THE IRRAWADDY
To all countries rivers serve the same purpose as the veins in one's
body, being their great source of life and activity. Not only do they
drain and fertilize the land, but also afford the readiest and most
economical means of transit for its trade; consequently on their banks
are found the largest cities and most active commercial life of the
country.
This is particularly true of Burma, for, railways still being few in
number, the Irrawaddy forms its great highway for traffic, and a large
fleet of steamers plies regularly with freight and passengers between
Rangoon, Mandalay, and Bhamo, while thousands of native craft of all
shapes and sizes assist in the carrying trade of the country.
For a thousand miles the Irrawaddy is alive with traffic, and on its
banks have settled the greater proportion of the population of the
country, for with the exception of a few isolated towns and
settlements, which are surrounded by cultivated areas of limited
extent, the whole country away from the river-banks is densely covered
by scrub jungle and primeval forest, practically uninhabited and
uncultivable. Throughout the length of the river, however, is one long
series of towns and villages, whose pagodas and monasteries crown
every knoll, and whose population seems largely to live upon the
water.
The Irrawaddy is a stream of great size and volume, and, like all
rivers subject to periodic flood, is enclosed by high banks of
alluvial deposit, between which the river winds its devious way, laden
with that rich and fertile mud which, in the course of ages, has
formed the delta at its mouth.
In the case of the Irrawaddy this delta is of large extent, and is
everywhere intersected by the deep creeks which form the many mouths
of the river, thus breaking up the alluvial plain into numerous
islands, between which communication is impossible except by means of
boats.
These islands are for the most part covered with a dense jungle, which
forms a lair for tigers and many other wild beasts, and so close do
these tigers approach to Rangoon that one was recently shot inside the
great pagoda, in which it had taken refuge. While there I heard of an
amusing adventure which befell the keeper of the lighthouse at the
mouth of the Rangoon River. He was enjoying a morning stroll along the
beach, reading a book as he walked, and, as the sun was bright, he
held his white umbrella before him to shield himself from the glare of
sand and water. Suddenly he stumbled over a tiger lying fast asleep
upon the shore, and with a yell of terror the lighthouse man, dropping
book and sunshade on the ground, fled away as hard as he could run in
one direction, to discover presently that the tiger, just as much
alarmed as himself, had made an equally precipitous flight in the
other.
All these lower water-ways of the Irrawaddy are tidal, for they are
quite close to the sea, and at high water the land is scarcely raised
at all above the water level. Mango-trees, dwarf palms, and reeds
fringe the muddy banks, on which, raised upon poles and built partly
over the water, are the huts of the fishermen, who, half naked, ply
their calling in quaintly-shaped, dug-out canoes. To the north of the
principal creek which connects Rangoon with Bassein stretches a vast
plain of fertile "paddy" land, where each year is grown that enormous
crop of rice which forms Burma's chief export.
From every landing-place cargo boats of many kinds, manned by crews of
different nationalities, drop downstream to Rangoon, heavily laden
with "paddy," as the unhusked rice is called, which, after treatment
at the mills, will be shipped abroad.
Though hardly beautiful, perhaps, these tidal waters are of great
interest to the new-comer, who probably for the first time sees the
feathery coco-nut and graceful areca-palm growing in their natural
state among the many other strange trees that flourish upon the banks.
At each stopping-place, also, is the picturesque native village, often
surrounded by banana-groves and gardens of sesamum. High on the banks
boats are being built or repaired, in readiness for next season's
flood, while on the water the continuous stream of traffic is of
never-failing interest.
Above Prome, however, where the river flows between the mountain
ranges which form the great backbone of Burma, every mile of the
journey is of great and varied beauty.
The banks are high, and cut into terraces by the varying levels of the
river, and are crowned by a belt of almost continuous forest-trees,
among which, half hidden in the foliage, are the towns and villages
which so frequently occur on both banks. Behind, the rising ground,
naturally rocky and broken, is entirely enveloped by a dense forest,
which stretches in leafy undulations to the lofty mountains which loom
in the far distance.
The Irrawaddy is rapid in its flow, and, like all flood rivers, is
constantly changing its course, as the scour of the water washes away
a portion of the bank from one spot, to form a sand-bank in the stream
lower down. Consequently, navigation for large steamers is difficult,
and the whole course has to be marked out by buoys of bamboo, which,
in some of the more difficult reaches, must be constantly changed.
Some of these steamers plying on the Irrawaddy are very large, being
over 300 feet long, and nearly 80 feet in width. Many of them carry
upwards of 2,000 passengers, mostly deck passengers, who, in the aft
part of the ship, conduct a travelling bazaar for the benefit of such
towns and villages on the banks as have no regular shops of their own.
At each landing-place crowds of people, again mostly women, are
awaiting the arrival of the steamer, carrying various goods for sale
or barter, while others eagerly board the steamer to make such
purchases as they require.
[Illustration: A NATIVE BOAT SAILING UPSTREAM WITH THE WIND. _Page
26_]
Almost every requisite of life may be bought in these floating
bazaars--clothing, cutlery, or hardware, lamps and looking-glasses
(which latter are always in great demand), preserved eggs from China,
English flour, Indian curries and sweetmeats, cooking utensils,
"ngapi" (or rotted fish) from Yandoon, are some of the articles
offered for sale, in return for which the villagers have to offer
supplies of oil, cutch, rice, native silks, and beautifully-made
baskets and lacquer-work.
At important stations the landing-places consist of barges moored
alongside the banks, and these are moved from time to time as the
varying levels of the river demand. More frequently, however, the bows
of the steamer are simply run into the bank, while its crew of
Chittagonians jump overboard to carry the mooring rope ashore. It is
amusing to watch the mass of struggling humanity who throng the
landing-places on the arrival of the steamer. Every one, whether
landing or embarking, strives to be first upon the narrow gangway
which connects the steamer's sponson[3] with the shore, with the
result that many are thrown into the water. Each is intent upon
conducting his business to the best possible advantage in the limited
time at his disposal, for the steamer's visit does not occur every
day, and its stay is short.
[Footnote 3: The small platform which connects the paddle-box with the
steamer's deck.]
Along the margin of the river are many who, indifferent to the arrival
of the mail, are engaged in washing their clothes or utensils, while
boys and girls gambol on the banks, or, swimming with delightful ease,
frolic round the steamer in the water.
Interesting though life in the steamer is, that of the river as seen
from its decks is even more so. The native boats are most quaint in
their designs, the most striking being the "laungzat." This is a
vessel often of very large size, and capable of carrying a large
amount of cargo. Its bows are sharply uptilted, the cut-water
frequently rising clear of the water. The hull is beautifully
modelled, and the stern, rising high above the water in a sort of
tower, is often elaborately carved. Half its length is covered by a
deck-house for the crew, on the roof of which a canopy of reeds or
grasses gives shelter to the steersman, who, raised in this way, is
better able to steer clear of the shoals and shallows which beset the
stream, and which from the lower deck would probably not be seen. The
rudder is a long paddle, also carved, which is slung in a loop over
the stern, while a further decorative effect is often obtained by
inverted soda-water bottles stuck upon poles along the sides.
Coming downstream the vessel is propelled by oars, usually twelve to
sixteen, which the crew ply with a slow rhythmic swing. During the
monsoons, when strong winds blow upstream, sails are used instead of
oars. The mast is composed of two bamboos lashed together at the top,
their lower ends being made fast to the gunwale. On this frame, from
bamboo yards curved slightly upwards, is spread a curious combination
of six or seven square sails, which, though only of use when running
before the wind, enable the boat to travel at a great speed. There are
many other kinds of boats in use, all equally distinctive in
character; and even the dug-out canoe is pretty, its fore-foot rising
clear of the water in a slight curve, which lends an element of beauty
to what would otherwise have been simply a straight log.
Fishing is frequent along the river-bank, the favourite appliances
being nets of various kinds. Often on a sand-bank may be seen a little
hut raised high above the ground, and composed of bamboo and reeds.
This is the shelter for the fisherman, who with a drag-net buoyed by
sun-dried gourds fishes the neighbouring shallows. Hand-nets are
occasionally used, but most interesting, perhaps, is the curious kind
of cradle by which a net stretched upon a bamboo frame is let down
into the water from the bank, particularly on the passing of a
steamer, when the startled fish dart in shore and are caught in the
net, which is raised at the proper moment by the watchers on the bank.
Very interesting also are the rafts, composed of logs of teak and
pyingado, which, cut in the forests far inland, are constructed in the
creeks, as the forest streams are called, and are then launched into
the Irrawaddy upon their voyage of often many weeks before Rangoon is
reached.
These rafts are frequently of enormous size, and are manned by crews
of Shans, whose numbers vary according to their size. Without means of
propulsion, the rafts simply drift with the stream, but are guided to
some extent by a number of paddles fixed at either end, by which the
crews endeavour, not always successfully, to keep them clear of shoals
and their heads downstream.
In many cases the population of a raft is so considerable that quite a
little village of huts is built upon it, and I have seen cows, goats,
and fowls, as well as the wives and children of the crew, housed upon
it. In one case at least I remember seeing a raft upon which was
erected a bamboo pagoda, and frequently upon the sand-banks in the
river small pagodas of the same material are erected for devout
watermen.
Not least among the many beauties of the Irrawaddy are the glorious
sunsets behind the "Yomas," when the colours are repeated in the
limpid water, which perfectly reflects the pinnacles of "kyoungs" or
pagodas, or the pretty village that lies half hidden amidst the varied
foliage which in rich masses crowns the banks.