A good deal has been written on the subject of head-hunting in Borneo, and Ling Roth has collected together the available information about the practice in Sarawak.

There can be little doubt that one of the chief incentives to procure heads was to please the women. Among some tribes it was said to be an indispensable necessity for a young man to procure a skull before he could marry, and the possession of a head decapitated by himself seemed to be a fairly general method employed by a young man to ingratiate himself with the maiden of his choice. The fact of a young man being sufficiently brave and energetic to go head-hunting would promise well for his ability to protect a wife. This is, at all events, one sufficiently rational reason for the custom, and there may be others as yet not even guessed at.

The pride women feel in their men-folk who have taken heads is not confined to these people of Borneo; formerly amongst the western tribe of Torres Straits a young man who had taken a skull would very soon receive a proposal of marriage from some eligible young woman.

Some tribes believe that the persons whose heads they take will become their slaves in the next world. In this case head-collecting would mean for them a wise precaution for the future.

A desire for reprisal of injuries, the vendetta or blood feud is a very common reason for going on the war-path and bringing home the appropriate trophies.

The following incident was recorded in the Sarawak Gazette (vol. xxv., 1895, p. 91): A low-class Kayan named Boi Wan at Long Lama had taken a head from the Kayan graveyard and hung it up near his farm, and another Kayan named Jelivan said he had killed a man under the house, but this was a false statement, no one having been killed. The reason for these two men acting in this way was that they might wear hornbills’ feathers, and have their hands tattooed, which is allowed by Kayan custom only to those who have taken a head. These two men caused a great deal of trouble, and the neighbourhood was in a very disturbed state. The Resident fined each man fifty dollars, and made them put the head in the grave whence it had been stolen.

It is the custom amongst the Kayans and Kenyahs that, before the people can go out of mourning for a chief or for one of a chief’s near relations, either a new head must be taken or an old one, or some portion of one must be obtained.

If the people obtain an old head from some friendly community they go through the same ceremony as if they had recently taken the head of an enemy. The head, by-the-by, is always given, never sold. A head that has once been given in this way, or even only lent, is seldom returned to the place from which it has been taken. If a skull should be returned it is generally put under the house or in some separate shed. Kayans and Kenyahs, however, generally take skulls back into the house.

As Rajah Brooke will not permit the taking of a fresh head to enable a community to go out of mourning, and as there is sometimes great difficulty in borrowing a skull, or even a portion of one, the dilemma has been overcome and custom satisfied, I have been informed, by the village borrowing a skull from the collection kept at certain Government forts for this purpose. These skulls are labelled A, B, C, etc., and a record kept of each borrowing transaction. When all the ceremonies are over the skull has to be returned to the fort, where it is available for another occasion.

When a skull is given to a friend the following ceremony has to be gone through. A living chicken is waved over the man who takes down the head, over the ladder, the basket or framework that contains the head, as well as over the skull itself. The owner talks to the fowl, telling it to explain to the head that they are parting with it to friends who will treat it even better than it was treated in its own house. That the new owners will feast it, and it must not consider itself to be slighted in the least degree. All then present join in a war-whoop.

A piece of iron is taken, an old parang blade, or a spear-head, or anything made of iron, and the head and wings of the chicken are torn off with the iron, which thus becomes covered with blood. The hand of the owner of the skull, who is generally the chief or headman of the house, is next smeared with the bloody iron. This ceremony is called urip, that is, “life,” and has for its object the prevention of harm coming to the original owner. Finally, some of the wing feathers of the fowl are pulled out, and stuck into the framework or basket containing the remaining skulls.

The skull is brought into the house of mourning with all the ceremony that would ensue if the head had been captured on the war-path, and the urip rite is again performed.

After the sprinkling ceremony everybody in the house and all relations in neighbouring houses take off their old mourning clothes, which are usually made of bark cloth; they then wash themselves and put on clean clothes. They also shave the hair round the crown and make themselves smart. Every “door,” that is every family, kills a pig or a fowl, and all eat, drink, and are merry. Very often after this ceremony the head is taken out of the house, and hung up at the grave of the deceased chief.

After a good harvest, or after a successful head-hunting expedition, or when one or more skulls are added to the collection, a cube of cooked fat pork, with a skewer of wood thrust through it to keep it in position, is placed in the nose of each skull, and borak, the spirit made from rice, is put into a small bamboo receptacle about an inch and a half long, which is placed by the skull. Wooden hooks (kawit) are hung up near the skulls, with the idea that they will help the head-hunters to obtain more skulls on their forays. It is an example of sympathetic magic, the object of the wooden hooks being to hook in fresh heads.

I cannot refrain from mentioning what strikes one as being, to say the least of it, an illogical action on the part of the Sarawak Government. Head-hunting is rigorously put down, and rightly so; but when the Government organises a punitive expedition, say, to punish a recalcitrant head-hunting chief, the natives (generally Iban) comprising the Government force are always allowed to keep what heads they can secure. This is their perquisite. Surely it would be a more dignified position not to allow a single head to be taken away by anyone in the Raj under any pretext whatever, and to remunerate the punitive force in some more direct manner.

According to the Kayans and Kenyahs, head-hunting has been in vogue only for some eight to ten generations, certainly not earlier. Hose would put the time of its introduction to these tribes not more than two hundred years ago.

A Kenyah version of the origin of the custom is as follows; it was narrated by Aban Jau, a Sĕbop.

In olden days—and they still continue the practice—the Kenyahs took only the hair of a man killed on the war-path, and with this they decorated their shields.

One Rajah Tokong determined to retaliate on a neighbouring tribe that had killed some of his people, and having made all the customary preparations, he set out with his followers. They started, as is usually the case when going on the war-path, just after the padi had been planted, as this is a slack season, and paddled down the river and entered the jungle. On the third or fourth day, whilst they were cooking their rice on the bank of a small brook, they heard a frog croaking, “Wang kok kok tatak batok, Wang kok kok tatak batok” (tatak batok signifies “cut the neck,” in other words, “cut off the head”). Tokong listened to the frog and said, “What do you mean?” The frog replied, “You Kenyahs are dreadful fools; you go on the war-path and kill people, and only take their hair, which is of very little use, whilst if you were to take away the whole skull you would have everything that you required—a good harvest and no sickness, and but very little trouble of any kind. If you do not know how to take a head, I will show you.” Thus spoke the frog taunting them, and catching a little frog, he chopped off its head.

Tokong did not think much of this, but one of his bakis, or right-hand men, who was an elderly man, pondered long over the incident, and during the night he had a strange dream. He dreamt that he saw fields of padi, the plants being weighted down with their heavy grain, and in addition he saw an abundance of other food—sugar-cane, sweet potatoes, and what not. Next morning he said to Tokong, “I am very much concerned about what the frog said,” and then he narrated his dream. Tokong still appeared to think very little of it, but the other men strongly advised him, if they were successful, to bring back one or two of the heads.

Eventually they attacked the hostile house and killed seven people. The old bakis put three of the heads in his basket with the consent of Tokong, who had been persuaded that no harm could be done in trying this new venture. They returned at the usual breakneck pace, and found that they were able to travel at a great rate without much fatigue. On reaching the river they witnessed a phenomenon they had never seen before; the stream, although it was far above the reach of the tide, commenced running up immediately they got into their boats, and with very little exertion in the way of poling they quickly reached their farms.

To their surprise they saw the padi had grown knee-deep, and whilst walking through the fields it continued to grow rapidly, and ultimately burst into ear.

The usual war-whoops were shouted as they neared their home, and were answered by a din of gongs from the house. The people, one and all, came out to welcome them, the lame commenced dancing, and those who had been sick for years were sufficiently energetic to go and fetch water, and everybody appeared to be in perfect health.

The heads were hung up and a fire lighted underneath to warm them, and everything was very jolly.

Seeing all this, Tokong remarked, “The frog was certainly right, and in future we must bring back the heads.”

Suppose the members of a community of Kenyahs are intending to move into a new house and do not wish to take all the old skulls with them, it is necessary to devise some means for keeping the fact of their proposed removal from the knowledge of the skulls, for otherwise, should the skulls find out that they had been deserted, they would avenge themselves on the people of the house by causing many to go mad, and various other calamities would also ensue.

The skulls are deceived in the following manner. After the new site has been selected, and favourable omens obtained, but before any actual work has been commenced, a small hut is built close to the old house; this is well roofed, but only partly walled with leaves; a fireplace is made on the ground with large pebbles, and if necessary a new board or framework is suspended above it for the reception of the skulls. A fire is lit and the place made what they consider snug. The skulls that are to be left behind are then taken down by some very old man and with great care are hung up in the new hut. A pig or chicken is killed, and the usual ceremony (as described above) is performed.

The skulls are left in the hut, and each day a fire is lit beneath them, and apparently they are very comfortable and pleased with their new home; but at times suspicious skulls are heard to “kriak kriak,” and they may even throw themselves down on to the floor. If this should happen the skulls are taken back again, for the people dare not run the risk of displeasing them; but if nothing takes place the people know that the skulls are quite contented with their lot.

A good deal of trouble is taken by the people to prevent the skulls from knowing anything that is going on, and no mention is made before them of a new house being built.

When the new house is completed, the skulls that remained in the old house are removed to the new one with great ceremony. Before they are actually moved, the headman touches them and speaks to Balli Pengalong, the Supreme Being, and to Balli Urip, who gives men long life, and likewise he brings in by name most of the other gods; they fear to leave them out lest the slighted gods should be annoyed and retaliate on the inhabitants of the house. Then fowls are killed and their blood sprinkled in the usual manner.

The men go into the new house by the front entrance, but the basket containing the skulls is hauled up outside the house, and then pulled in through the open space in front of the verandah; it may not be carried up the steps and through the main entrance. The siap (charms) are brought in afterwards.

On the morning of the day when the people enter the new house a fire is built up beneath the skulls that are left behind of wood that smoulders for a long time, and the people skulk away from the hut as if afraid.

After about three days the fire burns out, and the skulls begin to talk and grumble to one another. “Where are the people?” “How is it that no fire has been put here?” “It’s fearfully cold.” The roof then chimes in, “Oh, they are probably away at the farms; most likely they will be here in a day or two.”

Day after day goes by. No one comes back, and the skulls begin to feel sure something is wrong. However, they live in hope for some time. After a month or so the leafy roof begins to leak; when the skulls feel the rain they say to the roof, “Why do you serve us so badly? Why do you allow the rain to fall on us? Why don’t you make the people come and mend you.” The roof replies, “Don’t you know that you have been left. The people have gone long ago.” Then the skulls begin to hustle around and seek to revenge themselves on the people who have deserted them. They look up river and down river and along the banks, but rain has obliterated all the tracks the people made when they flitted; and finding it hopeless to follow them they give themselves up to their fate, and gradually become bleached by the rain and the heat of the sun. Their ratan lashing rots, and they fall to the ground. So the people are saved from any serious harm coming to them.

It may be asked, Why do people ever leave skulls behind them when they move into a new house, as they are always very anxious to obtain new ones? There is a very common-sense reason for this apparently anomalous proceeding.

Although the skulls are very old, and those who obtained them are long dead and buried, they have to receive the same care and attention while they are still in the house as the more recent skulls. They have to be fed with pork and refreshed with borak, and the fire has to be attended to daily; unless all this is done the inhabitants of the house will have only bad luck. On the other hand, those in the house receive no benefit from these skulls, that is, assuming the owners to have died. Why, then, should they be put to all this trouble and even run a risk of ill luck should the skulls consider themselves slighted, but at the same time gain no advantage? The natives of Borneo are sharp enough to appreciate that this is not good business, and so they judiciously relieve themselves of their somewhat troublesome benefactors.