Books: The Pagan Tribes of Borneo

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The Iban Story of Simpang Impang

The following story, which is an old favourite among the Ibans (Sea
Dayaks) of the Batang Lupar, will serve to illustrate, with its many
heterogeneous features, the myth-making faculty of this imitative
and fun-loving people. It will be noticed that the story combines the
characters of a creation-myth, an animal fable, and a fairy tale: --

Once upon a time some people were looking for edible vegetables in
the jungle, when they came upon a huge python, which they took to
be a log. Sitting upon it to cut up their vegetables, they by chance
wounded it, and caused the python's blood to flow out. Recognising then
the nature of their resting-place, the people cut up the python and
began to cook its flesh. Then heavy rain began to fall, and it rained
like anything for days and days, so that all the land was covered with
water, and only the top of TIANG LAJU (the highest peak of the Batang
Lupar district) stood out above the flood. All the people and animals
were drowned except one woman, a dog, a rat, and a few other small
animals, which climbed to the top of this mountain. The woman, seeking
shelter from the rain, noticed that the dog seemed to have found a
warm place beneath a creeper. The creeper was swaying in the wind
and rubbing against a tree, and thus was warmed by the friction. The
woman, taking the hint, rubbed the creeper hard on a piece of wood,
and so for the first time produced fire. Having no husband the woman
took the creeper for her mate, and soon afterwards gave birth to a
son, who was but one-half of a human being, having one arm, one leg,
one eye, and so on. This child, SIMPANG IMPANG, whose only companions
were the animals, often complained bitterly to his mother of his
incompleteness. One day SIMPANG IMPANG discovered some PADI grain
which the rat had hidden in a hole. He spread it out to dry on a leaf,
which he put on top of a stump. On this the rat demanded the PADI back;
and when SIMPANG IMPANG refused it, he grew very angry, and swore that
he and all his race would always retaliate by taking the PADI of men
whenever they could get at it. While they were disputing, SELULAT
ANTU RIBUT, the wind-spirit, came by and scattered the PADI grains
far and wide in the jungle. SIMPANG IMBANG looked round in anger and
astonishment, and could perceive nothing but the noise of the wind. So
he set out with some of his companions to get back his corn from the
wind-spirit, or know the reason why. After wandering for some days he
came to a tree on which were many birds; they picked off its buds as
fast as the tree could push them out. SIMPANG IMPANG asked the tree to
tell him the way to the house of the wind-spirit; and the tree said,
"Oh, yes, he came this way just now, and his house is far away over
there. When you come to it, please tell him I am tired of putting out
my leaves to have them bitten off by these rascal birds, and that I
want him to come and end my miserable life by blowing me down."

SIMPANG IMPANG went on and came to a lake, which said, "Whither are
you going, friend?" And when he answered that he was going to find
the wind-spirit, the lake complained that its outlet to the river was
blocked with a lump of gold, and told him to get the wind-spirit to
blow away the obstruction. SIMPANG IMPANG promised to put in a word
for the lake, and, passing on, came to a cluster of sugar-canes and
bananas. "Whither are you going, friend?" said they. "I'm going to the
wind-spirit" he answered. "Oh! then, will you please ask him how it is
we have no branches like other trees; we should like to have branches
like them."[162] "Yes, I'll remember it," said SIMPANG IMPANG, and,
passing on, he soon came to the home of the wind-spirit. There he
heard a great noise of wind blowing, and the wind-spirit said, "What
do you want here, SIMPANG IMPANG." He answered angrily that he had
come to demand the PADI that the wind-spirit had carried away. "We'll
settle the dispute by diving" said the wind-spirit,[163] and he dived
into the water; but being only a bubble, he very soon popped up to
the surface. Then SIMPANG IMPANG called on his companion the fish
to dive for him; and when the windspirit saw that he had no chance
of coming out the winner in this ordeal, he said, "No, this is not
fair, we'll settle the matter by jumping," and he leapt right over the
house. SIMPANG IMPANG called on the swift as his substitute, and the
swift, rising from the ground, jumped right out of sight. Still the
wind-spirit would not give in. "We'll have another test; let's see who
can go through this blow-pipe"; and he went whistling through. Then
SIMPANG IMPANG did not know what to do, for none of his companions
seemed able to help him. But he had forgotten the ant, until a little
squeaky voice called out, "I can do it"; and forthwith the ant crawled
through the blow-pipe. Still the wind-spirit would not give in, and
SIMPANG IMPANG was very angry, and seizing his father, the fire-drill,
he set the windspirit's house on fire. Then at last the wind-spirit
called out that he would make compensation for the PADI he had taken
away. "But," said he, "I haven't any gongs or other things to pay
you, so I'll make you a whole man with two arms and two legs and two
eyes." SIMPANG IMPANG accepted the bargain, and was overjoyed to find
himself a whole man. Then he remembered the messages he had brought
from the tree and the lake, and the wind-spirit promised to do as
he was asked. And then SIMPANG IMPANG put to him the question of the
bamboo and of the banana plant; and the wind-spirit said, "They have
no branches because human beings are always offending against custom;
they often utter the names of their father-in-law and mother-in-law,
and sometimes they walk before them in going through the jungle;
that is why the bamboo and the banana have no branches."

Kenyah Fable of the Mouse-deer and the Tortoise

Animal fables are current among all the peoples of Borneo, and
are frequently repeated and listened to with much enjoyment; some
individuals who acquire the reputation of being good story-tellers are
frequently called upon to practise their art. Closely allied with this
enjoyment of fables is the practice of describing incidents of social
or tribal intercourse in fables, parables, or allegories, which are
made to suit the occasions and to point the appropriate moral.

Once upon a time PLANDOK (the tiny mouse-deer) and KELAP (the
water-tortoise) went out together to find fruit. They found a tree
laden with ripe fruit close by a house. "I can't climb up that tree,"
said PLANDOK, "but I'll give you a leg up, and then you can get on to
that branch." So he pushed up KELAP on to the lowermost branch. KELAP
threw down all the fruit, but then didn't know how to get down,
and called to PLANDOK for help. "Oh! get down anyway you like,"
said PLANDOK. "But I can't get down forwards and I can't get down
backwards." "Then throw yourself down," said PLANDOK, and KELAP threw
himself down and came to the ground with a great thud. The people in
the house heard the sound and said," There's a durian falling." Then
PLANDOK began to divide the fruit into heaps. "This is for me and
that's for you," he kept calling out; and every time he put some
more fruit to KELAP'S heap, he shouted louder than before. "Hello,"
said the people in the house, "there's somebody dividing something,"
and they ran out to see what was going on. PLANDOK skipped away with
his share of the fruit, and left KELAP to hide himself as best he
could under the broad leaves of a Caladium plant. The people saw
the tree stripped of its fruit, and KELAP'S tracks on the ground
soon led to the discovery of his hidingplace. "Here's the thief,"
said the people, "let's put him in the fire." "Oh yes," said KELAP,
"please put me in the fire; last time they put me in the fire they
only half did the thing, and left one side quite untouched by the
fire."[164] "0h! that won't do," said the people, "let's squeeze him
in the sugar-cane press." "Oh yes, please squeeze me in the press,"
said KELAP, "last time they put me in the press they only squeezed one
side of me."[165] "Then that won't do either," they cried, "let's throw
him into the river." "Oh! don't throw me into the river," said KELAP,
and began to weep. So they threw him into the river. KELAP swam out to
the middle of the river and, putting up his head above the surface,
called out, "That's alright, this is my home." At this the people
saw that he had got the better of them, and determined to turn the
tables by poisoning the water with TUBA.[166] The bat overheard
what they were saying, and at once flew off to KELAP, and advised
him to get out of the river. "No, I shall stay here," said KELAP,
"this is the safest place for me," and he went and stood quite still
among the big stones in the shallow water.

Presently the people began to beat out the TUBA root on the stones, and
one man, taking KELAP'S back for a stone, began to beat his TUBA upon
it. Then KELAP made his back sink lower little by little, so that the
water began to cover it. "Hello!" said the man, "the water's rising,
it's no good trying to poison the river when the water's rising." So
they went home.

The Kenyah Story of the BELIRA Fish

The BELIRA is a fish that has an extraordinary number of bones. The
following story accounts for this exceptional number of bones and,
in conjunction with the foregoing story, explains why Kenyahs, when
proposing to poison the river with TUBA in order to take the fish,
speak of their intentions only in parables.

The fish began to complain that they were so often caught by men
who poisoned the river. So they decided they must have a DAYONG who
could make rain for them[167] so as to prevent the poisoning of the
water. They asked one fish after another to become a DAYONG; but all
refused until they came to the BELIRA, who said he would do his best
to become a DAYONG and to make rain for them, if each of the other
fishes would give him a bone. They accepted the bargain and each gave
him a bone, and that is why the BELIRA has so many bones.

The Story of the Stupid Boy

The following Klemantan story illustrates the taste of the people
for the comic: --

One day SALEH and his father set out in their boat for their
farm. "Look out for logs" (I.E. floating timber), said SALEH'S
father. They had not gone very far when SALEH sings out, "I see some
timber." ,Where?" says his father. "Why, there on the bank," says
SALEH, pointing to the jungle. "Oh! you silly," says his father, "go
on." So they went on and landed, and the father, leaving SALEH to cook
some rice in the large pot, began to cut down some trees. Presently
he came back and found SALEH with the pot upside down over the fire,
and nothing cooked. "What are you at?" cries the father. "Well,"
says SALEH, "I put the pot over the fire as you told me to do, but
when I poured the water on it, it all ran into the fire and put it
out." "You stupid boy, you should have put the pot on the other way
up." But you didn't tell me so," says SALEH.

The father had chipped his axe, so he sends SALEH home to fetch
another. SALEH sets out gaily singing, the blade of the axe lying
in the bow of the boat. Soon the boat strikes a snag and overboard
goes the axe-blade. "Oh, bother!" says SALEH, "but never mind, I'll
mark the place," and he whips out his knife and cuts a notch in the
gunwale of the boat at the spot where the axe fell in. Arriving at
the landing stage before his father's house, he begins to dive into
the water to find the lost axe-head, and continues vainly seeking it
till his mother comes out to ask what he is doing. "I'm looking for
the axe that fell into the water just at this notch, as I was coming
down river," says SALEH. "Oh! you are a stupid," says his mother, and
fetches him a new axe. SALEH goes back to his father, who has found a
fruit tree. He tells SALEH to gather the fruit in his basket while he
goes on felling trees. Presently the father comes back and finds SALEH
fastened with his back to the tree by the shoulder-basket, which he has
put right round its stem, and his legs going up and down. "Hello! what
ARE you up to now?" says the father. "Why, I'm carrying away the whole
tree to save trouble," says SALEH, "and I'm watching the clouds up
there to see how fast I'm walking with this tree on my back."

A Story with a Moral

We conclude this chapter with an example of a fable which points a
moral. It is told by the Barawans of their neighbours, the Sebops
(both are Klemantan tribes), who, they say, put off every task till
the morrow.

One wet night KRA, the monkey, and RAONG, the toad, sat under a log
complaining of the cold. "KR-R-R-H" went KRA, and "Hoot-toot-toot"
went the toad. They agreed that next day they would cut down a KUMUT
tree and make themselves a coat. of its bark. In the morning the sun
shone bright and warm, and KRA gambolled in the tree-tops, while RAONG
climbed on the log and basked in the sunlight. Presently down comes KRA
and sings out, "Hello, mate! How are you getting on?" "Oh! nicely,"
says RAONG. "Well, how about that coat we were going to make?" says
KRA. "Oh! bother the coat," says RAONG, "we'll make it to-morrow;
I'm jolly warm now." So they enjoyed the sunshine all day long. But,
when night fell, it began to rain again, and again they sat under the
log complaining of the cold. "KR-R-R-H," went KRA, and "Hoot-toot-toot"
went RAONG. And again they agreed that they must cut down the KUMUT
tree and make themselves a coat of its bark. But in the morning the
sun was shining again warm and bright; and again KRA gambolled in the
tree-tops and RAONG sat basking in the sunshine; and again RAONG,
said, "Oh! bother the coat, we'll make it tomorrow." And every day
it was the same, and so to this day KRA and RAONG sit out in the rain
complaining of the cold, and crying "KR-R-R-H" and "Hoot-toot-toot."

CHAPTER 18

Childhood and Youth of a Kayan

From the time that the parents of a Kayan become aware of his existence
they faithfully observe, without intermission until his appearance in
the world, certain tabus. Or, in their own language, they are MALAN
and certain things and acts are LALI for them. The belief that the
child will resemble in some degree the things which arrest the glance
of his mother while she carries him (LEMALI) is unquestioningly held
and acted upon; hence the expectant woman seeks to avoid seeing all
disagreeable and uncanny objects, more especially the Maias and the
long-nosed monkey; she observes also the tabus imposed upon sick
women in general, and besides these a number of other tabus peculiar
to her condition, most of which apply to acts or situations which
may symbolise any difficulty in delivery of the child; for example,
she must not tie knots, she must not thrust her hand into any narrow
hole to pull anything out. The tabus of the latter class are observed
by the husband even more strictly, if possible, than by the wife. The
woman must also avoid certain kinds of flesh and fish. It frequently
happens that the woman begins to crave to eat a peculiar soapy earth
(BATU KRAP), and this is generally supplied to her.

The woman will also take positive measures to ensure the prosperous
course of her pregnancy and delivery. At the quickening she sacrifices
a young pig and charges it to convey her prayer to Doh Tenangan;
and on the occurrence of any untoward incident, such as a fall, the
prayer and sacrifice are repeated. The carcases of the victims are
stuck upon poles before the house near her door, and the inevitable
feathered sticks, smeared with blood, are thrust behind a roof beam
in the gallery opposite her door.

In every Kayan house are certain elderly women (not the DAYONGS)
who have a reputation for special knowledge and skill in all matters
connected with pregnancy and childbirth. One of these is called in
at an early stage; she makes from time to time a careful examination
of the patient's abdomen and professes to secure the best position
of the child.

She has also a number of charms, which she hangs in the woman's room,
and various unguents, which she applies externally. But all these
procedures are surrounded by a veil of secrecy which we have failed
to penetrate. And, in fact, all information in regard to the processes
of childbirth is difficult to obtain, for all Kayans are very reticent
on the matter, even among themselves.

In all other respects the pregnant woman follows her ordinary mode
of life until the pains of labour begin. Then she is attended by the
wise woman and several elderly relatives or friends. She sits in
her room which is LALI to all but her attendants and her husband;
and she is hidden from the latter by a screen of mats. During the
pains she grasps and pulls on a cloth fixed to a rafter above and
before her. The pains seem to be severe, since the woman generally
groans and cries out; but the duration of labour is commonly brief,
perhaps two or three hours only. The attendants' great anxiety is lest
the child should go upward, and to prevent this they tie a cloth very
tightly round the patient about the upper part of her abdomen. During
the pains two of them press down with great force upon the uterus,
one from each side. The wise woman professes to accomplish version
by external manipulation, if she judges that the feet are about to
present. But we do not know whether her claim to so much skill is well
founded. If the after-birth does not follow immediately upon the child,
the attendants become very anxious; two of them lift up the patient,
and, if it does not soon appear, an axe-head is tied to the cord in
order to prevent its return within the body, and possibly that the
weight may hasten its extrusion. We have no reason to suppose that
any internal manipulation is attempted at this or any other stage of
labour or of pregnancy. Immediately after delivery the cord is tied
and cut across with a bamboo knife. If the child does not cry at once,
its nostrils are tickled with a feather.

The after-birth is usually buried or merely thrown away. But if
the child is born enclosed in the membranes (with a caul), they are
dried and preserved by the mother. It is said that, when dried, it
is pounded to a powder and mixed with medicines administered to the
child in later years.

If labour is unusually difficult or prolonged, or if accidents happen,
the news spreads quickly through the house; and, if the attendants
begin to fear a fatal issue, the whole household is thrown into
consternation, for death in childbirth is regarded with peculiar
horror. All the men of the house, including the chief and boys, will
flee from the house, or, if it is night, they will clamber up among
the beams of the roof and there hide in terror; and, if the worst
happens, they remain there until the woman's corpse has been taken
out of the house for burial. In such a case the burial is effected
with the utmost despatch. Old men and women, who are indifferent to
death, will undertake the work, and they expect a large fee.

The body, wrapped in a mat, is buried in a grave dug in the earth
among the tombs, instead of being put in a coffin raised on a tall
post; for the soul of the woman who dies in childbirth goes, with the
souls of those who fall in battle, or die by violence of any kind,
to Bawang Daha (the lake of blood).

If twins are born, one is chosen, generally the boy, if they are
of different sexes. The other is got rid off by exposure in the
jungle. The avowed motive for this practice (which, of course, is
rapidly passing away under the influence of the European governments)
is the desire to preserve the life of the survivor; for they hold
that his chances of life are diminished not only by the necessity of
dividing the mother's care and milk between the twins, if both survive,
but also by the sympathetic bond which they believe to exist between
twins, and which renders each of them liable to all the ills and
misfortunes that befall the other; and to Kayans the loss of a child
of some years of age is a calamity of the first magnitude, whereas
the sacrifice of one of a pair of new-born twins is hardly felt.

At the moment the child is completely born, a TAWAK or a drum
(according as it is male or female) is beaten in the gallery with
a peculiar rhythm. All members of the household (I.E. all whose
rooms are under the roof of the one long house, and who, therefore,
are under the same omens and tabus) who are within the house at this
moment have the right to a handful of salt from the parents of the
child; and all members who are not under the roof at the moment are
expected to make a present of some piece of iron to the child. This
is an ancient custom, which is no longer strictly observed, and which
seems to be undergoing a natural decay.

During the confinement of a woman, Kayans (more especially those
of the upper Rejang) sometimes perform a dance which is supposed to
facilitate delivery. It is commonly performed by a woman, a friend
or relative of the labouring woman, who takes in her arms a bundle
of cloth, which she handles like a baby while she dances, afterwards
putting it into the cradle (HAVAT) in which a child is carried on the
back. An old story relates the origin of this dance as follows. A
widow died in childbirth, and the child was given to a woman who
happened to be dancing at the time of its birth, and who afterwards
became a very influential and prosperous person.

When the delivery has been normally accomplished and all goes well,
the mother at once nurses the child; and a woman of the lower class
may resume her lighter household duties within twenty-four hours. A
woman of the upper class may remain recumbent for the most part of
several days or even weeks. For seventeen days the mother wears
threads tied round the thumbs and big toes, and during this time
she is expected to avoid heavy labour, such as farm-work and the
pounding of hadi. There seems to be no trace of any such custom as
the COUVADE, though the father observes, like the mother, certain
tabus during the early months and years of the child's life, with
diminishing strictness as the child grows older. The child also is
hedged about with tabus. The general aim of all these tabus seems to
be to establish and maintain about the child a certain atmosphere
(or, as they say, a certain odour)[168] in which alone it can
thrive. Neither father nor mother will eat or touch anything whose
properties are thought to be harmful or undesirable for the child,
E.G. such things as the skin of the timid deer (see vol. ii. p. 72),
or that of the tiger-cat; and the child himself is still more strictly
preserved from such contacts. Further, nothing used by or about the
child -- toys, garments, cradle, or beads -- must be lost, lent, sold,
or otherwise allowed to pass out of the possession of the parents;
though, if one child has thriven, its properties are preferred to all
others for the use of a younger brother or sister. It is important
also that no stranger shall handle or gaze too closely upon the child;
and when it is put down to sleep in the parents' room, the mat or
rude wooden cradle on which it lies is generally surrounded by a
rough screen. The more influential the stranger, the more is his
contact to be feared; for any such contact or notice may attract
to the infant the unwelcome and probably injurious attentions of
the TOH. For the same reason it is forbidden, or PARIT, to a child
to lie down on the spot where a chief has been sitting or where he
usually reposes. And it is a grave offence for a child to, jump over
the legs of a reclining chief; but in this case the disrespect shown
is probably the more important ground of the disapprobation incurred.

If any such contact has unwittingly occurred, or if, for example,
a Kayan mother has consented to submit an ailing child to inspection
by a European medical man, the danger incurred may be warded off
by the gift from the stranger to the child of some small article
of value. In a similar way the breach of other tabus, such as the
entering of a room which is LALI, may be rendered innocuous.

The infant is carried by the mother almost continuously during the
waking hours of its first year of life; it is generally suspended in
a sling made of wood or of basket-work, resembling in shape the baby's
swing familiar in our nurseries; the child sits on a semicircular piece
of board, its legs dependent, its knees and belly against the mother's
back, and its own back supported by the two vertical pieces of the
cradle (see Pl. 166). The mother nurses the infant in her arms during
most of her leisure moments, and she hushes it to sleep by crooning
old lullabies as she rocks it in her arms or in a cradle suspended
from a pliable stick.[169] The father hardly handles it during its
first year, but many fathers nurse and dandle the older infants for
hours together in the most affectionate manner; and, if the child's
grandfather is living, he generally becomes its devoted attendant.