_A JUNGLE JOURNEY._
We had a great desire in the mission to pay a visit to the Chin tribes on
the western frontier, with the view of ascertaining their locality and
circumstances. Consequently, when the cool season arrived, the usual time
of year for tours, I started with my brother missionary, Mr. Bestall,
then stationed at Pakokku, for a journey to the Chin country. The Chins,
as explained in Chapter X., are not Buddhists, but worshippers of spirits
or demons, and are on that account more barbarous, and, contradictory as
it may seem to say so, more ready of access than the Buddhistic races, to
Christian mission effort.
We left Pakokku at 4 A.M. one morning in November, mounted on two lively
Burmese ponies, with a cart drawn by a pair of bullocks for our things.
In travelling through the jungle you need to take almost everything
you require; so that when the sugar, and salt, and tea, and bread, and
butter, and tins of meat (in case the gun brings down nothing), and
soap, and candles, and rice, and curry, and frying-pan, and kettle, and
crockery, and a few other simple necessaries, not omitting medicines,
are packed up in a box, and the pillows and rugs for the night rolled up
in a mat, and a change or two of clothes put in a portmanteau, and a few
Gospel portions and tracts included, to distribute in the villages as we
pass along, you find you require a cart to carry them. As the cart can
only travel, on an average, about two miles an hour, it requires a long
day to do twenty miles. There is no advantage in going ahead of the cart,
you only have to wait at the end of the stage, and it is more enjoyable
to spend the time in leisurely travelling. In this way these jungle
journeys, though the travelling is rough and often fatiguing, are very
serviceable for the sake of the change of air and scene, and the free
out-door exercise they afford.
We managed to make a stage of six miles before it was daylight, and
pushed on the next stage of fifteen miles farther without stopping.
There we halted at one of the establishments constructed at every stage
along this route, to accommodate troops and convoys, on the march to the
military and police stations on the frontier. It consisted of long rows
of temporary bamboo barracks, and a bamboo shed for the officers. There
was a Burmese police guard close by. How regularly and irreproachably
that Burman constable shouldered his rifle, and did his “sentry go,”
_while we were looking on_! Here we halted for our midday meal and a
short rest. It is wonderful with what dexterity your native servant,
availing himself of almost no facilities for cooking, can produce you
a savoury breakfast on the march. Three stones or bricks to support
the kettle, and the same for the frying-pan, are all he requires for a
fireplace, and a few sticks and bits of bamboo out of the jungle are
enough for a fire. In the afternoon we did another twelve miles, making
thirty-three miles that day, which was rather more than the cartman
would have driven his bullocks, if it had not been that the next day was
Sunday, the day of rest. The weather was lovely, being the best time of
the year for a journey. It was not much hotter in the day than a warm
summer day in England; the nights and mornings were chilly.
At Pyinchaung we halted on the Saturday night, again putting up in the
temporary military lines. The route we had taken was not a road, as we
understand roads in England, but, strictly speaking, more of a track,
fairly passable in dry weather for carts, but almost impracticable after
heavy rains. Good metalled roads are a luxury we have not seen much of
as yet in Upper Burma, but we shall get them in course of time. On the
Sunday we rested, and spent some time amongst the villagers, distributing
tracts and preaching. Here we had the misfortune to lose our two ponies.
Mr. Bestall, pitying them, that there was so little grass to eat in the
rest-house enclosure, opened his kind heart, and the gate at the same
time, and let them out to graze, giving them in charge to the cartman to
look after. He followed them for awhile, and then, native-like, came back
without them. We went in search of them, but never saw them again that
journey. They strayed for many miles, and it was a month before they were
brought back. It speaks well for the hold the English now have on the
country, and the great diminution of crime, that search was made in all
the district round, and they were returned by the police, as we felt sure
they would be. We had to borrow for the rest of the way.
An eloquent reminder of the troublous times we had then barely passed
through, was the little police fort close by the rest-house, constructed
on the top of a ruined pagoda, where there was a view of the country for
some distance round. During the first three or four years of British rule
places like this had to be selected wherever practicable, and made strong
enough to stand a rush by dacoits, and a careful watch had to be kept.
The little bamboo house was perched right on the top of the steep mound
of ruined brickwork, a wall breast high was erected round it, and with
a few resolute men, well armed, inside, it would not have been easy to
take. The rest-house at Pyinchaung, looking westward, overlooked a most
lovely valley of great extent and fertility, through which we had now to
pass. This valley looks as if it might have been at one time the bed of
a mighty river, but the stream is now contracted to a very narrow span,
and the alluvial soil of this rich valley is a veritable land of plenty.
I never saw a region more lovely with “the fairer forms that cultivation
glories in” than the Yaw valley then appeared. Whilst crossing this great
valley we rode through fields of maize, and another tall grain, a kind
of millet, far above our heads, with rice fields here and there, and
abundance of pumpkins, beans and other vegetables, the ponies snatching
an occasional bite at the sweet juicy stems and leaves of the millet,
which they are so fond of. Carts in great numbers passed us, drawn by
well-fed, plump oxen, and mostly laden with the leaves which envelop the
maize cobs, all laid straight and packed neatly in bundles. The maize
crop had nearly all been reaped, and these leaves of the Yaw valley
maize, not the grain itself, form the most valuable product of the crop,
and are largely sold all over Burma for the purpose of enveloping Burmese
cigars.
The people of this district all looked fat and well fed. There was
abundance of cattle, and the inhabitants of that region seemed to want
for nothing in a material point of view. Fifteen miles from Pyinchaung
we reached Pauk, a small Burmese town, the headquarters of the township
officer, a police officer, and a lieutenant in charge of a detachment
of Madras troops. They were all very young Englishmen, two of them
apparently not over twenty-five, and it might have seemed odd at first
sight to see such young men in such responsible positions. But suddenly
having to find a sufficient staff of officials, to rule over a country as
large as France, has involved engaging the services of many young men,
for they must enter upon their duties young to be properly trained for
the work; and it is a notable fact that the great work of pacifying and
restoring to order Upper Burma has been chiefly the work of very young
men. The civil officer is a magistrate, and has to try such cases as
are within his jurisdiction, to collect the revenue through his native
subordinates, to keep his eye on everything in general, and to keep the
Deputy Commissioner of the district informed of all that is going on, to
initiate whatever is needful for the well-being of the community, and
to act the part of a father to the people of his township, which is as
large, though not so populous, as an English county. The police inspector
is responsible for the maintenance of order, and the pursuit and arrest
of criminals; and the military may at any time be called out to take the
field, and try conclusions with some dacoit band that has gathered in
force. As far as I could judge they all seemed very fit for the work they
had to do.
Only a year or so before, this township of Pauk was in an exceedingly
disturbed state, by reason of dacoit bands; and if things had not greatly
improved, we could never have travelled unprotected through it as we did.
It is to the credit of these young men, and the troops and police under
them, that things are so peaceable now. We saw at Pauk the same abundant
evidences of prosperity and improvement, that are visible everywhere
throughout the country, not only in the erection of a new court house and
public Government office, and many private houses, but still more in the
great improvements made about the town, in the improvement of the roads,
and most of all in the construction of a new bazaar, which the township
officer showed us through with pardonable pride, and in which a great
deal of business was going on.
Having stayed in Pauk the night, we were off the next morning early,
forded the river, travelled a stage, and rested for our midday meal in
a monastery. This is no uncommon thing in Burma; we had occasion to do
so several times on this journey. There is hardly a village without its
monastery, one or more, always the best building in the place, and kept
very clean; and it generally happens, as in this case, that there are
some vacant buildings used as rest-houses by chance travellers. We always
found the monks affable and pleasant to meet, quite chatty, with a kind
of friendly familiarity entering at once into conversation, and evidently
not having the slightest objection to seeing us about the premises. We,
on our part, reciprocated these advances, and made things pleasant all
round.
Thus we travelled on from day to day, as fast as our bullocks could make
the journey, which was very slowly indeed. As we could gain nothing by
going ahead of our cart, we were obliged to spend the spare time as best
we could. My companion, having a gun, and being a good shot, managed to
get something every day, which, in the entire absence of the butcher’s
shop, was very acceptable for the larder. We had either a hare, wild
pigeons, jungle fowl, partridges, or something. Game is abundant on the
route, and in the jungle you have no fear of encroaching on anybody’s
preserves.
I suppose there are few places in the world now, however remote, where
an Englishman is not constantly meeting with some wandering specimens
of his countrymen; and even in the wildest recesses of the jungles of
Upper Burma, you are liable to the discovery that the genus Englishman
includes the species gentleman and the species snob. We had a curious
illustration of this. Arriving one evening, long after dark, about eight
o’clock, at a roadside rest-house, built by the Public Works Department
for the common use of English travellers, we found a gentleman whom I
will call Captain X. He was travelling in charge of a large military
convoy of elephants, ponies and other baggage animals, carrying up
supplies to one of the distant military stations in the Chin country. He
and a junior companion were in possession of the comfortable, spacious,
three-roomed bamboo rest-house, where there would have been ample
accommodation for us as well, with our scanty travelling kit, in the
third room, which they were not using; and they had really no more right
to monopolise the whole than we had. However, they were in possession;
and on our presenting ourselves at the door, Captain X. never so much
as asked us to step inside, never attempted even to ascertain who we
were, or to enter at all into conversation with us, but simply directed
our attention to a dirty, shabby bamboo shed at the lower part of the
compound, built for natives, and at that moment quite full of Burman
coolies, who, he cheerfully assured us, would readily “nip out” and
make room for us, if we asked them. Some people’s idea of the purpose
of other people seems to be that they were meant by Providence to “nip
out” and make way for them! Gathering from his manner that he did not
mean us to have the use of the vacant room at the rest-house, or to
show the slightest courtesy in any way, we betook ourselves to the said
outbuilding. The courteous Burmans squeezed themselves into smaller
space, and left us enough room to spread our rugs on the bamboo floor,
and we managed to put up for the night. I am glad to say that this kind
of discourtesy is very uncommon indeed abroad. In all my experience of
many years in Ceylon and Burma, I have never met with such scant civility
from a fellow-traveller in the jungle, but always something more in
accordance with the circumstances.
A striking contrast to this was the gentlemanly conduct of Lieutenant
T., whom we happened to meet in a similar way at a rest-house on the
return journey. He was in possession, too, before we arrived, and though
that rest-house only consisted of one room, which he was occupying, he
most kindly pressed us to share it with him. This, however, we would
not do, but decided to occupy a zayat which we found vacant close by.
We entered into conversation, and shortly after, when we took leave of
him for the night, we found that, finding our cart had not arrived, and
that our supper would have been long delayed, he had sent his servant
boy round with enough supper for both of us, and a candle by the light
of which to eat it! Lieutenant T. is a brave man, and has made quite a
name in connection with the rough military and civil work of the last
few years, amongst the tribes of the western frontier. He has been, as
we were elsewhere informed, in thirteen engagements; and he was at that
time returning to his distant appointment on the hills, from an event
which must have been to him, as a soldier, the proudest moment of his
life, when the general decorated him, in the presence of all the troops
of the station assembled on parade, with the Distinguished Service Order.
It was currently reported by his brother-officers that it would have been
the Victoria Cross, had he not been in command of the detachment on the
special occasion, and as the writer of the despatch, he chivalrously gave
the praise to another.
I could not but observe this, as another instance, showing that
true bravery is usually associated with true modesty, and all other
gentlemanly qualities.
We now began to make our way over a mountainous ridge, along which an
earthen road had been cut out, but not gravelled, and many a rustic
bridge erected over the torrents that crossed the track, by the British,
about a year before, on purpose for the Chin Expedition, and for
subsequent traffic. Some £35,000 we were told had been spent upon it.
Some thousands of coolies were brought over from India, and the thing
was done without delay. The expedition would have been almost impossible
without a road. This serves to give the reader a glimpse of what it means
to undertake the pacification and administration of a new country of
abundant resources, but without means of communication, and with much
raiding and dacoity going on. A road, or still better a railway, always
means increased traffic and commerce, better markets for produce, and
better means of getting about, and is itself, therefore, a pacifier and
civiliser of no mean account; and it soon tends, under British law and
insistence on good behaviour, to demonstrate that honesty is the best
policy. Good government should always make it pay better to lead an
honest, industrious, orderly life, than to pursue a career of robbery and
violence—should, in fact, make it hard to do wrong and easy to do right.
This part of our journey was through a hilly and picturesque country,
consisting almost entirely of thick natural forest, with many teak and
other fine timber trees, and bamboo jungle everywhere. At Thileng we were
ninety-eight miles from Pakokku, and close to the Chin Hills. We had
here to leave the road, and our cart could go no farther with us, as the
hills are very precipitous, and there is only a jungle path. We therefore
reduced our baggage to the lowest possible limits of sheer necessity, and
had our few things carried the remainder of the journey by a couple of
coolies.
We observed that the village of Thileng had some attempts at protection
against the Chin raids. At each of the four ends of the village, where
the two main roads, placed at right angles, lead out to the jungle, there
are log huts erected, where a police guard can be sheltered against
their arrows and spears, and the gates are shut at night. The remaining
protection consists of a broad hedge of dead thorns heaped all round the
village. At this and several villages in the vicinity sad tales were
told us of Chin raids, in which Burmans were taken captive, and some
of them detained amongst the Chins for many years. The various British
expeditions sent up to the Chin tribes, with a view of reducing them to
order, have released from time to time a great many of these unfortunate
people, and the practice will soon come to an end, if it has not already
ceased. This is one example of the ways in which English rule is a great
blessing to a country like Burma, in removing such an intolerable burden
as this constant dread of these murderous and disastrous raids, and
the subsequent miseries of the unfortunate captives. The distance from
Thileng to Pinloak, the nearest Chin village, is about sixteen miles,
and over as rugged and difficult a path as ever I travelled. About noon
we halted, and had our lunch at the bottom of a very lovely gorge, by the
side of an icy-cold stream, just the picturesque kind of place that would
become a favourite with tourists in England.
At about two o’clock we approached the village, and we halted, under
cover of the tall grass, while our Burman guide went forward to announce
our approach. Presently they called to us to come forward, and we emerged
from the tall grass upon a clearing, on the steep hillside, of several
acres. The forest trees and undergrowth had been felled and burnt,
and crops of various kinds of grain, cultivated in a rough and ready
manner, and a few vegetables, were growing. The people received us in
a friendly way, and we went forward and rested in the nearest house,
which was of bamboo, something like the houses of the Burmans. We found
the Chins in many respects different from the Burmans—far more backward
in civilisation. In colour they are about the same complexion, a light
brown, but altogether dirty and unwashed. The men wear the merest rag of
a garment, the women wear a kind of tunic covering the body, but the legs
and thighs and feet are quite bare. The peculiar custom of tattooing the
faces of the women, described in Chapter X., gives them rather a hideous
appearance, and when seen in such a dress, with the face tattooed in
that fashion, and with a bamboo pipe stuck in their mouths, smoking, the
effect is not the most lady-like imaginable. Still it is only fair to say
that the women we saw, despite all these disadvantages, did not strike
us as looking particularly unwomanly. Some of the faces, both of the men
and women, were of rather a fine cast, notwithstanding their barbarous,
unkempt appearance; but the greater part of them wore that degraded
appearance which utter ignorance and the many hardships of a savage life
generally produce. As I have given many particulars about the manners and
customs of the Chins in a former chapter, I need not repeat it. We spent
the afternoon fraternising with them in their houses, making purchases
of some of their weapons and other articles, which they certainly did
not make the mistake of charging too little for, and witnessing their
wonderfully accurate shooting with the bow and arrow.
[Illustration: “THE WOMEN AND GIRLS OF THE CHIN TRIBE WEAR A KIND OF
TUNIC.”]
As evening drew on our Burmese guide advised us to camp out across the
river in preference to sleeping in the village. As the best native houses
in Burma are apt to harbour much vermin, and as the Chins never think of
such a thing as washing their bodies, it may be understood that we were
not unwilling to take that advice. Moreover, it was desirable to avoid
any complications that might lead to a breach of the peace, for with
barbarians it is sometimes a word and a blow, and the blow first. We
therefore crossed the river and prepared to camp out in the forest, under
a great clump of bamboos, spreading our mats on the sand, and kindling
a good fire, for it became very cold as the night advanced, and the dew
dropped from the trees almost like rain. Some of the Chins came over and
sat with us as we ate our supper, accepting a taste of each article, and
testifying their approval, especially of the jam. As one or two of them
could talk Burmese we were able to converse with them, and until late at
night they stayed listening round our camp fire, as we told them about
England and its greatness, and tried to explain, as well as we could make
them understand, some of the leading truths of Christianity.
I must not omit to state what it was in us that astonished them most of
all. After they had investigated the mystery of the gun, and had fired
off a cartridge, and had examined whatever else we had about us that
was curious, my companion suggested to me that, as I embodied in my own
person a good example of the dentist’s art, it might be well to let them
see what the English experts could do in supplementing deficiencies of
that nature. I thought it was a good suggestion; so calling their special
attention to what I was about to do, I quietly detached the upper set
of teeth and held it forth at arm’s length, full in the gaze of the
astonished barbarians, and then slipped it back again in a moment, and
showed them that I was able to eat with them just as well as they could
with theirs. We had expected them to be surprised at this exhibition,
but their astonishment exceeded our expectation. Up to that moment my
friend, as the proprietor of the gun, and the more affable and engaging
gentleman of the two, had been the chief centre of observation and
admiration, but after that he had to take the second place. They were
greatly amazed. Never had they seen such a thing before. They had no idea
it was possible to do it. To make a gun, or any other piece of mechanism,
or any manufactured article, was very likely within the power of a highly
civilised people. But to be able to detach and take out the whole upper
set of teeth, gums, palate and all (apparently), and then to slip them
in again, and enjoy the full and perfect use of them!—that far exceeded
any notions they had previously formed of what was possible, and they
evidently regarded this not as a piece of mechanism, but more in the
light of an utterly inexplicable, if not magical, accomplishment.
It is not amiss for barbarous people like these, who have been accustomed
to set all law and order at defiance, and raided upon Burmese territory
just as they liked, to have the opportunity of seeing for themselves some
marks of a superior civilisation. It may be expected to induce in them
a wholesome dread of the British power, and a more orderly and peaceful
mode of life.
They begged us to stay over the next day, stating that they wished to
bring their people from far and near to see this strange sight, but
the risk of fever, through sleeping out in the jungle, was too great
to justify us in remaining longer, and next day we left Pinloak, and
returned the way we came. And we live in hopes that, when the funds will
allow of it, the information we gleaned on this tour may be turned to
good account.