REV. D. WEBSTER’S PARTY DETAINED—SIAMESE OFFICIALS EXPECT
BRIBES—PHOTOGRAPHIC PLATES ALL SPOILT—VISIT FROM KARENS—JOINED BY
THE B.B. PARTY—SIAMESE POLICE POST—GORGES IN THE THOUNGYEEN AND MEH
NIUM—RAPIDS STOP NAVIGATION—FORESTS AND ELEPHANTS—DWARF RACES—KAMOOK
AND KAMAIT SLAVES HIRED BY OUR FORESTERS—MIGRATION OF LAOS FROM
TONQUIN—THE KHAS OF LUANG PRABANG—SACRIFICES TO DEMONS—DRINKING THE
HEALTH OF STRANGERS—KING OF SIAM ALLOWS SLAVE-HUNTING—MISSIONARIES
REQUIRED IN THE MEH KONG VALLEY—LEAVE THE GUARD-HOUSE—CROSSING THE
WATER-PARTING—WILD TEA—KAREN VILLAGES BUILT DISTANT FROM
ROAD—COUNTRY FORMERLY LACUSTRINE—SHELTER FOR THE NIGHT—HEAVY RAIN—A
SHOWER-BATH IN BED—ELEPHANTS CROSSING STEEP HILLS—WILD ANIMALS—REACH
THE MEH NIUM—KAREN PIGS—REMAINS OF A LAKE-BOTTOM—THE MAING LOONGYEE
PLAIN—EPIDEMIC OF SMALLPOX—VILLAGES TABOOED—ARRIVE AT MAING
LOONGYEE—MOUNG HMOON TAW’S HOUSE—A TIMBER PRINCE AND THE
MONEY-LENDERS.
The _sala_, or traveller’s rest-house, we found occupied by the Rev.
David Webster, who with his wife and pretty little golden-haired
daughter was on his way to Zimmé by a route to the south of that we
intended taking. Mr Webster is a missionary of the American Baptist
Mission, which together with the American Presbyterian Mission has been
highly successful in civilising and converting the Karens in Burmah. He
was now on his way to the Siamese Shan States, as he had heard from some
of his converts that there were many Karens in Central Indo-China.
In Burmah he had only been able to hire elephants to carry them as far
as the frontier, and was therefore at the mercy of the Siamese official
in charge of the guard. He had omitted on principle to grease this petty
potentate’s palms, with the result that he had been detained waiting for
thirteen days. Having lost patience, he had endeavoured to hire the
elephants direct from the Karens instead of waiting for the
Jack-in-office to take action, but found the Karens were afraid to let
them on hire to him for fear of rousing their tyrant’s anger, or having
to part with a portion of the hire.
I stopped over the next day to allow the Bombay Burmah party to join us,
which they did in the afternoon. In the morning I unpacked my
photographic apparatus, and took views of the country, guard-station,
and Mr Webster’s party, which included several Karen girls who were
attached to their schools. When unpacking the dry plates, I was dismayed
to find many adhering to the tissue-paper covers, and all of them
spotted by damp. As I opened packet after packet on my journey, I found
them all in the same plight, and before I reached Zimmé ceased
photographing, and sent the views—some fifty in number—that I had taken,
to Mr Klier, the photographer in Rangoon, who had kindly promised to
develop them for me.
In the afternoon a Karen man with his little boy and girl came to visit
our camp. The children were greatly pleased with the bead necklaces
which I gave them. Messrs Bryce and Boss, who had with them ten
elephants and eleven ponies and mules—the latter purchased from the
Chinese caravan which had passed us when halting on the Hlineboay
river—arrived towards dusk, and camped near us.
The Siamese frontier post consists of five buildings, enclosed by a
bamboo stockade. The officer in charge of the Laos or Shan police did
not inquire for our passports, and allowed Mr Bryce’s large
treasure-guard to march by unquestioned. He had no hope of squeezing
anything out of the party, and therefore paid no attention to it.
Our intention had been to proceed from the guard-station down the
Thoungyeen to its junction with the Meh Nium, and up the latter river to
Maing Loongyee; but on inquiry we learnt that such a route was utterly
impracticable. The numerous rapids in both rivers rendered them
impassable for boats, and even for canoes. Neither elephants nor men
could follow the banks, as the rivers passed through great gorges—the
cliffs from both sides rising from their beds. We had therefore to turn
eastwards, and following branch valleys and spurs, cross the Karroway
Toung, or Parrot’s Hill, into the valley of the Meh Ngor, which enters
the Meh Nium above the defiles, through which it escapes from the hills.
A large amount of teak timber has for many years been taken from the
forests in the Thoungyeen valley. The Siamese had lately raised the tax
from five to six rupees a log: their revenue in 1884 from this source
amounted to upwards of two lakhs of rupees. Two hundred and sixty
elephants were at work in the forests, which, like other forests in
Siam, Karenni, and the Shan States, are worked by our Maulmain Burmese
foresters. There is a large sale amongst the foresters of tinned milk,
salmon, sardines, butter, and biscuits—all coming from Maulmain.
The Kamooks and Kamaits, who attend to the elephants and fell the
timber, belong to the dwarf races of Indo-China, and are brought by
their masters from their homes in the neighbourhood of Luang Prabang,
and hired to our foresters at from sixty to a hundred rupees a year;
each master keeping twenty-five rupees or more out of each year’s
salary, and the foresters find the men with food.
The Khas, who include the Kamooks and Kamaits, are doubtless the
aborigines of the country lying between the Meh Kong or Cambodia river,
and the Annam and Tonquin seaboard. They are supposed to have been
ousted from the plains and driven into the hills by hordes of Laos, an
eastern branch of the Shans, migrating from Tonquin when it was
conquered by the Chinese about B.C. 110.
According to the American missionaries who have visited Luang Prabang,
the Khas are harmless and honest but ignorant, and despised by their
Laos masters. Their villages are erected within stockades, on the
summits of the mountains. The majority, however, live in isolated
houses, which with their clearings stand out in bold relief against the
sky. They cultivate rice, cotton, tobacco, vegetables, fruit, and
betel-nut trees; collect stick-lac from the _pouk_ and _zi_ trees, and
gold from the torrent-beds; and prepare cutch for chewing with the leaf
of the seri vine, betel-nut, and lime. They are likewise great
cattle-breeders, and many of the fine buffaloes met with in Burmah have
been brought from Luang Prabang.
The Kha villages form the wealth of the Laos, who reside in the valley
of the Meh Kong, to the east of the river. The Khas are known to the
Siamese as Kha Chays, or slaves, and are treated as such. According to
the Laos chief of Luang Prabang, the seven tribes of Khas in his
territory are four times as numerous as his Laos subjects. Dr Neis, who
has traversed a great part of his State, believes this opinion to be
within the mark. Each Kha has to pay a tribute to his Laos or Siamese
master. Without the Khas, their lazy, pleasure-loving, opium-smoking
masters would have to work, or die of hunger. The extortion practised
upon these kindly-dispositioned people has frequently driven them into
revolt. In 1879 they joined the Chinese marauders in their attack upon
the Laos; and also in 1887, when they sacked and destroyed Luang
Prabang, the chief town and capital of the Shan State of that name.
The Khas, like all the hill tribes in Indo-China, offer sacrifices to
evil spirits, who, according to them, are the cause of all the ills that
man is heir to. In a single case of sickness as many as ten or twelve
buffaloes, or other animals, are at times offered up.
They do honour to their guests and distinguished visitors by calling
together the young men of the neighbourhood to drink their health in
rice-spirit. Those whom I met were happy, cheery, hard-working men with
pleasant faces, which, although flat, were not Mongolian, but, I think,
Dravidian in type. Their expression betokened freedom from care,
frankness, and good-nature. Those measured by me averaged four feet and
nine inches in height, and, like the Negritos of the Andaman Isles, few
exceed five feet. Their limbs were symmetrically formed, and altogether
the Khas looked vigorous, pliant, and active little men. The Kamooks
whom I saw, dressed in jackets and trousers dyed blue similar to those
worn by the Burmese Shans, and wore their long hair drawn back from
their forehead and fastened in a knot at the back of the head.
As long as the King of Siam allows the harmless hill tribes to the east
of the Meh Kong to be hunted down, and held and sold as slaves by his
subjects, so long should he be abhorred and placed in the same category
as the ferocious monsters who have been and are the ruling curses of
Africa. The sooner missionaries, American and English, are sent to Luang
Prabang, and other places in the valley of the Meh Kong, the sooner will
the King of Siam be shamed into putting a stop to the proceedings of the
slave-dealers, who, according to French travellers up the Meh Kong, are
fast depopulating the hills. There can be little doubt that the Khas,
being spirit-worshippers like the Karens, and not Buddhists, would flock
into the Christian fold in the same manner that the Karens have done.
During our stay near the guard-house, the temperature in the shade
varied between 46° and 81°, the extreme cold being at daybreak, and the
greatest heat at two o’clock in the afternoon.
On the morning of the 31st of January we left early, and following the
Meh Tha Wah, and its northern branch the Meh Plor, and crossing two
spurs for the sake of shortness, reached the summit of the pass over the
great spur that separates the drainage of the Meh Tha Wah from that of
the Meh Too, which enters the Thoungyeen two or three miles below the
guard-house—the crest of the pass being 46 miles distant from Hlineboay,
and 2060 feet above sea-level. The spur can easily be avoided by
following the valley of the Meh Too.
Leaving the pass, we descended along the Tsin-sway, or Elephant-tusk,
stream to the Meh Too, dropping 300 feet in the mile and a half.
Proceeding up the Meh Too, we camped for the night at the forty-ninth
mile.
The next morning we left early. A mile on, the stream forked, and we
followed the intervening spur, which gradually flattened out and spread
until we reached the foot of the pass over the Karroway Toung. A short
climb of 400 feet past an outcrop of limestone, led us to the crest,
2817 feet above the sea, and 52 miles from Hlineboay, from whence we had
a magnificent view of the country to the west. Here Mr Bryce’s party
passed us, and we did not see it again until we reached Maing Loongyee.
Having taken some photographs, we followed a rivulet and descended 260
feet in a mile to the Oo-caw, a small stream which flows eastwards into
the Meh Ngor, where we halted for breakfast. During the descent from the
pass the Shans brought me branches of the tea-plant, which was growing
wild in the hills. Its long narrow leaves reminded me of the willow. The
men told me that it was likewise found on the route from Maulmain to
Raheng, as well as in the ranges to the north of the pass right up to
China. Some of the plants were fully 15 feet in height.
From the Oo-caw we should have descended to the Meh Ngor, and followed
the stream to the Meh Nium, as Dr Richardson had done on his journey to
Zimmé in 1829; but the elephant-drivers said that the route was
overgrown, the Karens preferring to keep open the hill-path, along
which, owing to the shallowness of the streams, they could proceed
throughout the year. Since leaving the Thoungyeen we had met a few
parties of Karens, but had not seen any of their villages, as they build
them away from the main tracks.
From the Oo-caw the road passes over a series of great spurs, separated
by narrow steep-sided valleys, often merely a dip to the stream-bed.
From the crests of the main spurs, which were occasionally higher than
the summit of the pass, we had magnificent views of the country, which
has the appearance of the desiccated remains of a great rolling plateau,
the crest of the spurs following the wave-line across the main valley of
the Meh Ngor.
There can be no doubt that the hill-bounded plateaux and valleys in the
Shan States were at one time lakes, which were subsequently drained—some
by subterranean channels, the stream reappearing on the other side of
the hills, and others by great rifts made across the hills by earthquake
action. The numerous mineral and hot springs we passed, and the
earthquakes which still occur at times in the country, bespeak the
continuance of unrest near the surface.
After scrambling over six great spurs, we halted for the night near a
small mountain-stream. The strata seen since leaving the Thoungyeen had
been limestone, sandstone, and shales, each appearing at various times.
Many fine tree-ferns were noticed during the day.
The next day rain commenced at half-past three in the morning, and the
showers continued until noon. Our howdahs were without covers during
this stage of the journey, so we could not creep into them to escape
from the storms which occasionally happen in the hills. Our shelter for
the night consisted of a few lopped branches of trees, stuck in the
ground, serving as rafters and wall-plates for our covering of
waterproof sheets, while plaids hanging from the wall-plates formed the
walls. This was amply sufficient to keep off the heavy dewfall, but
enough care had not been spent on it to secure us from rain. I had
turned in much fatigued, having stayed up late inking over the pencil
notes in my field-book and writing up my journals, and had slept through
the first shower, when I was awakened at half-past five by Dr Cushing,
who told me I had better turn out as it was raining in torrents. I
merely replied “All right,” and went to sleep again. Soon the water
gathering on the waterproofs, which we had rigged up as a shelter,
weighed them down and came pouring on to my mosquito-curtains, and,
soaking through them, effectually brought me out of dreamland; but I got
no compassion from my companion, who absolutely roared with laughter at
my being ducked. A change of clothes and a peg of whisky were at hand,
and having lit a cigar, I was ready to crouch out the storm cheerfully.
Rain again commenced to pour down at seven o’clock, but we could not
afford to delay, so struck our camp and departed. After crossing four
spurs, we halted for breakfast at eleven near two deserted houses. The
path, owing to the rain, was rendered so slippery, and was so steep,
that the elephants at times had to slide down on their bellies, with
their legs stretching out behind and before them. To see these great
clumsy-looking brutes constantly kneeling down, crouching on their
haunches, and then rising again, as they ascended and descended the
hillsides, in order to keep their equilibrium and reduce the leverage;
never making a false step; putting one foot surely and firmly down
before lifting another, and moving them in no fixed rotation, but as if
their hind and fore quarters belonged to two independent bipeds; every
movement calculated with the greatest nicety and judgment,—forced one to
admire the sagacity and strength of the animals, and the wonderful
manner in which their joints are adapted to their work.
As soon as breakfast was over we resumed our march, and crossing two
more spurs, descended from the last one to the Meh Ngor, a stream 100
feet broad with banks 18 feet high. After following this stream for a
mile, we camped for the night. Limestone and sandstone, with occasional
shales, were the only rocks previously noticed: here trap cropped up for
the first time, and teak-trees again appeared in the forest. We were now
66 miles from Hlineboay, and 396 feet above the sea.
Elephants, rhinoceroses, tigers, wild cattle larger than buffaloes,
elk-deer, pigs, and other wild animals, are said to abound in these
hills. We had heard tigers and deer round our camp nearly every night
since we left Teh-dau-Sakan. The boys were at first frightened, and used
to borrow my gun to scare the tigers away, but now had become accustomed
to the peril, and ceased bothering me. Pea-fowl were plentiful, as we
frequently heard them screeching in the morning.
Next morning, starting a little after seven, and skirting the stream for
four miles, we crossed the Meh Ngor not far from its junction with the
Meh Nium, and soon after entered the teak-clad Huay Ma Kok hills, which
separate the Meh Ngor from the Meh Laik. Up and down again we went over
hill and valley, instead of following the level path along the Meh Nium;
past the Huay Ma Kok, which is a circular subsidence or depression 150
feet wide and 20 feet deep, on the top of a spur, until we came to and
crossed the Meh Laik, by which we camped near a cliff of blue slate
rock. The rocks exposed in the latter part of the journey were indurated
clays and sandstones, both veined with quartz and shales and
conglomerates.
The following morning a two miles’ march over a hill in a dense mist
brought us to Meh Ka Tone, a good-sized house on the banks of the Meh
Nium. The river is here about 150 feet broad, with banks 12 feet high,
and water 3 feet deep. Meh Ka Tone lies 76 miles from Hlineboay, and 451
feet above sea-level.
The house belonged to a forester who was absent, having left a Kamook
slave in charge. Two Karen pigs, small, hairy, slate-coloured creatures,
with dark bristling manes, were tied up by perpendicular strings under
the house, so that they could neither lie down nor walk until the
strings were slackened. As we had been feeding on tinned meat for the
last two days, some of our fowls having been quietly appropriated by the
Karens, we tried hard to persuade the man to sell us one of the pigs and
a few of the fowls that were scuttling about, but all in vain,—they were
his master’s property, and he dared not part with them at any price
without his consent.
Resuming the march and proceeding up the valley, now and then crossing
hill-spurs and river-bends for the sake of shortness, at the
eighty-third mile we again entered cultivated land, near the deserted
village of Meh Kok, the site of which is now only marked by cocoa-nut
and mango trees. The crests of the main spurs of the ranges of hills on
either side appeared to be three miles distant; but on the west, a
curious parallel range or formation, rising some 500 or 600 feet above
the plain, lies between the main range and the river. On visiting these
hills from Maing Loongyee we found them a perfect maze of equal
elevation, looking like a gigantic Chinese puzzle, composed solely of
friable earth, and rapidly frittering away,—there could be no doubt that
we were looking at the remains of an old lake-bottom.
The plain, which is adorned with a great variety of flowering trees and
shrubs, like the rest of the country we had passed through, containing
much valuable timber besides teak, gradually increased in breadth as we
proceeded, and is a mile and a half wide at Maing Loongyee. Several
Karen and Lawa, and a few Shan, villages are dotted about it, but the
cultivation is insufficient for the wants of the people, most of whom
are engaged in forest operations. Rice has therefore to be imported from
Zimmé.
Many of the villages in the plain were placed under taboo, owing to an
outbreak of smallpox, a disease much dreaded by the hill tribes. The
paths leading to such villages are stopped by a branch of a tree being
thrown across them, and magical formulæ are stuck up in order to keep
the evil spirits who propagate the disease from the village. No stranger
dare enter a village so guarded. Should he do so, and death or illness
subsequently happen, he would be held responsible. Life, or the price of
life, for life, is exacted in such cases.
We halted for the night on the bank of the river, and starting early,
reached Maing Loongyee the next morning. Finding that the _zayat_, or
rest-house, was occupied by the Bombay Burmah Company, we despatched a
messenger to Moung Kin, a relation of the celebrated Moulmain forester
Moung Hmoon Taw, who works the Maing Loongyee teak-forests, and he at
once hospitably placed the best part of his premises at our disposal.
This arrangement proved very fortunate, as I was thus enabled to procure
the most reliable information about the country.
The dwelling-house consisted of three separate buildings, built of teak
and shingle-roofed, erected on a large square platform raised eight feet
from the ground on posts. The house was situated in a compound enclosed
by a stockade, separated from the river by a broad cattle-path, and
surrounded on two sides by an orchard fringed with a fine hedge of roses
eight feet in height. Two of the buildings on opposite sides of the
platform, separated from each other by a broad passage, served as
residences for the family. One of these, consisting of three rooms, was
handed over for our use. The third building was situated near the north
end of the platform, and served as a cook-house and servants’ quarters.
We felt quite in clover after our spell of camp life.
Moung Hmoon Taw, to whom the house belonged, was one of the kings of the
teak trade. During the last three years, owing to scarcity of rain, he
had been unable to float his timber out of the forests, and was
therefore unable to repay the loans he had received from the _Chetties_,
or Native of India Bankers. By no means alarmed at his position, he had
lately astonished the bankers by sending them a letter through his
solicitor demanding a further loan, and stating that unless he received
it at once, he would be unable to pay them the sums they had advanced
him. There was small doubt that the bankers would be compliant, as they
could not afford to lose the 25 lakhs of rupees (£200,000) that was then
due from him. The crash was, however, only put off for a time, as last
year he became bankrupt. Poor Moung Hmoon Taw! poor bankers! I know who
suffered most—_not_ Moung Hmoon Taw. The bankruptcy proceedings were
subsequently withdrawn.