A Malay Interior--Malay Bird-Scaring--Rice Culture--Picturesque
Dismalness--A Bad Spell--An Alarm--Possibilities of Peril--Patience and
Kindness--Masculine Clatter
KWALA KANGSA, February 20.
Yesterday afternoon I had an expedition which I liked very much, though
it ended a little awkwardly owing to a late start. Captain Walker was
going on a shooting excursion to a lotus lake at some distance, and
invited me to join him. So we started after tiffin with two Malays,
crossed the Perak in a "dug-out," and walked for a mile over a sandy,
grassy shore, which there lies between the bright water and the forest,
then turned into the jungle, and waded through a stream which was up to
my knees as we went, and up to my waist as we returned. Then a
tremendous shower came on, and we were asked to climb into a large
Malay house, of which the floor was a perilously open gridiron. At
least three families were in it, and there were some very big men, but
the women hid themselves behind a screen of matting. It looked forlorn.
A young baboon was chained to the floor, and walked up and down
restlessly like a wild beast in a menagerie; there were many birds in
cages, and under the house was much rubbish, among which numerous fowls
were picking. There was much fishing-tackle on the walls, both men and
women being excessively fond of what I suppose may be called angling.
They brought us young cocoa-nuts, and the milk, drank as it always
ought to be, through one of the holes in the nut, was absolutely
delicious.
Where the Malays are not sophisticated enough to have glass or china,
they use dried gourds for drinking-vessels. The cocoa-nut is an
invaluable product to them. Besides furnishing them with an
incomparable drink, it is the basis of the curries on which they live
so much, and its meat and milk enter into the composition of their
sweet dishes. I went to see the women behind their screen, and found
one of them engaged in making a dish which looked like something which
we used to call syllabub. It was composed of remarkably unbleached
sago, which they make from the sago-palm, boiled down with sugar to
nearly a jelly. It was on an earthenware plate, and the woman who was
preparing it mixed sugar with cocoa-nut milk, and whipping it with a
bunch of twigs to a slight froth, poured it over the jelly.
When the rain ceased we got through the timber belt into a forlorn
swamp of wet padi, where the water was a foot deep, and in some places
so unintelligibly hot that it was unpleasant to put one's feet into it.
It was truly a dismal swamp, and looked as if the padi were coming up
by accident among the reeds and weeds. Indeed, I should have thought
that it was a rice fallow, but for a number of grotesque scarecrows,
some mere bundles of tatters, but others wearing the aspect of big
birds, big dolls, or cats. I could not think how it was that these
things made spasmodic jerking movement, as there was not a breath of
air, and they were all soaked by the shower, till I saw that they were
attached by long strings to a little grass hut raised on poles, in
which a girl or boy sat "bird-scaring." The sparrows rob the
rice-fields, and so do the beautiful padi-birds, of which we saw great
numbers.
The Malays are certainly not industrious; they have no need to be so,
and their cultivation is rude. They plow the rice-land with a plow
consisting of a pole eight feet long, with a fork protruding from one
end to act as a coulter, and a bar of wood inserted over this at an
oblique angle forms a guiding handle. This plow is drawn by the great
water buffalo. After plowing, the clods are broken by dragging a heavy
beam over them, and are harrowed by means of a beam set with iron
spikes The women do the sowing and planting. The harvest succeeds the
planting in four months. The rice ears are cut short off, sometimes by
a small sickle, and sometimes by an instrument which produces the
effect of shears. Threshing consists in beating the ears with thick
sticks to loosen the husks, after which the padi is carried in baskets
to platforms ten feet above the ground, and is allowed to fall on mats,
when the chaff is driven away by the wind. It is husked by a pestle,
and it requires some skill to avoid crushing the grain. All these
operations are performed by women.
The Perak Malays don't like working for other people, but some of them
cultivate sugar-cane and maize for sale. Even for clearing jungle-land
foreign labor has to be resorted to.
Ah, that swamp is a doleful region! One cannot tell where it ends and
where the jungle begins, and dark, heavy, ominous-looking clouds
generally concealed the forest-covered hills which are not far off. I
almost felt the redundancy of vegetation to be oppressive, and the
redundancy of insect and reptile life certainly was so; swarms of
living creatures leaped in and out of the water, bigger ones hidden
from view splashed heavily, and a few blackish, slug-like looking
reptiles, which drew blood, and hung on for an hour or two, attached
themselves to my ankles. I was amused when Captain Walker congratulated
himself on the absence of leeches, for these blood-suckers were at
least their next of kin. I fell down into the water twice from the
submerged ridge that I tried to walk upon, but there is no risk of cold
from a hot bath in a stove.
Then we came to a smothered, reedy, ditch-like stream, in which was an
old "dug-out" half full of water, in which we managed to stow
ourselves, and by careful balancing contrived to keep its edges just
above the water. Our impeded progress down this ditch startled myriads
of whirring, splashing creatures. The ditch opened into a reedy swamp
where hideous pink water buffaloes were wallowing and enjoying
themselves, but on the report of a gun they all plunged into deep water
and swam away, except for their big horns, looking more like
hippopotami than bovine quadrupeds. They are nearly as ugly as a
rhinoceros; all albino animals are ugly, and when these are wet their
hides are a bright salmon pink.
The swamp merged itself into a lotus lake, covered over much of its
extent with thousands of noble leaves and rose-pink blossoms. It
seemed almost sacrilege to tear and bruise and break them and push
rudely through them in our canoe. A sadder and lonelier scene could not
be. I have seldom been more powerfully affected by nature. The lake
lying in hot mist under dark clouds, with the swamp and jungle on one
side and an absolutely impenetrable wall of entangled trees and
trailers on the other, so dense and matted that before putting one's
feet on shore space would have to be cut for them with a parang, seemed
as if it must be a hundred miles from the abodes of men, and as if
nobody had ever been there before or ever would be there again. The
heavy mist lifted, showing mountains, range beyond range,
forest-covered, extending back into the heart of the peninsula; and
though the highest may be under five thousand feet in height, yet from
their shape, and from rising so near the sea-level, and from the woolly
mists which hung round their bases, and from something in the gray, sad
atmosphere, they looked fully ten thousand feet high.
Captain Walker climbed into a low tree which overhung the lake to look
out for teal and widgeon, which were perfectly innumerable, while the
Malays, never uttering a word, silently poled the boat over the dreary
lake in the dreary evening to put up the birds. There they went high
over our heads in long flights, and every time there was the report of
a gun there were screams and shrieks and squawks, and myriads of birds
rose out of their reedy covers, and fish splashed, and the smoke lay
heavily on the water, and then all was silent again. Any place more
solitary and apparently isolated could not be imagined--it was a most
pathetic scene. Hazy visions of the mere near which King Arthur lay
dying came before my eyes. If I had seen the solemn boat with "the
three fair queens," in "robes of samite, mystic, wonderful," I should
not have been surprised, nor would it have been odd if the lake had
changed into the Styx, across which I was being ferried, a cold,
colorless shade. To and fro, up and down, we poled over the tragic
waters till I actually felt a terror far beyond eeriness taking
possession of me.
It grew grayer and darker, and we went back for Captain Walker, who,
with the absorption of a true sportsman, had hardly noticed the falling
shadows. It was a relief to hear the human voice once more. It broke
the worst spell I was ever bound by. As he came out on the branch to
get into the canoe it gave way, and he fell into the water up to his
chin. Then the boat pole broke, so that when we got back to the padi it
was obvious that "the dark" was coming "at one stride," and I suggested
that, as we had two miles to walk and a river to cross at night, and we
should certainly be very late for dinner; Mr. Low might become uneasy
about us, as we were both strangers and unable to speak the language;
but Captain Walker thought differently.
There had been so much rain that it was heavy wading through the padi,
and it was quite dark when we reached the jungle, in which the rain had
made the footing very precarious, and in darkness we forded the swollen
stream, and stumbled along the shore of the Perak, where fireflies in
thousands were flashing among the bushes--a beautiful sight. When we
reached the bank of the river where we had left the canoe we found
several Malays, who laughed and seemed singularly pleased to see us,
and talked vociferously to our men, i.e., vociferously for Malays, who
are in the habit of speaking quietly. It was very difficult to get down
the steep, slippery bank, into a precarious canoe which I could not
see, and so thick was the darkness that I sat down in the water between
the two gridirons, and had to remain there during the crossing, which
took a long time, being against the stream.
When we landed, a Sikh sergeant met us, very much excited. He spoke
Malayan, and I guessed from a few words that I knew that there was a
hue and cry at the Residency. You know how all pleasure is at once
spoiled when, after you have been enjoying yourself very much, you find
that people at home have been restless and uneasy about you; and as it
is one of my traveling principles to avoid being a bother to people, I
was very sorry. We found a general state of perturbation. Major
Swinburne, who was leaning over the veranda, received us with some very
pungent objurgations, and told us that Mr. Low was out and very
anxious. I was covered with mire, and wet from head to foot, and
disappeared, but when we sat down to the long-delayed dinner I saw from
Mr. Low's silence and gloomy manner that he had been really much
annoyed; however, he recovered himself, and we had a very lively
evening of conversation and discussion, though I had a good deal of
pain from the inflamed bites of the bloodsuckers in the swamp. Malay
scouting parties had been sent in various directions. Rajah Dris was
away with one, and the Sikh police were all ready to do nobody knows
what, as there were no dogs. Major Swinburne said that his fears did
not travel farther than the river, which he thinks is dangerous to
cross at night in a "dug-out;" but Mr. Low had before him the
possibility of our having been assailed by bad characters, or of our
having encountered a tiger in the jungle, and of my having been carried
off from my inability to climb a tree!
Eblis is surely dying. He went to the roof, where the half-tamed
siamang was supporting him hour after hour as gently as a mother would
support a sick child. This wild ape has been very gentle and good to
Eblis ever since he became ill. I went out for a short time with Mr.
Low, and on returning he called Eblis, but the little thing was too
weak to come, and began to cry feebly, on which the wild ape took him
by one of his hands, put an arm round him, gently led him to a place
from which he could drop upon Mr. Low's chair, and then darted away,
but while daylight lasted was looking anxiously at Eblis, and at 6 A.M.
had so far conquered his timidity that he sat on the window-sill behind
Mr. Low, that he might watch his sick friend. The little bewitching
thing, which is much emaciated, clings to its master now the whole
time, unlike other animals, which hide themselves when they are ill,
puts out its feeble little arms to him with a look of unspeakable
affection on its poor, pinched face, and murmurs in a feeble voice ouf!
ouf! Mr. Low pours a few drops of milk down its throat every half hour,
and if he puts it down for a moment, it screams like a baby and
stretches out its thin hands.
It is very interesting and pleasant to see the relations which exist
between Mr. Low and the Malays. At this moment three Rajahs are lying
about on the veranda, and their numerous followers are clustered on and
about the stairs. He never raises his voice to a native, and they look
as if they like him, and from their laughter and cheeriness they must
be perfectly at ease with him. He is altogether devoted to the
interests of Perak, and fully carries out his instructions,* which
were, "to look upon Perak as a native State ultimately to be governed
by native Rajahs," whom he is to endeavor to educate and advise
"without interfering with the religion or custom of the country." He
obviously attempts to train and educate these men in the principles and
practice of good government, so that they shall be able to rule firmly
and justly. Perak is likely to become the most important State of the
Peninsula, and I earnestly hope that Mr. Low's wise and patient efforts
will bring forth good fruit, at all events in Rajah Dris.
[*See Appendix A.]
Mr. Low is only a little over fifty now, and when he first came the
Rajahs told him that they were "glad that the Queen had sent them an
_old_ gentleman!" He is excessively cautious, and, like most people who
have had dealings with Orientals, is possibly somewhat suspicious, but
his caution is combined with singular kindness of heart, and an almost
faulty generosity regarding his own concerns, as, for instance, he
refuses to send his servants to prison when they rob him, saying: "Poor
fellows! they know no better." He is just as patiently forbearing to
the apes. Mr. ----- told me that he had made a very clean and careful
copy of a dispatch to Lord Carnarvon, when Mahmoud dipped his fingers
in the ink and drew them over a whole page, and he only took him in his
arms and said: "Poor creature, you've given me a great deal of trouble,
but you know no better."
This is my last evening here, and I am so sorry. It is truly "the
wilds." There is rest. Then the apes are delightful companions, and
there are all sorts of beasts, and birds, and creeping things, from
elephants downward. The scenery and vegetation of the neighborhood are
beautiful, the quiet Malay life which passes before one in a series of
pictures is very interesting, and the sight of wise and righteous rule
carried on before one's eyes, with a total absence of humbug and
red-tapeism, and which never leaves out of sight the training of the
Malays to rule themselves, is always pleasing. I like Kwala Kangsa
better than any place that I have been at in Asia, and am
proportionately sorrier to leave it. Mr. Low would have sent me up the
Perak in the Dragon boat, and over the mountains into Kinta on
elephants, if I could have stayed; but I cannot live longer without
your letters, and they, alas! are at Colombo. Mr. Low kindly expresses
regret at my going, and says he has got quite used to my being here,
and added: "You never speak at the wrong time. When men are visiting me
they never know when to be quiet, but bother one in the middle of
business." This is most amusing, for it would be usually said: "Women
never know when to be quiet." Mr. Maxwell one day said, that when men
were with him he could "get nothing done for their clatter." I wished
to start at 4 A.M. to-morrow, to get the coolness before sunrise, but
there are so many tigers about just now in the jungle through which the
road passes, that it is not considered prudent for me to leave before
six, when they will have retired to their lairs.