LEAVE MUANG FANG—MY COMRADES HUNTING—THOSE BOYS AGAIN:
PANIC-STRICKEN FISHERWOMEN—WATER-PARTING BETWEEN THE MEH PING
AND MEH KONG—RAILWAY FROM ZIMMÉ TO MUANG FANG AND KIANG HSEN—A
FREAK OF NATURE—TREE EIGHT FEET BROAD—A DEER-LICK—BED WITHOUT
DINNER—ILLNESS OF MISSIONARIES—SITTING ON A SNAKE—HEAD OR TAIL,
QUERY—EMIGRANTS CARRYING SPINNING-WHEELS—CROSS THE MEH NGAT—A
BEAUTIFUL PLAIN—VIANG POW—VISIT FROM THE GOVERNOR—NGIO
RAIDS—LOLO AND KAREN VILLAGES—EFFECT OF MONOPOLIES—PEOPLE
DESERTING MUANG FANG—OFFICIALS COLLECTING TAXES FOR
MONOPOLISTS—NO GAMBLING AND OPIUM DENS—COST OF CARRIAGE—EXPORT
OF RICE—ONE SON-IN-LAW IN ONE HOUSE—TRADE-ROUTES—LEAVE VIANG
POW—THE DEFILE OF THE MEH NGAT—ACCIDENT TO ANEROID—A FINE
VIEW—AN ARISTOCRATIC GOVERNOR—POPULATION—WILD TEA—LIGHT
TAXATION—FREE FROM VICES—PUT UP WITH A SHAN CONVERT—WOMEN WELL
TREATED AMONGST THE SHANS—CUTCH-TREES—REACH ZIMMÉ.
We left Muang Fang on May 19, returning to Zimmé by a route five-eighths
of a mile longer than that by which we had come. The first night we
halted at Ban Meh Kih, where the two routes diverge. A mile beyond the
village we commenced skirting the low plateau which intervenes between
the Meh Fang and its eastern fork, the Meh Ta Loke. After crossing some
low spurs of the plateau, which rises as it proceeds south, we again
reached the Meh Fang, and halted on its bank in a valley about a quarter
of a mile broad, and near a stream which bore traces of oil upon its
waters. The hills about here are of sandstone.
During the morning’s march we passed five laden elephants on their way
to Zimmé, and met a caravan of fifty laden cattle. The forest on
portions of the plateau was composed of pine-trees. My companions amused
themselves on the way by making small detours through the long grass,
and started many deer, which, however, they failed to bag. The forest
along the route was generally so dense, and the path was so crooked,
that angles had to be taken by me every two or three minutes, which is
fatiguing work.
The Meh Fang, which we crossed after breakfast, was 60 feet wide and 6
feet deep, with 1 foot of water. Its bed is composed of pebbles coming
from sandstone, slate, granite, and quartz formations. The crossing was
61½ miles from Zimmé, and 1954 feet above sea-level. A little farther on
we crossed a bend in the river in which a number of men and women were
fishing, who, scared at our appearance, scuttled away as fast as they
could—the women screaming with terror at the sight of my Madras
servants. These boys were always amused at the horror and panic their
black faces inspired in the women.
After crossing the bend we left the river, and for the next mile
gradually ascended to the summit of the water-parting that separates the
affluents of the Meh Fang, which flows into the Meh Kong, from those of
the Meh Pam, which joins the Meh Ping below Muang Ngai. The summit of
this pass is 59¼ miles from Zimmé, and only 2158 feet above the sea. A
railway from Zimmé to Muang Fang, and thence to Kiang Hsen, would
certainly be aligned up the valley of the Meh Pam, and over this pass
into the basin of the Meh Fang. The rise from the latter river to the
crest of the pass is only 204 feet.
In ascending the pass I noticed many palms, resembling small cocoa-nut
trees, and seeing that they were in blossom, asked a man to get me some
of the flowers, when he refused flatly, saying, “Whoever touched them
would certainly suffer from the itch.” The wood of this palm is used in
the construction of weaving-looms. The jungle was very dense, with
aroids, ferns, and wild plantains scattered through the undergrowth.
There are many plants in the jungle that one has to be chary in
handling. Some blister the hand, while others are covered with prongs
like fish-hooks. When riding, the eyes have to be kept constantly on the
look-out, or your head-covering will be carried away and your coat torn
into ribbons by these snares for the unwary.
The Shan States afford constant surprises, and one was before us as we
looked to the west in descending the pass. Although we had crossed the
water-parting, the high range of mountains which we had passed over on
our former journey at the Pa Too Pa was still to our right, and we were
now at the head of a valley worn out of the plateau formation at the
foot of its slope. The range is here called Loi Pa Chan, and is
limestone overlying sandstone, the latter rock appearing in the stream
that drains the valley. The left side of the valley, from its easy
slope, seemed especially made for railway purposes.
At 56 miles, Loi Pa Chan, which for the last 3¼ miles had been frowning
down upon us, suddenly ended, and a mile farther we crossed the stream
that drains the valley we had been traversing, having fallen only 288
feet in our easy descent from the crest of the pass. We shortly
afterwards reached a low spur from the eastern hills, and crossed it to
the Huay Pong Pow. We then followed that stream to Pang Pong Pow, and
halted for the night. The trunk of a banian-tree not far from the camp
was 8 feet in diameter, or more than 25 feet in girth.
The ground near the camp is boggy, with a strong smell of sulphur, the
earth greasy and slimy, the strata a black shaly rock. The place is a
deer-lick, and the caravans of cattle which passed through the camp
early the next morning, taking rice to Muang Fang, so enjoyed licking
the puddles that they could hardly be driven from the place. These pools
are said formerly to have been a great rendezvous for wild cattle and
other animals. Many trees in the neighbourhood of the camp were covered
with the beautiful blossoms of the Rangoon creeper, and I noticed the
single camellia of Burmah growing wild among the grass.
On halting for the night, we were so tired and weary that we at once
fell upon sardines and cold rice, without waiting for dinner to be
cooked, having had a very poor breakfast. When dinner was at length
served, I was in bed, and my companions on their way there. The edge was
off our appetites; sleep was dulling our senses,—so the boys enjoyed the
dinner, while we enjoyed repose.
In the morning Mr Martin had a touch of the fever from which he had
previously suffered. Dr M‘Gilvary had long been endeavouring to ward off
recurring visits of the same enemy by taking quinine in teaspoonfuls.
The Shan servants accompanying the missionaries, as well as my men,
likewise had it at times, and I alone remained impregnable. I was very
thankful for my immunity from it, as otherwise I could not have stood
the constant strain upon my attention.
Leaving the camp, we crossed a spur to the Huay Pun, and proceeded for a
mile up its course, rising 339 feet, to the crest of the pass over the
range which links on the Pa-Yat Pa-Yai plateau to the eastern hills.
This range of hills separates the waters flowing into the Meh Pam from
those flowing into the Meh Ngat. The crest of the pass lies 51 miles
from Zimmé, and 2277 feet above the sea.
Whilst sitting on a stone taking the height with the boiling-point
thermometer, a snake, called Shin Byee in Burmah, wriggled from under
it. The men said the bite of the snake was deadly, and that it possessed
two heads, one where its tail should be. On using my magnifying-glass I
proved to them that this was a delusion, though the shape and marks on
the flat end to the tail gave some reason for the general belief. A
number of emigrants passed us here on their way to Muang Fang; the
women, like good housewives, were carrying their spinning-wheels on
their backs.
We descended the pass to the Meh Ngat, and after breakfast continued up
the valley of that stream for a mile and a half, when we crossed it near
where some men and half-a-dozen women were fishing in the stream. These
hurried away as fast as they could put foot to ground, and hid
themselves in the forest. Our crossing was 48 miles from Zimmé, and 1676
feet above sea-level; and the river 30 feet broad and 4 feet deep, with
6 inches of water in its bed.
Leaving the stream, we marched over the low plateau round which the
stream turns to enter the great plain of Muang Pow (Pau). On reaching
the plain we had a magnificent view of Loi Chaum Haut and its eastern
spurs, and could see the head of Loi Kiang Dow peeping over the hills I
had sketched at Ban Meh Meh. To the east of the plain, which averages 12
miles in length and 8 miles in width, spur after spur was seen
stretching in a south-easterly direction to the range in the background
that divides the waters of the Meh Ping from those of the Meh Low. To
the south the Meh Ngat breaks through the hills in a long defile, and to
the north appeared the hills we had passed on our journey. Nothing could
be more peaceful than the aspect of this beautifully situated plain. It
seemed to be cut off from the turmoil and din of the world by the
surrounding mountains,—a place one might long to retire to—
“Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,
Might never reach me more.”
But history tells a different tale: this pleasant little valley,
encircled by beautiful parks of trees skirting the foot of the
surrounding hills, has been the theatre of many a hostile raid, and its
inhabitants are migrating from it, being discontented with the
imposition of monopolies which they consider to be oppressive.
Owing to the sparseness of the present population, only a small portion
of the rich plain was under cultivation; but it had evidently at one
time been nearly entirely under rice, as only a few stunted trees,
chiefly _pouk_ (the stick-lac tree) and _mai cha-lau_, were scattered
about it. After marching through the plain for 3 miles, we entered the
north gate of Viang Pow, which is situated 44 miles from Zimmé, and 1426
feet above the sea. The city was surrounded by a newly constructed
palisade raised above a low rampart, and by a ditch 10 feet broad and 1
foot deep.
Continuing along the main road of the city, we halted at a _sala_,
nearly opposite the court-house. On hearing of our arrival, the brother
of the governor, who was setting out the site of a new house, sent to
borrow a compass so as to test whether he had guessed the true north and
south. On proceeding to the spot, I found the posts had been placed only
5° out of the true magnetic meridian, giving the same error that
appeared in the alignment of the main street. The city is well laid out,
the roads are broad, and the whole place has an aspect of neatness and
order.
In the evening the governor paid us a visit, and told us that Viang Pow
was established as a _Muang_, or separate governorship, by the chief of
Zimmé, in 1870: previous to that time the villages had been under the
direct control of Zimmé. In 1868–69, Phya Kolon, a chief of the Ngio
(Burmese Shans), raided the district, and burned six villages; and again
in 1872, when they burned two more villages.
The _Muang_, according to him, contained 900 houses occupied by Shans:
200 of the houses were within the palisades of the city. It likewise
included two Kiang Tung Lawa (Lolo) villages, and three Karen villages.
Although over a hundred householders had lately removed to Muang Fang,
he had remaining under him over 1000 fighting-men. In the city and
district there were four temples, containing in all eight monks. Asked
why the householders had left his Muang for Muang Fang, he became quite
excited, and said it was because of the monopolies lately granted by the
chief of Zimmé on spirits, pork, and tobacco, and the imposition of a
tax upon stick-lac. The people had given up collecting lac since the tax
was imposed; and even cotton-planting was being neglected, as the people
thought a tax would also be levied on it.
On my inquiring how the monopolists levied their taxes, he replied that
the officials of the district agree to sell the spirit for the Zimmé
monopolist, adding a thirtieth to the price for their trouble. The
people are not allowed to distil liquor for sale, or even for private
use. The monopoly on pigs brings into the monopolist one rupee for each
pig killed for spirit-worship, and one and a half rupee when killed for
ordinary consumption. One-tenth of this amount goes to the officials for
collecting the tax. The tobacco monopolist mulcts the people to the
extent of one-fourth of the amount that is sold. This last tax, if not
an exaggeration, is certainly most oppressive; but, outside this, I do
not see that the people have anything to growl about. The taxation in
the Shan States is far lighter than in Siam, and the people are in every
way much better off than there.
One thing the governor said he was very proud of, and that was, there
was not a single gambling-hell or opium-den in the _Muang_. Monopolists
had tried to establish these vices amongst the people, but by common
consent they had all set their faces against them, so the disconcerted
monopolists had to shut up shop and leave in disgust. As to trade, he
said there was little doing except the export of rice to Muang Fang; the
cost of carriage to that place was 8 annas a bucket in the dry season,
and 10 annas in the rains. A bucket weighed 25 lb., and an ox carried
exactly 3 buckets, or 75 lb.
Previous to the establishing of Muang Fang, purchasers from Zimmé bought
the surplus rice at a rupee for 8½ buckets; but in times of scarcity,
like 1884, the people received a rupee for 5 buckets. No import duties
are levied in the district. When telling us of the average number of
people in each house, which, according to him, was six, he said that
amongst the Zimmé Shans only one son-in-law is allowed at the same time
to live with the wife’s parents. When the second daughter marries, the
first removes to a house of her own.
The journey from Viang Pow to Kiang Dow takes only one day. To Ban Nong
Kwang, on the Meh Low, the journey is done in three days. The range of
hills crossed on the latter route, according to him, is as easy, and
about the same height, as those crossed between Muang Fang and Viang
Pow. An ancient city called Viang Wai (the city of rattan-canes) is
situated 8 miles to the west of Viang Pow.
The next day we left Viang Pow, and continued through the plain some
distance to the east of the Meh Ngat until the plateaux on either side
commenced to draw in at 39 miles, when we crossed the river, which had
enlarged to 55 feet in breadth and 8 feet in depth, with 1½ foot of
water in the bed, and is 1300 feet above the sea. Up to this point the
plain had continued from 9 to 7 miles broad. Several villages and large
tracts of rice-fields were passed. Near the hills the plain had the
appearance of a beautifully timbered park.
[Illustration:
_View across Muang Ken and the valley of the Meh Ping._
]
On a low plateau that rises some twelve feet above the fields, _padouk_
trees were in flower, and numerous cattail orchids adorned the branches
of the smaller trees. The _Mai ma-kate_, a shrub bearing both white and
yellow jessamine-shaped flowers, and the Rangoon creeper, were
frequently seen, as well as the tree bearing the gooseberry fruit, and a
small tree with fruit resembling lemons in scent, colour, and shape.
This latter fruit is held in high esteem by the Shans for its supposed
healing qualities. I noticed the men plucking it as they went along, and
scrubbing their skin with it. At one place, when passing some clumps of
stunted trees, we came suddenly upon a group of Karen villagers, who,
with their cloth blankets hooded over their heads and clutched round
their bodies, reminded me strongly of pictures of gnomes in the Black
Forest.
[Illustration:
_Hills west of the Meh Ping at 11.55 A.M. 23d May._
]
A little beyond Ban Huay Ngoo, we began to cross the plateau-topped
spurs from Loi Chaum Haut, which, with the spurs from the eastern range,
draw in and enclose the Meh Ngat in a defile. In crossing a stream near
the village, my elephant gave a sudden plunge, and my last aneroid
barometer came to grief, slipping off the mackintosh sheet upon which I
was sitting, and tumbling to the ground; so I had to leave off taking
intermediate heights between my boiling-point observations. This did not
so much matter, as the Meh Ngat is an affluent of the Meh Ping, and I
had no more water-partings to cross on the journey.
From the crest of the final spur, we had a magnificent view across the
plain of Muang Ken to the plateau-topped hill, Loi Tat Muang Ken, which
partly separates it from the Zimmé plain. Over the end of the hill and
beyond it the splendid panorama extended along the broken hills lying to
the west of the Meh Ping, and stretched as far as the eye could reach up
the valley of the Meh Teng. Whilst I was sketching the view and taking
angles to the hills, my companions were hurrying on to Ban Perng, so as
to get breakfast ready by the time I reached that place. Ban Perng lies
21 miles from Zimmé, and is the principal village of Muang Ken, and the
headquarters of the governor. My companions, whilst breakfasting under
some fruit-trees, had been discomforted by a storm of rain which came
pelting down upon them before they could remove into a house. My
sketches had delayed me till long past noon, so the boys had to dish up
a fresh meal for me. Whilst I was eating it, Dr M‘Gilvary and Mr Martin
paid a visit to the governor, and brought him back with them for me to
interrogate.
The governor was a distinguished-looking, white-haired old gentleman,
very courteous in his manner, interested in his province, and perfectly
willing to impart any information in his power. He said his _Muang_
contained 400 houses, and over 400 fighting-men. The people gained their
livelihood by cultivating rice, pepper, tobacco, and fruit-trees
(chiefly oranges), and by fishing. Timber is only felled for local use,
not for export.
On my asking if tea was cultivated in his district, he replied that it
was not cultivated, but that it grew wild on some of the hills, notably
on Loi Oo-um, one of the spurs of Loi Chaum Haut, and on the hills near
Viang Dong, an ancient city on the Huay Chang Tai, situated six hours’
journey to the west of the Meh Ping. A great deal of tea was cultivated,
according to him, on the hills to the east and the west of the Meh Khoke
above the entrance of the Meh Fang. A ruined city called Viang Koo-an
lay between the Meh Ping and Viang Dong; he knew of no other ruined
cities in his neighbourhood.
The taxes are very light in this _Muang_, consisting of a basket of
paddy for each basket sown; and the monopolies consist of only pork and
tobacco. The monopolist takes a rupee and a half on each pig slaughtered
for ordinary use, and one rupee if it is killed for spirit-worship; on
tobacco he takes a quarter of a rupee on each hundred tobacco-plants.
There are no spirit, opium, or gambling farms in the district; the
people being addicted to none of these vices. A tax of ten rupees is
levied on the sale of an elephant, half of which is paid by the seller
and half by the purchaser.
Having thanked the governor for the information, we had the elephants
loaded, and resumed our march. We shortly afterwards crossed the Meh Hau
Prat (a stream 30 feet wide and 10 feet deep, with 1 foot of water),
which drains the valley of Muang Ken. We then proceeded across several
spurs from Loi Tat Muang Ken, and reached the Zimmé plain at 16 miles,
near the village of Ban Hom Luang, in whose fields I halted to sketch
the hills lying to the west of the Meh Ping, and to the south of the
valley of the Meh Teng.
From the village to Zimmé is one great rice-plain, containing numerous
villages, and beautified by orchards and by flowering shrubs, notably
the _Mai cha-lau_, which in parts gave the fields the aspect of gardens
of standard rhododendrons. It soon became so dark that I had to close
the survey for the night, and hurry on to Ban Meh Set, where I found my
companions accommodated in the house of Noy Sing Kat, one of Dr
M‘Gilvary’s converts, and was hospitably entertained by Cheen Tah, his
wife, he being absent from the village. The house was full of small red
ants, which got through our mosquito-curtains and made us pass a
miserably restless night, not improved by the sound of a ceaseless
downpour of rain.
In conversation with Dr M‘Gilvary after dinner, he told me that women
were very well treated amongst the Shans, quite as well as amongst the
Burmese, and this is particularly noticeable in cases preferred by women
against men in the courts; the woman’s word being taken as indisputable
evidence. Child marriage is unknown in the country; divorces are very
rare; marriage is a matter of choice, and not of trade; and the aged are
respected by their relations and cared for.
On noticing a quantity of chips heaped up in the yard, I learnt that
they were for boiling down to make cutch, and that a small thorny tree
which I had frequently seen in the plains and forest, was the _sha_ of
Burmah, the tree from whence the cutch of commerce (the catechu of
medicine) is extracted. The natives use this extract as an astringent to
chew with their areca-nut and seri-leaf, which, with a little tobacco
and slaked lime, form their betel-quid. Men, women, and children are
addicted to betel-chewing, and where spittoons are not in use,
expectorate about through chinks in the floor. This habit causes their
gums to contract, loosens their teeth, gives their teeth and saliva a
gory aspect, and renders even the fairest of the fair uncomely to
European eyes.
[Illustration:
_View of hills west of the Zimmé plain at 4.24 P.M. 23d May._
]
Next morning I went back to the place where I had left off my survey,
and continued it through the plain, passing several villages, until we
reached the Meh Ping, and crossed it to Ban Meh Sa, which I had passed
through on my way to Kiang Dow. Here I was only too glad to leave off
work and enjoy myself during the remaining seven miles which separated
us from Zimmé, by watching village life, and looking at the picturesque
houses and temples framed in beautiful orchards, which formed an avenue
to the bridge over the river.
On reaching Zimmé I put up in the Chinaman’s house, which was still
vacant.