belonging to the chief, I purchased for three sets
of ivory rings, each set at fifteen florins, and one sarong. In the
blacksmith's art the Dayaks have reached a higher level than the otherwise
more advanced Malays and Javanese. There were three women in the party.
One of the men was dressed as a woman and his hands were tatued. Though
his voice was quite manly, there was something feminine about him and in
appearance he was less robust than the others. According to my Chinese
interpreter, who has travelled much, there are many such men in Apo Kayan.
I stopped over night at one of the Bugis settlements which have large
pineapple plantations. Such delicious pineapples as those in northern
Borneo, with an unusual abundance of juice and very slightly acid, I had
never before tasted. A gigantic white rat, about the size of a rabbit,
which had been caught working havoc with the pineapples, was offered me
for sale alive. I afterward regretted that, owing to the great difficulty
of transportation, I declined, as no doubt it was a rare, if not a new,
species.
In the evening, on my return to Long Pangian, I went to bed in the old
pasang-grahan which I occupied there. It consisted of a single large room
and had an air of security, so for once I omitted to tuck the mosquito-net
underneath me. But this was a mistake, for some animal bit me, and I was
awakened by an intense pain on the left side of my head which became
almost unbearable, then gradually subsided, and in two hours I slept
again. I applied nothing to the affected area because of the impossibility
of locating the bite. On the left side of my neck at the back soon
developed two balls of moderate size which had not quite disappeared four
years afterward. Next day I found a large dark-coloured spider which no
doubt was the culprit. When chased it made long high jumps on the floor,
but was finally captured. After that occurrence I paid strict attention to
the mosquito-net, and when properly settled in my bed for the night I felt
as safe against snakes or harmful smaller animals as if I were in a hotel
in Europe.