From China into Burma
Gradually the scenery changed as we approached British territory,
and then, quite suddenly, the vegetation became tropical within a
day’s march of the frontier. The trees are much more lofty, and rise
as straight as darts up into the blue. Often they are strangled by
the huge creepers which wind round and round them, and seem to draw
their life-blood from the trees which they kill, becoming almost as
large in the trunk, and with great bloated leaves concealing their
victims. Long feelers hang down from the tree-tops, and orchids and
ferns grow profusely, high up among the branches. Everything possesses
a brilliancy and size and vitality which has in it something fearful;
indeed, it is as if it were an evil power brooding over everything
and crushing weaker things in a relentless grasp. The spider-webs are
like gauze handkerchiefs spread over the banks, in the centre of which
are gaping doorways, where you see the monster spider sprawling with
an insolent, will-you-walk-into-my-parlour air. The monkeys chatter
and jabber unseen; some of them--the “gibbons”--are of a large size.
Parrots scream, and modest-plumaged familiar birds are replaced by
brilliant ones with shrill, unsympathetic voices. We met, too, various
tribes-people, such as Shans and Kachins.
Our spirits fell somewhat, too, at the thought of leaving China, of
parting from our pleasant company, and ending the most delightful tour
we had ever had. The last night we spent at a “head man’s” house, but
his Excellency was away from home. We had a pleasant upstairs room
overlooking a large courtyard filled with pack-animals, whose driver
slept with them in the open, according to custom, despite a terrific
thunderstorm in the middle of the night. There was no door to our room,
but we hung up a curtain, and a soldier slept just outside. Mr. Ku and
Liu slept one on each side of the family altar downstairs. We started
next morning at the usual hour, and after some miles our military
escort took leave of us, at the edge of the stream which divides the
two greatest empires in the world. A rude trunk acted as bridge, and
we saw Liu timorously hesitating on the edge, till one of the coolies
took pity on him and came and handed him across. As this was the first
time that our men had been on British soil (with the exception of two
of them), we felt we ought to do something to celebrate the event,
and I was very anxious that they should look their best when we came
to the British outpost. It was in vain, however, that I had offered
to have them all shaved and coiffed, as I found it would practically
take a day to get it done; and also there was a difficulty in even
procuring a barber in any of the adjoining villages. It is astounding
the difference the shaving makes in their appearance, as the larger
part of the head is kept shaved. We had to give up the hope of making
a brave show, but this did not signify so much when we found that
there was no British outpost. In fact, the only thing that marked the
difference of territory was that now we came on to a splendid road and
found excellent bridges. We promised the men “tooth-worship” (namely,
pork-feast) that evening, but there was nothing very attractive to be
obtained when we got to the extremely imperfect inn where we halted
for the night. It was a bamboo erection, rather like cellular clothing
in its porousness, and, as usual, our room lay in the centre. The
place was conspicuously large, airy, and clean, but it required all
our luggage and the curtains to make any sort of screen. After supper
we set out all our empty tins and bottles, as there is nothing which
coolies esteem more. They had been begging us all the time to give
them our biscuit-tins, which were the greatest prizes, though jam-and
butter-tins were useful for cooking purposes. The biscuit-tins had been
promised to those who were thought most deserving. When they put them
in our chairs for us, they would tap them and give us a wink, as much
as to say, “This is going to be mine some day,” or shake them to see
if they were nearly empty. By this time we had got a thoroughly large
selection, and had an amusing time in distributing them. The men also
petitioned for quinine to take with them for recrossing the Salween;
each man received two doses, to his great satisfaction.
The last morning dawned; for the last time we heard the familiar
awakening cry, “Arise, wash your faces, eat your rice,” and we
reluctantly made our way along the beautiful road through the forest,
a road such as the coolies had never seen before. We had ordered a
_gharri_ (= carriage) to meet us ten miles from the town, as it was
too long for a one day’s stage, now that the hot weather had set in;
so we arranged for the men and coolies to follow us to Bhamo the
next day with our chairs and luggage. We halted at the Dak Bungalow,
where we were met by one of our friends from Bhamo, and after tea we
transferred our requisites to the _gharri_ and set out for Bhamo. As we
rattled along in the noisy and uncomfortable vehicle we longed for our
comfortable chairs, but were soon pulled up short by the harness giving
way. A piece of cloth proved ineffectual to hold it together for more
than about half a mile. I then provided a piece of string which proved
more efficacious, but only a few minutes later there was a hopeless
crash as the axle split in two between the front wheels. We had to sit
down ignominiously by the roadside for at least an hour, while the man
rode off on the horse to get another carriage. Oh, to be back in China,
where we found things so slow and steady!
Next morning our men arrived with the luggage, and after settling
accounts with them and presenting them with the two sedan-chairs and
our carrying-poles, we regretfully bade them good-bye. I think the
desire was exceedingly strong on both sides that we should meet again
and have just such another journey. With many journeys it requires the
mellowing distance of time to forget the disagreeables, but we had but
one thought in looking back, and that was one of entire satisfaction.