DAYAK DOGS--A FUNERAL ON THE MAHAKAM--OUR RETURN JOURNEY--AGAIN AT LONG
TJEHAN--IN SEARCH OF A UNIQUE ORCHID--A BURIAL CAVE
Every night while we were camped here, and frequently in the day, as if
controlled by magic, the numerous dogs belonging to the Dayaks suddenly
began to howl in chorus. It is more ludicrous than disagreeable and is a
phenomenon common to all kampongs, though I never before had experienced
these manifestations in such regularity and perfection of concerted
action. One or two howls are heard and immediately all canines of the
kampong and neighbouring ladangs join, perhaps more than a hundred in one
chorus. At a distance the noise resembles the acclamations of a vast crowd
of people. The Penihings and Oma-Sulings treat man's faithful companion
well, the former even with affection; and the dogs, which are of the usual
type, yellowish in colour, with pointed muzzle, erect ears, and upstanding
tail, are in fine condition. A trait peculiar to the Dayak variety is that
he never barks at strangers, permitting them to walk on the galleries or
even in the rooms without interference. Groups of these intelligent
animals are always to be seen before the house and on the gallery, often
in terrific fights among themselves, but never offensive to strangers.
They certainly serve the Dayaks well by holding the pig or other animal at
bay until the men can come up and kill it with spear. Some of them are
afraid of bear, others attack them. They are very eager to board the
prahus when their owners depart to the ladangs, thinking that it means a
chase of the wild pig. Equally eager are they to get into the room at
night, or at any time when the owner has left them outside. Doors are
cleverly opened by them, but when securely locked the dogs sometimes, in
their impatience, gnaw holes in the lower part of the door which look like
the work of rodents, though none that I saw was large enough to admit a
canine of their size. One day a big live pig was brought in from the utan
over the shoulder of a strong man, its legs tied together, and as a
compliment to me the brute was tethered to a pole by one leg, while the
dogs, about fifty, barked at and harassed it. This, I was told, is the way
they formerly were trained. As in a bull-fight, so here my sympathy was
naturally with the animal, which managed to bite a dog severely in the
side and shook another vigorously by the tail. Finally some young boys
gave it a merciful death with spears.
A woman blian died after an illness of five days, and the next forenoon a
coffin was made from an old prahu. She had not been ill long, so the
preparations for the funeral were brief. Early in the afternoon wailing
was heard from the gallery, and a few minutes later the cortège emerged on
its way to the river bank, taking a short cut over the slope between the
trees, walking fast because they feared that if they lingered other people
might become ill. There were only seven or eight members of the
procession; most of whom acted as pall-bearers, and all were poor people.
They deposited their burden on the bank, kneeling around it for a few
minutes and crying mournfully. A hen had been killed at the house, but no
food was offered to antoh at the place of embarkation, as had been
expected by some of their neighbours.
Covered with a large white cloth, the coffin was hurriedly taken down from
the embankment and placed in a prahu, which they immediately proceeded to
paddle down-stream where the burial was to take place in the utan some
distance away. The reddish-brown waters of the Mahakam, nearly always at
flood, flowed swiftly between the walls of dark jungle on either side and
shone in the early afternoon sun, under a pale-blue sky, with beautiful,
small, distant white clouds. Three mourners remained behind, one man
standing, gazing after the craft. Then, as the prahu, now very small to
the eye, approached the distant bend of the river, in a few seconds to
disappear from sight, the man who had been standing in deep reflection
went down to the water followed by the two women, each of whom slipped off
her only garment in their usual dexterous way, and all proceeded to bathe,
thus washing away all odours or other effects of contact with the corpse,
which might render them liable to attack from the antoh that had killed
the woman blian.
In the first week of June we began our return journey against the current,
arriving in the afternoon at Data Lingei, an Oma-Suling kampong said to be
inhabited also by Long-Glats and three other tribes. We were very welcome
here. Although I told them I did not need a bamboo palisade round my tent
for one night, these hospitable people, after putting up my tent, placed
round it a fence of planks which chanced to be at hand. At dusk everything
was in order and I took a walk through the kampong followed by a large
crowd which had been present all the time.
Having told them to bring all the articles they wanted to sell, I quickly
bought some good masks and a number of tail feathers from the rhinoceros
hornbill, which are regarded as very valuable, being worn by the warriors
in their rattan caps. All were "in the market," prices were not at all
exorbitant, and business progressed very briskly until nine o'clock, when
I had made valuable additions, especially of masks, to my collections. The
evening passed pleasantly and profitably to all concerned. I acquired a
shield which, besides the conventionalised representation of a dog,
exhibited a wild-looking picture of an antoh, a very common feature on
Dayak shields. The first idea it suggests to civilised man is that its
purpose is to terrify the enemy, but my informant laughed at this
suggestion. It represents a good antoh who keeps the owner of the shield
in vigorous health.
The kapala's house had at once attracted attention on account of the
unusually beautiful carvings that extended from each gable, and which on a
later occasion I photographed. These were long boards carved in artistic
semblance of the powerful antoh called nagah, a benevolent spirit, but
also a vindictive one. The two carvings together portrayed the same
monster, the one showing its head and body, the other its tail. Before
being placed on the gables a sacrifice had been offered and the carvings
had been smeared with blood--in other words, to express the thought of the
Dayak, as this antoh is very fierce when aroused to ire, it had first been
given blood to eat, in order that it should not be angry with the owner of
the house, but disposed to protect him from his enemies. While malevolent
spirits do not associate with good ones, some which usually are beneficent
at times may do harm, and among these is one, the nagah, that dominates
the imagination of many Dayak tribes. It appears to be about the size of a
rusa, and in form is a combination of the body of that animal and a
serpent, the horned head having a disproportionately large dog's mouth.
Being an antoh, and the greatest of all, it is invisible under ordinary
conditions, but lives in rivers and underground caves, and it eats human
beings.
Lidju, who accompanied me as interpreter and to be generally useful, had
aroused the men early in the morning to cook their rice, so that we could
start at seven o'clock, arriving in good time at the Kayan kampong, Long
Blu. Here, on the north side of the river, was formerly a small military
establishment, inhabited at present by a few Malay families, the only ones
on the Mahakam River above the great kihams. Accompanied by Lidju I
crossed the river to see the great kampong of the Kayans.
Ascending the tall ladder which leads up to the kampong, we passed through
long, deserted-looking galleries, and from one a woman hurriedly retired
into a room. The inhabitants were at their ladangs, most of them four
hours' travel from here. Arriving finally at the house of Kwing Iran, I
was met by a handful of people gathered in its cheerless, half-dark
gallery. On our return to a newly erected section of the kampong we met
the intelligent kapala and a few men. Some large prahus were lying on land
outside the house, bound for Long Iram, where the Kayans exchange rattan
and rubber for salt and other commodities, but the start had been delayed
because the moon, which was in its second quarter, was not favourable.
These natives are reputed to have much wang, owing to the fact that
formerly they supplied rice to the garrison, receiving one ringit for each
tinful.
Though next day was rainy and the river high, making paddling hard work,
we arrived in good time at Long Tjehan and found ourselves again among the
Penihings. During the month I still remained here I made valuable
ethnological collections and also acquired needed information concerning
the meaning and use of the different objects, which is equally important.
The chief difficulty was to find an interpreter, but an intelligent and
efficient Penihing offered his services. He "had been to Soerabaia," which
means that he had been at hard labour, convicted of head-hunting, and
during his term had acquired a sufficient knowledge of Malay to be able to
serve me. My Penihing collections I believe are complete. Of curious
interest are the many games for children, among them several varieties of
what might be termed toy guns and different kinds of puzzles, some of wood
while others are plaited from leaves or made of thread.
The kampong lies at the junction of the Mahakam and a small river called
Tjehan, which, like several other affluents from the south, originates in
the dividing range. The Tjehan contains two or three kihams but is easy to
ascend, and at its head-waters the range presents no difficulties in
crossing. This is not the case at the sources of the Blu, where the
watershed is high and difficult to pass. Small parties of Malays
occasionally cross over to the Mahakam at these points as well as at
Pahangei. In the country surrounding the kampong are several limestone
hills, the largest of which, Lung Karang, rises in the immediate vicinity.
Doctor Nieuwenhuis on his journey ascended some distance up the Tjehan
tributary, and in the neighbourhood of Lung Karang his native collector
found an orchid which was named _phalaenopsis gigantea_, and is known only
from the single specimen in the botanical garden at Buitenzorg, Java. On a
visit there my attention was drawn to the unusual size of its leaves and
its white flowers. I then had an interview with the Javanese who found it,
and decided that when I came to the locality I would try to secure some
specimens of this unique plant. Having now arrived in the region, I
decided to devote a few days to looking for the orchid and at the same
time investigate a great Penihing burial cave which was found by my
predecessor.
Accompanied by two of our soldiers and with five Dayak paddlers, I
ascended the Tjehan as far as the first kiham, in the neighbourhood of
which I presumed that the burial cave would be and where, therefore,
according; to the description given to me, the orchid should be found.
There was no doubt that we were near a locality much dreaded by the
natives; even before I gave a signal to land, one of the Penihings,
recently a head-hunter, became hysterically uneasy. He was afraid of orang
mati (dead men), he said, and if we were going to sleep near them he and
his companions would be gone. The others were less perturbed, and when
assured that I did not want anybody to help me look for the dead but for a
rare plant, the agitated man, who was the leader, also became calm.
We landed, but the soldier who usually waited upon me could not be
persuaded to accompany me. All the Javanese, Malays, and Chinamen are
afraid of the dead, he said, and declined to go. Alone I climbed the steep
mountain-side; the ascent was not much over a hundred metres, but I had to
make my way between big blocks of hard limestone, vegetation being less
dense than usual. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when, from
the top of a crest which I had reached, I suddenly discovered at no great
distance, perhaps eighty metres in front of me, a large cave at the foot
of a limestone hill. With the naked eye it was easy to distinguish a
multitude of rough boxes piled in three tiers, and on top of all a great
variety of implements and clothing which had been deposited there for the
benefit of the dead. It made a strange impression in this apparently
abandoned country where the dead are left in solitude, feared and shunned
by their former associates.
No Penihing will go to the cave of the dead except to help carry a corpse,
because many antohs are there who make people ill. The extreme silence was
interrupted only once, by the defiant cry of an argus pheasant. As the
weather was cloudy I decided to return here soon, by myself, in order to
photograph and make closer inspection of the burial-place. I then
descended to the prahu, and desiring to make camp at a sufficient distance
to keep my men in a tranquil state of mind, we went about two kilometres
down the river and found a convenient camping-place in the jungle.
On two later occasions I visited the cave and its surroundings, becoming
thoroughly acquainted with the whole mountain. The Penihings have an easy
access to this primeval tomb, a little further below, by means of a path
leading from the river through a comparatively open forest. The corpse in
its box is kept two to seven days in the house at the kampong; the body of
a chief, which is honoured with a double box, remains ten days. According
to an otherwise trustworthy Penihing informant, funeral customs vary in
the different kampongs of the tribe, and generally the box is placed on a
crude platform a metre above the ground.
As for the orchid, I, as well as the Dayaks, who were shown an
illustration of it, searched in vain for three days. There is no doubt
that I was at the place which had been described to me, but the plant must
be extremely rare and probably was discovered accidentally "near the
water," as the native collector said, perhaps when he was resting.