MAKING A RUBBER PLANTATION
We have come out to the East, to see for ourselves how rubber is
cultivated. And we have chosen to spend most of our little remaining
time together in the Malay Peninsula, since this is the country where
the largest area of land has been given over to rubber-trees, where
many of the finest plantations are situated, and where advanced methods
of cultivation and manufacture are most generally practised.
Our surroundings are very Oriental, yet there are many signs that
Western civilization is playing an important part in the life of this
country. When our ship dropped anchor in the harbour at Singapore,
we imagined that by some mistake we had been brought to a Chinese
port, instead of to our proper destination in the British Straits
Settlements. The quay was packed with Chinamen, or “boys,” as they are
all called when they belong to the working class, no matter whether
their age is six or sixty. When our luggage had been seized by as
many of the pig-tailed brigade as could manage to secure any one of
our belongings, when we and our traps had been taken possession of
by Chinese rickshaw coolies, and at last we were on the move again
each of us being jog-trotted along in a sort of invalid chair with a
picturesque, yellow-skinned ragamuffin in the shafts, we were even more
sure that we were in China, and the impression became stronger still as
we passed through street after street thronged with Chinese men, women,
and children, and lined with shops displaying Chinese wares, Chinese
signs over and around the doors, and Chinese lanterns for every-night
illuminations. Presently, as we emerged into a broad thoroughfare, we
found ourselves in totally different surroundings. The fine public
buildings, houses, shops, and hotels looked distinctly Western; several
times a minute trams and motors threatened to run down our rickshaws;
we saw many English faces, heard English being spoken freely, and
noticed that shops and hoardings gave us a great deal of information
in the English language. But now we were thoroughly puzzled as to the
nationality of Singapore. The crowd in the streets was cosmopolitan,
Western and Eastern in about equal proportions, but whilst undoubtedly
the West was represented mostly by English people, it was difficult to
make up our minds whether there were more Malays or Chinese among the
Eastern population.
[Illustration:
_M. S. Nakajima, Kuala Lumpur_
CARRYING LATEX TO FACTORY, IN MALAYA. _Page 81_]
Now that we have come up-country in the Malay Peninsula, it is more
difficult than ever to tell from our surroundings who is the ruling
power in the land. We see a few Europeans among a host of Orientals,
all of whom are called “natives,” although they represent many races.
We are in the midst of a highly cultivated district, which is entirely
devoted to rubber-growing; through its midst runs a railway, and
the interior is served by excellent roads. Yet everywhere in the
background rises a wall of jungle. We are right when we jump to the
conclusion that the rubber lands were once jungle too, and when we tell
ourselves that, in spite of the fact that the bulk of the population of
this Peninsula is Oriental, the plantations, roads, and railways owe
their origin to Western enterprise and a Western scheme of development.
The Malay Peninsula consists of the Straits Settlements--Singapore,
Malacca, Province Wellesley, the Dindings, and Penang, which are
British--and of a number of Native States. But British influence is
quickly becoming as active in the Native States as in those parts of
the country which are British possessions. Indeed, four of the native
divisions--Negri Sembilan, Selangor, Perak, and Pahang--are united as
the Federated Malay States, and administered on up-to-date progressive
British lines by a Federal Council. The Governor of the Straits
Settlements, who is High Commissioner of the Federated Malay States,
presides over the Council, and its membership consists further of the
Sultans of the four States in question, the British Resident of each,
and four unofficial members, three of whom are British and one Chinese.
Three other States have a British adviser, and the Sultan of Johore has
availed himself of the aid of a similar official to help him develop
his territory, particularly with a view to furthering the interests of
rubber-growing.
The principal rubber lands in Malaya are situated in the Straits
Settlements, the Federated Malay States, and Johore. We have come to
a rubber estate in the heart of the Federated Malay States, where the
plantation area is about to be enlarged. Another tract of jungle is to
be cleared and planted with Hevea.
For days we watch the clearing being made. First the undergrowth is
cut, then the trees are felled. When these preparations are complete,
a light is put to the great mass of unwanted vegetation. A big bonfire
is soon raging, and when this has burnt itself out, the jungle tract
has given place to a clearing that is strewn with charred stumps and a
wreckage of trunks. When the clearing has had time to cool, a central
road is made, and the land is divided into blocks by side-paths.
Little Heveas are now brought from an open-air nursery and planted in
rows, between the stump and trunk ghosts of the dead jungle. These
little Heveas have been grown from seed on a very much smaller piece of
ground than that over which they are now distributed. They do not want
very much room until they are about a year old, and by the method of
putting treelings, instead of seeds, in a clearing, the plantation is
brought to bearing-stage in about four years instead of five.
There is a great difference of opinion as to what distance apart the
young plants should be put in the ground when they are transferred
to their permanent home in the clearing. Some planters put in three
or four hundred to the acre, and obtain quite good results; others
maintain that the trees are overcrowded, and cannot possibly grow to
their full size, if more than fifty occupy one acre of land. Generally
speaking, from one hundred to two hundred trees are planted per acre at
the present time.
Jungle clearing is always done in the way we have seen up to the
bonfire stage of the proceedings. But in some cases, further
preparations are made before planting begins. Stumps are uprooted,
and removed with all the wreckage left by the fire, so that the land
to be planted is quite clean. This more thorough method is followed by
growers who prefer not to run any risk of their rubber-trees becoming
infected by possible disease among the trees that formerly occupied the
ground; but complete clearing is a long and costly business.
Grassland is sometimes used for rubber-growing. Paths are cleared and
the rubber is planted in rows, between strips of grass; or the whole of
a given area is completely cleared before planting is begun. The most
common grass, called _lalang_, is the worst pest with which many of the
planters have to contend. It is difficult to uproot, and any that may
be left in the ground spreads very rapidly.
In Malaya the work of clearing is nearly all done by Sakai and Malays.
The Sakai are the aborigines of the country, who live in the jungle.
They are very skilful woodcutters.
The Malays, it is believed, are descended from natives of Southern
India, who emigrated to Sumatra. In 1360 some of the emigrants made the
short journey over to the mainland, and settled in the country which
we call the Malay Peninsula. They increased and multiplied, and became
more and more powerful, although first the Portuguese, and then the
Dutch, tried very hard to get the upper hand of them. When the British
succeeded the Dutch as the chief European power in the Peninsula, the
Malays were at first left in undisputed possession of the interior
of the country. But they quarrelled and fought so much amongst
themselves that the interior was always in a state of turmoil; when
they began to hamper our trade still further, by raiding our territory
in the Peninsula, steps had to be taken to bring them under control.
Gradually, by means of force and diplomacy, order was established,
British influence was widely extended, and the Native States entered
into that close political relationship with Britain which I have
already summed up for you.
Generally speaking, the Malays are very different from the Sakai. The
jungle-men are savages. The Malays are a civilized people; they have a
national style of dress, their conversation is witty and is frequently
carried on in poetic language, they have produced some literature, and
they are most artistic metal-workers.
But the Malays and the Sakai are alike in that they both want but
little here below except time to loaf in the sun. Regular work they
heartily dislike, and will not do. But, as a rule, they are quite
pleased to make a clearing for the planter. That is a job which will
come to an end some day not so very long after it is begun, and it will
bring in enough money to carry them through another lengthy spell of
leisure.