A NATIVE BOAT SAILING UPSTREAM WITH THE WIND. Page 26A NATIVE BOAT SAILING UPSTREAM WITH THE WIND.Page 26.
At important stations the landing-places consist of barges moored alongside the banks, and these are moved from time to time as the varying levels of the river demand. More frequently, however, the bows of the steamer are simply run into the bank, while its crew of Chittagonians jump overboard to carry the mooring rope ashore. It is amusing to watch the mass of struggling humanity who throng the landing-places on the arrival of the steamer. Every one, whether landing or embarking, strives to be first upon the narrow gangway which connects the steamer's sponson[3]with the shore, with the result that many are thrown into the water. Each is intent upon conducting his business to the best possible advantage in the limited time at his disposal, for the steamer's visit does not occur every day, and its stay is short.
[3]The small platform which connects the paddle-box with the steamer's deck.
[3]The small platform which connects the paddle-box with the steamer's deck.
Along the margin of the river are many who, indifferent to the arrival of the mail, are engaged in washing their clothes or utensils, while boys and girls gambol on the banks, or, swimming with delightful ease, frolic round the steamer in the water.
Interesting though life in the steamer is, that of the river as seen from its decks is even more so. The native boats are most quaint in their designs, the most striking being the "laungzat." This is a vessel often of very large size, and capable of carrying a large amount of cargo. Its bows are sharply uptilted, the cut-water frequently rising clear of the water. The hull is beautifully modelled, and the stern, rising high above the water in a sort of tower, is often elaborately carved. Half its length is covered by a deck-house for the crew, on the roof of which a canopy of reeds or grasses gives shelter to the steersman, who, raised in this way, is better able to steer clear of the shoals and shallows which beset the stream, and which from the lower deck would probably not be seen. The rudder is a long paddle, also carved, which is slung in a loop over the stern, while a further decorative effect is often obtained by inverted soda-water bottles stuck upon poles along the sides.
Coming downstream the vessel is propelled by oars, usually twelve to sixteen, which the crew ply with a slow rhythmic swing. During the monsoons, when strong winds blow upstream, sails are used instead of oars. The mast is composed of two bamboos lashed together at the top, their lower ends being made fast to the gunwale. On this frame, from bamboo yards curved slightly upwards, is spread a curious combination of six or seven square sails, which, though only of use when running before the wind, enable the boat to travel at a great speed. There are many other kinds of boats in use, all equally distinctive in character; and even thedug-out canoe is pretty, its fore-foot rising clear of the water in a slight curve, which lends an element of beauty to what would otherwise have been simply a straight log.
Fishing is frequent along the river-bank, the favourite appliances being nets of various kinds. Often on a sand-bank may be seen a little hut raised high above the ground, and composed of bamboo and reeds. This is the shelter for the fisherman, who with a drag-net buoyed by sun-dried gourds fishes the neighbouring shallows. Hand-nets are occasionally used, but most interesting, perhaps, is the curious kind of cradle by which a net stretched upon a bamboo frame is let down into the water from the bank, particularly on the passing of a steamer, when the startled fish dart in shore and are caught in the net, which is raised at the proper moment by the watchers on the bank.
Very interesting also are the rafts, composed of logs of teak and pyingado, which, cut in the forests far inland, are constructed in the creeks, as the forest streams are called, and are then launched into the Irrawaddy upon their voyage of often many weeks before Rangoon is reached.
These rafts are frequently of enormous size, and are manned by crews of Shans, whose numbers vary according to their size. Without means of propulsion, the rafts simply drift with the stream, but are guided to some extent by a number of paddles fixed at either end, by which the crews endeavour, not always successfully, to keep them clear of shoals and their heads downstream.
In many cases the population of a raft is so considerable that quite a little village of huts is built upon it, and I have seen cows, goats, and fowls, as well as the wives and children of the crew, housed upon it. In one case at least I remember seeing a raft upon which was erected a bamboo pagoda, and frequently upon the sand-banks in the river small pagodas of the same material are erected for devout watermen.
Not least among the many beauties of the Irrawaddy are the glorious sunsets behind the "Yomas," when the colours are repeated in the limpid water, which perfectly reflects the pinnacles of "kyoungs" or pagodas, or the pretty village that lies half hidden amidst the varied foliage which in rich masses crowns the banks.
Almost every morning dense mists hang upon the river, screening everything from view until the sun, slowly gaining power, presently dispels the fog and reveals the beauty of the scene.
Very beautiful indeed are some of these panoramas disclosed in the early sunlight.
Close beside the high and clear-cut bank, crowned with flowering kine-grass, our steamer lies, the silently-flowing river gurgling and bubbling under our keel. The water is quite still, and repeats every detail of the opposite shore, behind which, rising terrace upon terrace, are the wooded "Yomas," in whose ravines and valleys still hangs some remnant of the fog. The foliage is of many kinds, the feathery tamarind and acacia contrasting well with the more heavily leaved banyan; betel-nut and toddy-palm rise above the mulberry or mimosa, and conspicuous among the varied tints of the forest is the delicate green of the bamboo, to the Burman the most useful perhaps of all the forest growths, and everywhere abounding.
Life awakens with the sun. Herds of cattle roam along the shore, while in the fields from raised platforms half-nude men and boys scare wild-fowl from theripening crops. The smoke of many fires on shore and from the craft upon the water rises perpendicularly in the still air, as the frugal morning meal is being prepared ere another day's work begins.
Between its banks the Irrawaddy sweeps in splendid curves, producing an ever-growing sense of bigness and dignity. Some of its reaches are very wide, and have more the appearance of an inland lake than a river. On such sand-banks as are not already occupied by fishermen, flocks of wild-goose, storks, and other waders are roosting or fishing in the shallow pools. Kingfishers dart hither and thither after their prey, and wild-duck in great numbers settle upon its smooth surface, to feast upon the teeming fish with which the river abounds.
In general the scene is one of placid beauty: even the rugged mountain sides are smoothed and softened by their covering of greenery, and the warm air and limpid water combine to produce an effect of quietude and repose, which the contented character of the Burman does little to disturb.
At certain places, however, as in the defile above Mandalay, the scenery is of a more vigorous character.
Here the river narrows considerably, and in its deep and silent flow winds for many miles between high hills which closely confine it, and in one place rise in a perpendicular cliff 800 feet sheer above the water.
I was fortunate in approaching the defile in the early dawn, when the morning mists still hung heavy upon the hills of lurid blackness which marked its entrance. Between them was an impenetrable gloom, which seemedto promise no means of egress, and as we steamed rapidly towards it, one unconsciously felt that here was the end of all things, and that nothing could possibly lie beyond. It was a most weird sensation, which the river, so darkly flowing between banks we could hardly see, served to emphasize.
Presently the rising sun lit up the clouds of vapour piled high above the hills, and then for half an hour continued the most beautiful and ever-changing play of colour imaginable, as the slowly-moving fog wreaths wound about the mountain tops, now rosy in the sunlight, or again in pearly shade, while alternate gloom and gleam tipped the hills with gold or enveloped them in a purple mystery.
By the time our steamer entered the defile full daylight better enabled us to observe our surroundings.
Here, as elsewhere, the vegetation was luxuriant; every crevice in the rocks afforded foothold for some tree or creeper, while the hilltops and more sloping sides were densely covered with forest trees.
The passage of the defile occupies about two hours, and the course of the river is very tortuous.
At the bends little beaches of bright shingle lie against the tree-roots. Fishing cradles, such as I have described, are frequent, and cormorants in great numbers share with the fishermen the spoils of the river, for nowhere on the Irrawaddy are the fish of better quality than here.
Altogether, in the impressiveness of its scenery, the quiet, irresistible flow of the river, and the bright tints and varied growths of the forest, the lower defile of theIrrawaddy forms one of the most striking scenes I have ever enjoyed; and if the river had no other beauty than this to show, it alone would amply repay the traveller for his journey.
THE IRRAWADDY. Chapters IV and V.THE IRRAWADDY. ChaptersIVandV.
Though in general so fertile, there is one part of the river where the hills which lie on its western side are entirely barren, and the reddish-yellow rocks appear very hot and uninviting by comparison. Yet this forbidding district is one of the busiest and richest of all Burma, for this is the great oil-field of the country, and the chimneys of pumping stations which stretch for miles along the hills and river-bank show how actively the trade is being worked. Formerly Burma was obliged to import all her lamp-oil from America, but now, although a certain amount of American oil is still imported, Burma not only produces sufficient for their own use, but is able to export a considerable quantity to other countries, and many of the steamers on the river use the crude or unrefined oil as fuel.
Here and there in the river are moored curious-looking dredgers engaged in pumping up the river sand, from which is separated the gold dust with which it is so freely mixed. The gold comes from unknown veins hundreds of miles away, and is to be found in greater or less quantities all down the river, and though the natives have always been in the habit of "washing for gold," it is only within the last few years that any real attempt has been made to work it on a large scale.
The Irrawaddy has many tributaries, but though the larger streams, such as the Chindwin and Mu Rivers, are always flowing, most of the smaller forest streams aredry, excepting during the monsoon, which continues from May until September. At this season, swelled into torrents by the rains, they pour into the Irrawaddy, quickly raising its level 40 to 50 feet, and the peaceful river which I have described becomes a mighty flood, in places 2 miles in width, full to the top of its banks and overflowing the fields and flooding the village streets, and sweeping away from its sand-banks those huts and pagodas and other temporary buildings we have noticed, while the mud which its turbid waters carry each year adds a little to the delta at its mouth.
Very often crossing the mouth of these tributaries you may see a framework of bamboo, over which fishing-nets are spread as the river rises, and in the pools of slack water which lie at the mouths of the forest creeks a great collection of logs lie floating. These logs have been cut in the forest long before, and have gradually been collected at some such convenient spot, where a large number of natives are busily engaged in building them into one of those huge rafts so constantly met with on the river. These rafts have a long journey before them, and constantly grounding as they do, no ropes would hold them together through all the wear and tear of their weeks upon the water, so instead of ropes rattan is used. This is a peculiarly long, tough, and flexible cane, which grows all over the forests, and is often a hundred yards or more in length. The logs are mostly of teak (about which I will tell you more presently) and pyingado or iron-wood, which is so heavy that it sinks in the water, and consequently raftsof bamboo are first built, and beneath them the pyingado logs are slung.
An interesting place is Bhamo, the last station for the river steamers and close to the frontier of China. The town is more Chinese than Burman in character, though on the banks of the River Taiping are the remains of pagodas and other buildings of purely Burmese origin.
Then, again, there are other defiles on the river beside the one I have already described, and many other points of interest which I might mention. Thabeitkyan, the landing-place for the ruby-mines, three days' journey inland; the rocky island with its monastery and pagoda, whose priests are said to be able to tame the fish in the river, which they feed by hand; the great bell at Mingoon, or the water-side fair at Shwegu, and a host of others. It would be impossible for me to tell you about everything of interest that the Irrawaddy has to show, but perhaps I have said enough to give you some little idea of how beautiful and interesting a river it is.
Leaving the river, let us go ashore at one of the many villages on its banks, and see how the Burmese live.
Our steamer lies alongside of the bank while the cargo is being landed, and its fuel of eng-wood is put on board. This is hard work, and is generally done by girls, who are paid by piece-work, and generally lose no time in the operation. Bales and cases lie upon the bank, and are being loaded into bullock-carts or carried to the top of the "bund," as the bank is called, where pack-ponies are waiting to carry them to more distant destinations.
The villagers "shikoh"[4]as we land, and swarms of youngsters follow us on our tour of the village; but though greatly interested in ourselves and our hardly-concealed curiosity, they are always polite and never annoy us in any way.
[4]The Burmese form of salute.
[4]The Burmese form of salute.
The village lies close beside the river, and is, as usual, bowered in trees, which overhang the bank. Its other three sides are enclosed by a stockade of thorns or wooden palings as a protection against wild beasts or attack by dacoits, bands of robbers whountil recently lurked in the jungles, and often raided outlying and unprotected villages.
The stockade is nearly always overgrown with creeping plants, yellow convolvulus, tropæolum, and a charming little climber like canariensis. On each side is a gate built of balks of timber, and so heavy that it must run on wheels. This gate is always shut at nightfall, so that no one can enter the village unknown to the watchman, who is called "kinthamah" and keeps his "kin" in a little booth called "kinteaine" erected close beside the gate.
By the gates and at intervals along the roadside are little cupboards raised above the ground and thatched with grasses called "yaiohzin"; these contain jars of drinking water for the use of wayfarers, and are always kept replenished by the villagers. The drinking cup is usually made of a polished coco-nut shell with a long handle of some hard wood, and it is noticeable that the water is never spilled or wasted, for Burma is a thirsty land and some of these watering-places are far from the river, and every one drinks with due regard to the necessities of the next comer.
Entering the large compound which the stockade encloses we are in the village itself. Here the houses of the Burmans are pleasantly situated among rows of toddy-palm, mango, padouk, and other trees, among which the peepul, or sacred ficus, is almost always found.
The houses are more or less arranged so as to leave a lane or street between them, and are generally built of bamboo, though many have their principal timbersof teak or eng-wood. The floors are usually of split bamboo, and the roof of elephant-grass, or "thekka," as the thatch of dried leaves is called, forms a good protection against the summer sun or monsoon rains, while the walls are formed of bamboo mats, often coloured and woven into some pretty though simple design.
As the front of the house is generally more or less open, we are able to see much of the interior arrangements. Sleeping mats of grasses supply the place of beds, and no chairs are to be seen. On a low stand of carved wood is the tray upon which their simple meals are served, and cooking-pots of bronze or earthenware lie about the "chatties" which contain the fire. Painted and carved boxes contain the family wardrobe, and in one corner is the stand for the large jars in which their supply of drinking-water is kept. Mat partitions perhaps screen inner rooms which we cannot see, but all the domestic appliances visible are of the simplest character, but ample for the needs of the people.
All the buildings are raised several feet above the ground as a protection against snakes, floods, and malaria, and the space below often forms a stable for the cattle and a useful storing-place for agricultural or other implements. These simple homes of the Burmans are often very pretty as they lie among the trees which cast their broad shadows across the straggling lane, grass grown and deeply rutted by the cart-wheels. Bougainvillæa and other creepers spread luxuriantly over the roofs, or drop their festoons of flowers from theeaves. Bananas wave their broad leaves gracefully above the houses, in cool contrast to the richer foliage of the larger trees, and among all this greenery, alternately in sunlight or shadow, move the brightly-costumed villagers themselves, most interesting of all.
Here comes a pretty young mother clad in "lungyi" of apple-green and dainty white jacket. Cross-legged over her shoulder is her infant, to whom she talks softly and endearingly as she walks. Presently her home is reached, and all the joy of motherhood shines in her happy face as she gently swings her child to sleep in its cradle of rattan which is slung from the roof above.
Again, an old man passes, guided by a little boy, who is proud to assist his grandfather; for respect for the aged, no less than love for their children, is a dominant trait in the character of the Burman.
While many are working in the paddy-fields, other of the villagers find their occupation nearer home, and employ themselves in such work as mat and basket making (in which the children assist), the weaving of silk, and the manufacture of pottery. In sheds made for the purpose oil or sugar mills are being turned by bullocks, while in some few villages is made that pretty red and gold lacquer-work we know so well in England. Notice also the village blacksmith, who, with primitive tools, hammers out those curiously shaped "dahs" and knives used by the wood-cutters, while beside him, with equally simple implements, the carpenter puts the finishing touches to the carved yoke of a gharry.
In the streets the naked youngsters are playing at their games. Many are like our own, and marbles,peg-tops, leap-frog or kite-flying each have their turn, while in the ditches and puddles the boys hold miniature regattas with their toy sailing-boats.
In the monastery or some private dwelling in the village the children go to school, and as they become older some occupation employs their time. While the boys are engaged with the cattle or about the boats, the girls are occupied in cutting firewood in the jungle, or from the pools in the forest collect the crude oil which they burn in their lamps.
Roaming at will through the village are pigs and poultry, geese and cattle, and the inevitable "pi dog" of the country. These dogs are peculiar, being wild, yet attaching themselves to some particular house, whose interests they seem to make their own, and which, by vigorous barking, they make a pretence of guarding. In some villages, also, the pigs, which are long-legged and fleet of foot, seem to act in the same capacity, strongly objecting to the intrusion of strangers, and even when riding my pony I have been attacked by them and forced to retire.
During the day many of the villagers have been busy in the rice-fields, for rice is their staple food and the only crop generally cultivated; even infants of a day old are fed upon it, the rice being first chewed by the mother, and each tiny mouthful washed down by a few drops of water. Towards evening, when the tired cattle draw their creaking carts homewards, the streets are thronged with the labourers returning from their work, ready for the simple meal of rice and "ngapi" their wives have prepared for them.
It is a simple, happy life which these villagers lead, graced by many pretty customs of domesticity.
Rising with the sun, with it also they retire to rest, and as the last sweet tones of many gongs from the village monastery proclaim the close of their evening prayer the stockade-gates are closed, and, save for the howling of jackals outside, or the yapping of a dog, silence reigns throughout the village.
ENTRANCE TO A BURMESE VILLAGE. Page 10.ENTRANCE TO A BURMESE VILLAGE.Page 10.
Owing to their primitive methods of building and choice of materials, a Burmese town differs very little from a village except in point of size, though occasionally the houses are of two stories and timber-built throughout.
The stockade is absent, and in its place deep ditches, partly filled with water, surround the houses, and run alongside of the streets, which are, perhaps, somewhat wider and more regularly planned.
The approach to the town is often very pretty, the water reflecting the waving palm-trees and picturesque buildings, while the roads, which in Burma are usually nothing but a track, have, as they near the town, some semblance of solidity.
Little bridges cross the ditches, and give access to the houses, round about which are often raised paths or causeways of burnt brick set "herring-bone" fashion. These prove a comfort in the rains, when the streets of the town are rivers and the whole country a sea of mud.
Trees in plenty shade the road and houses, and shops and small bazaars give an air of business to the town, whose principal street, however, is largely covered withgrass, and affords a convenient place in which to try a pony's paces.
Some of the streets have side-walks, a shade less dusty (or muddy, as the case may be) than the road itself, and in the least frequented of them dwarf palmettos enjoy a lusty existence.
Enclosed by low palisades in front of many houses, cannas, hibiscus, poinsettia, or lilies are growing, and rare orchids hang from the eaves, to provide in their strange but lovely blossoms a flower for some woman's hair. Indoors, in coloured pots or stands of often elaborate design, are other flowers, always most carefully tended, for the Burmans love what is beautiful in Nature.
In the streets the life of the people is only a slight amplification of that of the villages, the shops with their attendant customers marking the principal difference, while in bullock-carts of more ornamental design than those of the villages, the families of the well-to-do enjoy their outing.
Though always two-wheeled and drawn by a pair of oxen, there is a certain amount of variety in the native carts. The wheels are generally large, and are placed very wide apart, in order to lessen the risk of capsizing in the terribly rough roads they often have to travel.
In the common country carts the wheels have very wide rims, across which is fastened a single flat piece of wood instead of spokes, and in many cases the wheels are quite solid. The body is plain, but the yoke and yoke-pins are often carved, and the pole usually finishes in some grotesque ornament.
When travelling the carts are covered by a hood of matting, and a mattress inside eases the jolting by day, and serves as a bed at night.
The pleasure gharry, however, is quite a pretty vehicle. The wheels have a very large number of thin spokes, and the hub is always ornamental. The sides consist of an open balustrade, and the rails sweeping backward in a fine curve, to terminate in a piece of carving high above the rail.
In Mandalay another pretty cart is used by the ladies when out calling or shopping. This is a closed carriage built entirely of wood, each panel of which is carved, and is just high enough in the roof to permit the ladies to sit upright upon their cushions. We can see them through the little unglazed windows, looking pretty or dignified, as the case may be; but dignity disappears so soon as they attempt to dismount, for this can only be done through a small door at the back, through which the rider must crawl backwards and then drop to the ground.
Games, as usual, figure largely in the young life of the place. A curious kind of football called "chinlon" is very general, and the instinct for sport comes out early in the boys, who, while flying their kites, attempt by skilful manœuvring to saw through each other's lines and so prove a "conqueror." The little girls have their amusements also, and it is pretty to see a little one being drawn about in a diminutive go-cart, or, squatting on her haunches by the doorstep, endeavouring to fathom the intricacies of doll-dressing.
Let us wander round the streets and see what wecan find to interest us. First it will be noticed that beside every house are two long poles; one has a hook at its end, and the other is formed into a sort of broad paddle. These are provided in case of fire, when with the hook the thatch is pulled down, or the fire beaten out with the other. Fires are constantly occurring, for though every house is supposed to have a separate cooking shed, carelessness, or the habit of cooking indoors, is largely responsible for them, and there is very little hope for dwellings built of such inflammable material once a fire starts. Consequently in all parts of the country roofs of galvanized iron are slowly taking the place of the picturesque "thekka," even the "kyoungs" and "zeyats" being roofed by it; and unfortunately, as creepers do not take kindly to this new form of roofing, it will, I am afraid, always remain an eyesore among what is otherwise so picturesque.
AT THE WELL.AT THE WELL.
In many of the streets are wells, surrounded by a wall and crossed by a heavy beam of wood to which pulleys are attached, through which run ropes with hooks at their ends, by means of which the water-pots are lowered. This is a great place of congregation for the young people, and is always surrounded by animated groups of young men and maidens, who, with pretty courtesies or coyness, carry on their youthful flirtations.
The Burman is always delightfully natural, and seems to live in the open daylight. At the doorstep of one house are mother and daughter, busy sewing up cloth, their red lacquer box of sewing materials between them. At another a dainty housewife entertains her guests at tea, for tea is now largely drunk in Burma.
All the shops are open to the street, and we may see the various trades in operation.
It is interesting to see the umbrellas being made. They are almost flat when open, the frame consisting of a multitude of thin bamboo ribs formed by splittingonebamboo into many sections, so that the knots of the cane occur at the same regular distances on the ribs, so forming a kind of pattern. The common kinds are very large, some of those in use in the market-places being as big as a small tent. These are covered with calico, oiled or varnished, and form an excellent protection against sun or rain. More delicate sunshades are made of the same materials, or of silk; these are smaller, and are often painted in rings of flowers or foliage, which has a very pretty effect, and the sun shining through them throws a rich orange shade over the head and shoulders of the bearer.
Then, there are the silk-weavers and silversmiths, whose work is probably the best of its kind produced in any country, and in Thayetmu and Rangoon I have seen silver-work produced which, in my opinion, is unequalled for beauty of design or excellence of workmanship.
Turning enters largely into their decorative woodwork, and the turners, who use a very simple form of foot-lathe, are busily engaged in providing the various articles required—pilasters for a balcony, hubs for a cart-wheel, or the turned finials of a baby's cot. In a kindred trade the wood-carver is busy producingembellishments for the "kyoung" or "zeyat" which some wealthy resident is erecting.
Though the Burmans occasionally become drunk on "toddy" (a beverage made from the flower of the toddy-palm), they are by habit abstemious and simple livers; rice and vegetable curries, bananas, jack-fruit, papaya, and other fruits, form their staple food, and, forbidden by their religion to take life, fish is practically the only variant to their vegetable diet, the fisherman excusing himself by saying that "hedoes not kill the fish: they die of themselves."
All smoke, however, and men, women and children equally enjoy their huge cheroots, composed of the inner bark of certain trees mixed with chopped tobacco, which are rolled into the form of a cigar in the spathe of Indian corn or some similar husk, and no meal would be considered to be properly set out without the red lacquer box containing betel, which is universally chewed. Betel is the nut of the areca-palm, and before being used is rolled between leaves on which a little lime is spread. The flavour is astringent and produces excessive expectoration, and, by its irritation, gives to the tongue and lips a curious bright pink colour. Still, it is considered an excellent stomach tonic, and so far as one can judge has no worse effect than to blacken the teeth of the user.
Every village or town has its pagodas, which in some cases are very numerous. The Burman spends little upon his home, which is always regarded as of a temporary nature, and in the erection of a pagoda or other religious building the wealthy native findsan outlet for his energies, and earns "merit" for himself. Few of the modern village pagodas are of any particular beauty, and I cannot but think that the money spent upon them would be far better employed in restoring and preserving the many beautiful and ancient temples scattered all over the country.
In many towns is a sacred tank or reservoir, so entirely covered with lotus and other plants that the water cannot be seen. Large fish and turtles of great age inhabit them, but are seldom seen, on account of the heavy screen of leaves and flowers which lies upon the surface of the water, which, however, is often strongly disturbed as some ungainly monster rolls or turns below them. On the outskirts of the towns are the gardens, enclosed by hedges of castor-oil or cactus, where many kinds of fruits and spices are grown: bananas, pineapple, guava, bael, citrons, etc., are some of the ordinary kinds, while the coco-nut, tamarind, jack, and papaya grow everywhere about the streets and houses. Many vegetables, such as cucumber and vegetable-marrow, are also grown, and among the shops or stalls in the market-place none are so attractive as those which display their many-coloured and sweet-smelling fruits and vegetables.
Every few days a market is held in one or other of the large towns of a district, and attracts to it country people from a considerable distance around. Here one has a chance of seeing many other tribes and types beside the Burman: Shans, Karens, or Kachins, different in feature and costume from the natives of the town, together with Chinese and natives of India, give avariety to the population, and help to swell the crowd which from early morning till sundown throngs the market-places.
THE MARKET PLACE.THE MARKET PLACE.
The market is generally held in the open space outside the town, and is generally enclosed. In it are wooden buildings, or booths of sacking or "tayan" (grass-mats), in which each different trade is gathered, so dividing the bazaar into sections. Between the buildings rows of people squat upon the ground, protecting themselves and the odd assortment of wares they have for sale by screens of coloured cloth or the enormous umbrellas I have already mentioned. Up and down the lane so formed move the would-be purchasers, a motley crowd in which every type and race in Burma is represented. No less varied are the articles offered for sale—cotton goods and silks, cutlery and tools, lamps and combs, and various other articles of personal adornment, including the ornamental sandals which all the women of the town affect. Fruit, vegetables, and food-stuffs have a ready sale; nor are sweetmeats for the children forgotten.
Cooking-pots and all kinds of domestic utensils may be purchased and carried away in baskets beautifully made, and often of immense size, which form a striking feature of the bazaar.
All the more important stalls are kept by women, who, as I have already said, are the business backbone of the country. Many of them are women of good position, but they like their work, and are very clever at driving a bargain; but though dainty enough in appearance, they can be very abusive on occasion.
I have already said that the Burman is not permitted to take life, and in consequence meat enters but little into his diet; but in all bazaars frequented by natives of India, who are under no such prohibition, the slaughter and sale of cattle is of regular occurrence, and among the most eager buyers of the meat thus offered for sale are the Burmans themselves.
Among other articles which I have noticed are "dahs," and knives of many sorts and degrees of excellence. No Burman travels without his "dah," which serves as a weapon of defence or enables him to clear his path where the jungle is thick, while the heavier knives are used for chopping the domestic fuel. Some of these "dahs" are very finely finished, the handle and sheath of wild plum being bound by delicately plaited bands of bamboo fibre, in which the ends are most skilfully concealed, and the blade, often 2 feet long, is excellently wrought and balanced.
At various times of the day groups of priests and novices move up and down the market collecting offerings from the people, while some "original" or buffoon gives the scene its touch of humour.
At sunset, when the bazaar is closed, long lines of people, some on foot, some in hooded carts, wend their ways towards their distant homes; and long after darkness has fallen on the land may still be heard the faint creaking of some laden cart as it slowly disappears along its lonely forest path.
If you are up very early in the morning you may see large herds of buffaloes and bullocks being driven to the paddy-fields. These surround the village, sometimes extending for miles in different directions; but often they are simply small clearings scattered through the jungle. The cattle are always driven by the children of the village, and it is curious to see how docile these huge buffaloes are under the control of some diminutive native, while with Europeans they are obstinate, ungovernable, and often dangerous.
The children always ride the cattle to the fields, sitting well back on the haunches, for they frequently have to travel a long, and often broken, path to their destination, and during the rains they are thus enabled to cross the streams and flooded areas, which it would have been impossible for them to do on foot.
It will interest you to know something about the manner in which the Burmans produce their rice-crop. Rice, as you know, requires a great deal of moisture, especially in the early days of its growth; consequently the ground upon which the rice-crop is to be sown must belevel, so that the water with which the fields are covered may flow equally over the whole surface. Thewater is kept in by little dikes, or "bunds," as they are called, which surround each field, or the part of it to be irrigated; and as during a considerable portion of each year these cultivated areas are under water, and are always more or less in a boggy condition, these "bunds" form the most convenient, if not the only, means of traversing the district. Tortuous and winding as they are, it is not easy to decide upon your route, and you need not be surprised if the little causeway upon which you have set out eventually brings you back to your first starting-point, and you must make another attempt in a different direction. I remember once being hopelessly lost among the "bunds" in my endeavour to cross a patch of paddy-land, and although it was not more than a mile in width, two hours of valuable time were spent before I solved the problem of this labyrinth, and struck the road on its farther side.
Rice cultivation begins towards the end of the monsoon, when the rains have thoroughly saturated the soil and filled the fields with water, often to the top of the dikes. Then ploughing begins, and the grass with which the fields were recently covered is turned over in clods, as we do at home, by means of a curious wooden plough shod with bronze or iron.
These ploughs are drawn by the bullocks and buffaloes, or by elephants when they are available, the operation being often carried out under water. After this all the cattle in the district are driven on to the fields in order to break up and trample down the clods, and sometimes harrows, much like our own, are used for the same purpose.
Then the sowing begins, the rice being scattered very freely over one or two selected portions of the whole area, for which they serve as nursery gardens; for the rice is not sown generally over the fields, but the young plants transferred from these small nurseries to the larger fields. This work is done by the men and women, who, wading in the water, plant out the young growth 5 or 6 inches apart, and one may notice that during this operation all wear leggings or stockings of straw as a protection against the leeches which in enormous numbers infest the muddy water.
The rice now may be left to itself, excepting for the necessity of keeping it constantly supplied with water, which is raised from the neighbouring river or creek by many ingenious appliances, and carried to the fields by pipes of bamboo or channels in the mud.
While the crop is growing the cattle have an idle time, for with the exception of the bullocks which draw the market-carts, and a few which may perhaps be working in the oil or sugar mills, there is nothing for them to do. For the rest, the time between the sowing and reaping is passed enclosed in large pens or roaming by hundreds in the jungle.
The harvest begins in October, and lasts until December or later, according to the district. When ripe, the rice is 3 to 4 feet in height, each plant growing several ears, the grain being slightly bearded, like barley; and in good soil, where the water-supply has been continuous, its growth is so dense that it is impossible for weeds to grow.
I know few prettier sights than a harvest-field inan early autumn morning. Through the steamy exhalations from the ground, and dancing on the dewdrops which hang heavy upon every blade or ear, the early sun is shining. Everything is mysterious in the haze, through which the belt of forest which surrounds the cultivated land is grey and ghost-like; huge cobwebs hang between the bushes laden with glittering beads of moisture, and the whole scene is bathed in a curious opalescent light in which all sense of distance is destroyed. Scattered through the fields are the harvesters, whose brightly-coloured "lungyi" and gay head-scarf are the only spots of definite colour.
The rice is cut with sickles a little above the ground, so as to leave sufficient straw to serve as fodder for the cattle or to fertilize the land. The grain is bound into sheaves much as we do at home, and after remaining in the fields for a day or two in order to dry, it is carried to the threshing-floor. This is simply a piece of selected ground where the surface is dry and hard, on which the sheaves are placed in the form of a large circle and the grain trodden out by cattle. When the threshing is complete and the straw removed, there remains a huge pile of grain and husks freely mixed with dust. This has to be cleaned and winnowed, which is done by a very simple process, the grain being thrown into the air by means of large shallow trays made of bamboo, when the wind, blowing away the dust and loose husks, leaves the grain tolerably clean in a pile at the worker's feet.
The rice is not yet fit for use, however, the grain still being enclosed in its hard husk, which has tobe removed by another process. In travelling through Burma one may often notice standing outside a native dwelling a large and deep bowl composed of some hard wood in which lies a rounded log about 4 feet in length, much like a large mortar and pestle. These are the "pounders," in which by a vigorous use of the pestle the husk is separated from the rice, which is again winnowed and washed, and is then ready for use. Though generally eaten in its simple state, bread and cakes are often made from rice-flour, which is ground in a hand-mill consisting of two flat circular stones, and is identical with the hand-mill of Scripture.
From the large areas the bulk of the rice-crop is shipped to Rangoon, sufficient for the needs of the people being stored in the villages in receptacles formed of wicker-work covered on the outside with mud.
I have described the process of rice cultivation which is followed in districts where a perpetual water-supply is available, but in other and drier zones a different kind of rice and other crops, such as sugar, maize, and sesamum, are grown; but while these, as well as many fruits and vegetables, are cultivated in the neighbourhood of every town or village, rice may be considered to be practically the only agricultural crop in Burma, and forms perhaps its most important article of export.
Though not cultivated by man, the country produces another crop which to the Burman is second only to rice in value. I mean thebamboo, which grows in enormous quantities in every forest or jungle in the country. There are many varieties of bamboo, some comparatively small, others growing to a height of60 or 70 feet, the canes being often upwards of 2 feet in circumference at the base. Each species has its separate use, and, as we have already seen, there are few things for which the Burman does not employ it. His houses are very often entirely built of it: canes, either whole or split, form its framework and flooring; the mats which form the walls are woven from strips cut from the outside skin; the thatch is often composed of its leaves; while no hotter fire can be used than one made from its debris. Split into finer strands, the bamboo furnishes the material of which baskets are made, while its fine and flexible fibres, plaited and woven into shape, form the foundation for their beautiful bowls and dishes of red lacquer. Bows and yokes for the porters, sheaths of weapons and umbrella frames, and a host of small articles of domestic furniture, are of the same material, and a section cut from the giant bamboo forms an excellent bucket, which is used all over the forests.
And now I want to tell you something about the forest, which, as we have seen from the river, practically covers the country.
We all enjoy our English woods, but these, lovely though they are, convey no idea whatever of the luxuriant and bewildering beauty of a forest in the tropics.
How shall I give you an idea of it? It is so big, so magnificent, and at times so solemn. Everywhere you are surrounded by trees of many kinds and immense size, whose huge trunks, springing from a dense mass of undergrowth, rise 200 feet or more into the air. All are bound together by a tangled mass of creepers, which mingle their foliage with that of the trees to form one huge canopy of leaves, in which birds of bright plumage and beautiful song live out their happy lives. Monkeys also make their home there, and strange insects and butterflies of rare beauty flit among the flowers, or hover in the few stray sunbeams which penetrate the gloom.
It is all very impressive, very beautiful, and still, except for the drone of insects or soft note of the songbird. Perhaps the silence may be broken by a herd ofwild elephants crashing heavily through the canes, or the shrill cry of the squirrel startles the forest and warns its fellows of the nearness of a snake.