IN BUGI LAND
The _Negros_ was not fast--thirteen knots was about the best she could
do--so that it took us two days to cross from Samarinda, in Borneo, to
Makassar, the capital of the Celebes. Our course took us within sight
of "the Little Paternosters, as you come to the Union Bank," where, as
you may remember, Sir Anthony Gloster, of Kipling's ballad of _The Mary
Gloster_, was buried beside his wife. Before our hawsers had fairly
been made fast to the wharf at Makassar it became evident that among
the natives our arrival had created a distinct sensation. The wharf was
crowded with Bugis, as the natives of the southern Celebes are known,
who tried in vain to make themselves understood by our Filipino crew.
Instead of the boisterous curiosity which had marked the attitude of
the natives at the other ports, the Bugis appeared to be laboring under
a suppressed but none the less evident excitement. When I went ashore
to call on the American Consul they made way for me with a respect
which verged on reverence. This curious attitude was explained by the
Consul.
"Your coming has revived among the natives a very curious and ancient
legend," he told me. "When the Dutch established their rule in the
Celebes, something over three centuries ago, the King of the Bugis
mysteriously disappeared. Whether he fled or was killed in battle, no
one knows. In any event, from his disappearance arose a tradition that
he had founded another kingdom in some islands far to the north, but
that, when the time was propitious, he would return to free his people
from foreign domination. Thus he came in time to be regarded as a
divinity, a sort of Messiah. Curiously enough, the natives refer to him
by a name which, translated into English, means 'the King of Manila.'
Some months ago it was reported in the Makassar papers that the
Governor-General of the Philippines expected to visit the Celebes upon
his way to Australia, whereupon the rumor spread among the Bugis like
wild-fire that 'the King of Manila' was about to return to his ancient
kingdom, but the excitement gradually subsided when the
Governor-General failed to appear. But when the _Negros_ entered the
harbor this morning, and it was reported that she was from Manila and
had on board a white man who had some mysterious mission in the
interior of the island, the excitement flamed up again. The natives,
you see, who are as simple and credulous as children, believe that you
are the Messiah of their legend and that you have come to liberate them
from Dutch rule."[2]
[Footnote 2: Owing to my ignorance of Dutch and Buginese, I was
unable to obtain a dependable account of this curious legend,
but the several versions which I heard agreed in the main with
that given above.]
"But look here," said I, annoyance in my tone, "this isn't as funny as
it seems. Tying me up to this fool tradition may result in spoiling my
plans for taking pictures in the Celebes. Of course the Dutch
authorities know perfectly well that I haven't come here to start a
revolution, but, on the other hand, they may not want a person whom the
natives regard as a Messiah to go wandering about in the interior,
where Dutch rule is none too firmly established anyway, for fear that
my presence might be used as an excuse for an insurrection."
"Don't let that worry you," the Consul reassured me. "I'll take you
over now to call on the Governor. He's a good sort and he'll do
everything he can to help you. Then I'll send the editors of the
vernacular papers around to the _Negros_ this afternoon to call on you.
You can explain that you're here to get motion-pictures to illustrate
the progress and prosperity of the Celebes, and it might be a good idea
to tell them that some of your ancestors were Dutch. That will help to
make you solid with the authorities. The interview will appear in the
papers tomorrow and in twenty-four hours the news will have spread
among the Bugis that you're not their Messiah after all."
"But I'm not Dutch," I protested. "All my people were Welsh and
English. The only connection I have with Holland is that the house in
which I was born is on a street that has a Dutch name."
"Fine!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "Born on Van Rensselaer street,
you say? Be sure and tell 'em that. That's the next best thing to
having been born in Holland."
"I know now," I said, "how it feels to refuse a throne."
At tiffin that noon on the _Negros_ I told the story to the others. "So
you see," I concluded, "if I had been willing to take a chance, I might
have been King of the Bugis."
"They wouldn't have called you that at home," the Lovely Lady said
unkindly. "There they would have called you the King of the Bugs."
* * * * *
Nature must have created Celebes in a capricious moment, such a medley
of bold promontories, jutting peninsulas, deep gulfs and curving bays
does its outline present. Indeed, its coast line is so irregular and so
deeply indented by the three great gulfs or bays of Tomini, Tolo, and
Boni that it is small wonder that the first European explorers assumed
it was a group of islands and gave it the name of plural form which
still perpetuates the very natural mistake. Its length is roughly about
five hundred miles but its width is so varying that while it is over a
hundred miles across the northern part of the island at the middle it
is a scant twenty miles from coast to coast.
Though the census of 1905 gave the population of the island as less
than nine hundred thousand, the latest official estimate places it at
about three millions. The actual number of inhabitants is probably
midway between these figures. But, to tell the truth, the temperament
of the savages who inhabit the interior is not conducive to an accurate
enumeration, the Dutch census-takers being greeted with about the same
degree of cordiality that the moonshiners of the Kentucky mountains
extend to United States revenue agents.
The three most important peoples of Celebes are the Bugis, the
Makassars, and the Mandars. The medley of more or less savage tribes
dwelling in the island are known as Alfuros--literally "wild"--which is
the term applied by the Malays to all the uncivilized non-Mohammedan
peoples in the eastern part of the archipelago. For the Bugis to refer
to the tribes of the interior as wild is like the pot calling the
kettle black. The Bugis, a passionate, half-savage, extremely
revengeful people, originally occupied only the kingdom of Boni, in the
southwestern peninsula, but from this district they have spread over
the whole of Celebes and have founded settlements on many of the
adjacent islands. They are the seamen of the archipelago, the greatest
navigators and the most enterprising tradesmen, and were, in times gone
by, the greatest pirates as well. In fact, the harbor master at
Makassar told us that the crews of many of the rakish looking sailing
craft which were anchored in close proximity to the _Negros_ were
reformed buccaneers. Certainly they looked it. They may have reformed,
but that did not prevent Captain Galvez from doubling the deck-watch at
night while we were in Celebes waters. He believed in safety first.
[Illustration: Some strange subjects of Queen Wilhelmina
Native women of the interior of Dutch Borneo]
The Winsome Widow had been very enthusiastic about going to the Celebes
because Makassar is the greatest market in the world for those
ornaments so dear to the feminine heart--bird-of-paradise plumes. I
explained to her that it was against the law to bring them into the
United States, but no matter, she wanted to buy some. To visit Makassar
without buying bird-of-paradise plumes, she said, would be like
visiting Japan without buying a kimono. The bird is usually sold
entire, the prices ranging from twenty-five to thirty dollars,
according to size and condition, though, owing to the ruthless
slaughter of the birds to meet the demands of the European market,
prices are steadily advancing. The Winsome Widow bought four of the
finest birds I have ever seen--gorgeous, flame-colored things with
plumes nearly two feet long. How she proposed getting them into the
United States she did not tell me, and I thought it as well not to ask
her. She had them carefully packed in a wooden box made for the purpose
which she did not open until nearly two months later, when we were
steaming down the coast of Siam on a cargo boat, long after I had sent
the _Negros_ back to Manila. Imagine her feelings when, upon opening
the box to feast her eyes on her contraband treasures, she found it to
contain nothing but waste paper! I suspect that the sweetheart of one
of our Filipino cabin-boys is now wearing a hat fairly smothered in
bird-of-paradise plumes.
The Bugis' love of the sea has given them almost a monopoly of the
trade around Celebes. Despite their fierce and warlike dispositions
they are industrious and ingenious--qualities which usually do not go
together; they practise agriculture more than the neighboring tribes
and manufacture cotton cloth not only for their own use but for export.
They also drive a thriving trade in such romantic commodities as gold
dust, tortoise shell, pearls, nutmegs, camphor, and bird-of-paradise
plumes. They dwell for the most part in walled enclosures known as
_kampongs_, in flimsy houses built of bamboo and thatched with grass or
leaves. But as diagonal struts are not used the walls soon lean over
from the force of the wind, giving to the villages a curiously
inebriated appearance. In several of the eight petty states which
comprise the confederation of Boni the ruler is not infrequently a
woman, the female line having precedence over the male line in
succession to the throne. The women rulers of the Bugis have invariably
shown themselves as astute, capable and warlike as the men, the
princess who ruled in Boni during the middle of the last century having
defeated three powerful military expeditions which the Dutch sent
against her. Everything considered, the Bugis are perhaps the most
interesting race in the entire archipelago.
The Bugis are said to be more predisposed toward "running amok" than
any other Malayan people. Having been warned of this unpleasant
idiosyncrasy, I took the precaution, when among them, of carrying in
the right-hand pocket of my jacket a service automatic, loaded and
ready for instant action. For when a Bugi runs amok he will almost
certainly get you unless you get him first. Running amok, I should
explain, is the native term for the homicidal mania which attacks
Malays. Without the slightest warning, and apparently without reason, a
Malay, armed with a kris or other weapon, will rush into the street and
slash at everybody, friends and strangers alike, until he is killed.
These frenzies were formerly regarded as due to sudden insanity, but it
is now believed that the typical _amok_ is the result of excitement due
to circumstances, such as domestic jealousy or gambling losses, which
render the man desperate and weary of life. It is, in fact, the Malay
equivalent of suicide. Though so intimately associated with the Malay,
there are good grounds for believing the word to have an Indian origin.
Certainly the act is far from unknown in Indian history. In Malabar,
for example, it was long the custom for the zamorin or king of Calicut
to cut his throat in public after he had reigned twelve years. But in
the seventeenth century there was inaugurated a variation in this
custom. After a great feast lasting for nearly a fortnight the ruler,
surrounded by his bodyguard, had to take his seat at a national
assembly, on which occasion it was lawful for anyone to attack him,
and, if he succeeded in killing him the murderer himself assumed the
crown. In the year 1600, it is recorded, thirty men who would be king
were killed while thus attempting to gain the throne. These men were
called _Amar-khan_, and it has been suggested that their action was
"running amok" in the true sense of the term. From this it would appear
that a king of Calicut was about as good an insurance risk as a
president of Haiti.
The act of running amok is probably due to causes over which the
culprit has some measure of control, as the custom has now virtually
died out in the Philippines and in the British possessions in Malaysia,
owing to the drastic measures adopted by the authorities. Among the
Mohammedans of the southern Philippines, where the custom is known as
_juramentado_, it was discouraged by burying the carcass of a pig--an
animal abhorred by all Moslems--in the grave with the body of the
assassin. When I was in Jolo the governor told me of a novel and highly
effective method which had been adopted by the officer commanding the
American forces in that island for discouraging the custom. A number of
American soldiers had been killed by Moros running amok. The American
commander took up the matter with the local priests but they only
shrugged their shoulders with true Oriental stoicism, saying that when
a man went _juramentado_ it was the will of Allah and that nothing
could be done. The next day an American soldier, a revolver in either
hand, burst into a Moro village, notorious for its _juramentados_,
firing at everyone whom he saw and yelling like a mad man. The
terrified villagers took to the bush, where they remained in fear and
trembling until the crazy Americano had taken his departure. That
evening the village priests appeared at headquarters to complain to the
American commander.
"But Americans have just as much right to go _juramentado_ as the
Moros," said the general. "I can do nothing. The man is not
responsible. It is the will of Allah." That was the end of
_juramentado_ in Jolo.
* * * * *
The wharves and godowns which line Makassar's water-front form an
unattractive screen to a picturesque and charming town. Though, owing
to its commercial importance as a half-way station on the road from
Asia to Australia, Makassar promises to become a second Singapore, it
has as yet neither an electric lighting, gas, nor water system. It is,
however, very beautifully laid out, the streets, which are broad and
well-kept, being lined by double rows of magnificent canarium trees or
tamarinds, whose branches interlace high overhead in a canopy of green.
The European life of Makassar centers in the great grass-covered
_plein_, or common, where band concerts, reviews, horse races,
festivals, and similar events are held. Facing on the _plein_ is the
palace of the Governor of the Celebes, a one-story, porticoed building
with white walls and green blinds, in the Dutch colonial style, a type
of architecture which is admirably adapted to the tropics. Next to the
palace is the Oranje Hotel, a well-kept and comfortable hostelry as
hotels go in Malaysia. On its terrace the homesick Europeans gather
toward twilight to sip _advocat_--a drink which is a first cousin to
the egg-nogg of pre-Volstead days, very popular in the Indies--and to
listen to the military band playing on the _plein_.
Diagonally across the _plein_ rise the massive walls of Fort Rotterdam,
erected by one of the native rulers, the King of Goa, with the
assistance of the Portuguese, when the seventeenth century was still in
its infancy and when the settlement on the lower end of Manhattan
Island was still called Nieuw Amsterdam. The capture of the fort by the
Dutch in 1667 signalized the passing of Portuguese power in Asia. Pass
the slovenly native sentry at the outer gate, cross the creaking
drawbridge, and, were it not for the tropical vegetation and the
oppressive heat, you might think yourself in the Low Countries instead
of a few degrees below the Line, for the crenelated ramparts, the
shaded, gravelled paths, the ancient garrison church, the officers'
quarters with their steep-pitched, red-tiled roofs, make the interior a
veritable bit of Holland, transplanted to a tropic island half the
world away.
Makassar has a population of about fifty thousand, including something
over a thousand Europeans and some five thousand Chinese, but as most
of the natives live in their walled kampongs in the environs, the city
appears much smaller than it really is. The retail trade is almost
wholly in the hands of the Chinese, many of whom are men of great
wealth and influence. There was also a small colony of Japanese, but,
as a result of the boycott which the Chinese had instituted against
them in reprisal for Japan's refusal to evacuate Shantung, they were
unable to find markets for their wares or to obtain employment and,
in consequence, were being forced to leave the island. The only
American in the Celebes when we were there was the representative of
the Standard Oil Company--a desperately homesick youngster from
Missouri who had been a lieutenant of aviation. He introduced himself
to us on the terrace of the Oranje Hotel, begged the privilege of
buying the drinks, and pleaded with an eagerness that was almost
pathetic for the latest news from God's Country. At almost every place
of importance which we visited in Malaysia we found these agents of
Standard Oil--alert and clean-cut young fellows, who, far from home and
friends, are helping to build up a commercial empire for America
oversea.
The native soldiery, who form the bulk of the Makassar garrison, are
quartered, with their families, in long, stone barracks--ten couples to
a room. For every soldier of the colonial forces, whether European or
native, is permitted to keep a woman in the barracks with him. If she
is the soldier's wife, well and good, but the authorities do not frown
if the couple have omitted the formality of standing up before a
clergyman. The rooms in which the soldiers and their families live have
no partitions, to each couple being assigned a space about eight feet
square, which is chalk-marked on the floor. The only article of
furniture in each of these "apartments" is a bed, which is really a
broad, low platform covered with a grass-mat, for in a land where the
mercury not infrequently climbs to 120 in the shade, there is no need
for bedding. Here they eat and sleep and make their toilets, the women
preparing the meals for their men and for themselves in ovens
out-of-doors. At night the beds may be separated by drawing the
flimsiest of cotton curtains--the only concession to privacy that I
could discover. As Malays invariably have large families, the barrack
room usually has the appearance of a day nursery, with naked brown
youngsters crawling everywhere, but at night they are disposed of in
fiber hammocks which are slung over the parents' heads. The colonel in
command at Fort Rotterdam told me that in the new type of barracks
which were being built in Java each family would be assigned a separate
room, but he seemed to regard such provisions for privacy as wholly
unnecessary and a shameful waste of money.
The military authorities not only permit, but encourage the Dutch
soldiers to contract alliances of a temporary character with native
women during their term of service in the Insulinde, with the idea, no
doubt, of making them more contented. During operations in the field
the women and children, instead of remaining behind in barracks,
accompany the troops almost to the firing-line, a custom which,
apparently, does not interfere with efficiency or discipline. Indeed,
there are few forces of equal size in the world which have seen as much
active service as the army of Netherlands India, for in the extension
of Dutch dominion throughout the archipelago the native rulers rarely
have surrendered their authority without fighting. Though the
newspapers seldom mention it, Holland is almost constantly engaged in
some little war in some remote corner of her Indian empire, in certain
districts of Sumatra, for example, fighting having been almost
continuous these many years.
Though the flag of Holland was first hoisted over the Celebes more than
three centuries ago, Dutch commercial interests are still virtually
confined to the four chief towns--Makassar, Menado, Gorontalo, and
Tondano--and this in spite of the fact that the interior of the island
is known to be immensely rich in natural resources. In the native
states Dutch authority is little more than nominal, the repeated
attempts which have been made to subjugate them invariably having met
with discouragement and not infrequently with disaster. Hence the
island is still without railways, though it is being slowly opened up
by means of roads, some of which are practicable for motor-cars. Most
of the roads in the Celebes were originally built by means of the
Corvée, or forced labor, the natives being compelled to spend one month
out of the twelve in road construction. But, though they were taken for
this work at a season when they could best be spared from their fields,
it was an enormous tax to impose upon an agricultural population,
resulting in grave discontent and in seriously retarding the
development of the island. For, ever since Marshal Daendels, "the Iron
Marshal," who ruled the Indies under Napoleon, utilized forced labor to
build the splendid eight-hundred-mile-long highway which runs from one
end of Java to the other, the corvée has been a synonym for
unspeakable cruelty and oppression throughout the Insulinde. Each
_dessa_, or district, through which the great trans-Java highway runs
was forced to construct, within an allotted period, a certain section
of the road, the natives working without pay while their crops rotted
in the fields and their families starved. As a final touch of tyranny,
the grim old Marshal gave orders that if a _dessa_ did not complete its
section of the road within the allotted time the chiefs of that
district were to be taken out and hung.
When the Dutch determined to open up Celebes by the construction of a
highway system they realized the wisdom of obtaining the cooperation of
the native rulers. But when they outlined their scheme to the King of
Goa, the most powerful chieftain in the southern part of the island,
they encountered, if not open opposition, at least profound
indifference. This was scarcely a matter for surprise, however, for the
King quite obviously had no use for roads, first, because when he had
occasion to journey through his dominions he either rode on horseback
or was carried in a palanquin along the narrow jungle trails; secondly,
because he was perfectly well aware that by aiding in the construction
of roads he would be undermining his own power, for roads would mean
white men. To attempt to build a road across Goa in the face of the
King's opposition, would, as the Dutch realized, probably precipitate a
native uprising, for, without his cooperation, it would be necessary
to make use of the corvée to obtain laborers.
But the Governor of the Celebes had been trained in a different school
from the Iron Marshal. He believed that with an ignorant and suspicious
native, such as the King of Goa, tact could accomplish more than
threats. So, instead of attempting to build the road by forced labor,
he sent to Batavia for a fine European horse and a luxurious carriage,
gaudily painted, which he presented to the King as a token of the
government's esteem and friendship. Now the King of Goa, as the
governor was perfectly aware, had about as much use for a wheeled
vehicle in his roadless dominions as a Bedouin of the Sahara has for a
sailboat. But the King did precisely what the governor anticipated that
he would do: in order that he might display his new possession he
promptly ordered his subjects to build him a carriage road from his
capital to Makassar. Thus the government of the Celebes obtained a
perfectly good highway for the price of a horse and carriage, and won
the friendship of the most powerful of the native rulers into the
bargain. After some years, however, the road began to fall into
disrepair, but as by this time the novelty of the horse and carriage
had worn off, the King took little interest in its improvement. So the
governor again had recourse to diplomacy to gain his ends, this time
presenting his Goanese Majesty with a motor-car, gorgeous with scarlet
paint and polished brass. And, in order that the King might be brought
to realize that the roads were not in a condition conducive to
comfortable motoring, a young Dutch officer took him for his first
motor ride. That ride evidently jolted the memory as well as the body
of the dusky monarch, for the next day a royal edict was issued
summoning hundreds of natives to put the road in good repair. And, as
the King quickly acquired a taste for speeding, in good repair it has
remained ever since.
I have related this episode not because it is in itself of any great
importance, but because it serves to illustrate the methods used by the
Dutch officials in handling recalcitrant or stubborn natives. Though
Holland rules her fifty million brown subjects with an iron hand, she
has long since learned the wisdom of wearing over the iron a velvet
glove.