VILLAGE LIFE
Leaving the river, let us go ashore at one of the many villages on its
banks, and see how the Burmese live.
Our steamer lies alongside of the bank while the cargo is being
landed, and its fuel of eng-wood is put on board. This is hard work,
and is generally done by girls, who are paid by piece-work, and
generally lose no time in the operation. Bales and cases lie upon the
bank, and are being loaded into bullock-carts or carried to the top of
the "bund," as the bank is called, where pack-ponies are waiting to
carry them to more distant destinations.
The villagers "shikoh"[4] as we land, and swarms of youngsters follow
us on our tour of the village; but though greatly interested in
ourselves and our hardly-concealed curiosity, they are always polite
and never annoy us in any way.
[Footnote 4: The Burmese form of salute.]
The village lies close beside the river, and is, as usual, bowered in
trees, which overhang the bank. Its other three sides are enclosed by
a stockade of thorns or wooden palings as a protection against wild
beasts or attack by dacoits, bands of robbers who until recently
lurked in the jungles, and often raided outlying and unprotected
villages.
The stockade is nearly always overgrown with creeping plants, yellow
convolvulus, tropæolum, and a charming little climber like
canariensis. On each side is a gate built of balks of timber, and so
heavy that it must run on wheels. This gate is always shut at
nightfall, so that no one can enter the village unknown to the
watchman, who is called "kinthamah" and keeps his "kin" in a little
booth called "kinteaine" erected close beside the gate.
By the gates and at intervals along the roadside are little cupboards
raised above the ground and thatched with grasses called "yaiohzin";
these contain jars of drinking water for the use of wayfarers, and are
always kept replenished by the villagers. The drinking cup is usually
made of a polished coco-nut shell with a long handle of some hard
wood, and it is noticeable that the water is never spilled or wasted,
for Burma is a thirsty land and some of these watering-places are far
from the river, and every one drinks with due regard to the
necessities of the next comer.
Entering the large compound which the stockade encloses we are in the
village itself. Here the houses of the Burmans are pleasantly situated
among rows of toddy-palm, mango, padouk, and other trees, among which
the peepul, or sacred ficus, is almost always found.
The houses are more or less arranged so as to leave a lane or street
between them, and are generally built of bamboo, though many have
their principal timbers of teak or eng-wood. The floors are usually
of split bamboo, and the roof of elephant-grass, or "thekka," as the
thatch of dried leaves is called, forms a good protection against the
summer sun or monsoon rains, while the walls are formed of bamboo
mats, often coloured and woven into some pretty though simple design.
As the front of the house is generally more or less open, we are able
to see much of the interior arrangements. Sleeping mats of grasses
supply the place of beds, and no chairs are to be seen. On a low stand
of carved wood is the tray upon which their simple meals are served,
and cooking-pots of bronze or earthenware lie about the "chatties"
which contain the fire. Painted and carved boxes contain the family
wardrobe, and in one corner is the stand for the large jars in which
their supply of drinking-water is kept. Mat partitions perhaps screen
inner rooms which we cannot see, but all the domestic appliances
visible are of the simplest character, but ample for the needs of the
people.
All the buildings are raised several feet above the ground as a
protection against snakes, floods, and malaria, and the space below
often forms a stable for the cattle and a useful storing-place for
agricultural or other implements. These simple homes of the Burmans
are often very pretty as they lie among the trees which cast their
broad shadows across the straggling lane, grass grown and deeply
rutted by the cart-wheels. Bougainvillæa and other creepers spread
luxuriantly over the roofs, or drop their festoons of flowers from
the eaves. Bananas wave their broad leaves gracefully above the
houses, in cool contrast to the richer foliage of the larger trees,
and among all this greenery, alternately in sunlight or shadow, move
the brightly-costumed villagers themselves, most interesting of all.
Here comes a pretty young mother clad in "lungyi" of apple-green and
dainty white jacket. Cross-legged over her shoulder is her infant, to
whom she talks softly and endearingly as she walks. Presently her home
is reached, and all the joy of motherhood shines in her happy face as
she gently swings her child to sleep in its cradle of rattan which is
slung from the roof above.
Again, an old man passes, guided by a little boy, who is proud to
assist his grandfather; for respect for the aged, no less than love
for their children, is a dominant trait in the character of the
Burman.
While many are working in the paddy-fields, other of the villagers
find their occupation nearer home, and employ themselves in such work
as mat and basket making (in which the children assist), the weaving
of silk, and the manufacture of pottery. In sheds made for the purpose
oil or sugar mills are being turned by bullocks, while in some few
villages is made that pretty red and gold lacquer-work we know so well
in England. Notice also the village blacksmith, who, with primitive
tools, hammers out those curiously shaped "dahs" and knives used by
the wood-cutters, while beside him, with equally simple implements,
the carpenter puts the finishing touches to the carved yoke of a
gharry.
In the streets the naked youngsters are playing at their games. Many
are like our own, and marbles, peg-tops, leap-frog or kite-flying
each have their turn, while in the ditches and puddles the boys hold
miniature regattas with their toy sailing-boats.
In the monastery or some private dwelling in the village the children
go to school, and as they become older some occupation employs their
time. While the boys are engaged with the cattle or about the boats,
the girls are occupied in cutting firewood in the jungle, or from the
pools in the forest collect the crude oil which they burn in their
lamps.
Roaming at will through the village are pigs and poultry, geese and
cattle, and the inevitable "pi dog" of the country. These dogs are
peculiar, being wild, yet attaching themselves to some particular
house, whose interests they seem to make their own, and which, by
vigorous barking, they make a pretence of guarding. In some villages,
also, the pigs, which are long-legged and fleet of foot, seem to act
in the same capacity, strongly objecting to the intrusion of
strangers, and even when riding my pony I have been attacked by them
and forced to retire.
During the day many of the villagers have been busy in the
rice-fields, for rice is their staple food and the only crop generally
cultivated; even infants of a day old are fed upon it, the rice being
first chewed by the mother, and each tiny mouthful washed down by a
few drops of water. Towards evening, when the tired cattle draw their
creaking carts homewards, the streets are thronged with the labourers
returning from their work, ready for the simple meal of rice and
"ngapi" their wives have prepared for them.
It is a simple, happy life which these villagers lead, graced by many
pretty customs of domesticity.
Rising with the sun, with it also they retire to rest, and as the last
sweet tones of many gongs from the village monastery proclaim the
close of their evening prayer the stockade-gates are closed, and, save
for the howling of jackals outside, or the yapping of a dog, silence
reigns throughout the village.
[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO A BURMESE VILLAGE. _Page 10._]