AN EARTHQUAKE--ERADICATING THE PLAGUE--THROUGH THE COUNTRY NORTHEAST OF
BANDJERMASIN--MARTAPURA AND ITS DIAMOND-FIELDS--PENGARON--THE GIANT
PIG--THE BUKITS--WELL-PRESERVED DECORATIVE DESIGNS--AN ATTRACTIVE FAMILY
I decided to travel more in Borneo, but before undertaking this it was
necessary for several reasons to go to Java. In Soerabaia I had my first
experience of an earthquake. Shortly before two o'clock, while at luncheon
in the hotel, a rather strong rocking movement was felt, and I looked at
the ceiling to see if there were cracks which would make it advisable to
leave the room. But it lasted only a few seconds, although the chandeliers
continued to swing for a long time. At other places clocks stopped, and I
read in the papers that the vibration passed from south to north, damaging
native villages. In one town the tremors lasted three minutes and were the
worst that had occurred in thirty-four years, but when the disturbance
reached Soerabaia it was far less severe than one experienced in Los
Angeles, California, in April, 1918.
As is well known, the government of the Dutch Indies expends millions in
eradicating the plague, which is prevalent in portions of eastern Java. In
addition to exterminating the rats, it is necessary to demolish the bamboo
huts of the natives and move the inhabitants to new quarters. Houses of
wood are erected, lumber for the purpose being imported from Borneo in
great quantities. That the efforts have been crowned with success is
indicated from the reports issued in 1916, showing that plague cases had
been reduced seventy per cent.
Returning to Bandjermasin toward the end of October, I began to make
arrangements for a journey to Lok Besar, in a hilly region of the
Northeast at the source of the Riam Kiwa River. This kampong had recently
been visited by the government's mining engineer, Mr. W. Krol, on one of
his exploring expeditions. At first glance it might seem unpromising to
make researches in a region so near to a stronghold of the Malays, but as
he was the first and only European who had been in the upper country of
that river, there was a fair chance that the natives might prove of
considerable interest. It was a matter of five or six days by prahu from
Bandjermasin, followed by a three days' march, and I decided to return by
a different route, cross the mountain range, and emerge by Kandangan.
Accompanied by Mr. Loing, the surveyor, and the soldier-collector, I
started from Bandjermasin on November 1. To travel by the canal to
Martapura can hardly be regarded as a pleasure-trip, as mosquitoes and
flies are troublesome. Half a year later I went by the road to the same
place under more cheerful conditions, and though the day was overcast, the
flooded country just north of the town presented a picturesque appearance.
Rows of high-gabled Malay houses, with narrow bridges leading out to them,
were reflected in the calm water, and beautiful blue morning-glories
covered the small bushes growing in the water. Along the road were forests
of _melalevca leucodendron,_ of the family of _myrtaceae,_ from which the
famous cajuput-oil is obtained. It is a very useful, highly aromatic, and
volatile product, chiefly manufactured in the Moluccas, and especially
appreciated by the Malays, who employ it internally and externally for all
ailments. They are as fond of cajuput-oil as cats are of valeriana.
Early in the afternoon the prahus landed us at Martapura, which is
renowned for its diamonds and once was the seat of a powerful sultanate.
The fields, which have been known for a long time, cover a large area, and
the diamonds found in gravel, though mostly small and yellow, include some
which are pronounced to be the finest known to the trade. There is always
water beneath the surface, and natives in bands of twenty occupy
themselves in searching for the precious stones, digging holes that serve
besides as self-filling basins in which the gravel is panned. The
government does not work the fields. In a factory owned by Arabs the
diamonds are cut by primitive but evidently very efficient methods, since
South African diamonds are sent here for treatment, because the work can
be done much cheaper than in Amsterdam.
The controleur, Mr. J.C. Vergouwen, said that there were 700 Dayaks in his
district. He was able to further my plans materially by calling a Malay
official who was about to start in the same direction for the purpose of
vaccinating the natives some distance up country. The kapala of the
district, from Pengaron, who happened to be there, was also sent for, and
both men were instructed to render me assistance. Next day the Malay
coolies carried our baggage to the unattractive beach near the
market-place, strewn with bones and refuse, loaded our goods in the prahus,
and the journey began. The men were cheap and willing but slow, and it was
near sunset when we arrived at the English rubber plantation near
Bumirata.
The controleur had been friendly enough to send word to the manager that
he had invited me to stay overnight at the estate. However, upon arrival
there we were told that the manager had gone to Bandjermasin the day
before, but was expected back at seven o'clock. It did not seem the proper
thing to make ourselves at home in his absence, so we returned to the
kampong, five minutes below by prahu, to make camp in a spacious, rather
clean-looking, shed that formed the pasar or market-place.
At midnight I was awakened by the halting of an automobile and a Malay
calling out, "Tuan! Tuan!" and I stepped from my bed to meet a friendly
looking man in a mackintosh, who proved to be Mr. B. Massey, the manager.
We talked together for an hour in the calm of a Bornean night. What he
said about the irregularity of the climatic conditions interested me. Two
years previously it had been so dry for a while that prahus could move
only in canals made in the river-bed. His friends had thought him mad to
come to Borneo, but he liked the climate better than that of Java. His
kind invitation to breakfast I declined with regret, because when one is
travelling it is very troublesome to change clothing, shave, and appear
civilised.
We arrived at Pengaron at noon. The kapala of the district, a Malay with
the title of kiai, lived in a comfortable house formerly occupied by a
controleur, one room serving the purpose of a pasang-grahan. On our
arrival he was at the mosque, but returned in an hour. The vaccinateur was
already there, and by a lucky chance Ismail made his appearance, the
kapala from Mandin, whom the controleur thought would be useful, as he had
influence with Malays and Dayaks. The kiai, a remarkably genial man, was
the most agreeable Malay I met. He behaved like an European, bathed in the
bathroom, _a la_ Dutch, dressed very neatly, and had horses and carriage.
The hours were told by a bell from four o'clock in the morning, and two
clocks could be heard striking, one an hour ahead of the other.
In the afternoon, Mr. Krol, the mining engineer, returned from a trip of a
month's duration, wearing a pedometer around his neck. He had walked
twenty miles in the jungle that day. A Dayak who had accompanied him from
Pa-au, one day's march toward the east, gave me some information about the
giant pig, known to exist in Southern Borneo from a single skull which at
present is in the Agricultural High School Museum of Berlin. During my
Bornean travels I constantly made inquiries in regard to this enormous
pig, which is supposed to be as large as a Jersey cow. From information
gathered, Pa-au appears to be the most likely place where a hunt for this
animal, very desirable from a scientific point of view, might be started
with prospect of success. An otherwise reliable old Malay once told me
about a pig of extraordinary size which had been killed by the Dayaks many
years ago, above Potosibau, in the Western Division. The Dayaks of Pa-au,
judging from the one I saw and the information he gave, are Mohammedans,
speak Malay, and have no weapons but spears.
The vaccinateur started in advance of us to prepare the people for our
arrival. Our new paddlers, who were jolly and diligent men, brought their
rice packed in palm-leaves, one parcel for the men of each prahu. They use
leaves of the banana even more frequently for such purposes, as also do
Javanese and Dayaks, and spread on the ground they form a neat and
inviting setting for the food, serving the purpose of a fresh table-cloth.
The men ate rapidly with their fingers and afterward drank water from the
kali (river), throwing it into the mouth with the hand, as is the Malay
custom. I did not notice that they brought dried fish, which is the usual
complement to a meal. In this section of the country there is much
admixture of blood between Dayaks and Malays, which accounts for the fact
that the latter are more genial and agreeable than their lower classes
usually are. At Pinang the small population turned out in full force,
standing picturesquely near the mosque on an open space between the
cocoanut-trees that grew on the high river-bank. It was evident that
visitors are not often seen there.
At Belimbing the usually steep, high river-bank had been made accessible
by short sticks so placed as to form steps that led up almost
perpendicularly. Great was my surprise to find myself facing an attractive
little pasang-grahan, lying on grassy, level ground at almost the same
height as the tops of the cocoanut and pinang palms on the other side of
the river. It was a lovely place and charmingly fresh and green. The
house, neatly built of palm-leaves, contained two rooms and a small
kitchen, with floors of bamboo. In the outer room was a table covered with
a red cloth and a lamp hung above it, for the Malays love the accessories
of civilisation. The kapala and the vaccinateur were there to receive us,
and we were treated as if we were officials, two men sleeping in the house
as guard. I was told there are no diseases here except mild cases of demum
(malaria) and an itching disorder of the skin between the fingers.
On the fourth day from Martapura we arrived at the first Dayak habitation,
Angkipi, where Bukits have a few small bamboo shanties consisting of one
room each, which were the only indications of a kampong. The most
prominent feature of the place was a house of worship, the so-called
balei, a square bamboo structure, the roomy interior of which had in the
centre a rectangular dancing-floor of bamboo sticks. A floor similarly
constructed, but raised some twenty-five centimetres higher, covered about
all the remaining space, and serves as temporary habitations for the
people, many small stalls having been erected for the purpose. Our friend
the vaccinateur was already busy inside the building, vaccinating some
fifty Dayaks from the neighbouring hills and mountains who had responded
to his call. When I entered, they showed timidity, but their fears were
soon allayed, and I made myself at home on the raised floor, where I had a
good camping-place.
Although these Bukits, among whom I travelled thereafter, are able to
speak Malay, or Bandjer, the dialect of Bandjermasin, they have preserved
more of their primitive characteristics than I expected. As I learned
later, at Angkipi especially, and during a couple more days of travel,
they were less affected by Malay influence than the Dayaks elsewhere on my
route. The kampong exists only in name, not in fact, the people living in
the hills in scattered groups of two or three houses. Rice is planted but
once a year, and quite recently the cultivation of peanuts, which I had
not before observed in Borneo, had been introduced through the Malays.
Bukits never remain longer than two years at the same house, usually only
half that time, making ladang near by, and the next year they move to a
new house and have a new ladang. For their religious feasts they gather in
the balei, just as the ancient Mexicans made temporary habitations in and
near their temples, and as the Huichols and other Indians of Mexico do
to-day.
The natives of Angkipi are stocky, crude people. Several had eyes set
obliquely, _a la_ Mongol, in a very pronounced manner, with the nose
depressed at the base and the point slightly turned upward. Among the
individuals measured, two young women were splendid specimens, but there
were difficulties in regard to having them photographed, as they were all
timid and anxious to go home to their mountains.
Next day, marching through a somewhat hilly country, we arrived at the
kampong Mandin on the River Lahanin. Here was the residence of Ismail, to
whose influence probably was due the recent conversion to Islam of several
families. The pasang-grahan, though small, was clean and there was room
for all. Thanks to the efforts of the vaccinateur, the Dayaks, who were
very friendly, submitted to the novel experience of the camera and kept me
busy the day that we remained there. A great number of women whom I
photographed in a group, as soon as I gave the signal that it was all
over, rushed with one impulse to the river to cleanse themselves from the
evil effects of the operation.
As the Bukits are not very strong in carrying burdens, we needed fifty
carriers, and Ismail having assisted in solving the problem, the march was
continued through a country very much cut up into gulches and small hills.
Time and again we crossed the Riham Kiwa, and went down and up gullies
continually. At a small kampong, where I took my midday meal sitting under
a banana-tree, the kapala came and in a friendly way presented me with a
basket of bananas, for these Dayaks are very hospitable, offering,
according to custom, rice and fruit to the stranger. He told me that
nearly all the children were ill, also two adults, but nobody had died
from a disease which was raging, evidently measles.
At Ado a harvest-festival was in progress in the balei, which, there, was
of rectangular shape. Within I found quite elaborate preparations, among
which was prominently displayed a wooden image of the great hornbill.
There was also a tall, ornamental stand resembling a candelabrum, made of
wood and decorated with a profusion of long, slightly twisted strips of
leaves from the sugar-palm, which hung down to the floor. From here nine
men returned to our last camping-place, where they had left a similar
feast in order to serve me. The harvest-festival is called bluput, which
means that the people fulfil their promise to antoh. It lasts from five to
seven days, and consists mostly of dancing at night. Neighbouring kampongs
are invited and the guests are given boiled rice, and sometimes babi, also
young bamboo shoots, which are in great favour and are eaten as a sayur.
When the harvest is poor, no feast is made.
The balei was very stuffy, and little light or air could enter, so I
continued my journey, arriving later in the afternoon at Beringan, where a
tiny, but clean, pasang-grahan awaited us. It consisted mainly of four
small bamboo stalls, in which there was room for all of us to sleep, but
the confined air produced a disagreeable congestion in my head the next
day. We now had to send for men to Lok Besar, which was our ultimate goal,
and the following day we arrived there, passing through a country somewhat
more hilly than hitherto. I put up my tent under some bananas, and felt
comfortable to be by myself again, instead of sleeping in crowded
pasang-grahans. There was not even such accommodation here, but the kapala
put most of his little house at our disposal, reserving only a small room
and the kitchen for himself and family. The boiling-point thermometer
showed an elevation of 270 metres.
I had a meeting with the blians, who knew nothing worth mentioning. Almost
everything had been forgotten, even the language, still it is remarkable
how primitive these people remain, and there is scarcely any mixture of
Malay apparent in the type. For two or three days the kind-hearted, simple
people gathered in numbers at the middle kampong of the three which bear
the same name, Lok Besar, upper, middle, and lower. The Dayaks call the
upper one Darat, which means headwaters.
One man had a skin formation which at a superficial glance might be taken
for a tail. It was about the size of a man's thumb, felt a little hard
inside, and could be moved either way. On the outside of each thigh, over
the head of the femur, was a similar but smaller formation. Another man
had an excrescence on each thigh, similarly located, but very regular in
shape, forming half a globe; I saw a Dayak on the Mahakam with the same
phenomenon. One woman had such globular growths, though much smaller, in
great numbers on the feet.
Among the Bukits I observed two harelipped men, one hunchback, and an
unusual number of persons with goitre. These natives drink water by the
aid of a leaf folded into an improvised cup. Eight of the upper front
teeth are cut. Suicide is not known. Their only weapon at present is the
spear, which they buy very cheaply from the Malays, but formerly the
sumpitan was also in use. To hunt pig they have to go some distance into
the mountains; therefore, they seldom undertake it. Honey is gathered by
climbing the tree in which the bees' nest is discovered. Bamboo pegs are
inserted in the trunk at intervals and a rope made from a certain root is
tied between them, thus forming a ladder upon which the natives ascend the
tree at night. The women make rattan mats, and also habongs or receptacles
in which to carry the mats when travelling.
Fire is extinguished for the night. These natives sleep on a single mat,
made from either bamboo or rattan, and usually nothing is placed under the
head, but sometimes small wooden blocks are used. In the morning when they
arise they roll the mats, and the chamber-work is done. A young girl whom
I measured had her hair fastened up with the quill of a porcupine; when
asked to undo her hair, she put the quill under the top of her skirt. The
Bukits possess one musical instrument, sarunai, a kind of clarinet, which
does not sound badly. There are many blians, nearly all men. Several
prominent members of the tribe asserted that head-hunting was never
practised--at least there is no tradition concerning it.
A man may have one, two, or three wives. When a young man is poor, he pays
two ringits or two sarongs to his bride's father, but half that amount is
sufficient for a woman no longer youthful. The usual payment appears to be
twelve ringits or twelve sarongs, which the blian at the wedding places on
top of his head, while with his right hand he shakes two metal rings
provided with rattles. On the Barito I noted the same kind of rattles used
on a similar occasion. He asks Dewa not to make them ill, and a hen as
well as boiled rice is sacrificed to this antobu. The dead are buried in
the ground as deep as the height of a man. Formerly the corpse was placed
in a small bamboo house which rested on six upright poles, and on the
floor a mat was spread.
I was pleasantly surprised one day when a Dayak arrived at our kampong
bringing a number of attractive new bamboo baskets which he had bought on
the Tappin River, near by to the west. He was going to finish them off by
doing additional work on the rims and then carry them to Kandangan, where
they would fetch about one guilder each. All were of the same shape, but
had different designs, and he knew the meaning of these--there was no
doubt about it--so I bought his entire stock, thirteen in number. I
learned that most of the people were able to interpret the basket designs,
but the art of basket-making is limited, most of them being made by one or
two women on the Tappin. A very good one, large and with a cover, came
from the neighbouring lower kampong. An old blian sold it to me, and his
wife softly reproved him for so doing, but when I gave her ten cents as a
present she seemed very well satisfied.
For the interpretation of these designs I found an excellent teacher in a
gentlewoman from the lower kampong. She had extensive knowledge concerning
this matter, an impression later confirmed by submission of the baskets to
another woman expert from the Tappin, of repute as a maker and for
knowledge of the designs. I hope that in due time my informant will
receive the photograph of herself and her boys which I shall send to her
in grateful recognition of her valuable assistance. Her name was Dongiyak,
while her good husband was called Nginging. She had two attractive and
extremely well-behaved sons of twelve and fourteen years, who trusted
implicitly in her and showed absolute obedience, while she was kindness
itself coupled with intelligence. In fact their relations were ideal, and
it seemed a pity that these fine boys should grow to manhood and die in
dense ignorance.
I doubt whether any traveller, including the honest missionary, disagrees
with the terse sentence of the great Wallace in _The Malay Archipelago_:
"We may safely affirm that the better specimens of savages are much
superior to the lower examples of civilised peoples." Revolting customs
are found, to be sure, among native races, but there are also redeeming
virtues. Is there a so-called Christian community of which it may be truly
said that its members do not steal, as is the case with the majority of
Dayak tribes? There are savage races who are truthful, and the North
American Indians never broke a treaty.
In the morning, when beginning my return journey, I had to send more than
once to the kampong below to ask the men to come, because of their
reluctance to carry burdens. We had to proceed slowly, and early in the
afternoon reached the summit of the watershed, which naturally is not at
its highest here, the elevation ascertained by boiling-point thermometer
being 815 metres. At a temperature of 85° F., among shady trees, a short
rest was very acceptable, and to get down the range proved quick work as
the woods were not dense. Afterward we followed a path through tall grass
over fallen trunks, crossing numerous gullies and rivulets. As darkness
approached, clouds gathered threateningly and rain began to fall. It was
really a pleasure to have the kapala of Tumingki meet us a couple of
kilometres before arriving there. A man whom I had sent ahead to the river
Tappin for the purpose of securing more baskets and to bring a woman to
interpret the designs, had evidently told him about us.