Books: The Pagan Tribes of Borneo

C >> Charles Hose and William McDougall >> The Pagan Tribes of Borneo

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46

In the old days the peace of the night was occasionally broken an hour
before the dawn by the yells of an attacking force, and by the flames
roaring up from bundles of shavings thrown beneath the house. But
happily attacks of this kind are no longer made, save in some few
remoter parts of the interior where the European governments have
not yet fully established their authority.

The even tenor of the life of a village is interrupted from time to
time by certain festivals or other incidents -- the harvest festival;
the marriage or the naming of a chiefs son or daughter; the arrival of
important guests (one or more chiefs with bands of followers coming
to make peace, or nowadays the resident magistrate of the district);
the funeral of a chief; the preparations for war or for a long
journey to the distant bazaar of Chinese traders in the lower part
of the river; the necessity of removing to a new site; an epidemic
of disease; the rites of formally consulting the omens, or otherwise
communicating with and propitiating the gods; the operations of the
soul-catcher. The more important of these incidents will be described
in later chapters. Here we need only give a brief account of the way
in which some of them affect the daily round of life in the long house.

A visiting chief will remain seated in his boat, while a follower
announces his arrival and ascertains that there is no MALAN (TABU) upon
the house which would make the presence of visitors unwelcome. Such
MALAN affecting the whole house or village obtains during the storing
of the PADI for ten consecutive days, during epidemics of sickness
in neighbouring villages, and at the time when the preparation
of the farm land begins. If a favourable answer is returned, the
visitor remains seated in his boat some few minutes longer, and
then makes his way into the gallery, followed by most of his men,
who leave their spears and shields in the boats. If the visitor is an
intimate friend, the chief of the house will send a son or brother
to welcome him, or will even go himself. Arrived in the gallery,
the visitor advances to the central platform where the chief of the
house awaits him, unstrings his sword from his waist, hangs it upon
any convenient hook, and sits down beside his host; while his men,
following his example, seat themselves with the men of the house in a
semicircle facing the two chiefs. The followers may greet, and even
embrace, or grasp by the forearm, their personal friends; but the
demeanour of the chief's is more formal. Neither one utters a word or
glances at the other for some few minutes; the host remains seated,
fidgeting with a cigarette and gazing upon the floor; the visitor
sitting beside him looks stolidly over the heads of his followers,
and perhaps clears his throat or coughs. Presently a woman thrusts
into the semicircle a tray of freshly made cigarettes. One of the
men of the house pushes it forward towards the principal visitor, who
makes a sign of acceptance by lightly touching the tray; the other,
crouching on his heels, lights a cigarette with an ember from the fire,
blowing it into a glow as he waddles up to present it to the visiting
chief. The latter takes it, but usually allows it to go out. By this
time the chief of the house is ready to open the conversation, and,
after clearing his throat, suddenly throws out a question, usually,
"Where did you start from to-day?" The embarrassing silence thus
broken, question and answer are freely exchanged, the cigarette of
the visitor is again lighted at the fire by a member of the household,
and conversation becomes general. Not infrequently the host, becoming
more and more friendly, throws an arm across his guest's shoulders
or strokes him endearingly with the palm of his hand.

In the meantime the women are busy preparing a meal, a pig having
been killed and hastily cut up. When it is ready, the visitors, if
old friends, are invited to partake of it in the chief's room. But
if they are not familiar acquaintances, the meal is spread for them
in the gallery on platters placed in a long row, one for each guest;
each platter containing many cubes of hot boiled pork and two packets
of hot boiled rice wrapped in leaves. The space is surrounded with a
slight bamboo fence to keep away the dogs. In either case the visitors
eat alone, their hosts retiring until the meal is finished. As the
chief's wife retires, she says, "Eat slowly, my children, our food is
poor stuff. There is no pork, no fish, nothing that is good." Before
withdrawing, one of the people of the house pours a little water from
a bamboo vessel on the right hand of the visiting chief, who then
passes on the vessel to his followers. With the hand thus cleansed
each guest conveys the food to his mouth, dipping his pieces of pork
in coarse salt placed in a leaf beside his platter; and when he has
finished eating, he drinks water from a bamboo vessel. The chief,
and perhaps also one or more of his upper-class companions, leaves a
little of the pork and a little rice on the platter to show that he
is not greedy or ravenous; and his good breeding prompts him to prove
his satisfaction with the meal by belching up a quantity of wind
with a loud and prolonged noise, which is echoed by his followers
to the best of their ability. After thus publicly expressing his
appreciation of his host's hospitality, he rinses out his mouth,
squirting out the water towards the nearest gap between the floor
boards, rubs his teeth with his forefinger, again rinses his mouth,
and washes his hand. Then relighting his cigarette, which he has kept
behind his ear or thrust through the hole in its shell, he rejoins
his host, who awaits him on the dais.

On such an occasion, and in fact on any other occasion suggestive
of festivity, the evening is enlivened with oratory, song, and
drink. After supper the men gather together about the chiefs, sitting
in close-set ranks on and before the dais. At a hint from the chief
a jar of BURAK (rice-spirit) is brought into the circle. This may be
the property of the chief or of any one of the principal men, who, by
voluntarily contributing in this way towards the entertainment of the
guests, maintains the honour of the house and of its chief. A little
is poured into a cup and handed to the house-chief, who first makes
a libation to the omen-birds and to all the other friendly spiritual
powers, by pouring a little on to the ground through some crevice of
the floor, or by throwing a few drops out under the eaves, saying,
as he does so, "Ho, all you friendly spirits." Then he drinks a little
and hands back the cup to the young man who has taken charge of the jar
of spirit. The latter, remaining crouched upon his heels, ladles out
another cupful of spirit and offers it in both hands to the principal
guest, who drinks it off, and expresses by a grunt and a smack of the
lips, and perhaps a shiver, his appreciation of its quality. The cup
is handed in similar formal fashion to each of the principal guests
in turn; and then more cups are brought into use, and the circulation
of the drink becomes more rapid and informal. As soon as each man
has had a drink, the house-chief rises to his feet and, addressing
himself to his guest, expatiates upon his admirable qualities, and
expresses eloquently the pleasure felt by himself and his people
at this visit. Then speaking in parables and in indirect fashion,
claiming perhaps indulgence on the ground that he is merely talking
in his sleep, he touches upon local politics at first delicately;
then warming up he speaks more directly and plainly. He may become
much excited and gesticulate freely, even leaping into the air and
twirling round on one foot with outstretched right arm in a fashion
that directs his remarks to each and all of the listening circle;
but, even though he may find occasion to admonish or reproach, or even
hint at a threat, his speech never transgresses the strictest bounds
of courtesy. Having thus unburdened himself of whatever thoughts
and emotions are evoked by the occasion, he takes from the attendant
Ganymede a bumper cup of spirit and breaks into song. Standing before
his guest and swinging the cup repeatedly almost to his (the guest's)
lips, he exhorts him in complimentary and rhyming phrases to accept his
remarks in a friendly spirit, and reminds him of the age and strength
of their family and tribal relations, referring to their ancestral
glories and the proud position in the world of their common race. At
the end of each sentence all the men of both parties break out into
a loud chorus, repeating the last word or two in deep long-drawn-out
musical cadence. Then, with the last words of his extemporised song,
the chief yields up the cup to the expectant guest, who, having sat
rigidly and with fixed gaze throughout the address, takes it in one
long draught, while the chorus swells to a deep, musical roar. At this
moment the circle of auditors, if much excited, will spring to their
feet and swell the noise by stamping and jumping on the resounding
planks. The house-chief smilingly strokes his guest from the shoulder
downwards and resumes his seat. The chorus and commotion die away,
and are followed by a moment of silence, during which the guest
prepares to make his reply in similar fashion. He rises and begins
by naming and lightly touching or pointing to his host and other of
the principal men present. Then he makes acknowledgment of the kind
and flattering reception accorded him, and his pleasure at finding
this opportunity of improving the understanding between himself and
his hosts. "The views so eloquently expressed by my friend (naming
him and using some complimentary title, E.G. brother or father)
are no doubt correct. Indeed, how could it be otherwise? But I have
been told so and so, and perhaps it may be, ..." and so he goes on
to state his own views, taking care to shift the responsibility for
any remaining dissension on to the shoulders of some distant third
party. He congratulates all parties on this free discussion of matters
of common interest, and with free gesticulation exhorts them to turn
a deaf ear to vague rumours and to maintain friendly relations. Then,
dropping down beside his host, he says "Take no notice of what I have
said, I am drunk." Ganymede again approaches him with a bumper cup, and
then rising to his feet and calling on his men, he addresses his host
in complimentary song and chorus, using the gestures and expressions
peculiar to his own people. The song culminates as before in a general
chorus, long drawn out, while the house-chief drains the cup.

The cups then circulate freely, and the smoking of cigarettes is
general; other shorter speeches may be made, perhaps by the sons or
brothers of the chiefs. As the evening wears away, both guests and
hosts become increasingly boisterous and affectionate; but few or none
on an occasion of this sort become intoxicated or quarrelsome. If a man
becomes a little too boisterous, he is led away to one of the sleeping
platforms in the gallery, and kept there until he falls asleep.

During an evening of this sort the women congregate in the adjacent
rooms, where they can overhear the proceedings; and if they find these
exceptionally interesting, they will congregate about the doors, but
will strictly abstain from interfering with, them in any way. The flow
of speech and song and conversation goes on uninterruptedly, except
when the occasional intrusion into the circle of some irrepressible
dog necessitates its violent expulsion; until, as midnight approaches,
the men drop away from the circle by twos and threes, the circle
being finally broken up when the visiting chief expresses a desire
to sleep. Each guest spreads his own mat on the platform assigned to
the party, and the men of the house retire to their rooms.

We will not conclude this chapter without stating that among the
Kayans, Kenyahs, and most of the Klemantans, alcoholic intoxication is
by no means common. At great feasts, such as are made at the close of
the harvest or on the return of a successful war-party, much BORAK
is drunk, the women joining in, and a few of the men will usually
become quite drunk; but most of them will hardly go further than a
state of boisterous jollity.

Although in a year of good PADI harvest each family constantly renews
its supply of BORAK, yet the spirit is never drunk in private, but
only on festive occasions of the kind described above, or when a man
entertains a small party of friends in his own chamber.

The account given above of the reception and entertainment of guests
would apply with but little modification to the houses of the Kenyahs
and Klemantans. In the Sea Dayak house the reception and entertainment
of guests is less ceremonious, and is carried out by the unorganised
efforts of individuals, rather than by the household as a whole
with the chief at its head. On the arrival of a party of visitors,
the people of each room clamorously invite the guests to sit down
before their chamber. The guests thus become scattered through the
house. First they are offered betel nut and sirih leaf smeared with
lime to chew, for among the Sea Dayaks this chewing takes the place of
the smoking of cigarettes which is common to all the others; and they
are then fed and entertained individually, or by twos and threes, in
various rooms. No pig is killed or rice-spirit offered, though possibly
a toasted bat or bit of salted wild pig will be served as a relish.

At great feasts the Sea Dayaks drink more freely than the other
peoples, except the Muruts. Men and women alike drink deeply, and
many become intoxicated. The men take pride in drinking the largest
possible quantity; and when the stomach is filled, will vomit up
large quantities, and then at once drink more, the women pressing it
upon them. The Dayaks and Muruts alone thus sink in the matter of
drink to the level of those highly cultured Europeans among whom a
similar habit obtains: while among all the other tribes strong drink
is seldom or never abused, but rather is put only to its proper use,
the promotion of good fellowship and social gaiety.

CHAPTER 8

Life on the Rivers

With the exception of the Punans and some of the Muruts who inhabit the
few regions devoid of navigable streams, all the peoples of Borneo make
great use of the rivers. The main rivers and their principal branches
are their great highways, and even the smallest tributary streams are
used for gaining access to their PADI fields. It is only when hunting
or gathering jungle produce that they leave the rivers. Occasionally
PADI is cultivated at a distance of a mile or more from the nearest
navigable stream, and a rough pathway is then made between the field
and the nearest point of the river. Here and there also jungle paths
are made connecting points where neighbouring rivers or their navigable
tributaries approach closely to one another. In the flat country near
the coast, where waterways are less abundant than in the interior,
jungle tracks are more used for communication between villages. Where
a route crosses a jungle swamp, large trees are felled in such a way
that their stems lie as nearly as possible end to end. Their ends
are connected if necessary by laying smaller logs from one to the
other. In this way is formed a rude slippery viaduct on which it is
possible for an agile and bare-footed man to walk in safety across
swamps many miles in extent.

But the jungle paths are only used when it is impossible to reach the
desired point by boat, or if the waterway is very circuitous. On the
lower and deeper reaches of the rivers the paddle is the universal
instrument of propulsion. It is used without any kind of rowlock --
the one hand, grasping the handle a little above the blade, draws
the blade backwards through the water; the other hand, grasping the
T-shaped upper end, thrusts it forward. The lower hand thus serves
as a fulcrum for the other.

A small boat may be propelled by a single rower, who, sitting at the
stern, uses the paddle on one side only, and keeps the boat straight
by turning the paddle as he finishes his stroke. In a boat of medium
size one man seated at the stern devotes himself to steering with his
paddle, although here and there among the coast-people a fixed rudder
is used. In a war boat of the largest size, the two men occupying
the bow-bench and the four men on the two stern-most benches are
responsible for the steering; the former pull the bow over, or lever
it in the opposite direction.

During a day's journey the crew of a boat will from time-to-time
lighten their labour with song, one man singing, the others joining
in the chorus; and if several boats are travelling in company the
crews will from time to time spurt and strive to pass one another in
good-humoured rivalry. At such times each crew may break out into a
deep-pitched and musical roar, the triumphal chorus of a victorious
war party.

In the upper reaches of the rivers there are numerous rapids, and
here and there actual falls. The boat is usually propelled up a rapid
by poling. Each member of the crew has beside him a stout pole some
eight or nine feet long; and when the boat approaches a rapid, the
crew at a shout from the captain, usually the steersman, spring to
their feet, dropping their paddles and seizing their poles. Thrusting
these against the stony bottom in perfect unison, the crew swings the
boat up through the rushing water with a very pleasant motion. If the
current proves too strong and the boat makes no progress, or if the
water is too shallow, three or four men, or, if necessary, the whole
crew, spring into the water and, seizing the boat by the gunwale, drag
it upstream till quieter water is reached. It is necessary for a man
or boy to bale out the water that constantly enters over the gunwale
while the boat makes the passage of a rapid. All through these exciting
operations the captain directs and admonishes his men unremittingly,
hurling at them expressions of a strength that would astonish a crew
on the waters of the Cam or Isis: "Matei tadjin selin" (may you die
the most awful death) is one of the favourite phrases. These provoke
no resentment, but merely stimulate the crew to greater exertions.

Sometimes, when much water is coming down after heavy rains, the
current is so swift in deep places that neither paddling, poling,
nor wading is possible. Then three or four men are landed on the bank,
or on the boughs of the trees, and haul on the boat with long rattans,
scrambling over rocks and through the jungle as best they can.

The passage down stream in the upper reaches of a river is even more
exciting and pleasurable. The crew paddles sufficiently to keep good
steerage way on the boat, as it glides swiftly between the rocks and
shallows; as it shoots over the rapids, the steersman stands up to
choose his path, the water splashes and gurgles and leaps over the
gunwale, and the men break out into song. The smaller waterfalls do
not check its onward rush; as the boat approaches a fall, several
men near the bow stand up to see if there is sufficient water; then,
as they resume their seats, all paddle with might and main until
the boat takes the leap. Occasionally a boat is upset during such
an attempt, and rarely one or two of the crew are lost through being
hurled against rocks and drowned while stunned.

In making a long journey the nights are passed if possible in friendly
villages. When no such village can be reached, the night is passed
either in the boats moored to the bank or on the river-bank. In
the former case the leaf mats, of which each man carries at least
one in his basket, are used to roof the boat; in the latter case a
rude hut is quickly built, a framework of saplings lashed together,
roofed with the mats, and floored at a level of some feet above the
ground with bamboos or slender saplings. On camping in the evening
and before starting in the morning, rice is cooked and eaten; and
about mid-day the journey is interrupted for about an hour while
the party lands on the bank, or, if possible, on a bed of pebbles,
to rest and to cook and eat the midday meal.

Fishing

Fish are caught in the rivers in several ways, and form an important
part of the diet of most of the peoples. Perhaps the cast net is
most commonly used. This is a net which, when fully extended in
the water, covers a circular patch about six yards in diameter,
while its central part rises in a steep cone, to the peak of which a
strong cord is tied. The main strands run radially from this central
point, increasing in number towards the periphery. They are crossed
by concentric strands. The periphery is weighted with bits of metal
or stone. This net is used both in deep and in shallow water. In the
former case one man steers and paddles a boat, while the other stands
at the prow with the cord of the net wound about the right hand. The
bulk of the net is gathered up on his right arm, the free end is
held in the left hand. Choosing a still pool some two fathoms in
depth, he throws a stone into the water a little ahead of the boat,
in the expectation that the fish will congregate about the spot as
they do when fruit falls from the trees on the banks. Then, as the
boat approaches the spot he deftly flings the net so that it falls
spread out upon the surface; its weighted edge then sinks rapidly
to the bottom, enclosing any fish that may be beneath the net. If
only small fish are enclosed, the net is twisted as it is drawn up,
the fish becoming entangled in its meshes, and in pockets formed about
its lower border. If a large fish is enclosed, the steersman will dive
overboard and seize the lower part of the net so as to secure the fish.

Or the boat is paddled to the foot of a small rapid; the fisherman
springs out and runs to the head of the rapid, and casts his net in
the still water immediately above it where fish frequently congregate.

Or a party takes the same net to the mouth of a small tributary, and,
while some hold the net so as to block the mouth almost completely,
others run through the jungle to a point some hundred yards up the
stream, and then drive down the fish by wading down stream splashing
and shouting. As soon as a number of fish come down against the net
its upper border is thrown down so as to enclose them.

Another net, made quite flat and some fifteen yards long by four feet
wide, is suspended by wooden floats across a small river so that the
fish may become entangled in its meshes.

Another net is used only by the women. In shape it is like a deep
basin; its wide mouth is attached to a stout circle of rattan, and
a wooden bar is tied across the mouth to serve as handle. With this
the women catch the sucker fish in the shallow rapids, one turning
up stones, the other catching in the net the fish that dart from
beneath them.

Yet another mode of netting fish is to suspend a square of net
attached by its corners to the ends of two crossed and downward bending
sticks. The net is suspended by cords from its corners to the end of
a long bamboo, which rests upon a post about its middle. The fisherman
lowers the net into the water by raising the landward end of the bamboo
lever, and when he sees fish swimming above it, attracted by a bait,
he suddenly depresses his end of the bamboo, so as to bring the net
quickly above the surface. On the coast drag nets are used.

The SELAMBO is used in small streams where fish are abundant. A
fence of upright bamboos is built out from either bank, starting at
opposite points and converging down stream to two points near the
middle of the stream and about seven feet apart; where each terminates
a stout pole is driven firmly into the bed of the river. These two
poles are connected by a stout cross-piece lashed to them a little
above the level of the water. The cross-piece forms a fulcrum for a
pair of long poles joined together with cross-pieces, in such a way
that their downstream ends almost meet, while up stream they diverge
widely. They rest upon the fulcrum at a point about one-third of their
length from their downstream ends. Between the widely divergent parts
up stream from the fulcrum a net is loosely stretched. The net lies
submerged until fish coming down stream are directed on to the net by
the convergent fences. The fisherman stands on a rude platform grasping
the handle-end, and, feeling the contacts of the fishes with the net,
throws his weight upon the handle, so bringing the net quickly above
the surface. Beside him he has a large cage of bamboo standing in the
water, into which the fish are allowed to slide from the elevated net.

A rod and line and baited hook are also in common use. The Kayans
make a hook of stout brass wire, cutting a single barb. The Kenyahs
use a hook made of rattan thorns. A strip is cut from the surface of
a rattan bearing two thorns about an inch apart; this is bent at its
middle so that the cut surfaces of the two halves are brought into
opposition, and the thorns, facing outward opposite one another,
form the barbs. The line is tied to the bend, and the bait is placed
over the tip projecting beyond the thorns. When the fish takes the
hook into his mouth and swallows the bait, the barbs being released
spring outward and secure the fish.