The minor and purely domestic affairs of_The Pagan Tribes of Borneo A Description of Their Physical Moral and Intellectual Condition, with Some Discussion of Their Ethnic Relations

by the house-chief, but all important matters of general interest

are brought before the village-chief. In the former category fall

disputes as to ownership of domestic animals and plants, questions

of compensation for injury or loss of borrowed boats, nets, or other

articles, of marriage and divorce, and minor personal injuries, moral

or physical. The matters to be settled by the head-chief sitting in

council with the subordinate chiefs are those affecting the whole

village, questions of war and peace and of removal, disputes between

houses, trials for murder or serious personal injuries.

The degree of authority of the chiefs and the nature and degree of

the penalties imposed by them are prescribed in a general way by

custom, though as regards the former much depends upon the personal

qualities of each chief, and as regards the latter much is left to his

discretion. The punishments imposed are generally fines, so many TAWAKS

(gongs), PARANGS (swords) or spears, or other articles of personal

property. On the whole the chief plays the part of an arbitrator and

mediator, awarding compensation to the injured party, rather than that

of a judge. In the case of offences against the whole house, a fine

is imposed; and the articles of the required value are placed under

the charge of the chief, who holds them on behalf of the community,

and uses them in the making of payments or presents in return for

services rendered to the whole community.

The chief also is responsible for the proper observation of the omens

and for the regulation of MALAN (tabu) affecting the whole house; and,

as we shall see, he takes the leading part in social ceremonies and in

most of the religious rites collectively performed by the village. He

is regarded by other chiefs as responsible for the behaviour of his

people, and above all, in war he is responsible for both strategy

and tactics and the general conduct of operations.

For the maintenance of his authority and the enforcement of his

commands the chief relies upon the force of public opinion, which,

so long as he is capable and just, will always support him, and will

bring severe moral pressure to bear upon any member of the household

who hesitates to submit.

In return for his labours on behalf of the household or village the

Kayan chief gains little or nothing in the shape of material reward. He

may receive a little voluntary assistance in the cultivation of his

field; in travelling by boat he is accorded the place of honour and

ease in the middle of the boat, and he is not expected to help in

its propulsion. His principal rewards are the social precedence and

deference accorded him and the satisfaction found in the exercise

of authority.

If the people of a house or village are gravely dissatisfied with

the conduct of their chief, they will retire to their PADI-fields,

building temporary houses there. If many take this course, a new

long house will be built and a new chief elected to rule over it,

while the old chief remains in the old house with a reduced following,

sometimes consisting only of his near relatives.

The office of chief is rather elective than hereditary, but the

operation of the elective principle is affected by a strong bias in

favour of the most capable son of the late chief; so in practice a

chief is generally succeeded by one of his sons. An elderly chief will

sometimes voluntarily abdicate in favour of a son. If a chief dies,

leaving no son of mature age, some elderly man of good standing and

capacity will be elected to the chieftainship, generally by agreement

arrived at by many informal discussions during the weeks following

the death. If thereafter a son of the old chief showed himself a

capable man as he grew up, he would be held to have a strong claim on

the chieftainship at the next vacancy. If the new chief at his death

left also a mature and capable son, there might be two claimants, each

supported by a strong party; the issue of such a state of affairs would

probably be the division of the house or village, by the departure of

one claimant with his party to build a new village. In such a case

the seceding party would carry away with them their share of the

timbers of the old house, together with all their personal property.

The Kenyahs form a less homogeneous and clearly defined tribe than

the Kayans; yet in the main their social organisation is very similar

to that of the Kayans, although, as regards physical characters and

language as well as some customs, they present closer affinities with

other peoples than with the Kayans, especially with the Klemantans. The

Kenyah tribe also comprises a number of named branches, though these

are less clearly defined than the sub-tribes of the Kayan people. Each

branch is generally named after the river on the banks of which its

villages are situated, or were situated at some comparatively recent

time of which the memory is preserved. In many cases a single village

adopts the name of some tributary stream near the mouth of which it

is situated, and the people speak of themselves by this name. Thus it

seems clear that the named branches of the Kenyah tribe are nothing

more than local groups formed in the course of the periodical

migrations, and named after the localities they have occupied.[39]

The foregoing description of the relations of a Kayan chief to

his people applies in the main to the Kenyah chief. But among the

Kenyahs the position of the chief is one of greater authority and

consideration than among the Kayans. The people voluntarily work for

their chief both in his private and public capacities, obeying his

commands cheerfully, and accepting his decisions with more deference

than is accorded by the Kayans. The chief in return shows himself

more generous and paternal towards his people, interesting himself

more intimately in their individual affairs. Hence the Kenyah chief

stands out more prominently as leader and representative of his people,

and the cohesion of the whole community is stronger. The chief owes his

great influence over his people in large measure to his training, for,

while still a youth, the son or the nephew of a chief is accustomed

to responsibility by being sent in charge of small bodies of followers

upon missions to distant villages, to gather or convey information, or

to investigate disturbing rumours. He is also frequently called upon to

speak on public occasions, and thus early becomes a practised orator.

Among Klemantans, Muruts, and Sea Dayaks each house recognises a

headman or chief; but he has little authority (more perhaps among the

first of these peoples than among the other two). He acts as arbitrator

in household disputes, but in too many cases his impartiality is not

above suspicion, save where custom rigidly limits his preference.

Among both Kayans and Kenyahs three social strata are clearly

distinguishable and are recognised by the people themselves in each

village. The upper class is constituted by the family of the chief

and his near relatives, his aunts and uncles, brothers, sisters, and

cousins, and their children. These upper-class families are generally

in easier circumstances than the others, thanks to the possession

of property such as brass ware, valuable beads, caves in which the

swift builds its edible nest, slaves, and a supply of all the other

material possessions larger in quantity and superior in quality to

those of the middle- and lower-class families.

The man of the upper class can generally be distinguished at a glance

by his superior bearing and manners, by the neatness and cleanliness

of his person, his more valuable weapons, and personal ornaments,

as well as by greater regularity of features. The woman of the

upper class also exhibits to the eye similar marks of her superior

birth and breeding. The tatuing of her skin is more finely executed,

greater care is taken with the elongation of the lobe of the ear,

so that the social status of the woman is indicated by the length

of the lobe. Her dress and person are cleaner, and generally better

cared for, and her skin is fairer than that of other women, owing no

doubt to her having been less exposed to the sun.

The men of the upper class work in the PADI-fields and bear their share

of all the labours of the village; but they are able to cultivate

larger areas than others owing to their possession of slaves, who,

although they are expected to grow a supply of PADI for their own

use, assist in the cultivation of their master's fields. For the

upper-class women, also, the labours of the field and the house are

rendered less severe by the assistance of female slaves, although

they bear a part both in the weeding of the fields, in the harvesting,

and in the preparation of food in the house.

The chief's room, which is usually about twice as long as others, is

usually in the middle of the house; and those of the other upper-class

families, which also may be larger than the other rooms, adjoin it

on either side.

In all social gatherings, and in the performance of public rites and

ceremonies, the men of the upper class are accorded leading parts,

and they usually group themselves about the chief. Social intercourse

is freer and more intimate among the people of the upper class than

between them and the rest of the household.

The upper class is relatively more numerous in the Kenyah than in the

Kayan houses, and more clearly distinguishable by address and bearing.

The middle class comprises the majority of the people of a house in

most cases. They may enjoy all the forms of property, though generally

their possessions are of smaller extent and value, and they seldom

possess slaves. Their voices carry less weight in public affairs;

but among this class are generally a few men of exceptional capacity

or experience whose advice and co-operation are specially valued

by the chief. Among this class, too, are usually a few men in each

house on whom devolve, often hereditarily, special duties implying

special skill or knowledge, E.G. the working of iron at the forge,

the making of boats, the catching of souls, the finding of camphor,

the observation and determination of the seasons. All such special

occupations are sources of profit, though only the last of these

enables a man to dispense with the cultivation of PADI.

The lower class is made up of slaves captured in war and of their

descendants, and for this reason its members are of very varied

physical type. An unmarried slave of either sex lives with, and is

treated almost as a member of, the family of his or her master,

eating and in some cases sleeping in the family room. Slaves are

allowed to marry, their children becoming the property of their

masters. Some slave-families are allowed to acquire a room in the

house, and they then begin to acquire a less dependent position; and

though they still retain the status of slaves, and are spoken of as

"slaves-outside-the-room," the master generally finds it impossible

to command their services beyond a very limited extent, and in some

cases will voluntarily resign his rights over the family. But in this

case the family continues to belong to the lower class.

The members of each of these classes marry in nearly all cases within

their own class. The marriages of the young people of the upper

class are carefully regulated. Although they are allowed to choose

their partners according to the inscrutable dictates of personal

affinities, their choice is limited by their elders and the authority

of the chief. Many of them marry members of neighbouring villages,

while the other classes marry within their own village.

A youth of the upper class, becoming fond of some girl of the

middle class, and not being allowed to marry her (although this is

occasionally permitted), will live with her for a year or two. Then,

when the time for his marriage arrives (it having perhaps been

postponed for some years after being arranged, owing to evil omens,

or to lack of means or of house accommodation), he may separate from

his mistress, leaving in her care any children born of their union,

and perhaps making over to her some property -- as public opinion

demands in such cases. She may and usually will marry subsequently

a man of her own class, but the children born of her irregular

union may claim and may be accorded some of the privileges of their

father's class. In this way there is formed in most villages a class

of persons of ambiguous status, debarred from full membership in the

upper class by the bar-sinister. Such persons tend to become wholly

identified with the upper or middle class according to the degrees

of their personal merits.

Marriages are sometimes contracted between persons of the middle and

slave classes. In the case of a young man marrying a slave woman,

the owners of the woman will endeavour to persuade him to live with

her in their room, when he becomes a subordinate member of their

household. If they succeed in this they will claim as their property

half the children born to the couple. On the other hand, if the man

insists on establishing himself in possession of a room, he may succeed

in practically emancipating his wife, perhaps making some compensation

to her owners in the shape of personal services or brass ware. In this

case the children of the couple would be regarded as freeborn. It is

generally possible for an energetic slave to buy his freedom.

Less frequent is the marriage of a slave man with a free woman of the

middle class. In this case the man will generally manage to secure

his emancipation and to establish himself as master of a room, and to

merge himself in the middle class. In the case of marriage between two

slaves, they continue to live in the rooms of their owners, spending

by arrangement periods of two or three years alternately as members

of the two households. The children born of such a slave-couple are

divided as they grow up between the owners of their parents.

On the whole the slaves are treated with so much kindness and

consideration that they have little to complain of, and most of them

seem to have little desire to be freed. A capable slave may become

the confidant and companion of his master, and in this way may attain

a position of considerable influence in the village. A young slave is

commonly addressed by his master and mistress as "My Child." A slave

is seldom beaten or subjected to any punishment save scolding, and

he bears his part freely in the life of the family, sharing in its

labours and its recreations, its ill or its good fortunes. Nothing

in the dress or appearance of the slave distinguishes him from the

other members of the village.

The Family

Very few men have more than one wife. Occasionally a chief whose wife

has borne him no children during some years of married life, or has

found the labours of entertaining his guests beyond her strength,

will with her consent, or even at her request, take a second younger

wife. In such a case each wife has her own sleeping apartment within

the chief's large chamber, and the younger wife is expected to defer

to the older one, and to help her in the work of the house and of

the field. The second wife would be chosen of rather lower social

standing than the first wife, who in virtue of this fact maintains

her ascendancy more easily. A third wife is probably unknown; public

opinion does not easily condone a second wife, and would hardly

tolerate a third. In spite of the presence of slave women in the

houses, concubinage is not recognised or tolerated.

The choice of a wife is not restricted by the existence of any law

or custom prescribing marriage without or within any defined group;

that is to say, exogamous and endogamous groups do not exist. Incest

is regarded very seriously, and the forbidden degrees of kinship are

clearly defined. They are very similar to those recognised among

ourselves. A man may under no circumstances marry or have sexual

relations with his sister, mother, daughter, father's or mother's

sister or half sister, his brother's or sister's daughter; and in

the case of those women who stand to him in any of these relations

in virtue of adoption, the prohibitions and severe penalties are

if possible even more strictly enforced. First cousins may marry,

but such marriages are not regarded with favour, and certain special

ceremonies are necessitated; and it seems to be the general opinion

that such marriages are not likely to prove happy. Many young men of

the upper class marry girls of the same class belonging to neighbouring

villages of their own people, aid in some cases this choice falls

on a girl of a village of some other tribe. A marriage of the latter

kind is often encouraged by the chiefs and elder people, in order to

strengthen or to restore friendly relations between the villages.

The initiative is taken in nearly all cases by the youth. He begins

by paying attentions somewhat furtively to the girl who attracts his

fancy. He will often be found passing the evening in her company

in her parents' room. There he will display his skill with the

KELURI, or the Jew's harp, or sing the favourite love-song of the

people, varying the words to suit the occasion. If the girl looks

with favour on his advances, she manages to make the fact known to

him. Politeness demands that in any case he shall be supplied by the

women with lighted cigarettes. If the girl wishes him to stay, she

gives him a cigarette tied in a peculiar manner, namely by winding

the strip which confines its sheath of dried banana leaf close to

the narrow mouth-piece; whereas on all other occasions this strip is

wound about the middle of the cigarette. The young man thus encouraged

will repeat his visits. If his suit makes progress, he may hope that

the fair one will draw out with a pair of brass tweezers the hairs

of his eyebrows and lashes, while he reclines on his back with his

head in her lap. If these hairs are very few, the girl will remark

that some one else has been pulling them out, an imputation which

he repudiates. Or he complains of a headache, and she administers

scalp-massage by winding tufts of hair about her knuckles and sharply

tugging them. When the courtship has advanced to this stage, the girl

may attract her suitor to the room by playing on the Jew's harp,

with which she claims to be able to speak to him -- presumably the

language of the heart. The youth thus encouraged may presume to remain

beside his sweetheart till early morning, or to return to her side

when the old people have retired. When the affair has reached this

stage, it becomes necessary to secure the public recognition which

constitutes the relation a formal betrothal. The man charges some

elderly friend of either sex, in many cases his father or mother,

to inform the chief of his desire. The latter expresses a surprise

which is not always genuine; and, if the match is a suitable one,

he contents himself with giving a little friendly advice. But if

he is aware of any objections to the match he will point them out,

and though he will seldom forbid it in direct terms, he will know

how to cause the marriage to be postponed.

If the chief and parents favour the match, the young man presents

a brass gong or a valuable bead to the girl's family as pledge of

his sincerity. This is returned to him if for any reason beyond his

control the match is broken off. The marriage may take place with

very little delay; but during the interval between betrothal and

marriage the omens are anxiously observed and consulted. All accidents

affecting any members of the village are regarded as of evil omen,

the more so the more nearly the betrothed parties are concerned in

them. The cries of birds and deer are important; those heard about the

house are likely to be bad omens, and it is sought to compensate for

these by sending a man skilled in augury to seek good omens in the

jungle, such as the whistle of the Trogan and of the spider-hunter,

and the flight of the hawk from right to left high up in the sky. If

the omens are persistently and predominantly bad, the marriage is put

off for a year, and after the next harvest fresh omens are sought. The

man is encouraged in the meantime to absent himself from the village,

in the hope that he may form some other attachment. But if he remains

true and favourable omens are obtained, the marriage is celebrated if

possible at the close of the harvest. If the marriage takes place at

any other time, the feast will be postponed to the end of the following

harvest.[40] After the marriage the man lives with his wife in the room

of his father-in-law for one, two, or at most three years. During this

time he works in the fields of his father-in-law and generally helps

in the support of the household, showing great deference towards

his wife's parents. Before the end of the third year of marriage,

the young couple will acquire for themselves a room in the house and

village of the husband, in which they set up housekeeping on their

own account. In addition to these personal services rendered to the

parents of the bride, the man or his father and other relatives give

to the girl's parents at the time of the marriage various articles

which are valuable in proportion to the social standing of the parties,

and which are generally appropriated by the girl's parents.[41]

Divorce is rare but not unknown among the Kayans. The principal grounds

of divorce are misconduct, desertion, incompatibility of temper and

family quarrels; or a couple may terminate their state of wedlock

by mutual consent on payment of a moderate fine to the chief. Such

separation by mutual consent is occasioned not infrequently by the

sterility of the marriage, especially if the couple fails to obtain a

child for adoption; the parties hope to procure offspring by taking

new partners; for the desire for children and pride and joy in the

possession of them are strongly felt by all. The husband of a sterile

wife may leave the house for a long period, living in the jungle and

visiting other houses, in the hope that his wife may divorce him on

the ground of desertion, or give him ground for divorcing her. On

discovery of misconduct on the woman's part the husband will usually

divorce her; the man then retains all property accumulated since

the marriage, and the children are divided between the parents. The

co-respondent and respondent are fined by the chief, and half the

amount of the fine goes to the injured husband. Misconduct on the

part of the man must be flagrant before it constitutes a sufficient

ground for his divorce by his wife. In this case the same rules are

followed. Among the Kayans the divorce is not infrequently followed

by a reconciliation brought about by the intervention of friends;

the parties then come together again without further ceremony. There

is little formality about the divorce procedure. In the main it takes

the form of separation by mutual consent and the condonation of the

irregularity by the community on the payment of a fine to the chief.

Adoption

Adoption is by no means uncommon. The desire for children, especially

male children, is general and strong; but sterile marriages seem to be

known among all the peoples and are common among the Kenyahs. When a

woman has remained infertile for some years after her marriage, the

couple usually seek to adopt one or more children. They generally

prefer the child of a relative, but may take any child, even a

captive or a slave child, whose parents are willing to resign all

rights in it. A child is often taken over from parents oppressed

by poverty, in many cases some article of value or a supply of PADI

being given in exchange. Not infrequently the parents wish to have

the child returned to them when their affairs take a turn for the

better, owing to a good harvest or some stroke of luck, and this is

a frequent cause of dissensions. Usually the adopted child takes in

every way the position of a child born to the parents.

Some of the Klemantans (Barawans and Lelaks in the Baram) practise a

curious symbolic ceremony on the adoption of a child. When a couple has

arranged to adopt a child, both man and wife observe for some weeks

before the ceremony all the prohibitions usually observed during

the later months of pregnancy. Many of these prohibitions may be

described in general terms by saying that they imply abstention from

every action that may suggest difficulty or delay in delivery; E.G. the

hand must not be thrust into any narrow hole to pull anything out of

it; no fixing of things with wooden pegs must be done; there must be

no lingering on the threshold on entering or leaving a room. When the

appointed day arrives, the woman sits in her room propped up and with a

cloth round her, in the attitude commonly adopted during delivery. The

child is pushed forward from behind between the woman's legs, and,

if it is a young child, it is put to the breast and encouraged to

suck. Later it receives a new name.

It is very difficult to obtain admission that a particular child

has been adopted and is not the actual offspring of the parents;

and this seems to be due, not so much to any desire to conceal the

facts as to the completeness of the adoption, the parents coming to

regard the child as so entirely their own that it is difficult to find

words which will express the difference between the adopted child and

the offspring. This is especially the case if the woman has actually

suckled the child.

Proper Names

The child remains nameless during the first few years, and is spoken

of as UKAT if a boy, OWING if a girl, both of which seem to be best

translated as Thingumybob; among the Sea Dayaks ULAT (the little grub)

is the name commonly used. It is felt that to give the child a name

while its hold of life is still feeble is undesirable, because the

name would tend to draw the attention of evil spirits to it. During

its third or fourth year it is given a name at the same time as a

number of other children of the house.[42] The name is chosen with

much deliberation, the eldest son and daughter usually receiving

the names of a grandfather and grandmother respectively. Male and

female names are distinct. The name first given to any person is

rarely carried through life; it is usually changed after any severe

illness or serious accident, in order that the evil influences that

have pursued him may fail to recognise him under the new name; thus

the first or infant name of Tama Bulan was Lujah. After bearing it a

few years he went through a serious illness, on account of which his

name was changed to Wang. Among the Klemantans it is usual under these

circumstances to name the child after some offensive object, E.G. TAI

(dung), in order to render it inconspicuous, and thus withdraw it from

the attention of malign powers. After the naming of a couple's first

child, the parents are always addressed as father and mother of the

child; E.G. if the child's name is OBONG, her father becomes known as

TAMA OBONG, her mother as INAI OBONG, and their original names are

disused and almost forgotten,[43] unless needed to distinguish the

parents from other persons of the same name, when the old names are

appended to the new; thus, Tama Obong Jau, if Jau was the original

name of Tama Obong; and thus Tama Bulan received this name on the

naming of his first child, Bulan (the moon), and when it is wished to

distinguish him in conversation from other fathers of the moon he is

called Tama Bulan Wang. If the eldest child OBONG dies, the father,

Tama Obong Jau, becomes OYONG JAU; if one of his younger children

dies, he becomes AKAM JAU; if his wife dies, he becomes ABAN JAU;

if his brother died, he would be called YAT JAU; and if his sister,

HAWAN JAU; and if two of these relatives are dead, these titles are

used indifferently; but the deaths of wife and children are predominant

over other occasions for the change of name. An elderly man who has

no children receives the title LINGO, and a woman, the title APA

prefixed to his or her former name. A widow is called BALU. The names

of father and mother are never assumed by the children, and their

deaths do not occasion any change of name, except the adoption of

the title OYAU on the loss of the father, and ILUN on the loss of

the mother. These titles would be used only until the man became a

father. When a man becomes a grandfather his title is LAKI (E.G. LAKI

JAU), and this title supersedes all others. A child addresses, and

speaks of, his father as TAMAN, and his mother as INAI or TINAN,

and all four grandparents as POI. The parent commonly addresses the

child, even when adult, as ANAK, or uses his proper name. A father's

brother is addressed as AMAI, but this title is used also as a term

of respect in addressing any older man not related in any degree,

even though he be of a different tribe or race. They use the word

INAI for aunt as well as for mother, and some have adopted the Malay

term MA MANAKAN for aunt proper. The same is true of the words for

nephew and niece -- the Malay term ANAK MANAKAN being used for both.

The terms used to denote degrees of kinship are few, and are used

in a very elastic manner. The term of widest connotation is PARIN

IGAT, which is equivalent to our cousin used in the wider or Scotch

sense; it is applied to all blood relatives of the same generation,

and is sometimes used in a metaphorical sense much as we use the

term brother. There are no words corresponding to our words son and

daughter, ANAK meaning merely child of either sex. There are no words

corresponding to brother and sister; both are spoken of as PARIN,

but this word is often used as a title of endearment in addressing or

speaking of a friend of either sex of the same social standing and age

as the speaker. The children of the same parents speak of themselves

collectively as PANAK; this term also is sometimes used loosely and

metaphorically. A step-father is TAMAN DONG; father-in-law is TAMAN

DIVAN; forefather is SIPUN, a term used of any male or female ancestor

more remote than the grandparents; but these are merely descriptive

and not terms of address. A man of the upper class not uncommonly

has a favourite companion of the middle class, who accompanies him

everywhere and renders him assistance and service, and shares his

fortunes (FIDUS ACHATES in short); him he addresses as BAKIS, and the

title is used reciprocally. A title reciprocally used by those who are

very dear friends, especially by those who have enjoyed the favours

of the same fair one, is TOYONG (or among the Sea Dayaks -- IMPRIAN).

This list includes all the important Kayan terms used to denote

personal relations and kinship, so far as we know; and we think it

very improbable that any have escaped us. There seem to be no secret

names, except in so far as names discarded on account of misfortune are

not willingly recalled or communicated; but a child's name is seldom

used, and adults also seem to avoid calling on one another by their

proper names, especially when in the jungle, the title alone, such as

OYONG, or ABAN being commonly used; apparently owing to some vaguely

conceived risk of directing to the individual named the attentions

of malevolent powers.[44]

The foregoing account of the social organisation of the Kayans applies

equally well to the Kenyahs, except that some of the titles used

are different. The Klemantans and Muruts, too, present few important

differences except that the power of the chiefs is decidedly less,

and the distinction of the social strata less clearly marked, and

slaves are less numerous. The Sea Dayak social organisation is also

similar in most of its features. The most important of the differences

presented by it are the following: -- Polygamy is not allowed, and

occurs only illicitly. Both parties are fined when the facts are

discovered. Divorce is very common and easily obtained; the marriage

relation, being surrounded with much less solemnity, is more easily

entered into and dissolved. Infidelity and mutual agreement are the

common occasions of divorce. Either party can readily secure his or

her freedom by payment of a small fine. There are both men and women

who have married many times; a tenth husband or wife is not unknown;

and a marriage may be dissolved within a week of its consummation.

The Sea Dayak, like all the other peoples, regards incest very

seriously, and the forbidden degrees of kinship are well understood

and very similar to those of Kayans.

A Sea Dayak village consists in almost every case of a single house,

but such houses are generally grouped within easy reach of one

another. Very few slaves are to be found in their houses, since the

Ibans usually take the heads of all their conquered enemies rather

than make slaves of them.

Inheritance of Property

At a man's death his property is divided between his widow and

children. But in order to prevent the disputes, which often arise

over the division of inheritance, an old man may divide his property

before his death. The widow becomes the head of the room, though a

married son or daughter or several unmarried children may share it

with her. She inherits all or most of the household utensils. Such

things as gongs and other brass ware, weapons, war-coats, and boats,

are divided equally among the sons, the eldest perhaps getting a

little more than the others. The girls divide the old beads, cloth,

bead-boxes, and various trifles. The male slaves go to the sons,

the female slaves to the daughters. Bird's nest caves and bee trees

might be divided or shared among all the children.

It happens not infrequently that one son or daughter, remaining

unmarried, continues to live in the household of the parents and to

look after them in their old age. To such a one some valuable article,

such as a string of old beads or costly jar, is usually bequeathed.

Among the Sea Dayaks the old jars, which constitute the chief part

of a man's wealth, are distributed among both sons and daughters;

if the jars are too few for equal distribution, they are jointly

owned until one can buy out the shares of his co-owners.

The members of a Kayan household are bound together, not merely by

their material circumstances, such as their shelter under a common

roof and their participation in common labours, and not merely by

the moral bonds such as kinship and their allegiance to one chief and

loyalty to one another, but also by more subtle ties, of which the most

important is their sharing in the protection and warning afforded to

the whole house by the omen-birds or by the higher powers served by

these. For omens are observed for the whole household, and hold good

only for those who live under the one roof, This spiritual unity of

the household is jealously guarded. Occasionally one family may wish

for some reason, such as bad dreams or much sickness, to withdraw

from the house. If the rest of the household is unwilling to remove

to a new house, they will oppose such withdrawal, and, if the man

insists on separating, a fine is imposed on him, and he is compelled to

leave undisturbed the roof and all the main structure of his section

of the house; though the room would be left unoccupied. Conversely

Kayans are very unwilling to admit any family to become members of

the household. They never or seldom add sections to a house which

has once been completed; and young married couples must live in

their parents' rooms, until the whole household removes and builds

a new house. Occasionally a remnant of a household which has been

broken up by the attack of enemies is sheltered by a friendly house;

but the newcomers are lodged in the gallery only until the time comes

for building a new house, when they may be allowed to build rooms for

themselves, and to become incorporated in the household. Another plan

sometimes adopted is to build a small house for the newcomers closely

adjoining the main house, but joined to it only by an open platform.

Appendix to Chapter V

Tables showing Kinship of the Kenyahs of Long Tikan (Tama

Bulan's house) in the Baram District of Sarawak.

We have made out tables showing the kinship of the inhabitants of

several Kenyah long houses and of one Sea Dayak house, following

the example and method of Dr. W. H. R. Rivers. These tables have

not revealed to us indications of any peculiar system of kinship;

but we think it worth while to reproduce one of them as an appendix

to the foregoing chapter. The table includes all the inhabitants of

the house living in the year 1899, as well as those deceased members

of whom we are able to obtain trustworthy information. The arrangement

is by door or room, but since on marriage some shifting from one room

to another takes place, some individuals appear under two doors.

In these tables the names of males are printed in ordinary type,

those of females in italics; and the following signs are used: --

= for married to.

= indicates the children of a married couple.

implies that the individual below whose name it occurs reached adult

life, but died without issue.

implies a child dead at early age, sex and name unknown.

[male] implies male child not yet named.

[female] implies female child not yet named

? individual of unknown name.

(1) Sidi Karang's Door.

Sidi Karang = SIDI PENG (A Long Paku Kenyah).

Baiai Gau = ULAU.

Other Members of the Room.

Tama Aping Layong = BALU BUON.

Lutang (nephew of Sidi Karang).

SUKUN.

Mang = BORU TELLUN.

Luat = ?

Lim.

Ukang.

Lesun = BALU ULAN.

Usun.

Luyok = OYONG TURING. (See Door 6.)

Linjau.

ITANG WING = Lara Wan.

(2) Ajong's Door.

Mawa Ontong (Long Belukun Kenyah) = ? (Long Belukun Kenyah woman).

BALU LARA.

Anjong = NGINO (Long Tikan).

[male]

[female]

(3) Mawa Jungan's Door.

Mawa Hungan (see Imoh's door) = MAWA UJONG.

Weak-minded.

Kading.

[female]

(4) Imoh's Door.

Jilo = ?

Imoh = TINA APING POYONG, (sister of NGINO, see Door 2)

formerly = Tama Aping Lalo. (see Door 5).

Lirim.

(5) Pallavo's Door.

Maga = ?

PALLAVO (unmarried at 60).

Tugan (weak-minded slave).

Tama Aping Lalo = (1st wife) TINA APING POYONG (see Door 4) = (2nd

wife) USUN (Likan Kenyah).

Anie Tapa (weak-minded) = ?

Tigiling (weak-minded).

(6) Oyong Turing's Door.

Seling = ?

Sidi Ontong = ?

OYONG LUJOK = Oyong Turing.

Maga.

BALU ATING = ?

Laro Libo (Long Palutan Kenyah) = LARA ULAU.

ASONG.

Sapo.

Lalo.

LUNGA.

USUN.

SINGIM.

(7) Balu Kran's Door.

Lingan (a Likan Kenyah) = ?

Tama Aping Mawa = BALU KRAN (see Door 8).

LAUONG.

Siggau.

Oyu Apa.

[female] weak-minded.

(8) Balu Uding's Door.

Sawa Taja = ?

BALU KRAN.

BALU UDING = Mawa Imang.

Oyu Suo.

Luat.

KENING (unmarried sister of Mawa Imang).

(9) Aban Moun's Door.

Kamang.

Aban Moun = TELUN.

Tama Sook Bilong = TINA SOOK BUNGAN.

Sook (weak-minded).

x unnamed.

Tama Aping Salo = ? (Long Belukun Kenyah).

x unnamed.

TINA APING ODING.

(10) Aban Magi's Door.

Aban Magi (see Door 13) = TINA APING KRAN.

Anie Liran.

(11) Lara Wan's Door.

Mawa Liva = (1st wife) TINA WAN = (2nd wife) UTAN URING

Lara Wan = LARA LANAN (Long Paku).

Jalong.

Katan.

JULUT.

Jawing.

Kuleh.

Balu Mening.

(12) Tama An Lahing's Door.

Batan = TINA LAHING.

Tama an Lahing = TINA AN PIKA.

ODING = Balari.

ULAU.

SILALANG.

BALU TATAN = Wan Tula (son of Balaban).

Tago.

Ballan.

KENING.

Tama Owing Laang = NOWING UBONG (daughter of Aban Imang,

an Uma Poh Kayan).

MENING.

MUJAN.

(13) Oyu Irang's Door.

Sorang (Long Tikan) = SINJAI (Long Tikan) (sister of Aban Magi,

see Door 10; and Lara Libo, see Door 6).

Oyu Irang.

Pakat.

Kupit.

Other members in the Room.

BALU TUBONG (sister of Sorang) = ? (a Long Tikan man).

ABING URAI (sister of Balu Tubong) = Aban Madan (Long Paku).

(14) Balu Usan's Door.

BALU USAN (Long Palutan) = Aban Siliwa (Long Palutan).

Oyu Sijau.

BALU MENO (niece of Balu Usan) = Aban Meggang (Long Peku).

Lirong.

ULAN.

[female]

(15) Balu Buah's Door.

Tegging = BALU MUJAN.

BALU BUAH = Lara Lalu (Long Belukun Kenyah).

UTAN URING.

Abing Liran = LOONG LAKING.

UTAI USUN.

BAYIN.

Apa.

Baja.

[female]

(16) Oyong Kalang's Door.

Oyong Kalang (Long Palutan Kenyah) = OYONG NONG (Long Palutan Kenyah).

Sago = ?

INO.

Angin.

Ngau.

Uya.

(17) Sidi Jau's Door.

Tama Owing Lawai (Lepu Tau) = TINA OWING KLING (sister of Tama

Bulan Wang).

Sidi Jau = PAYAH LAH (Uma Poh Kayan).

Kuleh.

Libut.

Balari = UDING.

Other People in the Room.

TINA APING UDING (Long Palutan) = Tama Aping Toloi (Long Tikan).

POYONG.

ULAU.

LOGAN.

BALA KEYONG = Aban Batu.

Oyu Baung.

Oyu Lalu = ?

LUJOK.

Aban Jok (Murut x Kayan).

KANGIN (sister to Mang, see Door 1).

Aban Oyu (Murut) = BALU MONG.

(18) Aban Tingan's Door.

Aban Langat (Punan) = TINA OYU (Punan).

Aban Tingan = BELVIUN (2nd wife).

Kalang.

Paran.

MUJAN.

Brothers.

Tama Lim Balari = ?

Balari.

Livang.

Laki Ludop (see Door 19) = OAN BUNGAN (Long Belukun).

Tama Bulan (see Door 19).

Aban Tingan = PAYA (1st wife, daughter of Paran Libut,

his 1st cousin).

Wan.

LAN = Balan (Long Belukun Kenyah)

Aping.

JULAN.

Madang.

Tina Owing Kling (see Door 17).

Slaves.

Aban Muda (Murut) = NUING LABAI

Nawam.

URAI.

SUAI.

Nurang.

Abo = BALU VANG.

Oyu Biti.

Jipong.

[female]

Oan Igan, child of Mapit (Long Palutan), brother of Jilo (see Imoh's

room).

Apoi

Lujah } brothers.

ULAU (Kalabit).

Padan.

(19) Tama Bulan's Door.

Laki Ludop = BUNGAN (see Door 18).

Tama Bulan Wang = (1st wife) PENG = (2nd wife) PAYAH WAN

(Uma Poh Kayan).

BULAN = Luja (Uma Plian Kayan).

Balari and Livang (1st cousins of Tama Bulan, adopted

by him as sons).

OBONG = Wan (son of Aban Tingan her 1st cousin).

LEVAN.

Linjau.

CHAPTER 6

Agriculture

For all the peoples of the interior of Borneo, the Punans and

Malanaus excepted, the rice grown by themselves is the principal

food-stuff. Throughout the year, except during the few weeks when the

jungle fruit is most abundant, rice forms the bulk of every meal. In

years of bad harvests, when the supply is deficient, the place of rice

has to be filled as well as may be with wild sago, cultivated maize,

tapioca, and sweet potatoes. All these are used, and the last three,

as well as pumpkins, bananas, cucumbers, millet, pineapples, chilis,

are regularly grown in small quantities by most of the peoples. But

all these together are regarded as making but a poor substitute for

rice. The cultivator has to contend with many difficulties, for in

the moist hot climate weeds grow apace, and the fields, being closely

surrounded by virgin forest, are liable to the attacks of pests of

many kinds. Hence the processes by which the annual crop of PADI is

obtained demand the best efforts and care of all the people of each

village. The plough is unknown save to the Dusuns, a branch of the

Murut people in North Borneo, who have learnt its use from Chinese

immigrants. The Kalabits and some of the coastwise Klemantans who

live in alluvial areas have learnt, probably through intercourse with

the Philippine Islanders or the inhabitants of Indo-China, to prepare

the land for the PADI seed by leading buffaloes to and fro across it

while it lies covered with water. The Kalabits lead the water into

their fields from the streams descending from the hills.

With these exceptions the preparation of the land is everywhere very

crude, consisting in the felling of the timber and undergrowth, and

in burning it as completely as possible, so that its ashes enrich

the soil. After a single crop has been grown and gathered on land so

cleared, the weeds grow up very thickly, and there is, of course,

in the following year no possibility of repeating the dressing of

wood ashes in the same way. Hence it is the universal practice to

allow the land to lie fallow for at least two years, after a single

crop has been raised, while crops are raised from other lands. During

the fallow period the jungle grows up so rapidly and thickly that by

the third year the weeds have almost died out, choked by the larger

growths. The same land is then prepared again by felling the young

jungle and burning it as before, and a crop is again raised from

it. When a piece of land has been prepared and cropped in this way

some three or four times, at intervals of two, three, or four years,

the crop obtainable from it is so inferior in quantity that the

people usually undertake the severe labour of felling and burning

a patch of virgin forest, rather than continue to make use of the

old areas. In this way a large village uses up in the course of some

twelve or fifteen years all the land suitable for cultivation within

a convenient distance, I.E. within a radius of some three miles. When

this state of affairs results, the, village is moved to a new site,

chosen chiefly with an eye to the abundance of land suitable for the

cultivation of the PADI crop. After ten or more years the villagers

will return, and the house or houses will be reconstructed on the old

site or one adjacent to it, if no circumstances arise to tempt them

to migrate to a more distant country, and if the course of their life

on the old site has run smoothly, without misfortunes such as much

sickness, conflagrations, or serious attacks by other villages. After

this interval the land is regarded as being almost as good as the

virgin forest land, and has the advantage that the jungle on it can

be more easily felled. But since no crop equals that obtainable from

virgin soil, it is customary to include at least a small area of it

in the operations of each year.

Each family cultivates its own patch of land, selecting it by

arrangement with other families, and works as large an area as the

strength and number of the roomhold permits. A hillside sloping down

to the bank of a river or navigable stream is considered the choicest

area for cultivation, partly because of the efficient drainage,

partly because the felling is easier on the slope, and because the

stream affords easy access to the field.

When an area has been chosen, the men of the roomhold first cut down

the undergrowth of a V-shaped area, whose apex points up the hill, and

whose base lies on the river bank. This done, they call in the help of

other men of the house, usually relatives who are engaged in preparing

adjacent areas, and all set to work to fell the large trees. In the

clearing of virgin forest, when very large trees, many of which have

at their bases immense buttresses, have to be felled, a platform of

light poles is built around each of these giants to the height of about

15 feet. Two men standing upon this rude platform on opposite sides

of the stem attack it with their small springy-hafted axes (Fig. 11)

above the level of the buttresses (Pl. 55). One man cuts a deep notch

on the side facing up the hill, the other cuts a similar notch about

a foot lower down on the opposite side, each cutting almost to the

centre of the stem. This operation is accomplished in a surprisingly

short time, perhaps thirty minutes in the case of a stem two to three

feet in diameter. When all the large trees within the V-shaped area

have been cut in this way, all the workers and any women, children,

or dogs who may be present are called out of the patch, and one or

two big trees, carefully selected to form the apex of the phalanx,

are then cut so as to fall down the hill.[45] In their fall these

giants throw down the trees standing immediately below them on the

hillside; these, falling in turn against their neighbours, bring

them down. And so, like an avalanche of widening sweep, the huge

disturbance propagates itself with a thunderous roar and increasing

momentum downwards over the whole of the prepared area; while puny

man looks on at the awful work of his hand and brain not unmoved,

but dancing and shouting in wild triumphant delight.

The fallen timber must now lie some weeks before it can be burnt. This

period is mainly devoted to making and repairing the implements to

be used in cultivating, harvesting, and storing the crop, and also

in sowing at the earliest possible moment small patches of early

or rapidly growing PADI together with a little maize, sugar-cane,

some Sweet potatoes, and tapioca. The patches thus sown generally lie

adjacent to one another. If the weather is fine, the fallen timber

becomes dry enough to burn well after one month. If much rain falls

it is necessary to wait longer in the hope of drier weather. Choosing

a windy day, they set fire to all the adjacent patches after shouting

out warnings to all persons in the fields. While the burning goes on,

the men "whistle for the wind," or rather blow for it, rattling their

tongues in their mouths. Some of the older men make lengthy orations

shouted into the air, adjuring the wind to blow strongly and so fan

the fire. The fire, if successful, burns furiously for a few hours

and then smoulders for some days, after which little of the timber

remains but ashes and the charred stumps of the bigger trees. If the

burning is very incomplete, it is necessary to make stacks of the

lighter timbers that remain, and to fire these again. As soon as the

ashes are cool, sowing begins. Men and women work together; the men go

in front making holes with wooden dibbles about six inches apart; the

women follow, carrying hung round the neck small baskets of PADI seed

(Fig. 12), which they throw into the holes, three or four seeds to

each hole. No care is taken to fill in the holes with earth. By this

time the relatively dry season, which lasts only some two months,

is at an end, and copious rains cause the seed to shoot above the

ground a few days after the sowing. Several varieties of PADI are in

common use, some more suitable for the hillsides, some for the marshy

lands. On any one patch three or four kinds are usually sown according

to the elevation and slope of the part of the area. Since the rates of

growth of the several kinds are different, the sowings are so timed

that the whole area ripens as nearly as possible at the same moment,

in order that the birds and other pests may not have the opportunity

of turning their whole force upon the several parts in turn. The men

now build on each patch a small hut, which is occupied by most of the

able-bodied members of the roomhold until harvest is completed, some

fourteen to twenty weeks after the sowing of the PADI, according to

the variety of grain sown. They erect contrivances for scaring away

the birds; they stick bamboos about eight feet in length upright in

the ground every 20 to 30 yards. Between the upper ends of these,

rattans are tied, connecting together all the bamboos on each area

of about one acre. The field of one roomhold is generally about four

acres in extent; there will thus be four groups of bamboos, each

of which can be agitated by pulling on a single rattan. From each

such group a rattan passes to the hut, and some person, generally a

woman or child, is told off to tug at these rattans in turn at short

intervals. Upon the rattans between the bamboos are hung various

articles calculated to make a noise or to flap to and fro when the

system is set in motion. Sometimes the rattan by which the system of

poles is set in movement is tied to the upper end of a tall sapling,

one end of which is thrust deeply into the mud of the floor of the

river. The current then keeps the sapling and with it the system of

bamboos swaying and jerking to and fro. The Kayans admit that they have

learnt this last "dodge" from the Klemantans. The watcher remains in

the hut all day long, while his companions are at work in the field;

he varies the monotony of his task by shouting and beating with a pair

of mallets on a hollow wooden cylinder. The watcher is relieved from

time to time, but the watch is maintained continuously day and night

from the time that the corn is about two feet above the ground until

it is all gathered in. In this way they strive with partial success

to keep off the wild pigs, monkeys, deer, and, as the corn ripens,

the rice-sparrow (MUNIA).

When the hut and the pest-scaring system have been erected, the men

proceed to provide further protection against wild pig and deer by

running a rude fence round a number of closely adjacent patches of

growing corn. The fence, some three to four feet high, is made by

lashing to poles thrust vertically into the ground and to convenient

trees and stumps, bamboos or saplings as horizontal bars, five or

six in vertical row. When this is completed the men take no further

part until the harvest, except perhaps to lend a hand occasionally

with the weeding. This is the time generally chosen by them for long

excursions into the jungle in search of rattans, rubber, camphor,

and for warlike expeditions or the paying of distant visits.

It is the duty of the women to prevent the PADI being choked by

weeds. The women of each room will go over each patch completely

at least twice, at an interval of about one month, hoeing down the

weeds with a short-handled hoe; the hoe consists of a flat blade

projecting at right angles from the iron haft (Fig. 13). The latter

is bent downwards at a right angle just above the blade, in a plane

perpendicular to that of the blade, and its other end is prolonged

by a short wooden handle, into the end of which it is thrust. The

woman stoops to the work, hoeing carefully round each PADI plant, by

holding the hoe in the right hand and striking the blade downwards and

towards her toes with a dragging action. In working over the patch in

this careful fashion some three weeks are consumed. In the intervals

the women gather the small crops of early PADI, pumpkin, cucumbers,

and so forth, spending several weeks together on the farm, sleeping

in the hut. In a good season this is the happiest time of the year;

both men and women take the keenest interest and pleasure in the

growth of the crop.

During the time when the grain is formed but not yet ripe, the people

live upon the green corn, which they prepare by gathering the heads and

beating them flat. These are not cooked, but merely dried in the sun,

and though they need much mastication they are considered a delicacy.

During the time of the ripening of the corn a spirit of gaiety and

joyful anticipation prevails. It is a favourite time for courtship,

and many marriages are arranged.

The harvest is the most important event of the year. Men, women, and

children, all take part. The rice-sparrows congregate in thousands as

the grain begins to ripen, and the noisy efforts of the people fail

to keep them at a distance. Therefore the people walk through the

crop gathering all ripe ears. The operation is performed with a small

rude knife-blade mounted in a wooden handle along its whole length

(Figs. 14, 15). This is held in the hollow of the right hand, the ends

of a short cross bar projecting between the first and second fingers

and between thumb and first finger. The thumb seizes and presses the

head of each blade of corn against the edge of the knife. The cars

thus cropped are thrown into a basket slung round the neck. As soon

as a large basket has been filled by the reapers, its contents are

spread out on mats on a platform before the hut. After an exposure of

two or three days, the grain is separated from the ears by stamping

upon them with bare feet. The separated grain passes through the

meshes of the coarse mat on to a finer mat beneath. The grain is then

further dried by exposure to the sun. When the whole crop has been

gathered, threshed, and dried in this way, it is transported in the

large shoulder baskets amid much rejoicing and merry-making to the

PADI barns adjoining the house, and the harvest festival begins.

The elaborate operations on the BADI FARM that we have described might

seem to a materialist to be sufficient to secure a good harvest;

but this is not the view taken by the Kayans, or any other of the

cultivators of Borneo. In their opinion all these material labours

would be of little avail if not supplemented at every stage by the

minute observance of a variety of rites. The PADI has life or soul,

or vitality, and is subject to sickness and to many vaguely conceived

influences, both good and bad.

Determination of the Seasons

The determination of the time for sowing the seed is a matter of so

great importance that in each village this duty is entrusted to a man

who makes it his profession to observe the signs of the seasons. This

work is so exacting that he is not expected to cultivate a crop of

PADI for himself and family, but is furnished with all the PADI he

needs by contributions from all the other members of the village.

It is essential to determine the approach of the short dry season, in

order that in the course of it the timber may be felled and burned. In

Borneo, lying as it does upon the equator, the revolution of the

year is marked by no very striking changes of weather, temperature,

or of vegetation. In fact, the only constant and striking evidences

of the passage of the months are the alternations of the north-east

and the south-west monsoons. The former blows from October to March,

the latter from April to September, the transitions being marked by

variable winds. The relatively dry season sets in with the south-west

monsoon, and lasts about two months; but in some years the rainfall

during this season is hardly less abundant than during the rest of

the year.

The "clerk of the weather" (he has no official title, though the

great importance of his function secures him general respect) has

no knowledge of the number of days in the year, and does not count

their passage. He is aware that the lunar month has twenty-eight

days, but he knows that the dry season does not recur after any

given number of completed months, and therefore keeps no record of

the lunar months. He relies almost entirely upon observation of the

slight changes of the sun's altitude. His observations are made by

the help of an instrument closely resembling the ancient Greek gnomon,

known as TUKAR DO or ASO DO (Pl. 60).

A straight cylindrical pole of hardwood is fixed vertically in the

ground; it is carefully adjusted with the aid of plumb lines, and

the possibility of its sinking deeper into the earth is prevented by

passing its lower end through a hole in a board laid horizontally on

the ground, its surface flush with the surface of the ground which

is carefully smoothed. The pole is provided with a shoulder which

rests upon this board. The upper end of the pole is generally carved

in the form of a human figure. The carving may be very elaborate,

or the figure may be indicated only by a few notches. The length of

the pole from the collar to its upper extremity is made equal to

the span from tip to tip of outstretched arms of its maker, plus

the length of his span from tip of the thumb to that of the first

finger. This pole (ASO DO) stands on a cleared space before or behind

the house, and is surrounded by a strong fence; the area within the

fence, some three or four yards in diameter, being made as level and

smooth as possible. The clerk of the weather has a neatly worked flat

stick, on which lengths are marked off by notches; these lengths are

measured by laying the stick along the radial side of the left arm,

the butt end against the anterior fold of the armpit. A notch is

then cut at each of the following positions: one notch about one

inch from the butt end, a second opposite the middle of the upper

arm, one opposite the elbow, one opposite the bend of the wrist,

one at the first interphalangeal joint, one at the finger-tip. The

other side of the rod bears a larger number of notches, of which the

most distal marks the greatest length of the mid-day shadow, the next

one the length of the mid-day shadow three days after it has begun

to shorten, the next the length of the shadow after three more days'

shortening, and so on. The mid-day shadow is, of course, the minimal

length reached in the course of the day, and the marks denoting the

changes in length of the shadow are arrived at, purely empirically,

by marking off the length of the mid-day shadow every three days.

The clerk of the weather measures the shadow of the pole at mid-day

whenever the sun is unclouded. As the shadow grows shorter after

reaching its maximal length, he observes it with special care, and

announces to the village that the time for preparing the land is near

at hand. When the shadow reaches the notch made opposite the middle

of the arm, the best time for sowing the grain is considered to have

arrived; the land is therefore cleared, and made ready before this time

arrives. Sowing at times when the shadow reaches other notches is held

to involve various disadvantages, such as liability to more than the

usual number of pests -- monkeys, insects, rats, or sparrows. In the

case of each successful harvest, the date of the sowing is recorded

by driving a peg of ironwood into the ground at the point denoting

the length of the mid-day shadow at that date. The weather prophet

has other marks and notches whose meaning is known only to himself;

his procedures are surrounded with mystery and kept something of

a secret, even from the chief as well as from all the rest of the

village, and his advice is always followed.

The method of observing the sun described above is universal among the

Kenyahs, but some of the Kayans practise a different method. A hole is

made in the roof of the weather-prophet's chamber in the long-house,

and the altitude of the mid-day sun and its direction, north or south

of the meridian, are observed by measuring along a plank fixed on

the floor the distance of the patch of sunlight (falling through the

hole on to the plank) from the point vertically below the hole. The

horizontal position of the plank is secured by placing upon it smooth

spherical stones and noting any inclination to roll. The sunbeam which

enters this hole is called KLEPUT TOH (=the blow-pipe of the spirit).

Some of the Klemantans practise a third method to determine when

the time for sowing is at hand, using a bamboo some feet in length

which bears a mark at a level which is empirically determined. The

bamboo is filled with water while in the vertical position. It is

then tilted till it points towards a certain star, when of course

some water escapes. After it has been restored to the vertical, the

level of the surface of the remaining water is noted. The coincidence

of this level with the mark mentioned above indicates that the time

for sowing is come.

The Sea Dayaks are guided by the observation of the position of

the Pleiades.

The appropriate season having been determined, it is necessary to

secure good omens before the preparation of the land can be begun. A

pig and a fowl having been sacrificed in the usual way, and their

blood sprinkled upon the wooden figures before the house,[46] two

men are sent out in a boat, and where they first see a spider-hunter

they land on the bank and go through the customary procedures. The

calls and appearances of various birds and of the MUNTJAC are of chief

importance. Some of these are good, some bad in various degrees. When

a preponderance of favourable omens has been observed, the men return

to the house to announce their success. They will wait two whole days

if necessary to secure a favourable result. During their absence

a strict MALAN or LALI (tabu) lies upon the house; no stranger may

enter it, and the people sit quietly in the house performing only

the most necessary tasks. The announcement of the nature of the omens

observed is made to the chief in the presence of a deeply interested

throng of both sexes. If the omens observed are considered to be bad,

or of doubtful import, the men go out for a second period; but if they

are favourable, the women of each room perform the private rites over

their stores of seed PADI, which are kept in their rooms. After the

pros and cons have been fully discussed, the chief names the day for

the beginning of the clearing operations.

At the beginning of the sowing the house is again subject to MALAN for

one day. During the growth of the PADI various charms and superstitious

practices are brought into use to promote its growth and health,

and to keep the pests from it. The PADI charms are a miscellaneous

collection or bundle of small articles, such as curious pebbles and

bits of wood, pigs' tusks of unusual size or shape, beads, feathers,

crystals of quartz. Kayans as a rule object to pebbles and stones

as charms. Such charms are generally acquired in the first instance

through indications afforded by dreams, and are handed down from

mother to daughter. Such charms contained in a basket are usually

kept in a PADI barn, from which they are taken to the field by the

woman and waved over it, usually with a live fowl in the hand, while

she addresses the PADI seed in some such terms as the following:

"May you have a good stem and a good top, let all parts of you grow

in harmony, etc. etc." Then she rapidly repeats a long customary

formula of exhortation to the pests, saying, "O rats, run away down

river, don't trouble us; O sparrows and noxious insects, go feed on

the PADI of the people down river." If the pests are very persistent,

the woman may kill a fowl and scatter its blood over the growing PADI,

while she charges the pests to disappear, and calls upon LAKI IVONG

(the god of harvests) to drive them out.

Women alone will gather the first ears of the crop. If they encounter

on their way to the fields any one of the following creatures,

they must at once return home, and stay there a day and a night, on

pain of illness or early death: certain snakes, spiders, centipedes,

millipedes, and birds of two species, JERUIT and BUBUT (a cuckoo). Or

again, if the shoulder straps of their large baskets should break

on the way, if a stump should fall against them, or the note of the

spider-hunter be heard, or if a woman strikes her foot by accident

against any object, the party must return as before.

It will be clear from the foregoing account that the women play the

principal part in the rites and actual operations of the PADI culture;

the men only being called in to clear the ground and to assist in

some of the later stages. The women select and keep the seed grain,

and they are the repositories of most of the lore connected with

it. It seems to be felt that they have a natural affinity to the

fruitful grain, which they speak of as becoming pregnant. Women

sometimes sleep out in the PADI fields while the crop is growing,

probably for the purpose of increasing their own fertility or that

of the PADI; but they are very reticent on this matter.

The Harvest Festival

When the crop is all gathered in, the house is MALAN to all outsiders

for some ten days, during which the grain is transported from the

fields to the village and stored in the PADI barns. When this process

is completed or well advanced, the festival begins with the preparation

of the seed grain for the following season. Some of the best of the

new grain is carefully selected by the women of each room, enough for

the sowing of the next season. This is mixed with a small quantity

of the seed grain of the foregoing seasons which has been carefully

preserved for this purpose in a special basket. The basket contains

grains of PADI from good harvests of many previous years. This is

supposed to have been done from the earliest time of PADI planting,

so that the basket contains some of the original stock of seed, or

at least the virtue of it leavening the whole. This basket is never

emptied, but a pinch of the old PADI is mixed in with the new, and

then a handful of the mixture added to the old stock. The idea here

seems to be that the old grain, preserving continuity generation after

generation with the original seed PADI of mythical origin,[47] ensures

the presence in the grain of the soul or spirit or vital principle of

PADI. While mixing the old with the new seed grain, the woman calls

on the soul of the PADI to cause the seed to be fruitful and to grow

vigorously, and to favour her own fertility. For the whole festival

is a celebration or cult of the principle of fertility and vitality --

that of the women no less than that of the PADI.[48]

The women who have been delivered of children during the past year

will make a number of toys, consisting of plaited work, in the shapes

of various animals filled with boiled rice (Fig. 16). These they

throw to the children of the house, who scramble for them in the

gallery. This seems to be of the nature of a thank-offering.

At this time also another curious custom is observed. Four water

beetles, of the kind that skates on the surface of the still water, are

caught on the river and placed on water in a large gong. Some old man

specially wise in this matter watches the beetles, calling to them to

direct their movements. The people crowd round deeply interested, while

the old man interprets the movements of the beetles as forecasting

good or ill luck with the crops of the following season, and invokes

the good-will of Laki Ivong. Laki Ivong is asked to bring the soul

of the PADI to their homes. Juice from a sugarcane is poured upon the

water, and the women drink the water, while the beetles are carefully

returned to the river. The beetles carry the messages to Laki Ivong.

When these observances have been duly honoured, there begins a

scene of boisterous fun. The women make pads of the boiled sticky

new rice, and cover it with soot from their cooking vessels. With

these they approach the men and dab the pads upon their faces and

bodies, leaving sooty marks that are not easily removed. The men

thus challenged give chase, and attempt to get possession of the rice

pads and to return the polite attention. For a short space of time a

certain license prevails among the young people; and irregularities,

even on the part of married people, which would be gravely reprobated

at all other times, are looked upon very much less seriously. It is,

in fact, the annual carnival. Each roomhold has prepared a stock of

BURAK from the new rice, and this now circulates freely among both men

and women, and large meals of rice and pork are usually eaten. All

join in dancing, some of the women dressed like men, some carrying

PADI-pestles; at one moment all form a long line marching up and

down the gallery in step to the strains of the KELURI; some young

men dance in realistic imitation of monkeys (DOK), or hornbills, or

other animals, singly or in couples. Others mimic the peculiarities

of their acquaintances. The women also dance together in a long line,

each resting her hands on the shoulders of the one going before her,

and all keeping time to the music of the KELURIES as they dance up

and down the long gallery. All this is kept up with good humour the

whole day long. In the evening more BURAK is drunk and songs are sung,

the women mingling with the men, instead of remaining in their rooms

as on other festive occasions. Before midnight a good many of the men

are more or less intoxicated, some deeply so; but most are able to

find their way to bed about midnight, and few or none become offensive

or quarrelsome, even though the men indulge in wrestling and rough

horseplay with one another. After an exceptionally good harvest the

boisterous merry-making is renewed on a second or even a third day.

The harvest festival is the time at which dancing is most

practised. The dances fall into two chief classes, namely, solo dances

and those in which many persons take part. Most of the solo dances take

the form of comic imitations of the movements of animals, especially

the big macaque monkey (DOK), the hornbill, and big fish. These dances

.seem to have no connection with magic or religion, but to be purely

aesthetic entertainments. The animals that are regarded with most awe

are never mimicked in this way. There are at least four distinct group

dances popular among the Kayans. Both men and women take part, the

women often dressing themselves as men for the occasion (Pl. 61). The

movements and evolutions are very simple. The LUPA resembles the dance

on return from war described in Chap. X. In the KAYO, a similar dance,

the dancers are led by a woman holding one of the dried heads which is

taken down for the purpose; the women, dressed in war-coats, pretending

to take the head from an enemy. The LAKEKUT Is a musical drill in which

the dancers stamp on the planks of the floor in time to the music. The

LUPAK is a kind of slow polka. In none of these do the dancers fall

into couples. A fifth dance, the dance of the departure of the spirit,

is a dramatic representation by three persons of the death of one of

them, and of his restoration to life by means of the water of life

(this is supposed to be brought from the country which is traversed

on the journey to the land of shades). This dance is sometimes given

with so much dramatic effect as to move the onlookers to tears.

CHAPTER 7

The Daily Life of a Kayan Long House

A little before dawn the cocks roosting beneath the house awaken the

household by their crowing and the flapping of their wings. The pigs

begin to grunt and squeal, and the dogs begin to trot to and fro in

the gallery. Before the first streaks of daylight appear, the women

light the fires in the private rooms or blow up the smouldering embers;

then most of them descend from the house, each carrying in a basket

slung on her back several bamboo water-vessels to be filled from the

river. Many of them bathe at this time in the shallow water beside

the bank, while the toilet of others consists in dashing water over

their faces, washing their mouths with water, and rubbing their teeth

with the forefinger. Returning to the house with their loads of water

(Pl. 63), they boil rice for the household breakfasts and for the

dinner of those who are to spend the day in the PADI field or the

jungle. The boiled rice intended for the latter use is made up in

packets wrapped in green leaves, each containing sufficient for a meal

for one person. About half-past six, when the daylight is fully come,

the pigs expectant of their meal are clamouring loudly for it. The

women descend to them by ladders leading from the private rooms, and

each gives to the pigs of her household the leavings of the meals

of the previous day. About the same time the men begin to bestir

themselves sluggishly; some descend to bathe, while others smoke

the fag ends of the cigarettes that were unfinished when they fell

asleep. Then the men breakfast in their rooms, and not until they are

satisfied do the women and children sit down to their meal. During all

this time the chronically hungry dogs, attracted by the odours of food,

make persistent efforts to get into their owner's rooms. Success in

this manoeuvre is almostly always followed by their sudden and noisy

reappearance in the gallery, caused by a smart blow with a stick. In

the busy farming season parties of men, women, and children will set

off in boats for the PADI fields taking their breakfasts with them.

After breakfast the men disperse to their various tasks. During some

three or four months of the year all able-bodied persons repair

daily to the PADI fields, but during the rest of the year their

employments are more varied. The old women and invalids remain all

day long in the rooms; the old men lounge all day in the gallery,

smoking many home-made cigarettes, and perhaps doing a bit of carving

or other light work and keeping an eye on the children. The young

children play in and out and about the house, chasing the animals,

and dabbling among the boats moored at the bank.

A few of the able-bodied men employ themselves in or about the house,

making boats, forging swords, spear-heads, iron hoes, and axes,

repairing weapons or implements. Others go in small parties to the

jungle to hunt deer and pig, or to gather jungle produce -- fruits,

rubber, rattans, or bamboos -- or spend the day in fishing in the

river. During the months of December and January the jungle fruits --

the durian, rambutan, mangosteen, lansat, mango, and numerous small

sour fruits (Pl. 65) -- are much more abundant than at other times;

and during these months all other work is neglected, while the people

devote themselves to gathering the fruit which forms for a time almost

their only food.

Except during the busy PADI season the work of the women is wholly

within the house. The heaviest part of their household labour is the

preparation of the rice. After breakfast they proceed to spread out

PADI on mats on the open platforms adjoining the gallery. While the

PADI is being dried by the exposure to sun and wind on these platforms,

it must be protected from the domestic fowls by a guardian who, sitting

in the gallery, drives them away by means of a long bamboo slung by

a cord above the platform. Others fill the time between breakfast and

the noonday dinner by bathing themselves and the children in the river,

making and repairing clothing, mats, and baskets, fetching more water,

cleaning the rooms and preparing dinner. This meal consists of boiled

rice with perhaps a piece of fish, pork, or fowl, and, like breakfast

and supper, is eaten in the private rooms.

As soon as dinner is over the pounding of the PADI begins

(Frontispiece, Vol. II.). Each mortar usually consists of a massive

log of timber roughly shaped, and having sunk in its upper surface,

which is a little hollowed, a pit about five inches in diameter and

nine inches in depth. Into this pit about a quarter of a bushel of

PADI is put. Two women stand on the mortar facing one another on

either side of the pit, each holding by the middle a large wooden

pestle. This is a solid bar of hardwood about seven feet long, about

two inches in diameter in the middle third, and some three or four

inches in diameter in the rest of its length. The two ends are rounded

and polished by use. Each woman raises her pestle to the full height

of her reach, and brings it smartly down upon the grain in the pit,

the two women striking alternately with a regular rhythm. As each

one lifts her pestle, she deftly sweeps back into the pit with her

foot the grain scattered by her stroke.

After pounding the PADI for some minutes without interruption,

one woman takes a winnowing pan, a mat made in the shape of an

English housemaid's dustpan, but rather larger than this article,

and receives in it the pounded grain which the other throws out of

the pit with her foot.

Both women then kneel upon a large mat laid beside the mortar; the

one holding the winnowing pan keeps throwing the grain into the air

with a movement which causes the heavier grain to fall to the back of

the pan, while the chaff and dust is thrown forward on to the mat. Her

companion separates the rice dust from the chaff by sifting it through

a sieve. A considerable quantity of the dust or finely broken rice

is formed by the pounding in the mortar, and this is the principal

food given to the pigs. The winnowed grain is usually returned to the

mortar to be put through the whole process a second time. The clean

rice thus prepared is ready for the cooking-pot.

The winnowing and sifting is often done by old women, while the

younger women continue the severer task of plying the pestle. In the

Kayan houses the mortars are in many cases double, that is to say,

there are two pits in the one block of timber, and two pairs of women

work simultaneously. In the middle of the afternoon the whole house

resounds with the vigorous blows of the pestles, for throughout the

length of the gallery two or more women are at work beside each room,

husking the day's supply of rice for each family.

For the women of all the peoples, except the Punans, the husking of

the PADI is a principal feature of the day's work, and is performed

in much the same fashion by all. The Kenyahs alone do their work out

of doors beside the PADI barns, sometimes under rude lean-to shelters.

When this task is completed the women are covered with dust; they

descend again to the river, and bathe themselves and the children

once more. They may gather some of the scanty vegetables grown in

small enclosures near most of the houses, and then proceed to prepare

supper with their rice and whatever food the men may have brought

home from the jungle. For now, about an hour before sundown, the men

return from expeditions in the jungle, often bringing a wild pig, a

monkey, a porcupine, or some jungle fruit, or young shoots of bamboo,

as their contribution to the supper table; others return from fishing

or from the PADI fields, and during the sunset hour at a large village

a constant stream of boats arrives at the landing-place before the

house. Most of the home-comers bathe in the river before ascending

to the house. This evening bath is taken in more leisurely fashion

than the morning dip. A man will strip off his waist-cloth and rush

into the water, falling flat on his chest with a great splash. Then

standing with the water up to his waist he will souse his head and

face, then perhaps swim a few double overhand strokes, his head going

under at each stroke. After rubbing himself down with a smooth pebble,

he returns to the bank, and having resumed his waist-cloth, he squeezes

the water from his hair, picks up his paddle, spear, hat, and other

belongings, and ascends to the gallery. There he hangs up his spear

by jabbing its point into a roof-beam beside the door of his chamber,

and sits down to smoke a cigarette and to relate the events of his

day while supper is preparing. As darkness falls, he goes to his

room to sup. By the time the women also have supped, the tropical

night has fallen, and the house is lit by the fires and by resin

torches, and nowadays by a few kerosene lamps. The men gather round

the fireplaces in the gallery and discuss politics, the events of the

day, the state of the crops and weather, the news obtained by meetings

with the people of neighbouring houses, and relate myths and legends,

folk-tales and animal stories. The women, having put the children

to bed, visit one another's rooms for friendly gossip; and young

men drop in to join their parties, accept the proffered cigarette,

and discourse the sweet music of the KELURI,[49] the noseflute,

and the Jew's harp (Figs. 17, 18, 19). Or Romeo first strikes up

his plaintive tune outside the room in which Juliet sits with the

women folk. Juliet may respond with a few notes of her guitar[50]

(Fig. 20), thus encouraging Romeo to enter and to take his place in

the group beside her, where he joins in the conversation or renews

his musical efforts. About nine o'clock all retire to bed, save a few

old men who sit smoking over the fires far into the night. The dogs,

after some final skirmishes and yelpings, subside among the warm ashes

of the fireplaces; the pigs emit a final squeal and grunt; and within

the house quietness reigns. Now the rushing of the river makes itself

heard in the house, mingled with the chirping of innumerable insects

and the croaking of a myriad frogs borne in from the surrounding

forest. The villagers sleep soundly till cock-crow; but the European

guest, lying in the place of honour almost beneath the row of human

heads which adorns the gallery, is, if unused to sleeping in a Bornean

long house, apt to be wakened from time to time throughout the night

by an outburst of dreadful yelpings from the dogs squabbling for the

best places among the ashes, by the prolonged fit of coughing of an

old man, by an old crone making up the fire, by the goats squealing

and scampering over the boats beneath the house, or by some weird

cry from the depths of the jungle.

In the old days the peace of the night was occasionally broken an hour

before the dawn by the yells of an attacking force, and by the flames

roaring up from bundles of shavings thrown beneath the house. But

happily attacks of this kind are no longer made, save in some few

remoter parts of the interior where the European governments have

not yet fully established their authority.

The even tenor of the life of a village is interrupted from time to

time by certain festivals or other incidents -- the harvest festival;

the marriage or the naming of a chiefs son or daughter; the arrival of

important guests (one or more chiefs with bands of followers coming

to make peace, or nowadays the resident magistrate of the district);

the funeral of a chief; the preparations for war or for a long

journey to the distant bazaar of Chinese traders in the lower part

of the river; the necessity of removing to a new site; an epidemic

of disease; the rites of formally consulting the omens, or otherwise

communicating with and propitiating the gods; the operations of the

soul-catcher. The more important of these incidents will be described

in later chapters. Here we need only give a brief account of the way

in which some of them affect the daily round of life in the long house.

A visiting chief will remain seated in his boat, while a follower

announces his arrival and ascertains that there is no MALAN (TABU) upon

the house which would make the presence of visitors unwelcome. Such

MALAN affecting the whole house or village obtains during the storing

of the PADI for ten consecutive days, during epidemics of sickness

in neighbouring villages, and at the time when the preparation

of the farm land begins. If a favourable answer is returned, the

visitor remains seated in his boat some few minutes longer, and

then makes his way into the gallery, followed by most of his men,

who leave their spears and shields in the boats. If the visitor is an

intimate friend, the chief of the house will send a son or brother

to welcome him, or will even go himself. Arrived in the gallery,

the visitor advances to the central platform where the chief of the

house awaits him, unstrings his sword from his waist, hangs it upon

any convenient hook, and sits down beside his host; while his men,

following his example, seat themselves with the men of the house in a

semicircle facing the two chiefs. The followers may greet, and even

embrace, or grasp by the forearm, their personal friends; but the

demeanour of the chief's is more formal. Neither one utters a word or

glances at the other for some few minutes; the host remains seated,

fidgeting with a cigarette and gazing upon the floor; the visitor

sitting beside him looks stolidly over the heads of his followers,

and perhaps clears his throat or coughs. Presently a woman thrusts

into the semicircle a tray of freshly made cigarettes. One of the

men of the house pushes it forward towards the principal visitor, who

makes a sign of acceptance by lightly touching the tray; the other,

crouching on his heels, lights a cigarette with an ember from the fire,

blowing it into a glow as he waddles up to present it to the visiting

chief. The latter takes it, but usually allows it to go out. By this

time the chief of the house is ready to open the conversation, and,

after clearing his throat, suddenly throws out a question, usually,

"Where did you start from to-day?" The embarrassing silence thus

broken, question and answer are freely exchanged, the cigarette of

the visitor is again lighted at the fire by a member of the household,

and conversation becomes general. Not infrequently the host, becoming

more and more friendly, throws an arm across his guest's shoulders

or strokes him endearingly with the palm of his hand.

In the meantime the women are busy preparing a meal, a pig having

been killed and hastily cut up. When it is ready, the visitors, if

old friends, are invited to partake of it in the chief's room. But

if they are not familiar acquaintances, the meal is spread for them

in the gallery on platters placed in a long row, one for each guest;

each platter containing many cubes of hot boiled pork and two packets

of hot boiled rice wrapped in leaves. The space is surrounded with a

slight bamboo fence to keep away the dogs. In either case the visitors

eat alone, their hosts retiring until the meal is finished. As the

chief's wife retires, she says, "Eat slowly, my children, our food is

poor stuff. There is no pork, no fish, nothing that is good." Before

withdrawing, one of the people of the house pours a little water from

a bamboo vessel on the right hand of the visiting chief, who then

passes on the vessel to his followers. With the hand thus cleansed

each guest conveys the food to his mouth, dipping his pieces of pork

in coarse salt placed in a leaf beside his platter; and when he has

finished eating, he drinks water from a bamboo vessel. The chief,

and perhaps also one or more of his upper-class companions, leaves a

little of the pork and a little rice on the platter to show that he

is not greedy or ravenous; and his good breeding prompts him to prove

his satisfaction with the meal by belching up a quantity of wind

with a loud and prolonged noise, which is echoed by his followers

to the best of their ability. After thus publicly expressing his

appreciation of his host's hospitality, he rinses out his mouth,

squirting out the water towards the nearest gap between the floor

boards, rubs his teeth with his forefinger, again rinses his mouth,

and washes his hand. Then relighting his cigarette, which he has kept

behind his ear or thrust through the hole in its shell, he rejoins

his host, who awaits him on the dais.

On such an occasion, and in fact on any other occasion suggestive

of festivity, the evening is enlivened with oratory, song, and

drink. After supper the men gather together about the chiefs, sitting

in close-set ranks on and before the dais. At a hint from the chief

a jar of BURAK (rice-spirit) is brought into the circle. This may be

the property of the chief or of any one of the principal men, who, by

voluntarily contributing in this way towards the entertainment of the

guests, maintains the honour of the house and of its chief. A little

is poured into a cup and handed to the house-chief, who first makes

a libation to the omen-birds and to all the other friendly spiritual

powers, by pouring a little on to the ground through some crevice of

the floor, or by throwing a few drops out under the eaves, saying,

as he does so, "Ho, all you friendly spirits." Then he drinks a little

and hands back the cup to the young man who has taken charge of the jar

of spirit. The latter, remaining crouched upon his heels, ladles out

another cupful of spirit and offers it in both hands to the principal

guest, who drinks it off, and expresses by a grunt and a smack of the

lips, and perhaps a shiver, his appreciation of its quality. The cup

is handed in similar formal fashion to each of the principal guests

in turn; and then more cups are brought into use, and the circulation

of the drink becomes more rapid and informal. As soon as each man

has had a drink, the house-chief rises to his feet and, addressing

himself to his guest, expatiates upon his admirable qualities, and

expresses eloquently the pleasure felt by himself and his people

at this visit. Then speaking in parables and in indirect fashion,

claiming perhaps indulgence on the ground that he is merely talking

in his sleep, he touches upon local politics at first delicately;

then warming up he speaks more directly and plainly. He may become

much excited and gesticulate freely, even leaping into the air and

twirling round on one foot with outstretched right arm in a fashion

that directs his remarks to each and all of the listening circle;

but, even though he may find occasion to admonish or reproach, or even

hint at a threat, his speech never transgresses the strictest bounds

of courtesy. Having thus unburdened himself of whatever thoughts

and emotions are evoked by the occasion, he takes from the attendant

Ganymede a bumper cup of spirit and breaks into song. Standing before

his guest and swinging the cup repeatedly almost to his (the guest's)

lips, he exhorts him in complimentary and rhyming phrases to accept his

remarks in a friendly spirit, and reminds him of the age and strength

of their family and tribal relations, referring to their ancestral

glories and the proud position in the world of their common race. At

the end of each sentence all the men of both parties break out into

a loud chorus, repeating the last word or two in deep long-drawn-out

musical cadence. Then, with the last words of his extemporised song,

the chief yields up the cup to the expectant guest, who, having sat

rigidly and with fixed gaze throughout the address, takes it in one

long draught, while the chorus swells to a deep, musical roar. At this

moment the circle of auditors, if much excited, will spring to their

feet and swell the noise by stamping and jumping on the resounding

planks. The house-chief smilingly strokes his guest from the shoulder

downwards and resumes his seat. The chorus and commotion die away,

and are followed by a moment of silence, during which the guest

prepares to make his reply in similar fashion. He rises and begins

by naming and lightly touching or pointing to his host and other of

the principal men present. Then he makes acknowledgment of the kind

and flattering reception accorded him, and his pleasure at finding

this opportunity of improving the understanding between himself and

his hosts. "The views so eloquently expressed by my friend (naming

him and using some complimentary title, E.G. brother or father)

are no doubt correct. Indeed, how could it be otherwise? But I have

been told so and so, and perhaps it may be, ..." and so he goes on

to state his own views, taking care to shift the responsibility for

any remaining dissension on to the shoulders of some distant third

party. He congratulates all parties on this free discussion of matters

of common interest, and with free gesticulation exhorts them to turn

a deaf ear to vague rumours and to maintain friendly relations. Then,

dropping down beside his host, he says "Take no notice of what I have

said, I am drunk." Ganymede again approaches him with a bumper cup, and

then rising to his feet and calling on his men, he addresses his host

in complimentary song and chorus, using the gestures and expressions

peculiar to his own people. The song culminates as before in a general

chorus, long drawn out, while the house-chief drains the cup.

The cups then circulate freely, and the smoking of cigarettes is

general; other shorter speeches may be made, perhaps by the sons or

brothers of the chiefs. As the evening wears away, both guests and

hosts become increasingly boisterous and affectionate; but few or none

on an occasion of this sort become intoxicated or quarrelsome. If a man

becomes a little too boisterous, he is led away to one of the sleeping

platforms in the gallery, and kept there until he falls asleep.

During an evening of this sort the women congregate in the adjacent

rooms, where they can overhear the proceedings; and if they find these

exceptionally interesting, they will congregate about the doors, but

will strictly abstain from interfering with, them in any way. The flow

of speech and song and conversation goes on uninterruptedly, except

when the occasional intrusion into the circle of some irrepressible

dog necessitates its violent expulsion; until, as midnight approaches,

the men drop away from the circle by twos and threes, the circle

being finally broken up when the visiting chief expresses a desire

to sleep. Each guest spreads his own mat on the platform assigned to

the party, and the men of the house retire to their rooms.

We will not conclude this chapter without stating that among the

Kayans, Kenyahs, and most of the Klemantans, alcoholic intoxication is

by no means common. At great feasts, such as are made at the close of

the harvest or on the return of a successful war-party, much BORAK

is drunk, the women joining in, and a few of the men will usually

become quite drunk; but most of them will hardly go further than a

state of boisterous jollity.

Although in a year of good PADI harvest each family constantly renews

its supply of BORAK, yet the spirit is never drunk in private, but

only on festive occasions of the kind described above, or when a man

entertains a small party of friends in his own chamber.

The account given above of the reception and entertainment of guests

would apply with but little modification to the houses of the Kenyahs

and Klemantans. In the Sea Dayak house the reception and entertainment

of guests is less ceremonious, and is carried out by the unorganised

efforts of individuals, rather than by the household as a whole

with the chief at its head. On the arrival of a party of visitors,

the people of each room clamorously invite the guests to sit down

before their chamber. The guests thus become scattered through the

house. First they are offered betel nut and sirih leaf smeared with

lime to chew, for among the Sea Dayaks this chewing takes the place of

the smoking of cigarettes which is common to all the others; and they

are then fed and entertained individually, or by twos and threes, in

various rooms. No pig is killed or rice-spirit offered, though possibly

a toasted bat or bit of salted wild pig will be served as a relish.

At great feasts the Sea Dayaks drink more freely than the other

peoples, except the Muruts. Men and women alike drink deeply, and

many become intoxicated. The men take pride in drinking the largest

possible quantity; and when the stomach is filled, will vomit up

large quantities, and then at once drink more, the women pressing it

upon them. The Dayaks and Muruts alone thus sink in the matter of

drink to the level of those highly cultured Europeans among whom a

similar habit obtains: while among all the other tribes strong drink

is seldom or never abused, but rather is put only to its proper use,

the promotion of good fellowship and social gaiety.

CHAPTER 8

Life on the Rivers

With the exception of the Punans and some of the Muruts who inhabit the

few regions devoid of navigable streams, all the peoples of Borneo make

great use of the rivers. The main rivers and their principal branches

are their great highways, and even the smallest tributary streams are

used for gaining access to their PADI fields. It is only when hunting

or gathering jungle produce that they leave the rivers. Occasionally

PADI is cultivated at a distance of a mile or more from the nearest

navigable stream, and a rough pathway is then made between the field

and the nearest point of the river. Here and there also jungle paths

are made connecting points where neighbouring rivers or their navigable

tributaries approach closely to one another. In the flat country near

the coast, where waterways are less abundant than in the interior,

jungle tracks are more used for communication between villages. Where

a route crosses a jungle swamp, large trees are felled in such a way

that their stems lie as nearly as possible end to end. Their ends

are connected if necessary by laying smaller logs from one to the

other. In this way is formed a rude slippery viaduct on which it is

possible for an agile and bare-footed man to walk in safety across

swamps many miles in extent.

But the jungle paths are only used when it is impossible to reach the

desired point by boat, or if the waterway is very circuitous. On the

lower and deeper reaches of the rivers the paddle is the universal

instrument of propulsion. It is used without any kind of rowlock --

the one hand, grasping the handle a little above the blade, draws

the blade backwards through the water; the other hand, grasping the

T-shaped upper end, thrusts it forward. The lower hand thus serves

as a fulcrum for the other.

A small boat may be propelled by a single rower, who, sitting at the

stern, uses the paddle on one side only, and keeps the boat straight

by turning the paddle as he finishes his stroke. In a boat of medium

size one man seated at the stern devotes himself to steering with his

paddle, although here and there among the coast-people a fixed rudder

is used. In a war boat of the largest size, the two men occupying

the bow-bench and the four men on the two stern-most benches are

responsible for the steering; the former pull the bow over, or lever

it in the opposite direction.

During a day's journey the crew of a boat will from time-to-time

lighten their labour with song, one man singing, the others joining

in the chorus; and if several boats are travelling in company the

crews will from time to time spurt and strive to pass one another in

good-humoured rivalry. At such times each crew may break out into a

deep-pitched and musical roar, the triumphal chorus of a victorious

war party.

In the upper reaches of the rivers there are numerous rapids, and

here and there actual falls. The boat is usually propelled up a rapid

by poling. Each member of the crew has beside him a stout pole some

eight or nine feet long; and when the boat approaches a rapid, the

crew at a shout from the captain, usually the steersman, spring to

their feet, dropping their paddles and seizing their poles. Thrusting

these against the stony bottom in perfect unison, the crew swings the

boat up through the rushing water with a very pleasant motion. If the

current proves too strong and the boat makes no progress, or if the

water is too shallow, three or four men, or, if necessary, the whole

crew, spring into the water and, seizing the boat by the gunwale, drag

it upstream till quieter water is reached. It is necessary for a man

or boy to bale out the water that constantly enters over the gunwale

while the boat makes the passage of a rapid. All through these exciting

operations the captain directs and admonishes his men unremittingly,

hurling at them expressions of a strength that would astonish a crew

on the waters of the Cam or Isis: "Matei tadjin selin" (may you die

the most awful death) is one of the favourite phrases. These provoke

no resentment, but merely stimulate the crew to greater exertions.

Sometimes, when much water is coming down after heavy rains, the

current is so swift in deep places that neither paddling, poling,

nor wading is possible. Then three or four men are landed on the bank,

or on the boughs of the trees, and haul on the boat with long rattans,

scrambling over rocks and through the jungle as best they can.

The passage down stream in the upper reaches of a river is even more

exciting and pleasurable. The crew paddles sufficiently to keep good

steerage way on the boat, as it glides swiftly between the rocks and

shallows; as it shoots over the rapids, the steersman stands up to

choose his path, the water splashes and gurgles and leaps over the

gunwale, and the men break out into song. The smaller waterfalls do

not check its onward rush; as the boat approaches a fall, several

men near the bow stand up to see if there is sufficient water; then,

as they resume their seats, all paddle with might and main until

the boat takes the leap. Occasionally a boat is upset during such

an attempt, and rarely one or two of the crew are lost through being

hurled against rocks and drowned while stunned.

In making a long journey the nights are passed if possible in friendly

villages. When no such village can be reached, the night is passed

either in the boats moored to the bank or on the river-bank. In

the former case the leaf mats, of which each man carries at least

one in his basket, are used to roof the boat; in the latter case a

rude hut is quickly built, a framework of saplings lashed together,

roofed with the mats, and floored at a level of some feet above the

ground with bamboos or slender saplings. On camping in the evening

and before starting in the morning, rice is cooked and eaten; and

about mid-day the journey is interrupted for about an hour while

the party lands on the bank, or, if possible, on a bed of pebbles,

to rest and to cook and eat the midday meal.

Fishing

Fish are caught in the rivers in several ways, and form an important

part of the diet of most of the peoples. Perhaps the cast net is

most commonly used. This is a net which, when fully extended in

the water, covers a circular patch about six yards in diameter,

while its central part rises in a steep cone, to the peak of which a

strong cord is tied. The main strands run radially from this central

point, increasing in number towards the periphery. They are crossed

by concentric strands. The periphery is weighted with bits of metal

or stone. This net is used both in deep and in shallow water. In the

former case one man steers and paddles a boat, while the other stands

at the prow with the cord of the net wound about the right hand. The

bulk of the net is gathered up on his right arm, the free end is

held in the left hand. Choosing a still pool some two fathoms in

depth, he throws a stone into the water a little ahead of the boat,

in the expectation that the fish will congregate about the spot as

they do when fruit falls from the trees on the banks. Then, as the

boat approaches the spot he deftly flings the net so that it falls

spread out upon the surface; its weighted edge then sinks rapidly

to the bottom, enclosing any fish that may be beneath the net. If

only small fish are enclosed, the net is twisted as it is drawn up,

the fish becoming entangled in its meshes, and in pockets formed about

its lower border. If a large fish is enclosed, the steersman will dive

overboard and seize the lower part of the net so as to secure the fish.

Or the boat is paddled to the foot of a small rapid; the fisherman

springs out and runs to the head of the rapid, and casts his net in

the still water immediately above it where fish frequently congregate.

Or a party takes the same net to the mouth of a small tributary, and,

while some hold the net so as to block the mouth almost completely,

others run through the jungle to a point some hundred yards up the

stream, and then drive down the fish by wading down stream splashing

and shouting. As soon as a number of fish come down against the net

its upper border is thrown down so as to enclose them.

Another net, made quite flat and some fifteen yards long by four feet

wide, is suspended by wooden floats across a small river so that the

fish may become entangled in its meshes.

Another net is used only by the women. In shape it is like a deep

basin; its wide mouth is attached to a stout circle of rattan, and

a wooden bar is tied across the mouth to serve as handle. With this

the women catch the sucker fish in the shallow rapids, one turning

up stones, the other catching in the net the fish that dart from

beneath them.

Yet another mode of netting fish is to suspend a square of net

attached by its corners to the ends of two crossed and downward bending

sticks. The net is suspended by cords from its corners to the end of

a long bamboo, which rests upon a post about its middle. The fisherman

lowers the net into the water by raising the landward end of the bamboo

lever, and when he sees fish swimming above it, attracted by a bait,

he suddenly depresses his end of the bamboo, so as to bring the net

quickly above the surface. On the coast drag nets are used.

The Pagan Tribes of Borneo A Description of Their Physical Moral and Intellectual Condition, with Some Discussion of Their Ethnic Relations · 第 23 / 31 章

The minor and purely domestic affairs of each house are settled