AN EXPEDITION TO THE KATINGAN RIVER--TATUING OF THE ENTIRE BODY--THE
GATHERING OF HONEY--A PLEASANT INTERMEZZO--AN UNUSUALLY ARTISTIC
PRODUCTION--UP THE SAMBA RIVER--WITH INCOMPETENT BOATMEN
Arrangements were at once begun for another expedition, this time to the
west of Bandjermasin. I planned to ascend the Mendawei, or Katingan River,
as it is also called, and, if circumstances permitted, cross over to the
headwaters of the Sampit, returning by that stream. Through the kind
efforts of the resident, Mr. H.J. Grijson, arrangements were made that
would enable me to use the government's steam-launch _Selatan_ as far up
the river as it is navigable, to Kuala Samba, and in case necessity arose,
to have it wait for my return. This arrangement would save much time.
Accompanied by Mr. Loing, the surveyor, on the last day of November I left
Bandjermasin on the steamship _Janssens_, which, en route for Singapore,
was to call at Sampit. There is always a large contingent of Malays who
with their families go on this steamer to and fro between Borneo and the
Malay Peninsula, where they work on rubber and cocoanut plantations; out
of their earnings they buy the desires of their hearts--bicycles and
yellow shoes. Thus equipped they go back to Bandjermasin to enjoy
themselves a few weeks, after which the bicycles are sold and the
erstwhile owners return to the scene of their labours to start afresh.
The controleur, Mr. H.P. Schouten, had just returned on the _Selatan_ from
a trip up the Katingan, and turned it over to my use. When the coaling had
been done and our goods taken on board, the strong little boat lay deep,
but the captain said it was all right. He was the same able djuragan of
two years before. Having received from the controleur letters to the five
native officials located on the Katingan, we departed, and the following
morning arrived at the mouth of the river. At first the country was very
thinly inhabited, because the banks are too low to encourage settlement.
As hitherto noted the country bordering on the lower portions of the great
rivers is populated by Malays exclusively, and here their territory
stretches almost to Kasungan. The remainder of the riparian lands is
occupied by Katingans. There is some slight difference in the language
spoken by those who live on the middle part, from Kasungan to Bali (south
of Kuala Samba), and those who from Bali northward occupy the rest of the
watercourse. They are termed by the Malays Lower and Upper Katingans.
Those of the first category appeared to be of medium size and inclined to
stoutness; on the upper stretches of the river they are taller. These and
other differences may be due in a measure to tribal changes brought about
by head-hunting raids. It is known that there was an influx of Ot-Danums
from the Samba on account of such raids. While all Katingans eat snakes
and large lizards, the upper ones do not eat rusa but the lower ones do.
Their total number is estimated to be about 6,000. In 1911-1912 this river
was visited by cholera and smallpox, which reduced the population by 600
and caused the abandonment of some kampongs.
Under favourable circumstances one may travel by prahu to Kuala Samba, our
first goal, in sixteen days, the return journey occupying half that time.
On reaching Kasungan the river was not quite two metres deep, dimming our
chances of proceeding further with the steam-launch. The djuragan put up
his measuring rod on the beach, for unless the water rose he would have to
go one day down stream. The prospect was not pleasing. The under kapala of
the district, a native official whose title for the sake of convenience is
always abbreviated to the "onder," at once exerted himself in search of a
large boat belonging to a Malay trader, supposed to be somewhere in the
neighbourhood, and a young Dutchman who recently had established himself
here as a missionary was willing to rent me his motor-boat to tow it.
After several days of preparation, the river showing no sign of rising, we
started in an unusually large prahu which was provided with a kind of deck
made of palm-leaf mats and bamboo, slightly sloping to each side. It would
have been quite comfortable but for the petroleum smoke from the
motor-boat, which was sickening and made everything dirty.
In 1880, when Controleur W.J. Michielsen visited the Katingan and Samba
Rivers, the kampongs consisted of "six to ten houses each, which are lying
in a row along the river bank and shaded by many fruit trees, especially
cocoanut palms and durians." A similar description would serve to-day. The
large communal house as known in most parts of Borneo does not seem to
obtain here. Communal houses of small size were in use ten years
previously and are still found on the Upper Samba. Their gradual
disappearance may be explained by the fact that the government, as I was
informed, does not encourage the building of communal houses.
Whatever the reason, at the present time the dwelling is a more or less
flimsy structure, built with no thought of giving access to fresh air, and
sometimes no provision is made for the escape of smoke from the fireplace.
But the people are very hospitable; they gladly received us in their
houses, and allowed me, for purposes of ventilation, to demolish
temporarily part of the unsubstantial wall, which consisted of bark or
stiff mats. The high ladder is generally provided with a railing leaning
outward at either side.
The Katingans are shy, kind-hearted natives, the great majority of them
being unusually free from skin disease. No illness was apparent. With some
of the Lower Katingans the calf of the leg was below normal size. This was
the case with three women in Pendahara, and also with a blian who
otherwise was a stout man. All the men have a large representation of the
full moon tatued on the calf of the leg, following the custom of the
Ot-Danums, Murungs, and Siangs. As far as I ascended the river the Upper
Katingans rarely have more tatuing than this, but the Lower Katingans are
elaborately ornamented, chest and arms being covered with illustrations of
familiar objects. Several old men, now dead, had their bodies, even their
backs, legs, and faces, covered with tatu marks, and one thus decorated
was said still to be living.
Near the kampong Pendahara, where we camped the first night, were many of
the majestic tapang trees which I first noticed on the Barito. In the calm
evening after a light shower, with the moon almost full, their tall stems
and beautiful crowns were reflected in the placid water. The Katingans
guard and protect these trees because they are the abode of bees, and when
the Malays cut them down the Dayaks are indignant. Both honey and wax are
gathered, the latter to be sold. The nest is reached in the customary
manner by a ladder of sharpened bamboo pegs driven into the rather soft
wood as the man ascends. The gathering is done at night, an assistant
bearing a torch made of bark and filled with damar or wax. The native
first smears himself with honey in order that the bees shall not sting
him; when he reaches the deposit a large bark bucket is hoisted up and
filled. In lowering it the honey sometimes disappears, my informant said,
because antoh is very fond of it.
About noon, as we were passing a ladang near Bali, we heard the beating of
a gong, also weird singing by a woman. It was evident that a ceremony of
some kind was in progress, probably connected with funeral observances, so
I ordered a halt. As we lay by many people gathered on the top of the
steep bank. We learned that an old woman had died and that the ceremonies
were being performed in her honour. I climbed the ladder and found in
front of me a house on poles, simply constructed, as they always are at
the ladangs. Several of the men wore chavats; an elderly female blian sang
continuously, and a fire was burning outside.
Ascending the ladder of the house I entered a dingy room into which the
light came sparingly. In a corner many women were sitting silently. Near
them stood one of the beautiful red baskets for which the Katingans higher
up the river are famous. As I proceeded a little further an extremely fine
carved casket met my astonished eyes. Judging from its narrowness the
deceased, who had been ill for a long time, must have been very thin when
she passed away, but the coffin, to which the cover had been fastened with
damar, was of excellent proportions and symmetrical in shape. The material
was a lovely white wood of Borneo, on which were drawn large round flowers
on graceful vines, done in a subdued light red colour procured from a
pigment found in the earth. The effect was magnificent, reminding me of
French tapestries. Two diminutive and unfinished mats were lying on the
cover, symbolising clothing for the deceased, and tufts of long, beautiful
grass had been tied to the top at either end. The coffin was to be placed
on a platform in the utan. Its name in Katungan is bákan rúni; (bákan =
form, exterior; rúni = dead person)
To see such an artistic production was worth a great deal of trouble.
Usually this and similar work is made by several working in unison, who
co-operate to obtain the best result in the shortest time. I was gratified
when they agreed to make an exact copy for me, to be ready on my return
from up country. When one of the men consented to pose before the camera
his wife fled with ludicrous precipitation. A dwarf was photographed,
forty years old and unmarried, whose height was 1.13 metres.
I was about to leave when the people began to behave in a boisterous
manner. Men caught firebrands and beat with them about the feet of the
others. Some cut mats in pieces, ignited them, and struck with those. A
woman came running out of the house with a piece of burning mat and beat
me about my feet and ankles (my trousers and shoes were supposed to be
white) and then went after others, all in good humour and laughingly. She
next exchanged firebrands with a man, and both struck at each other
repeatedly. This same custom is used at funerals with the Ot-Danums on the
Samba, and the explanation given in both tribes is that the mourners want
to forget their grief.
After distributing pieces of chewing-tobacco to all present, which seemed
to please them much, I left the entertaining scene. In the afternoon we
arrived at a small kampong, Tevang Karangan, (tevang = inlet; karangan = a
bank of coarse sand or pebbles) where Upper Katingans appeared for the
first time. No Malays live here, but there is much intermixture with
Ot-Danums. The people were without rice, and edible roots from the jungle
were lying in the sun to dry. The cemetery was close at hand in the
outskirts of the jungle, where little houses could be seen consisting
simply of platforms on four poles with roofs of palm-leaf mats, each
containing one, two, or three coffins. It is impossible to buy skulls from
the Dayaks on account of their fear that the insult may be avenged by the
ghost of the original owner, through the infliction of misfortunes of
various kinds--illness, loss of crops, etc. According to their belief,
punishment would not descend upon the stranger who abstracted a human bone
from a coffin, but upon the natives who permitted the theft. Moreover,
they believe they have a right to kill the intruder; the bone must be
returned and a pig killed as a sacrifice to the wandering liao of the
corpse. But the case is somewhat different with slaves, who up to some
thirty years ago were commonly kept in these districts, and whose bodies
after death were disposed of separately from those of free people.
Kuala Samba is quite a large kampong situated at the junction of the Samba
with the Katingan River, and inhabited chiefly by the Bakompai, a branch
of the Malays. Our large boat had to remain here until we returned from
our expedition up the Samba, the main tributary of the river and inhabited
by Ot-Danums who are called Duhoi, their proper name in these parts. I
desired to start immediately and the "onder" of the place, as well as the
pumbakal, at once set to work chasing for prahus, but things moved slowly
and people seemed to take their own time about obeying the authorities.
Not until nine o'clock next day could we leave, and I was glad it was no
later. The prahus in these regions are large and comfortable, with a
bamboo covering in the bottom. They probably originated with the Bakompai,
but the Duhoi also make them. At five o'clock it was thought best to camp
at the lonely house of a Kahayan, recently immigrated here, whose wife was
a Duhoi woman. As usual I had to remove part of the wall to get air, the
family sleeping in the next room. In the small hours of the morning, by
moonlight, two curious heads appeared in the doorway, like silhouettes, to
observe me, and as the surveillance became annoyingly persistent I
shortened the exercises I usually take.
At the first kampong prahus and paddlers were changed, and on a rainy day
we arrived at a small kampong, Kuluk Habuus, where I acquired some
unusually interesting carved wooden objects called kapatongs, connected
with the religious life of the Duhoi and concerning which more will be
told presently. As a curious fact may be mentioned that a Kahayan living
here had a full, very strong growth of beard. A few more of the Kahayans,
one in Kuala Kapuas for instance, are known to be similarly endowed by
nature although not in the same degree as this one. The families
hospitably vacated their rooms in our favour, and a clean new rattan mat
was spread on the floor. At Tumbang Mantike, on this river, there is said
to be much iron ore of good quality, from which formerly even distant
tribes derived their supplies.
I had been told that a trip of a few hours would bring us to the next
kampong, but the day proved to be a very long one. There were about five
kihams to pass, all of considerable length though not high. It soon became
evident that our men, good paddlers as they were, did not know how to
overcome these, hesitating and making up for their inefficiency by
shouting at the top of their voices. However insignificant the stream,
they yelled as if passing a risky place. Sunset came and still the kampong
was--djau (far). Mr. Loing had gone in our small prahu with four of our
best men to finish the map-making, if possible, before darkness set in.
The light of day faded, though not so quickly as the books represent, but
soon it was as dark as possible before the appearance of the waning moon
which would not be visible for several hours. I had let Mr. Loing have my
lamp, so I lit a candle. It was not a pleasant experience, with clumsy
stupid men who, however, did their best, all finally taking to the water,
wading and pushing the boat, constantly emitting loud, hoarse cries to
encourage themselves; and thus we progressed little by little. What with
the faint light of the candle, the constant rush of water, and the noise
of the rapids, though not dangerous in the day time, the situation
demanded calmness. Moreover, there was the possibility of an overflow of
the river, which often happens, caused by rains above. I thought of the
Kenyahs of the Bulungan--if I only had them now. After an hour and a half
of this exasperating sort of progress we came to smooth water, but even
here the men lost time by running into snags which they ought to have
seen, because I had gotten my hurricane lamp from Mr. Loing whom we had
overtaken. One of the men was holding it high up in the bow, like the
Statue of Liberty in New York harbour.
There were only three or four houses at the kampong where we arrived at
nine o'clock, but people kindly permitted us to occupy the largest. The
men were allowed an extra ration of rice on account of their exertions
since eight o'clock in the morning, as well as some maize that I had
bought, and all came into the room to cook at the fireplace. Besides Mr.
Loing and myself all our baggage was there, and the house, built on high
poles, was very shaky. The bamboo floor gave way in a disagreeable manner,
and it did not seem a remote possibility for it to fall, though the genial
lady of the manor, who went away herself, assured us that the house was
strong. I did not feel thoroughly comfortable until the "onder" and the
thirteen men had finished their cooking and gone elsewhere to camp. When
all was quiet and we could go to sleep it was twelve o'clock.
Early in the morning Mr. Loing went back in the small prahu to take up the
map where he had been compelled to quit on account of the darkness. In the
meantime I had opportunity to receive a man who had been reported to me
the previous night as wanting assistance because of a wound on his head.
Knowing that the Dayaks are always ready to seize an opportunity to obtain
medicine, even when they are well, I postponed examining into his case. He
had merely a scratch on his forehead--not even a swelling.