LAND DAYAKS OF SIRAMBAU--THEIR SOCIAL LIFE.
Madame Pfeiffer--Chinese Village--Chinese
Maidens--Sirambau--Ascent of the Mountain--Difficult
Climbing--Forests of Fruit Trees--Scenery--Sirambau
Village--Houses--The “Look-out”--Scenery--Head-houses--Orang
Kaya Mita--His modest Request--Sir James Brooke’s
Cottage--Natural Bath-house--Chinese Gold Workings--Tapang
Trees--Social Life of the Land Dayaks--Ceremonies at a
Birth--Courtship--Betrothment--Marriage--Burial--Graves--The
Sexton--Funeral Feast--Children--Female
Chastity--Divorces--Cause of Separations--Anecdote.
Madame Pfeiffer, the traveller, suddenly made her appearance among us
in December, 1851; she was a woman of middle height, active for her
age, with an open countenance and a very pleasant smile. She lived with
us for some days, and then we took her to visit the Dayaks of Sirambau
on the right hand branch. We selected a very fast, long prahu, fitted
up with a little cabin for her, and another for ourselves, and having a
numerous crew, pulled past our usual resting-place at Ledah Tanah, and
did not stop till we reached the Chinese village of Siniawan, where we
took up our quarters for the night.
There are about three hundred Celestials settled here, principally
engaged in shop-keeping, though a few cultivate gardens. They are
evidently thriving, as the Dayaks of the surrounding country resort to
this place, and there is a constant influx of Chinese and Malay gold
workers. Their women, half-breeds, are better-looking than any others
in this part of the world; some of the girls were handsome, in one
point they set a bright example to their neighbours, and that is in
cleanliness. The Malay girls bathe at least three times a day, but are
not careful of the condition of their clothes, while the Dayaks are too
often neglectful of both their skins and their coverings.
It was quite a pleasure to look at the little Chinese maidens in their
prim, neat dresses, and their parents evidently have a pride in their
appearance. To them Madame Pfeiffer was a great attraction, and a crowd
followed her everywhere, and wondered at the eagerness she displayed in
the chase of a butterfly, or the capture of an insect.
Siniawan is situated on a plain near the foot of the Sirambau mountain,
and affords an excellent market for the produce of the interminable
fruit groves that cover the lower part of its slopes, and extend for
miles beyond.
As Madame Pfeiffer had never seen a Dayak village, we thought she would
like to visit these rather primitive people, who reside about eleven
hundred feet up the sides of the mountain. Sirambau is separated from
the surrounding ranges, and from the sea appears of great length, while
from one view near Siniawan, it is a single peak seventeen hundred feet
in height. At a few spots, we saw groves of cocoa-nuts varying the
colour of the jungle, and these were at the villages of the Dayaks, all
more than a thousand feet above us.
In the morning we collected a band of mountaineers to shoulder our
baggage, and proceeded towards the hill. The soil around had lately
been cleared, and afforded no shelter from the burning sun. I imagine
Madame Pfeiffer, in all her travels, had never met worse paths,
particularly when we commenced ascending the hill. It appeared exactly
as if the Dayaks had chosen the bed of a mountain torrent as the proper
approach to their houses. At first the stones were arranged as a rough
paving, then as rougher steps, and at last it became so steep, rock
piled on rock, that notched trunks of trees leaning against them were
the only means of ascending.
But, if the climbing were difficult, we were partly compensated by
the shade of the lofty fruit-trees growing in glorious confusion on
either side of our path. Crowded as closely as in the jungle, durians,
mangustins, and every variety of fruit-tree, jostled each other for
the light, and spoilt the symmetry of their forms. I have not seen
elsewhere durian-trees of proportions so magnificent, some above ten
feet in circumference, and rising to the height of a hundred and twenty
feet. When the season is good, it is dangerous to walk in a grove of
these trees, as a breeze gently shaking the ripe fruit from its hold,
it falls heavily to the ground. They are often a foot in length, and
eight inches in diameter, and many a story was told us of Dayaks being
brought home insensible through a blow from a falling durian.
As we advanced up the side of the mountain, we rested at spots where
we could obtain partial views of the surrounding country; large Dayak
clearings now completely brown, varied the otherwise continuous jungle;
gently swelling hills encircled the base of Sirambau, and stretched
onwards to the foot of the steep and distant mountains. The Dayaks
have led rills of water to the edge of the path, at which they refresh
themselves, and occasionally there are rough benches on which they rest
their heavy loads, for they carry up their whole rice crop to their
mountain villages.
After a toilsome ascent, which Madame Pfeiffer feelingly describes, we
passed the village of Bombok on our left, and continued our course to
that of Sirambau, a little distance farther. Here the path was more
level, though it lay among huge rocks detached from the summit of the
mountain.
Sirambau is one of the most curious villages I have seen; it is large,
and the long houses are connected together by platforms of bamboo or by
rough bridges--a very necessary precaution, as the numerous pigs had
routed up the land; and as every description of dirt is thrown from
their houses and never removed, it is almost impossible to walk on the
ground. Thick groves of palms surrounded the village and buried it from
the world: indeed, it looked as isolated a spot as any in wooded Borneo.
We found the chief Mita ready to receive us, and to conduct us to his
apartments; they were very confined, but on the raised platform under
the sloping windows we found place for our beds. They very politely
gave Madame Pfeiffer an inner room, and provided her with neat white
mats.
In the evening the apartments were crowded, and being small, not
much space was left for dancing. This village house was altogether
uncomfortable; its verandah was not five feet wide, and was totally
unfitted for their feasts; the rooms were not twelve feet by sixteen,
and the space was still further lessened by a large fireplace that
occupied an eighth of the area. Some rough planks were laid on the
floor and then covered with earth; on it were arranged a few stones,
and that constituted the fireplace. At each corner was a small post
that supported a platform, and on this was a heap of firewood kept here
to dry and to be ready at hand.
We have had much more intercourse with the villagers on this hill,
than with any other, as Sir James Brooke had a country house near the
uppermost groves of palms that are seen from Siniawan. Formerly it was
a Dayak village, but the inhabitants removing to join another section
of their tribe who were in a more sheltered spot, Sir James purchased
the fruit-trees around, and built a pretty cottage there.
Peninjau, or the “look-out,” was the name of this spot, and it well
deserved its name, as from a rock which terminated the level summit
of a buttress can be seen a view unsurpassed in extent. I have spent
many months at this cottage, and rarely an evening passed without my
witnessing the sunset from this favourite rock.
The peak of Santubong is the centre of the picture, and the undulating
ground between and the winding of the river may be seen clearly in all
its varied detail. The calm sea--from this distance it seems always
calm--bounds the horizon. Two effects of light I have often witnessed
here; just at sunset, the rays thrown on the hills, the woods, the
water, have a sickly tint; and when rain threatens, the trees in the
jungle on the distant hills of Matang stand out distinctly visible, and
it is only at such times they do so.
[Illustration:
T. Picken, lith. Day & Son, Lith^{rs}. to the Queen.
Published by Smith, Elder & C^o. 65, Cornhill, London
VIEW FROM NEAR THE RAJÀH’S COTTAGE]
There are three villages on this Sirambau hill--the Peninjau, now
visible below my favourite rock, Bombok, and Sirambau, where we have
left Madame Pfeiffer.
Each of these villages contains a head-house; in that at Sirambau
there were thirty-three heads, at Bombok thirty-two, and at Peninjau
twenty-one, with the skull of a bear killed during a head-hunting
expedition. They were all very ancient-looking, in fact none had been
added to their store since Sir James Brooke assumed the government
of the country. That they still have a longing for a fresh skull, I
have little doubt, though previously to the Chinese insurrection the
apparent impossibility had made them rather careless on the subject.
There is a custom in these tribes to assist the Orang Kaya in making
his farms; in fact, it is one of the most lucrative of his perquisites.
Mita of Sirambau had pushed his prerogative too far, and had forced
his people to make him three farms, and as from this and many other
reasons, he had ruined his popularity, he looked about him for a means
to recover it. At last it struck him that a fresh head would make the
whole tribe look up to him with respect.
I was visiting the village one day, when he told me he had a great
favour to ask, which was, that I would endeavour to obtain from Sir
James Brooke permission for him to make a foray into the neighbouring
districts. All the elders of the tribe were present, and it was evident
that they were deeply interested in the answer. The earnest way in
which they assured me that the crops had not been good for many years,
because the spirits were angry at the ancient rites having fallen into
disuse, showed that he had worked upon them to believe in the necessity
of a head being procured, but my answer was so discouraging that they
never ventured to mention the subject to Sir James Brooke. Mita was
afterwards removed from his office, to the great satisfaction of the
tribe.
Our cottage was just twelve hundred and thirty feet above the level
of the sea, and had a pure and cool atmosphere about it; but the most
remarkable spot near was a natural bath-house. In a ravine close by
rose a huge rock, seventy feet in length by forty in breadth; somewhat
of the shape of a mighty but very blunt wedge. The thicker end was
buried in the ground, the centre, supported on either side by two
rocks, left a cave beneath, while the thinner part, thrust up at an
angle of thirty degrees, overshadowed a natural basin, improved by art,
at which we bathed. A rill that glided from under the rock supplied us
plentifully with cool, clear water. It was a beautiful spot, a charming
natural grotto, in which to pass the burning midday hours; twenty or
thirty people could sit there with comfort, and admire the vegetation
that grew thickly around, but yet affording glimpses of distant hills
through the trees.
That spot for years was our boast; there was no bathing-place like
Peninjau, no water so cool, no air so bracing. Once our grotto fell to
a discount, and that was when some one unromantically brought from our
basin a huge leech, fifteen inches long; but that was the only intruder
that ever invaded the sacred spot. I may say that we never enter the
basin when we bathe in these places, or at our houses, but pour small
buckets of water on our heads, and let it run over our bodies; it is
the most refreshing plan. But up country, in the cool mountain streams,
we always take a plunge into the water.
At night, looking south, the prospect appeared quite lively with
fires and flashing lights; these came from the villages of Chinese
gold-workers occupying the valleys below. They extended irregularly
for about ten miles until they reached their chief town of Bau,
romantically situated among limestone hills, presenting perpendicular
sides.
To the eastward was one of the noblest valleys in Sarawak, perfectly
uninhabited. At the nearer end the Sirambau Dayaks occasionally had a
farm, but thousands of acres, untrodden by man, lay there uncultivated.
To the left of Sirambau are some very fine Tapang trees, in which the
bees generally build their nests; they are considered private property,
and a Dayak from a neighbouring tribe venturing to help himself of this
apparently wild honey and wax, would be punished for theft. This tribe,
also, is rich in edible birds’-nests, while the Peninjaus are becoming
wealthy from the great extent of their fruit-groves. In former times,
the Malays used to gather them without thinking of asking permission,
but now the government has forbidden this practice, and the amount
realized by the Dayaks is, for Borneo, something surprising. One good
fruit season, a hundred and fifty families realized two pounds sterling
each, enough to buy rice to last them six months.
I have said I am more familiar with the manners and customs of these
Dayaks than with those of any others, and having had the advantage of
receiving full and careful replies to a list of queries I addressed
to all those I thought likely to be able to give me assistance,
particularly from the Rev. Mr. Chalmers, the able missionary who
formerly resided there, and whose departure from Borneo all sincerely
regret, I will enter an account of the ways of the Land Dayaks,
noticing in what manner they vary from those of the surrounding tribes.
Though I am greatly indebted to Mr. Chalmers’s notes, I by no means
bind him to the opinions expressed, as we differ on some points,
particularly regarding the belief in the Supreme Being.
_Births._--After pregnancy is declared a ceremony takes place.[3]
Two priestesses[4] attend, a fowl is killed, rice provided, and for
two nights they howl and chant, during which time the apartment is
“pamali,” or interdicted. The husband of the pregnant woman, until
the time of her delivery, may not do work with any sharp instrument,
except what may be absolutely necessary for the cultivation of his
farm; he may not tie things together with rattans, or strike animals,
or fire guns, or do anything of a violent character--all such things
being imagined to exercise a malign influence on the formation and
development of the unborn child. The delivery is attended by an old
woman, called a “Penyading,” or midwife. A fowl is killed, the family
tabooed for eight days, during which time the unfortunate husband is
dieted on rice and salt, and may not go out in the sun, or even bathe
for four days; the rice and salt diet is to prevent the _baby’s_
stomach swelling to an unnatural size.
_Courtship._--Besides the ordinary attention which a young man
is able to pay to the girl he desires to make his wife--as helping
her in her farm work, and in carrying home her load of vegetables or
wood, as well as in making her little presents, as a ring, or some
brass chain work with which the women adorn their waists, or even
a petticoat--there is a very peculiar testimony of regard, which
is worthy of note. About nine or ten at night, when the family is
supposed to be fast asleep within the musquito curtains in the private
apartment, the lover quietly slips back the bolt by which the door
is fastened on the inside and enters the room on tiptoe. He goes to
the curtains of his beloved, gently awakes her, and she on hearing
who it is rises at once, and they sit conversing together, and making
arrangements for the future in the dark over a plentiful supply of
sirih-leaf and betel-nut, which it is the gentleman’s duty to provide.
If when awoke the young lady rises and accepts the prepared betel-nut,
happy is the lover, for his suit is in a fair way to prosper, but if
on the other hand she rises and says, “Be good enough to blow up the
fire,” or to light the lamp (a bamboo filled with resin), then his
hopes are at an end, as that is the usual form of dismissal. Of course
if this kind of nocturnal visit is frequently repeated, the parents
do not fail to discover it, although it is a point of honour among
them to take no notice of their visitor, and if they approve of him
matters take their course, but if not, they use their influence with
their daughter to ensure the utterance of the fatal “please blow up the
fire.” It is said on good authority that these nocturnal visits but
seldom result in immorality.
_Betrothment._--There is no ceremony at a betrothment, the
bridegroom expectant (if a young bachelor) generally presents his
betrothed with a set of three small boxes[5] made of bamboo, in which
are placed the tobacco, gambir, and lime, with the sirih-leaf and
betel-nut, and sometimes also with a cheap ring or two purchased from
the Malays, or in the Sarawak bazaar.
_Marriage._--At a marriage, a fowl is killed, rice boiled, and a
feast made by the relations of the bride and bridegroom. The bridegroom
then generally betakes himself to the apartment of his wife’s parents
or relations, and becomes one of the family. Occasionally, as for
example when the bride has many brothers and sisters, or when the
bridegroom is the support of aged parents, or of younger brothers
and sisters, the bride enters and becomes one of the family of her
husband. It is a rare occurrence for a young couple at once to commence
housekeeping on their own account; the reason is, that the labours of
a young man go to augment the store of the head of the family in which
he lives, be it that of his parents or others, and not till their
death can he claim any share of the property in rice, jars, crockery,
or gongs, which by his industry he has helped to create; yet most
young men now have generally a small hoard of copper coin, or even a
few dollars, which they have acquired by trading, or by working for
Europeans, Malays, or Chinese during the intervals of farm labour.
_Burial._--When a Dayak dies the whole village is tabooed for a
day; within a few hours of death the body is rolled up in the sleeping
mat of the deceased, and carried by the “Peninu,” or sexton of the
village, to the place of burial or burning.[6] The body is accompanied
for a little distance from the village by the women, uttering a loud
and melancholy lament. In the Peninjau tribe the women follow the
corpse a short way down the path below the village to the spot where
it divides, one branch leading to the burning ground, the other to the
Chinese town of Siniawan. Here they mount upon a broad stone, and weep
and utter doleful cries, till the sexton and his melancholy burden
have disappeared from view. Curiously enough, the top of this stone is
hollowed; and the Dayaks declare that this has been occasioned by the
tears of their women, which during many ages have fallen so abundantly,
and so often, as to wear away the stone by their continual dropping.
In Western Sarawak the custom of burning the dead is universal, in the
districts near the Samarahan, they are indifferently burnt or buried,
and when the Sadong is reached the custom of cremation ceases, the
Dayaks of the last river being in the habit of burying their dead. In
the grave a cocoa-nut, and areca-nut are thrown, and a small basket of
rice, and that one containing the chewing condiments of the deceased
are hung up near the grave, and if he were a noted warrior, a spear is
stuck in the ground close by. The above articles of food are for the
sustenance of the soul in his passage to the other world.
The graves are very shallow, and not unfrequently the corpse is rooted
up and devoured by wild pigs. The burning also is not unfrequently
very inefficiently performed, and portions of the bones and flesh
of a deceased person have been brought back by the dogs and pigs of
the village to the space below the very houses of the relatives. In
times of epidemic disease, and when the deceased is very poor, or the
relatives do not feel inclined to be at much expense for the sexton’s
services, corpses are not unfrequently thrown into some solitary piece
of jungle not far from the village, and there left. The Dayaks have
very little respect for the bodies of the departed, though they have an
intense fear of their ghosts.
The office of sexton is hereditary, descending from father to son,
and when the line fails, great indeed is the difficulty of inducing
another family to undertake its unpleasant duties, involving, as it
is supposed, too familiar an association with the dead and the other
world to be at all beneficial. Though the prospect of fees is good, and
perhaps every family in the village offers six gallons of unpounded
rice to start the sexton elect in his new, and certainly useful career,
among the Quop Dayaks it is difficult to find a candidate. The usual
burial fee is one jar, valued at a rupee, though if great care be
bestowed on the interment, a dollar is asked; at other places as much
as two dollars are occasionally demanded, and obtained when the corpse
is offensive.
On the day of a person’s death, a feast[7] is given by the family
to their relations; if the deceased be rich, a pig and a fowl are
killed, but if poor, a fowl is considered sufficient. The apartment,
and the family in which the death occurs, are tabooed for seven days
and nights, and if the interdict be not rigidly kept, the ghost of the
departed will haunt the house. Among the Silakau, the Lara, and the
true Lundu tribes, the bodies of the elders and rich are burned, while
the others are buried.
_Children._--All children are very desirable in Dayak eyes. Mr.
Chalmers thinks that if a Dayak could have but one child, he would
prefer a female, as she will always assist in getting wood and water
(labours held in little esteem by those males who have arrived at the
age of puberty); and, moreover, at marriage a son may have to follow
his wife, whereas a daughter obtains for her parents the benefit of her
husband’s labour and assistance; but my opinion is contrary, I think
male children are generally desired.
_Female Chastity._--With regard to female chastity, I imagine they
are better, certainly not worse, than the Malays. The “Orang Kayas”
have many cases of adultery to settle, which do not, however, cause
much excitement in the tribe.
_Divorces_ are very common, one can scarcely meet with a
middle-aged Dayak who has not had two, and often three or more wives.
I have heard of a girl of seventeen or eighteen years who had already
had three husbands. Repudiation, which is generally done by the man or
woman running away to the house of a near relation, takes place for the
slightest cause--personal dislike or disappointments, a sudden quarrel,
bad dreams, discontent with their partners’ powers of labour or their
industry, or in fact, any excuse which will help to give force to the
expression, “I do not want to live with him or her any longer.”
A woman has deserted her husband when laid up with a bad foot, and
consequently unable to work, and returned to him when recovered,
but this is perhaps to obtain her food on easier terms. A lad once
forced his mother to divorce her husband, the lad’s stepfather,
because the latter tried to get too much work out of his stepson, and
let his own children by a former marriage remain idle. The stepson
did not understand why he should contribute to the support of his
half-brothers, so he told his mother she must leave her husband, or
he would leave her, and live with his late father’s relatives. She
preferred her son’s society to her husband’s.
In fact, marriage among the Dayaks is a business of partnership for
the purpose of having children, dividing labour, and by means of their
offspring providing for their old age. It is, therefore, entered into
and dissolved almost at pleasure. If a husband divorces his wife,
except for the sake of adultery, he has to pay her a fine of two small
jars, or about two rupees. If a woman puts away her husband, she pays
him a jar, or one rupee. If a wife commits adultery the husband can
put her away if he please; though if she be a strong, useful woman, he
sometimes does not do so, and her lover pays him a fine of one “tajau,”
a large jar equal to twelve small jars, valued at twelve rupees. If a
separation take place, the guilty wife also gives her husband about
two rupees. If a husband commit adultery, the wife can divorce him,
and fine his paramour eight rupees, but she gets nothing from her
unfaithful spouse. There is one cause of divorce, where the blame rests
on neither party, but on their superstitions. When a couple are newly
married, if a deer, or gazelle, or a mouse deer utter a cry at night
near the house in which the pair are living, it is an omen of ill--they
must separate, or the death of one would ensue. This might be a great
trial to a European lover; the Dayaks, however, take the matter very
philosophically.
Mr. Chalmers mentions to me the case of a young Peninjau man who was
divorced from his wife on the third day after marriage. The previous
night a deer had uttered its warning cry, and separate they must. The
morning of the divorce he chanced to go into the “head-house,” and
there sat the bridegroom contentedly at work.
“Why are you here?” he was asked, as the “head-house” is frequented by
bachelors and boys only; “what news of your new wife?”
“I have no wife, we were separated this morning, because the deer cried
last night.”
“Are you sorry?”
“Very sorry.”
“What are you doing with that brass wire?”
“Making perik”--the brass chain-work which the women wear round their
waists--“for a young woman whom I want to get for my new wife.”