DEPARTURE FROM THE PENIHINGS--FRUIT-EATING FISH--ANOTHER CALL AT LONG
PAHANGEI--A TRIP UP THE MERASI RIVER--GENIAL NATIVES--AN INOPPORTUNE
VISIT--THE DURIAN, QUEEN OF ALL FRUITS
It became expedient to prepare for our farther journey down the river, but
first I wanted to take some photographs and measurements of the kampong
people; this, however, proved an impossible task because of the adverse
influence of the reticent and conservative Raja Paron, who spoke not one
word of Malay. Recently he had been shocked by the sale to me of two live
specimens of the curious spectacled lemur (_tarsius borneanus_), which had
been added to my collections. The raja was incensed with the man who sold
them, because the makiki, as these animals are called, are regarded as
antohs, and in their anger at being sold were making people ill. Therefore
these new proceedings for which his sanction was asked were regarded by
him with disapproval, and as a result of his opposition the people began
to disappear in the direction of their ladangs. Fortunately, I had secured
good material in both respects from Long Kai, and I began preparations for
departure.
Prahus and a sufficient number of men were secured, and in the middle of
July we started. On the Mahakam there never was any difficulty about
getting men who were eager to gain their one rupia a day. The difficulty
was rather the other way, and this morning the prahus were found to
contain more paddlers than had been agreed upon, and seven surplus men had
to be put ashore. On the river-banks at this time were noticeable trees
bearing small fruit of a yellowish-red colour, and which were so numerous
as to impart their hue to the whole tree. Violent movements in the
branches as we passed drew our attention to monkeys, which had been
gorging themselves with fruit and scampered away on our approach. Birds,
naturally, like the fruit, and, strange to say, it is a great favourite
with fish, many kinds of which, chiefly large ones such as the djelavat
and salap, gather underneath the trees in the season. On the Mahakam and
the Katingan this is an occasion for the Dayaks to catch much fish with
casting-net, spears, or hooks. The tree, which in Malay is called crevaia,
is not cut, and there is no other known to the natives the fruit of which
the fish like to eat. Though not sweet, it is also appreciated by the
Dayaks.
Another singular observation made on the Mahakam was the effect of dry
weather on the jungle. At one place, where it covered hills rising from
the river, the jungle, including many big trees, looked dead. From what I
later learned about the burning of the peat in Sarawak, where unusually
dry weather may start fires which burn for months, this was undoubtedly
also the case here, but it seems strange that in a country so humid as
Borneo the weather, although admittedly of little stability, may become
dry enough to destroy the woods in this manner.
I had decided to pay another short visit to Long Pahangei, where we
arrived in the afternoon, and again we were among Oma-Sulings. Some good
specimens were added to my ethnographic collections, among them wearing
apparel for both sexes said to be over a hundred years old and which I
bought from the Raja Besar, who was visiting here. He possessed a number
of old implements and weapons of considerable interest. The raja of a
near-by kampong arrived on his way to Long Iram, and the largest of his
seven prahus was of unusual dimensions, measuring, at its greatest width,
1.34 metres over all. Although the board, four centimetres thick, stands
out a little more than the extreme width of the dugout, which is the main
part of a prahu, still the tree which furnished the material must have
been of very respectable size.
The Raja Besar showed great desire to accompany me on an excursion up the
Merasi River, a northern affluent within the domain of the same tribe. My
preference was for Lidju, my constant assistant, but on the morning of our
start the great man actually forced himself into service, while the
former, who had been told to come, was not to be seen. The raja began
giving orders about the prahus and behaved as if he were at home. As I
remained passive he finally said that he wanted to know whether he could
go; if I preferred Lidju he would remain behind. Not wanting a scene, and
as he was so intent on going, I gave the desired permission. Though, like
the others, he was nude except for a loin-cloth, Raja Besar was a
gentleman at heart, but he did not know how to work, especially in a
prahu. On account of his exalted position he had never been accustomed to
manual labour, but always to command. He naturally selected a place in my
prahu and seated himself at one side, which kept the boat tilted; however,
it was out of the question for any of the men to correct him. When the
prahu moved away the first thing he did was to wash his feet, next his
hands and arms, finally to rinse his mouth, and several times during the
trip the performance was repeated. He was of little assistance except
through the authority that he exerted as a great raja.
Early in the afternoon we arrived at Lulo Pakko (lulo = river; pakko =
edible fern), situated in a beautiful hilly country. The natives very
obligingly helped to make camp in the usual way. Raja Besar, who made
himself at home in the gallery of the long communal house, told me that he
wanted his "children," as he called the men, to remain until the following
day, his plan being to obtain double wages for them. With the swift
current, however, they could easily return the same day, so I said I had
no objection to their staying, but that they would receive no extra pay
for the additional time; whereupon they left without argument.
Comfortably established on the cool, spacious gallery of the large house,
I received articles they were willing to sell, had decorative designs
interpreted for me, and interviewed the more intelligent of these pleasant
Oma-Sulings. On the floor lay an admirably finished plank, which was used
as a seat; it was about four centimetres thick and nearly two metres
broad, the bark remaining on the edges. In Long Pahangei I noticed a
similar one of slightly narrower width.
The women, who were genial in their manners, came to my tent constantly to
ask for tobacco, which evidently was a great luxury with them, and
sometimes they were even troublesome. One afternoon when all was ready for
my bath, which I always take at one side of the tent opening, three young
women came and seated themselves just outside. While the natives are
always welcome and I like them, yet I was not prepared, after a hard day's
work, to relinquish my bath in order to receive a visit from even
attractive ones of the fair sex. There was simply nothing to do but to
disregard their presence. Calmly I began to take off my clothes, as if the
ladies were not there. At first my preparations seemed to make no
impression whatever, but finally, when I was about to divest myself of the
last of my few garments, they smiled and went away.
This was the season for the durian fruit and we much enjoyed this
delicacy, of which Mr. A.R. Wallace, fifty years ago, wrote: "To eat
durians is a new sensation, worth a voyage to the East to experience."
There were some superb trees seventy metres high growing not far from my
tent, and many others farther away. The people of the Mahakam do not climb
these tall trees to get the fruit, but gather them from the ground after
it has fallen. One night I heard one fall with a considerable crash.
Roughly speaking, it is of the size of a cocoanut; a large one might kill
a man and has been known to cause serious injury. It is most dangerous for
children to walk under the trees in the fruit season.
The durian is intensely appreciated by the natives, and tatu marks
representing the fruit are strikingly prominent in Central Borneo. It also
has its European devotees, though most of them take a dislike to it on
account of its strong odour, resembling that of decayed onions. On my
arrival in Batavia one of my first trips had been to the market to buy a
durian, which I brought to the hotel with anticipation of great enjoyment.
My disappointment was great, its taste being to me as offensive as its
odour. Nobody knows what a durian is like until he eats one that has been
permitted to ripen and fall to the ground. Even in Java this would be
difficult, unless one made special arrangements with the natives who bring
them to the market-places. It is popularly supposed that the durian is an
aphrodisiac, but that is not the case. Any food or fruit that one greatly
enjoys acts favourably on the digestive organs, and therefore makes one
feel in vigorous condition.
Those that were brought to me on this occasion, and which had just fallen
from the tree, were of a fresh green colour with a streak of yellow here
and there and had a pleasant, rich odour. The most satisfactory way to eat
it is with a spoon; the pulp, though rich, is not heavy, and, moreover, is
stimulating. It serves the purpose of a dessert, with a flavour and
delicacy that is indescribable and that makes one feel happy. Among the
great enjoyments of life are the various delicious fruits when really ripe
and of the best grade, but comparatively few people have that experience.
The vast majority are perfectly satisfied to eat fruit that was picked
green and matured afterward. Many years ago I tasted a real orange from
New-South-Wales, and ever since I have disdained the more acid kind.
My firmness in refusing to pay the men for more time than was necessary
produced a salutary effect upon Raja Besar. He fixed fair prices on things
I wanted to buy, which before he had not done, and I made him tie labels
on the specimens I bought. As he was truthful, he finally served as well
as Lidju. On the last day of our stay he helped me to repress the
eagerness of the Dayaks to "turn an honest penny." The prahus, besides
being defective, were not large enough for many men, and I was determined
not to have more than three in each, a quite sufficient number when going
downstream. I have a suspicion that he objected to four for reasons of
personal safety.
Owing to the rapid current, we made the return voyage in two hours, and
when we got to the Mahakam River we found it very much swollen, with logs
floating downstream beside us. Our low-lying prahus were leaking and the
situation was not agreeable, though I should have felt more anxious had I
not been with Dayaks, who are extremely able boatmen. At Long Pahangei the
captain from Long Iram, who is also the controleur of that district, had
arrived and was waiting on account of the overflow of the river. I had an
hour's talk with this pleasant man, who thinks that the Dayaks on the
Upper Mahakam ultimately must die out because they do not have enough
children to perpetuate the tribe. He said that in 1909, when he was
stationed at Puruk Tjahu, nothing was known about the country where we
then were.
The Oma-Sulings, according to their traditions, came from Apo Kayan nearly
two hundred years ago. Oma means place of abode; Suling is the name of a
small river in Apo Kayan. They had at the time of my visit six kampongs on
the Upper Mahakam, the largest of which is Long Pahangei, with about 500
inhabitants. Material for clothing is no longer woven, but is bought in
Long Iram. This is probably also the case with the Long-Glats, but the
Penihings still do some weaving.