Head-hunters, black, white, and brown

At the close of our stay at Baram we had the good fortune to be present at a great gathering of chiefs and representative men, with their followers, from all parts of this large district. The festivities and competitions connected with the gathering commenced on April 8th, and lasted for several days. After these were over, taxes were paid in at the fort, and during the whole time that the visitors were in Claudetown a great deal of business was done in the bazaar with the Chinese storekeepers, for large quantities of jungle produce were brought down the river, and many goods purchased by the natives. To do them justice I must add that the leading Chinese storekeepers had volunteered a handsome donation towards the heavy expenses of the meeting, the remainder being met by private subscriptions from the white men then present.

It was not possible to count the number of people gathered together. Tama Bulan estimated the Kenyahs at about 2,500; there may have been 1,500 Kayans, and some 500 Madangs, including a few Batang Kayans; the Long Kiputs, Long Patas, Naroms, etc., probably numbered 1,500; thus making a grand total of at least 6,000 persons.

It was quite exciting seeing the canoes arrive and to welcome old friends, whom one had met in their own homes, and to make fresh acquaintances, as they come to pay their respects to the Resident.

From every part of the district they streamed in, and even from beyond. Deputations came from the Orang Bukits of the Balait River, and from the people of the Tutong River who are still under the authority of the Sultan of Brunei. Representatives also came from tribes on the upper waters of the Batang Kayan, or Balungan River, who are nominally under the Dutch Government. Besides all these settled peoples, numerous nomad Punans put in an appearance from different quarters.

In order to give a stimulus to the cultivation of padi of superior quality, a padi and rice competition was previously announced; unhusked rice is here referred to as padi. As this was the first attempt at a competition of this sort in the district, only the down-river natives were invited to compete. There were a hundred and fifty-seven entries in each class; for each class there were three prizes. The native judges unanimously awarded the first rice prize to Abit, an Orang Bukit.

On the morning of the 9th was a boat race, limited to canoes carrying a crew of fifteen men. The course was two and a quarter miles, and the time was eleven minutes five seconds. Tama Bulan’s people, the Long Belukan Kenyahs, won the race, but they were hardly pressed by a Malay boat.

An obstacle race next took place, which caused great amusement. The competitors had to run up and down one or two hillocks, to jump over a hurdle, and then dive off a crazy staging into a pond; after swimming this there was a steep hill to climb, next a converging framework ended in two small orifices which led into two canvas tubes which had been coated internally with soot, and finally a pool had to be passed through. Those who came through presented a very bedraggled appearance, and received the good-humoured chaff of the onlookers.

The same evening we had a display of Chinese fireworks. The rockets and fire-balloon were greatly appreciated, but the cataract of Chinese crackers was rather trying to the nerves of some of the people. Unfortunately the following evenings were too wet to allow of more fireworks.

In the afternoon a large preliminary gathering was held in the temporary hall which Hose had erected for this purpose. The chiefs and Europeans sat on a raised platform, of which a portion was railed off for the separation of the more important personages. The meeting was opened by borak being handed round. Tama Bulan, in giving me a whisky and soda, made the usual speech in musical declamation, and repeated the performance to the other members of the party. Next he offered drink to and apostrophised Douglas, and finally Hose. The two officials received tremendous applause from the crowded throng. I then gave a drink to Tama Bulan, and delivered a little recitative in the English tongue but in the Kenyah manner, and we cheered him again and again, and sang—

Tama Bulan gave drinks to most of the chiefs present, emphasising with appropriate speeches the more important of them. With some he was evidently on very friendly terms, sitting down and caressing them while speaking; he also made a point of being markedly friendly with the Madang chief whom he had recently visited with Hose.

Aban Tingan, the warrior brother of Tama Bulan, gave a drink to Taman Jaat Kirieng, a chief of the Lepu Agas who recently came to reside in the Silat. The latter chief formerly lived in the Batang Kayan, in Dutch territory, where a number of his people still remain. It was interesting to see these two men sit and cuddle one another and drink together, when one remembered that until very recently they were at enmity, and a few years ago Aban Tingan, when on the war-path, had thrust a spear through the thigh of Taman Jaat Kirieng, a wound which nearly proved fatal.

There was also a Kenyah-Kayan-Madang group of chiefs, who sat with their arms round one another and sipped from the same glass of borak.

That evening I was in a war-canoe that was engaged with two or three others in an exciting practice race. The vociferous effervescence of the rival crews, the exhilaration of rapid movement, and the stimulation of half-stifling showers of spurting spray, formed a striking contrast to the sweet tranquillity of a waning tropical day, as it folded itself to rest in the gorgeous robes of sunset.

But a new element of turmoil arose as the Lirongs dashed down the river in three canoes, chanting their war-song, and dressed in feathered war coats and caps. They were received with re-echoed shouts, which were merged into a continuous roar of sound. No sooner had they landed than they rushed up the hill, and before one could realise what was happening there was a rough-and-tumble, in which the Resident and Tama Bulan were mixed up, and everyone had his share of blows. Hose, as a matter of fact, had fully expected this encounter, as it is according to custom that people who feel aggrieved should make some display when first meeting those against whom they have a grudge. In this instance the Lirongs had a score to pay off on Tama Bulan, as two years previously he had led a Government punitive expedition against them, in which two murderers were attacked and killed. Tama Bulan did not know that the Lirongs had arrived, and was quite unprepared, although a number of his followers, seeing the Lirongs’ canoes scudding down the last reach, had rushed to their huts and donned the panoply of war. No serious damage was done, and all friction ought then to have been over.

The next morning a public meeting was announced in the temporary hall, but whilst the people were assembling, the Lirongs, assisted by the Sĕbops, started another jawa, and there was a great hubbub and some scuffling as they attempted to drag the Kenyah chiefs from the platform on which they were seated. This was not according to lawful custom, and indicated spite, as the scrimmage of the previous evening should have settled the affair.

The people became mad with excitement when blood was seen flowing down Tama Bulan’s face, owing to a blow over the left eye. This was the signal for less covert hostilities, and the Kenyahs and Kayans rushed to their several huts for weapons, and the Lirongs made for their boats, but the Long Kiputs and Sĕbops were nearer their huts, and soon armed themselves. Hose had wisely arranged that the Kenyahs and Kayans were encamped on the lawn near the Residency, while the Lirongs were located in the Bazaar, a good way off down the hill and beyond the Long Kiput encampment; between these and the camp of the Kenyahs and Kayans was a large unoccupied tract, in which was the fort.

Hose immediately grasped the situation, ran to the fort, and in a very short space of time had the two small cannon charged with shot, the one trained towards the huts of the Long Kiputs, and the other towards the main encampment. The fortmen and some of the crew of the Lucille, and one or two other trusted men were armed by Douglas with rifles.

No sooner had Hose given his orders than he rushed unarmed down to the Lirong boats, and after a great deal of trouble succeeded in quieting down the Lirongs and other natives, who had by this time armed themselves with spears, parangs, and shields. The din was awful, and the excitement intense; that Hose came out of it unharmed was due to the fact that the trouble was purely local, and had nothing to do with the Government, which, as represented by the Resident, was loyally respected. The esteem, not unmixed with fear, in which Hose is personally held by all the natives of his immense district, stood him in good stead, and the rapid quieting down of the overwrought, gesticulating crowd was a powerful argument in favour of a “personal Government.”

Douglas had charge of the fort, and no one was allowed to pass from one side of the open ground to the other. He also succeeded in pacifying the Long Kiputs and Long Patas.

Beyond, there were angry and vociferating groups of Kenyahs and Kayans, and one or two men danced and brandished imaginary spears and shields as they harangued their several groups and clamoured for vengeance. Thanks to the good sense of the chiefs, assisted by the calming words of McDougall, they gradually simmered down.

All danger was now over, and Hose went about interviewing chiefs, and orders were issued that no one was to carry a spear, parang, or other weapon, on pain of its being confiscated temporarily.

In the afternoon, at Hose’s instigation, the Lirongs presented Tama Bulan with two tawaks and three gongs. Tama Bulan wanted to make peace without compensation being made to him, and the Kenyah chiefs and Tama Bulan’s followers were also disinclined to allow any sort of compensation to be made to Tama Bulan, but for a different reason, and suggested they should in any case wait to see how the wound progressed before anything was received. Fortunately for the sake of peace, McDougall was on the spot, and bound up Tama Bulan’s wound directly, and under his treatment it rapidly healed, though the eye was black for some days. Tama Bulan was thoroughly at one with Hose, and was equally anxious to bring matters to a close, and said he was ready to accept apologies only.

Hose next went down to the Bazaar and suggested to Taman Aping Bulieng, the headman of the Lirongs, that he should call on Tama Bulan to inquire after him. He at once acquiesced, and immediately went to call on Tama Bulan, with whom he stayed a couple of hours. All through there was little friction between the chiefs themselves, the misunderstanding was principally due to the inferior men, who had nothing to lose by causing trouble.

This unfortunate occurrence put a stop to any further festivities for that day. The social atmosphere was too electrical for friendly rivalry, and there were great searchings of heart among the various combinations of natives, and many arrangements had to be made by Hose and Douglas to ease down the excitement.

The Lirongs admitted they were entirely in the wrong, as there was no custom that allowed a jawa to be done a second time. In order to quiet his followers, Tama Bulan immediately he was hurt gave out that he was hit by a fallen roof-pole of the hall and not by a blow from a Lirong. Later, when all was settled, the truth leaked out, and also with his customary good sense he was content to accept the apologies of the Lirongs, and to let bygones be bygones; but for politic reasons he accepted their presents.

It is occasions of this sort that test the loyalty and capability of men, and bravery and readiness in an emergency are bound to make themselves felt. It will be remembered that a few years before Orang Kaya Tumonggong Lawai was an ill-disposed warrior whom the Government had some little difficulty in bringing to reason. This former defier of the Government proved his loyalty by walking up and down among the excited people, armed only with a walking-stick, and he effectually exerted his influence to quiet them down.

A little incident like this proves that the present form of government is extremely suitable for the people. As in the case of Tama Bulan in the early days when the Baram was taken over, and in other instances, a little rough discipline served to develop what sterling qualities were lying latent in them. Indeed, trouble is usually given at first instance by those men of character who later on shape into loyal and capable adherents of the Government.

One great feature of the peace-making was a tuba fishing on an unprecedented scale, and a lake connected with Baram River was to be the scene of the attempt.

We started in the steamer at 6 a.m. on the morning of the 11th, and on our way down stream we passed numerous canoes that had started still earlier. On arriving at the scene of action we transhipped into a boat and entered Logan Ansok by a narrow waterway which meandered through a tropical jungle composed of divers trees of varied size, interspersed among which were screw pines, palms, ratans, and ferns, epiphytes clinging on to trunk and bough added to the complexity of the luxuriant foliage.

We stayed a little time in this verdant water-lane and allowed several canoes to pass us. First rounding the corner, and as it were peering through the foliage, would appear a grotesque head of what seemed to be a monstrous dragon with long, sharp tusks, goggle eyes, and erratic horns, but the long, thin neck soon resolved itself into the bow of a war-canoe, paddled by lithe-bodied, copper-coloured natives, in some instances wearing a hairy war-coat adorned with the black and white feathers of the hornbill, and on their heads ratan war-caps ornamented with the long tail feathers of another species of hornbill. Other men were clad solely in the usual chawat, or loin cloth; some wore in addition a white cotton jacket. The heads of nearly all were protected by large round hats.

At one spot the canoes had to be dragged in shallow water through the jungle, owing to a huge hard-wood tree having fallen and so blocked up the waterway, and the weirdness was enhanced by the cadenced hauling-cries of the men as they laboriously tugged their canoes. It is impossible to adequately describe the scene and the noise. The vivid colouring of some of the costumes was jewelled against the green background by the broken sunshine as it streamed through the tropical foliage, and all was instinct with human life and activity.

Eventually we found ourselves in a large lake entirely surrounded by trees; unfortunately the river was high, and so the water had overflowed its banks, and the lake had an apparent rather than a definite margin, as the water was spread out among the surrounding trees. The placid water shimmered in the sunshine, and the varied foliage lit by the early morning sun looked very beautiful, but the interest was greatly increased by the numerous canoes now paddling about in full sunshine, the high lights, catching the large, round palm-leaf hats or some unprotected portion of skin or clothing, being emphasised by deep shadows. The rows of hats alone constituted a striking decorative feature.

The boats were ultimately ranged round the lake, and were tied up to trees and bushes as far as possible in the shade. The next business was to cut logs and short billets from thick boughs to serve as mallets. The small packets of tuba root were separated from the large bundles with which every boat was well supplied, and these were beaten with the mallets on the logs which were placed in the canoes. Many men preferred to climb on to trees and beat the tuba on fallen trunks, or, perched aloft, they employed the branches for that purpose.

From all around the lake came the measured beating, varied by an irregular access of loudness and rapidity, reminding one somewhat of the company firing of a distant review or sham-fight.

Later the boats came into the open; in most several men were hammering away, while others baled water over the crushed roots. Then the bilge of discoloured water was ladled into the lake, and the clouds of the infusion gradually dispersed. The characteristic but indescribable odour of crushed tuba was wafted over the surface of the still waters.

In about an hour a few tiny fish were observed wriggling in an uneasy manner near the surface of the water; these were at once netted. I was in a boat with the Resident, Tama Bulan, and Aban Batu, a Umo Poh chief, when the first little fish we saw was captured. This miserable firstfruit was offered to Balli Flaki by Tama Bulan, who said to the omen bird that he gave it the largest share and that we had kept the smallest for ourselves. This was strictly true, as hitherto we had caught nothing, and therefore a diminutive fishlet was a greater share than nothing at all. Aban Batu then lit a match and asked Balli Flaki to make the tuba strong that we might catch plenty of fish. It was rather a descent to the commonplace to burn a lucifer match instead of the shredded sticks that are used customarily, but doubtless the smoke was as effectual a medium for the conveyance of the prayer as if it were produced in the orthodox manner.

At one spot just within the jungle ten sticks were stuck in the water, the cleft upper end of each holding an egg. These were placed there by the Kayans, probably as an offering to the birds to secure good omens, and possibly, in addition, because some of their number had never been in the Lower Baram before, and it is customary for two eggs to be offered in this way on entering a river for the first time.

Unfortunately while the lake was being tuba’ed the river rose, and so the increase of the water prevented the operation from being a success, and only a few small fish were obtained. Some twenty-five piculs (over three thousand pounds) of tuba had been provided by natives from all over the district, and this would have proved sufficient for the purpose had not the heavy rains caused floods.

A very large number of men and boats were engaged, and we all spent an enjoyable day, for as a native chief remarked some time previously, when the arrangements were being made, “The scale on which the tubaing was done and the general excitement would please the people even if no fish were caught.”

The second boat race took place early on the morning of the 12th; sixteen canoes started, seven of which belonged to the Kenyahs, four to the Kayans, and four to other up-river tribes; the Naroms of Baram had one canoe. The number of each crew was unlimited, and some boats carried as many as sixty or seventy men, so that there must have been about a thousand engaged in the race.

The first prize of fifty dollars was won by the Naroms by about two lengths; the Long Kiputs gained the second place and a prize of ten dollars. The course was about 3¼ miles and the time was 15 minutes 10 seconds. The Oxford and Cambridge course from Putney to Mortlake is 4¼ miles, and the average time for the last ten years is 20 minutes 34½ seconds. Thus the speed of these untrained natives is slightly faster than that of a trained University crew, but it is doubtful whether this would be the case if the Baram course were as long as that on the Thames; further, it must be remembered that in Borneo they paddled down a fairly large swift river, whereas on the Thames they row on a full tide.

Many of the Tinjar people were delayed by one or two deaths occurring, so they arrived too late to participate in the great race of war-canoes. But as they wanted to maintain the honour of their river, Taman Liri of Long Tegin and the Lelaks of Long Tru challenged the Naroms to a supplemental race. This was rowed on the evening of the 13th, the course being about a mile. The result was a dead heat, which was gratifying to the pride of the Tinjar folk.

The final public meeting took place on the morning of the 13th; by this time nearly everyone had arrived who was expected; amongst the late comers was Saba Irang, the head chief of the Madangs (Pl. XXIX., C., p. 376). On a low staging in front of the platform reclined three enormous pigs, with tied legs, which the Resident had provided for the purpose of swearing peace and friendship; one was primarily intended for the Baram tribes, one for the Lirongs of the Tinjar, and the third for the Madangs. At the other end of the hall was a gigantic gaily painted model of a hornbill, on which a very large number of cigarettes were suspended. The body was a large barrel; each wing consisted of two hairy Kenyah or Madang shields, and the head had been skilfully hewn out of a great block of wood by Iban fortmen. A model of a hornbill is the customary table-piece, so to speak, of an Iban feast, but this “Penchallong” or “Tenyalang” surpassed the usual effigy as much as this occasion transcended an ordinary feast (Pl. XXXI., B). A great quantity of borak was provided, which was duly despatched at the close of the meeting.

After a little preliminary talking the following representative chiefs crouched by the pigs: Saba Irang, a Madang; Taman Oding Silong, a Kenyah; Taman Balan Deng, an Upper Tinjar Long Pokun; Taman Aping Bulieng, a Lirong; Jangan, an Upper Tinjar Sĕbop, and others. Saba Irang, taking a glowing brand, singed a pig and spoke to it, telling it to act as a witness in the ceremony of peace-making. He solemnly swore that he and his people would be friends with those now assembled, and would not combine with outside enemies against them, and he himself, so far as he had the power, would endeavour to prevent others from breaking the peace. Should they break this solemn oath, they hoped that the gods would call down upon them all sorts of illness, and that they might be destroyed by crocodiles or other harmful beasts.

Tama Bulan then pointed out that the Baram people had formerly taken a similar oath, which they had kept. Now they were making friends with the Madangs, and were in future to be one people. Old scores had been wiped out, and there was nothing now to complain of. The Government had brought them together, and they had mixed with one another and had discussed old troubles; now was the time to speak if they had anything to say.

Dr. Hose stood up and said, “Now you have sworn the inviolable oath. This meeting was assembled that there should be a lasting peace in the district. There is nothing to gain by war, but everything to gain by peace. The difficulty in the past has been to make enemies meet one another with a view to settling their differences amicably; now this difficulty has been overcome, thanks mainly to the assistance of those chiefs who have supported me. Now all of you present! see this multitude, and bear in mind that whoever breaks this oath, which has been taken to-day in the presence of everybody, does so at his own peril. Who of you would dare after this to kill anyone if he thought what the consequences would be? It would be a matter of only a few minutes to wipe him and his people off the face of the earth. The Rajah’s dogs will hunt, if it prove necessary to call them out; as is known to everybody, they require no hounding on. So remember the oath, and peace, I hope, is assured.”

Several of the chiefs stated that they were very pleased the Resident had spoken so plainly, as they did not like to do so themselves. After this the pig was killed in the usual manner by sticking it in the neck with a spear, and the liver was duly examined amid great excitement.

The Madangs admitted the liver was everything that could be desired; they stated they had already felt that the Baram people had kept their promises to them, and now they had every confidence in them. Saba Irang, in a great speech, said he was pleased to see such unity among everybody in the district, and the Madangs all felt that this was everything to them. Not only were his people glad to join Baram, but he knew that many of the people of the Batang Kayan had already begun to appreciate this general good fellowship, and he had every reason to believe those chiefs were anxious to be on friendly terms with the Baram folk.

Another highly excited Madang chief made a vociferous speech, emphasising his points by violent jumping. “The Madangs,” he said, “were anxious to have the same advantages as the others, and the Baram people would see that, after all, they were no worse than anyone else (jump). For years we had to hold our own on all sides; we now feel assured that our people will meet with no opposition when endeavouring to trade in the Baram district, and I will be responsible for any fault committed by my people, but I feel they will not be the first to break the peace (great jumping). I have finished” (jump).

Speeches in a similar strain were made by Tama Bulan and others. All said they were loyal to the Government; they would do what they were told to do even unto death. So the great palaver came to an end.

The meeting of the chiefs and principal natives of the Baram district was organised primarily for the sake of the Madangs. Last November, when Hose went into the Madang country, it was the first time a white man had visited them, and he received the adherence of a number of chiefs, some of whom promised to come shortly into the Baram district, a few having previously done so. Hose therefore deemed it politic to have a mass meeting at which the Madangs would be publicly acknowledged as Baram subjects, both by the Government and by the other natives.

The Madangs, who live in the healthy uplands of Central Borneo, have at divers times raided the inhabitants of the affluents of the Rejang and Baram in Sarawak, on the one hand, and those of the streams of the Batang Kayan in Dutch Borneo on the other. As they live in a country that is very difficult of access, they have hitherto practically been beyond the pale of the Government, and have had a disquieting effect upon the natives who have given their adherence to the Rajah. Certain of the Madang villages had already received some punishment in the Rejang district, but it was necessary that this unsettled state of affairs should cease, and these energetic agriculturists be brought in under the Sarawak Government. The up-river Baram people were pleased to make peace, as tranquillity is always more remunerative than hostility, and the men felt it to be irksome to be always in suspense when working in their gardens, or to be anxious about the folk at home when they are out gutta hunting.

The fact that Hose could collect all the important people from Miri on the sea coast on the one hand, to Silat, one of the head streams of the Baram, on the other, and from the as yet unvisited Kalabit country to the east to their own country in the interior, would naturally impress the Madangs with the far-reaching influence of the Government, and would give them confidence in the power of the Government to preserve peace and protect property.

The same argument would appeal to those chiefs who came from the Batang Kayan River across the border. Several houses have already come into the Silat and Lata Rivers, tributaries of the Baram, and more are prepared to come. Hose had hoped that a large contingent would arrive from the Batang Kayan, and he knew that the head chief Tama Kuling and several minor chiefs with a considerable following had actually made a start. It is probable, however, that at the last they were somewhat fearful of meeting such a large gathering of foreigners, many of whom were hereditary foes; and it was through the territories of the latter that they would have to pass to reach Claudetown. Small wonder, then, that they held back, though they promised to come down shortly afterwards when there were fewer people about. The few Batang Kayans who did come would tell their friends about the meeting, and there is no doubt it will have a tangible effect on those who feared to put in an appearance.

There are always local jealousies and feuds in every district, and the river-basin of the Baram is not exempt therefrom, as we have already seen in the fracas of the Lirongs with the Kenyahs. It is therefore of importance that representatives of all the larger villages from the various rivers should meet occasionally to discuss and arrange matters, and there is little doubt that the presence of such a large number of persons would tend to smooth over local difficulties, as those not immediately interested could give counsel.

There are certain petty chiefs, remnants of good stock, who keep up as long as they can the old exclusive traditions, and who are usually situated in out-of-the-way places.

Owing to the number of difficulties of access and to the raids that have taken place among the intermediate peoples, and also owing to the fact that every Kayan and Kenyah chief is chary of giving in or of admitting that he is in any way inferior to any other chief, it is easy to understand that until brought together by an external power these people rarely meet one another even though they may be friends.

It is not difficult to imagine that in course of time the less important chiefs should acquire an exaggerated opinion of their power and authority generally. They see nobody but people who listen to them, and having no opposition, they regard themselves as small lords of creation. Some in their excited moments of drunkenness tell their followers that the sky and earth belong to them; and in the case of people like the Kalabits it is not uncommon to find a chief who adds the name Langit (“the sky”) to his proper name.

The really important Kenyah and Kayan chiefs laugh at this sort of thing, and men like Tama Bulan and others strongly object to have any title given them. Taman Aping Kuleh, a Long Sibatu Lepupun, when told by Hose that Borneo was an island, remarked that it might be so, but that he knew nothing about it; it was of no consequence to him where the river ran out, and that he and his people knew only of the country and people immediately round about, and they regarded themselves as the most important people.

Nor must the purely social element be left out of account. Gatherings such as these tend largely towards creating a solidarity between more or less isolated peoples. As it is, the different tribes or villages which live on a small river, or on a long stretch of a large river, tend to constitute a social group, so that one can speak of the Silat people or of the Upper or Lower Tinjar people as recognised groups. In the case of the two latter, although there is friction between them, yet they combine in the case of a common trouble, and so, for example, we have a temporary Tinjar combination of sentiment against the Baram.

This is the initiatory step towards the development of a feeling of nationality, and there is no doubt that in time a wider sentiment of a similar character may be induced by meetings such as this. It appears to me that one probable result of Hose’s system of government may be the development of a patriotic feeling for the Baram district as a whole. Should this occur in this and other rivers or divisions, a Sarawak nation may in time arise, composed, as practically every European nation is, of several races and innumerable tribes.

A nation is an organism of slow growth, and requires careful tending, especially in its early stages. As in some other instances in the past elsewhere, the cementing bonds in the present instance probably will be the relief from anxiety in the daily agricultural pursuits and the mutual interests of commerce. But no nation is worthy of the name that has not a patriotic feeling consisting of love for the country, regard for fellow-countrymen, and loyalty to the Government.