Dyak WarfareThe figures in this picture are posed to give some idea of Dyak warfare. In the foreground is a dead man. The Dyak over him is grasping his hair and about to cut off his head. The two figures on the left and the man behind are waiting with their spears to attack the man who has taken refuge in the hole in the stump of a tree.
Dyak Warfare
The figures in this picture are posed to give some idea of Dyak warfare. In the foreground is a dead man. The Dyak over him is grasping his hair and about to cut off his head. The two figures on the left and the man behind are waiting with their spears to attack the man who has taken refuge in the hole in the stump of a tree.
A favourite stratagem of defence in the lower reaches of the river is to entice the leading boats of the enemy into an ambush on shore. There are sure to be some boats of the attacking party far in advance of the others, as they are anxious to be foremost in the fight. The defenders choose a convenient spot, and a strong party is placed in ambush among the trees. One or two men stroll upon the shingly bank to lure the enemy. As the warriors from the attacking boats leap ashore, the men in ambush spring from their hiding-place. They throw large stones at them, and break their wooden shields. They engage with swords and spears in a short and desperate conflict. As the main body comes round thebend of the river, whooping and yelling, they plunge into the jungle with the heads that they have obtained, and are soon safely far away.
The Dyaks do not attack a village or group of villagers, if their approach has been discovered and the people are on the defensive. Under these circumstances they content themselves with cutting off stragglers, or hide near the waterside for people who are going to bathe or on their way to examine their fish-traps. These they attack unawares, cut down, take their heads, and flee into the jungle before the alarm can be given.
In fighting the Dyak warriors gather round their Chiefs, and defend them bravely. Relatives often congregate together and help to defend each other. When one of them is killed, rather than allow the enemy to take his head, they decapitate him themselves, and bring his head back. When possible, they carry their dead and wounded away with them, but more often they only take their heads, and bury the bodies.
The Sea Dyaks, after having severed the head at the neck, scoop out the brains with a bit of bamboo either through the nostrils or by the occipital hole, cover the eyes with leaves, and hang the head up to dry in the smoke of a wood fire. They cut off the hair to ornament their sword-hilts and sheaths, as well as their shields.
Though cannibalism is not practised by the Dyaks, yet I have heard that sometimes a man who has taken a head eats a small piece from the cheek, in the hope of acquiring the bravery and virtues of the man killed. A Dyak in the Saribas district told me he attempted to eat a little of the brain of an enemy he had killed, but was unable to do so. Deep in the mind of the primitive man of every country lies the idea that he can acquirethe attributes of another by eating his flesh or drinking his blood. The Dacota Indian, I am told, eats the heart of his slain enemy, and the New Zealander his eyes. It would appear that the Dyaks have the same idea.
On the return from a war expedition, if the people of any particular boat have been fortunate enough to secure a human head, word is sent up to the Dyak village house of this fact, as soon as the boat reaches the landing-stage. The men remain in the boat, and wait there till all the women-folk from the house come to it, dressed in their best. Generally only the men dance, and the arrival of a boat bearing the ghastly trophy of a human head is the only occasion when the women dance. The excitement is great, and there are continual shouts of triumph as the women, singing a monotonous chant, surround the hero who has killed the enemy and lead him to the house. He is seated in a place of honour, and the head is put on a brass tray before him, and all crowd round him to hear his account of the battle, and how he succeeded in killing one of their foes and bringing home his head.
From all that has been said, it will be seen how the Dyaks value the heads taken in war. They hang them over the fireplaces in the long open veranda of their houses, they make offerings to them, and they believe that the souls of those whom they have slain will be their slaves in the other world. I look upon it as a remarkable fact worthy of record that two great Dyak Chiefs who became Christians—one the Orang Kaya of Padih, Saribas, and the other, Tarang of Krian—should have taken such a decided step as to refuse to treasure their enemies’ heads any more. They were both men of position, with a great reputation for bravery. The Orang Kaya buried all the heads he possessed, and gave outthat none of his followers in a war expedition should bring back heads. Two of his grandchildren were at my school in Temudok for some years. A son of Tarang, Tujoh by name, worked as my catechist in Krian for some years. I asked him what his father did with the old heads he possessed when he refused to keep them himself. He told me that he did not think his father acted wisely in that matter. His relatives begged for the heads, and he gave them to them, and they did just what his father did not wish—made a feast in honour of these heads, and treasured them!
While so many Dyak Christians are most unwilling to give up their old heathen customs, these two Christian Dyak Chiefs happily took up the right attitude in such an important matter in the eyes of the Dyaks as head-taking.
Social position of the women—Dyak food—Meals—Cooking food in bamboo—Law with regard to leaving a Dyak house—Rule of the headman—A Dyak trial—Power of the headman in old days—Dyak wealth—Valuable jars—Gusi—Naga—Rusa—A convenient dream—Trading incident at Sebetan—Land tenure—Laws about fruit-trees—Slavery—Captives in war—Slaves for debt.
The Dyak woman does not hold, as in most Eastern countries, an inferior and humiliating position. As has already been stated, the women do no more than a fair share of the work: they cook, make garments and mats, help in the lighter part of farm work, and husk and pound the grain. The men do the timber-felling, wood-cutting, clearing of the land, house and boat building, and all the heavier work.
When the Dyaks meet together to discuss any matter such as the advisability of migrating to a new house, the women are allowed to take part in the discussion. Generally the men sit round in a circle, and behind them are the women and children. And it is no unusual thing to hear a woman express an opinion, and her remarks are listened to with deference by the men.
The Dyak women have no reason to complain of their lot. Their wants are few and easily satisfied. They may have sometimes a little more than their fair share of work, but this is always the case where the men spendmuch time on the war-path, and as the women keep the men up to the mark in this respect, and often will not marry a man who has not been successful in war, they are scarcely to be pitied if extra work fall to their lot during the time the men are away fighting.
The women are earlier risers than the men, and retire to bed earlier. They generally go to the river as soon as they wake, carrying their water-gourds with them. They have a bath, fill their gourds with water, and return to the house to cook the morning meal.
The principal article of food is rice, which is cooked in brass or iron pots. When the rice is ready, it is put out on plates. They eat with their rice either vegetables or fish. Sometimes they have the flesh of wild pig or venison, but that is not usual. A favourite method of cooking is to put the proper quantity of fish or vegetables or meat with sufficient water and a little salt into a newly-cut bamboo. The mouth is then stopped up with leaves, and the bamboo is placed over the fire, resting on a stone at an angle of 45 degrees or more. By the time the bamboo is thoroughly charred the contents are sufficiently cooked, and it is taken from the fire and emptied out into a plate. Sometimes rice is cooked in bamboos, and when it is ready to be eaten, the bamboo is split and torn off in strips, when the rice is found well cooked inside—a stiff mass moulded in the form of the bamboo.
When the food is ready and put out in plates, the men are asked to come into the room and eat. Sometimes the women eat with the men; but if there are too many to eat comfortably at one sitting, the men have their meal first, and the women eat with the children after the men have done.
The Dyaks all sit on the floor, which also serves astheir table. They have their rice on plates, or sometimes upon clean leaves. They eat with their fingers, dipping the hand when necessary into the common stock of salt, or common dish of meat or vegetables. They eat with their right hand, compressing the rice into portions of convenient size.
Nearly every animal is eaten by the Dyaks; fish, venison, and pork are eaten by all, but many tribes eat monkeys, snakes, and even crocodiles.
When breakfast is over, they clean the crockery and put it away. The mats are swept and taken up, and the refuse thrown through the open floor for the pigs and poultry under the house to eat.
Each long Dyak village house has its headman, who generally occupies a room in the middle of the house. He is called thetuai rumah—“the old man or chief of the house”—and he settles all disputes among the inmates, and decides the amount of the fine the guilty party has to pay. Great deference is paid to him, and as a general rule his people abide by his decisions. But his power is only one of persuasion, and depends upon his personal ability and sense of justice. He cannot in any way coerce his people into obedience. Upon the prestige and conduct of thistuai rumahdepends the number of families a Dyak house contains. If he be a man of strong personal character, clear-headed, and upright in his dealings, many will settle under him. If he be otherwise, he will quickly lose the families living in his house. They will migrate to other houses where the headman is one they admire and respect.
Dyak HousesShowing the outside open platform where paddy, etc., is put out to dry. Where the eaves are very low, parts of it are often raised to admit more light into the house. The palm trees in the picture are cocoanut palms.
Dyak Houses
Showing the outside open platform where paddy, etc., is put out to dry. Where the eaves are very low, parts of it are often raised to admit more light into the house. The palm trees in the picture are cocoanut palms.
There are certain laws among the Dyaks with regard to a family leaving a house. If a new house is to be built, any families of the former inmates may refuse to maketheir home in the new house, and may join some other village or decide to build a house for themselves. If a family wish to leave a house at any other time, they must not only leave the posts, roof, and flooring of their part of the house, but they must undertake to keep these in repair until such a time as the house is pulled down and a new one built.
The Sea Dyak administration of law among themselves by the headman of the house has its advantages. Disputes are settled at once and on the spot. Unfortunately sometimes prejudice and the ties of relationship impede the carrying out of justice, but more often the Chiefs are peculiarly alive to the advantage of a just administration, which never fails to secure the aid and support of the majority of the people.
I have often been present when some small dispute was settled by the headman of a Dyak house. Both parties and their friends sat on mats in a circle before the Chief. Each party had their say; the headman asked a few questions. Then he pronounced judgment somewhat after this fashion. He began by saying that as the disputants were living in the same house—“brothers and sisters” so to speak—it was not necessary to inflict a heavy punishment; all that was needed was to impose a small fine to show which was in the wrong, and one party must pay the other a fine of so many cups or so many plates as the case required.
Whenever I have been present, the fine was cheerfully paid. The punishment, in fact, was very slight. Though the Government recognize this method of settling disputes among themselves, still, if Dyaks are discontented with the decision of their headmen, they can always bring their case for trial before the Government officer of the district.But this is seldom done. The fine imposed by the headman is so small compared to that which would have to be paid if the case were tried elsewhere that the guilty party generally prefers to pay it cheerfully rather than appeal to the Government.
If the dispute be between the inmates of one house and those of another, then the headmen of both houses have to be present at the trial. When matters are at all complicated, headmen from other houses are also asked to be present and help in the administration of justice.
I learn from conversations with the older Dyaks that in bygone days the power of the headman was much greater than it is now. Then he used to impose much heavier fines and take part of them himself for his trouble, and no Dyak dared to murmur against the decision of his Chief. In those days there was no court of appeal. The only means of protesting was to leave the house and build on to another, and in the old days such a thing was not so easily done as at present. The Dyak houses were much longer and built much farther apart, and to join another house meant moving to a district very far away and cutting off all connection with relatives and friends.
Wealth among the Dyaks is not so much the accumulation of money as the possession of brass gongs, guns, and valuable jars. Money is not used except by the inhabitants of the towns. The up-country Dyaks procure what they need by a system of barter, and in most of the shopping done in the Chinese bazaars near the Dyak villages no money passes hands at all. Silver coins are used by the Dyaks for making belts and bangles, and are often attached to the edge of the petticoats worn by the women at feasts and on other special occasions, and areesteemed only as ornaments. Brass ware of all kinds is much valued, especially old brass guns and gongs.
The valuable jars (tajau) which the Dyaks prize so highly are in appearance much like the earthen water-pots that are manufactured in large numbers by the Chinese, and which cost from five to ten shillings. But closer examination shows certain differences. The Dyaks are prepared to pay exorbitant prices for a really old jar, and they venerate it and make offerings to it. The best known of these sacred jars are theGusi, theNaga, and theRusa. The first is the most valuable of the three. It is of a greenish colour, about eighteen inches high, and is much sought after. A good one would cost £80 or more. TheNagais about two feet high, and is called by that name because it is ornamented with Chinese figures of dragons, ornaga. It is worth from eight to ten pounds. TheRusais covered with the representation of some kind of deer (rusa), and is worth about four pounds. These prices, except the first, may not seem very great to our ideas, but when one remembers how poor the Dyaks are, they are very large amounts for them to pay for such fragile things as earthenware jars.
TheGusiis always kept wrapped in cloth and treated with the greatest respect. People crawl in its presence, and touch it with the greatest care. At certain feasts a jar of this kind is brought out, and offerings are made to it. Besides being the abode of a spirit, it is supposed to possess marvellous qualities—one of them being that if anything be placed in it overnight, the quantity will increase before morning; another, that food kept in a jar of this kind has peculiar medicinal virtues.
When any of these sacred jars are bought, before bringing it into the room where it is to be kept an offeringis always made to it. A chicken is killed and the blood smeared on the jar.
It is not known for certain where these jars originally came from. One theory is that many years ago a colony of Chinese settled in Borneo for a short period, and made these jars and then left the country.
These old jars have been imitated by the Chinese, and many modern jars are very like the originals. A very profitable business is done by Malay traders, who, for one genuine old jar in their possession, have six or more modern jars. The Dyaks are very cautious about paying a large price for a doubtful article, but for all that they are often taken in.
I was at a Dyak house in Saribas, and was shown a jar which a Malay trader had brought for sale. A Dyak had decided to buy it, the price had been agreed upon, and the trader was to come on the following day to receive it in brass guns, gongs, and money. The Dyaks, on examining the jar more closely, came to the conclusion that it was a modern imitation. When the trader came, he was told that the Dyak had had a bad dream about the jar, and so was not prepared to buy it. In talking to an old Dyak about it, I was told that to say one had a bad dream was the usual way of refusing to buy a jar which seemed of doubtful value.
An amusing incident happened at Sebetan in Krian when I was there. A Malay trader, whom we will call “A,” came to a Dyak house with a jar to sell. “A” was well known, as he lived in his coffee plantation on the bank of the Krian River. The Dyaks examined the jar and saw many defects in it, and said so. The next day another Malay trader, whom we will call “B,” arrived with a jar to sell, but no one in the house seemed inclinedto buy it. “A” and “B” seemed to be quite strangers to one another. “A” examined the jar “B” had brought, and then said: “My jar is not a good one; I admit that. But this is a genuine old jar, and worth the eighty dollars he asks for it. I have not got much money with me; but if anyone here will lend me the money, I am quite prepared to pay eighty dollars for it.” As “A” was well known, the headman of the house lent him the sum of money he required to enable him to buy the jar. The money was paid to “B,” who went off. Then “A” began to boast about his bargain; he dwelt on all the good points of the jar, and told the Dyaks that they were very foolish to have let such a chance slip. He praised the jar so much that the headman of the house said he would buy it from him for the same price as he paid for it. “A” said he did not want to part with it, as it was a genuine old jar, and honestly worth much more than he gave for it. After some discussion “A” agreed to sell it to the Dyak for one hundred dollars, and so he made a profit of twenty dollars in a very short time.
It was found out afterwards that “B” was living with “A” during his stay in Krian! The jar was considered by experts to be a modern imitation and comparatively worthless. When “A” was spoken to about the matter, he persisted in saying that in his opinion the jar was a genuine old one, but that he might be mistaken.
With regard to land, it has been the immemorial custom of the Dyaks that when a person fells the virgin forest he acquires by that act a perpetual title to the land. He may sell it, lend it, let it, or leave it to his successor. The rent he is supposed to demand for a piece of land large enough to be farmed by one man is one dollar. If, however, he is not paid in money, he may claim a game-cock, or twoplates. As a gamecock or two plates cost about a quarter of a dollar, it is dearer to pay for the use of land with money. Land disputes are very common among Dyaks. As they often leave a particular district, and then return again after many years, it is not surprising that complications arise.
Fruit-trees are owned by the people who plant them. The different families in a Dyak house plant fruit-trees near their part of the house. When they leave the spot and build a new habitation elsewhere, they each still claim ownership of the trees they planted. The rule with regard to fruit-trees is that anyone may take the ripe fruit that has fallen, but only the owner or someone deputed by him may climb the tree. Banting Hill, where I lived for some years, was covered with fruit-trees (durian), and at night during the fruit season crowds of men and boys would watch for the falling of the ripe fruit. They would each have a torch made of the bark of some tree, and they would sit and wait with the torch smouldering by their side. As soon as a ripedurianfruit was heard to fall, they would wave their torches in the air to make them flare up into a flame, and they would rush to the spot, and the person who found the fruit would take possession of it.
Slavery exists among the Dyaks, but not to any great extent. There are two classes of slaves—captives in war, and slaves for debt.
The Sea Dyaks when on the warpath spare neither man, women, nor children, but it occasionally happens that when they are able to do so, they carry little children back with them as captives. There are not many slaves to be met with among the Sea Dyaks, and these do not seem to be hardly treated. The slaves are not distinguishablefrom their masters and mistresses, and they live all together and fare precisely the same, very often eating the same food at the same time from the same dish. In many cases children who have been taken captive become so endeared to their masters that they are adopted, and intermarry with the sons and daughters of the other inhabitants of the village.
The ceremony of adoption is usually performed at a great feast, so that the matter may be made as public as possible. The owner of the slave announces to the assembled guests that he has freed him and adopted him as his brother. He then presents to him a spear, with which he is told to slay the man who dares in future to call him a slave.
The old Dyak law concerning debts was that if a man borrowed paddy or rice from another, he must pay double that amount at the next harvest. If therefore a debtor had a succession of bad harvests, his debt would become so great that he could not ever hope to pay it off. If he paid part of his debt, then the following year he would be expected to pay double the amount still due. In process of time his debt would become so great that he and his family would have to become slaves in payment of it.
According to old Dyak laws people who were careless enough to set a house on fire rendered themselves liable to become the slaves of those who were burnt out. The damage done by their carelessness would be too great for them to compensate, so they would become slaves for debt.
Sir James Brooke made a law that after a certain number of years all slaves for debt were to be set free, so at present there are not any, except those who have grown old in the service of their masters, and do not wish for their freedom.
The Couvade among the Dyaks—Harm to the child—Ways of evading these restrictions—Punishment for violating these restrictions—A Christian woman’s ideas on the subject—Witch doctors and their methods—The waving of a fowl—Treatment of the mother and child—Infanticide—Bathing the child—Ceremony for insuring happiness to the child—Naming the child—Change of name—Children—Toys—Smallness of families—Reason.
As the Sea Dyaks look upon child-birth as a very ordinary event, there are not many ceremonies connected with it, though there are many rules and restrictions which have to be observed by the parents before the child is born.
The Couvade is in existence among the Sea Dyaks, and there are many superstitions which impede and harass those who are about to become parents.
When it is known that a woman isenceinte, the following restrictions, binding on both husband and wife, come into force, and have to be observed until the child has cut its first teeth. The parents may not cut creepers that hang over the water or over the path, lest the mother should suffer from hæmorrhage after delivery. They may not cut anything in the shape of cloth, cotton, etc., nor lay hold of the handle of a knife or chopper, nor bind up anything into a parcel; nor may they dam a stream to set up a fish-trap, or plait the rattan for fixing the adze.They must under no circumstances tie up anything with a string, or drive a nail into a board. Neither parent may eat anything while in the act of walking. If the neighbour in the next room should hand anything through the small window in the partition wall, the hand that receives it must not be passed through the window, so as to be on the other side in the next room, but must be kept on its own side of the wall. The man may not nail up a wall or fasten together the planks of a boat. Nor must he plant a post in the earth, nor dig a trench. Plaiting a basket or mat-work must not be done by the woman. It is unfortunate if the cord of the water-gourd, used by the women, break when carrying water, but in case of such an accident, evil consequences may be averted if the woman step astride over the gourd or other vessel three times backwards and forwards. To do any of these forbidden things would hinder the wife’s parturition.
There are many prohibitions which, if disregarded by the parents, would result in some harm to the child. They must not pour out oil, lest the child should suffer from inflammation of the ears; or fix the sword (duku) in its hilt, lest the child be deaf; or break an egg, lest the child be blind; or plant a banana-tree, lest the head of the child should be abnormally large; or kill any animal, lest the child be deformed or its nose bleed; or scrape the shell of a cocoanut, lest the child’s hair should not grow. It is also forbidden to eat anything in a mosquito curtain, lest the child should be still-born; to carry stones, lest the child should be paralyzed; to bend into a circle any piece of wood, lest the child should not prosper.
There are a great many other matters of a similar sort forbidden, but in the case of nearly all their restrictions, there are ways by which they can be circumvented,and no evil effects follow. For instance, the mother may do basket-work and make mats, provided some other woman begin the work for her, and the man may dig trenches or erect a hut provided the hands of others are first laid to it. A man may not kill an animal yet, if he does kill anything, and runs away and then returns a few minutes afterwards, and makes some remark like this aloud, “I wonder who killed this animal?” he has nothing to fear.
These curious restrictions are more or less similar among the different tribes. It is probable that they are founded on some theory of sympathy. Man, woman, and unborn or newborn babe are all linked together by some unseen bond, and, accordingly, the wrong action of one may result in harm to the others.
The whole period of a woman’s pregnancy is passed in fear lest the spirits (antu) should do harm to her or her unborn babe. If the mother has a bad dream or hears a bird of ill omen, at once a fowl is sacrificed to propitiate the spirits.
Should the husband wilfully violate any of the restrictions, the wife’s relations immediately bring him to justice, and, according to Dyak law, he has to pay a fine.
Some years ago Bishop Hose, accompanied by a missionary, visited Ginsurai, one of the villages in the Saribas. The Christians there had built for themselves a small chapel, where services were held. In the evening, when the Dyaks were sitting together in theruaiof the Dyak house talking to the Bishop and his companion, the question arose as to whether the attending of public worship should be included among the many restrictions imposed upon a pregnant woman. The wife of the headmanin the house was a great invalid, and she gave her opinion on the matter. “I think,” she said, “a woman in that state should be allowed to come to public worship. It is just the time she needs it most. You men have so much to engage your attention, and go out to your work. I am an invalid, and am left at home ill. I often go by myself into our little chapel and say the Lord’s Prayer, and I find it is a great consolation to me. A pregnant woman, who is perhaps feeling ill and low-spirited, ought to be allowed to join in public prayers.” Not so very long after she spoke in this way this woman, Manja’s wife, died. Let us hope that there are many others in Borneo who, like herself, have learnt to rely on a Higher Power in time of need.
When the time of delivery is near, and the woman is in travail, two or three older women come in and attend to her.
Should any difficulty occur in the delivery of the child themanangs, or witch-doctors, are called in. One takes charge of the proceedings in the lying-in room, while the others remain outside in theruai, or common veranda. Themananginside the room winds a loop of cloth around the woman above the womb. One of themanangsoutside wraps his body around in the same manner, but first places within the folds of a cloth a large stone. A long incantation is then sung by themanangsoutside, while the one within the room strives to force the child downward, and so hasten delivery. If he succeed in doing this, he draws down upon it the loop of cloth, and twists it tightly around the mother’s body, so as to prevent the upward return of the child. A shout from him proclaims his success to his companions outside, and themanangwho is personating the mother moves the loop of clothwhich contains the stone and encircles his body a stage downwards, in imitation of what has been done to the mother in the room. So the matter proceeds until the child is born, or until all concerned become assured of the fruitlessness of their efforts.
Fortunately for Dyak mothers, difficulties of this sort seldom occur. Delivery is generally very easy. The mother may often be seen sitting up with her back to the fire half an hour after her child is born, looking none the worse for what she has gone through, and before a week she will probably be back at her work as usual.
As soon as the child is born, a signal is given either by beating a bamboo with a stick or by striking a brass gong to announce the event. Then a fowl is waved over the heads of all present, including the infant and his mother. The fowl is killed and the blood smeared on the foreheads of those present. It is afterwards cooked and eaten by the parents of the child and any friends that may be present.
The mother has a poultice of ground ginger placed on her abdomen, and is bandaged and made to sit up with her back to the fire, and she is given an unlimited amount of ginger-tea to drink. Her poultice is changed once a day. The infant is washed, and a compound of betel-nut and pepper leaf, which has been chewed in the mouth, is placed on its stomach, and a binder tied round it. It is then made to lie on the spathe of a betel-nut palm, a cloth is put round it, and a Dyak sheet hung over it.
Until a civilized Government interfered to prevent such atrocious murders, there used to be a custom among the Dyaks that, if the mother died in giving birth to her child, the babe should pay the penalty and be buried with the mother. The reasons given by them for thiscruel act being, that it was the cause of the mother’s death, and that there was no one to nurse and care for it. No woman would dare to suckle such an orphan, lest it should bring misfortune upon her own children. Therefore the poor child was very often placed alive in the coffin with the dead mother, and both were buried together. This was the old Dyak custom, but it is a long time since it has been carried out. I have myself known many cases among the Dyaks when, the mother having died in child-birth, the orphan has been adopted and brought up by some friend or relative.
During the first three days the child receives its bath in a wooden vessel in the house, but on the fourth day it is taken to the river. Some ceremonies attend its first bath in the river. An old man of some standing, who has been successful in all he has undertaken, is asked to bathe the child. He wades into the river holding the child in his arms. A fowl is killed on the bank, a wing is cut off, and if the child be a boy, this wing is stuck upon a spear, and if a girl, it is fixed to the shuttle used to pass between the threads in weaving, and this is erected on the bank, and the blood allowed to drop into the stream as an offering to propitiate the spirits supposed to inhabit the waters, and to insure that, at any rate, no accident by water shall happen to the child. The remainder of the fowl is taken back to the house, cooked and eaten.
At some period after the child’s birth—it may be within a few weeks, or it may be deferred for years—a ceremony is gone through in which the gods are invoked to grant the child health and wealth, and success in all his undertakings. The ceremony is generally postponed for some years if the parents are poor, in order to enable them to save a little to pay for the entertainment of theirfriends and relations on the occasion. Where the parents are better off, the ceremony is held a few weeks after the birth of the child. Several witch-doctors are asked to take part in this performance. A portion of the long open veranda of the Dyak house is screened off by large, hand-woven Dyak sheets (puah), and within these the mother sits with her child in her arms. The medicine men walk round and round, singing some incantation. Generally there is a leader, who sings by himself for a few minutes; then he pauses, and turns round to his followers, and they all sing in chorus. Then the leader sings by himself again, and so on. They all walk round, first turning their feet to the right and stamping on the floor, then pausing a moment and turning their feet to the left, still stamping. This ceremony begins in the evening, and goes on for several hours. When it is over, food is brought out to the assembled guests, and all partake of the provided feast.
The proceedings differ very much according to the wealth and standing of the parents. Among the poor it is a very quiet affair—two or three witch-doctors attend, and only the near relatives of the child are present. On the other hand, among those who are rich, this ceremony is made the occasion of holding a great feast, and inviting people from all parts to attend. Pigs and fowls are killed for food. Jars oftuak(a spirit obtained from rice) are brought forth for the guests to drink, and all are invited to rejoice with the parents.
The naming of the child is not made the occasion for any ceremonies, and it is not unusual to meet children of seven or eight years old who have not yet received a name. They are known by some pet name, or are calledendun(little girl), origat, oranggat(little boy).
Dyak ChildrenThe figure on the right is a boy, the other five are girls. The children are fond of games, and are generally expert swimmers, but they have to make themselves useful, and help their parents very early in life. Dyak parents are very kind to their children, who, as a rule, return the affection, and do as they are told from a desire to please them.
Dyak Children
The figure on the right is a boy, the other five are girls. The children are fond of games, and are generally expert swimmers, but they have to make themselves useful, and help their parents very early in life. Dyak parents are very kind to their children, who, as a rule, return the affection, and do as they are told from a desire to please them.
Even when a name is given to a child, it is often changed for some reason or other. The Dyaks have a great objection to uttering the name of a dead person, so if the namesake of a child dies, at once a new name is chosen. Again, if a child is liable to frequent attacks of illness, it is no uncommon thing for parents to change the name two or three times in the course of a year. The reason for this is that all sickness and death is supposed to be caused by evil spirits, who are put off the scent by this means. When they come to take the child’s soul away, they do not hear his old name uttered any more, and so they conclude he no longer exists, and return without him!
The Dyaks are very fond of children, and treat them very kindly. They rarely, if ever, punish them. The children have a great deal of liberty, but are not often unruly, disobedient, or disrespectful. They are, as a rule, very fond of their parents, and when they grow older, do as they are told from a desire to please them.
The girls like to help their mothers in the work of the house, and become useful at an early age. The boys also begin to work early, and are often seen accompanying their fathers when they work on their farms. A boy is very proud when he has succeeded in making his first dug-out canoe, which he sometimes does at fifteen. He can at this age join a party working in the jungle and collecting gutta-percha, canes, and other jungle produce, and he receives an equal share with the adult members of the party. The boys generally bring back what money they earn in this way, and give it to their parents.
Dyak children have not many toys. Little girls are sometimes seen with rudely carved wooden dolls, and little boys play with models of boats. The boys are fond of spinning-tops, which they make for themselves.
Though the Dyaks marry young, they do not have large families. It is not often that one meets a family of over three or four children, and I have only known of one case where a woman had seven children. The conditions are favourable, one would think, to a rapid increase of population. They have plenty of good plain food, and the climate is healthy. There are none of the principal checks to population mentioned by Malthus among savage nations—starvation, disease, war, infanticide, or immorality. What, then, is the cause of the small number of births? Climate and race may have something to do with it, but I think the main cause of it is the infertility of the women. This is no doubt brought about by the hard work they do, and the heavy loads they often carry. A Dyak woman sometimes spends the whole day in the field, and carries home at night a heavy load, often walking for several miles over hilly paths. In addition to this, she has to pound the rice, a work which strains every muscle of the body. I have often been told by Dyak women that the hardest work they have to do is this rice-pounding. This kind of hard labour begins at an early age, and never ceases until the woman is too old or too weak to work. Need we wonder, then, at the limited number of her children?
Up-country mission schools—Education—The Saribas Dyaks eager to learn—School programme—What the boys were taught—Some schoolboy reminiscences—A youthful Dyakmanang—The story of Buda—The opening of the Krian Mission and the Saribas Mission.
In this chapter I want to say something about the little school of Dyak boys I had in the up-country mission station in my charge. My school was a very small one. The largest number of boarders I ever had was sixteen. It would seem hardly necessary to devote a whole chapter to it, but the up-country school is an important factor for good, and deserves encouragement. I should like to see more of these schools in different parts of the country. I feel sure that it does a Dyak boy a great deal of good to be a few years in one of these small schools under the personal supervision of the missionary in charge. Here he would do much manual work, just as he would do in his own home, and he would at the same time be taught moral truths as well as general knowledge. When he returns to his Dyak home, he is sure to influence his people for good. The object of education is to build up character. The way to improve the Dyaks is not to educate a certain number of them to earn their living elsewhere, but to take some young people from the Dyak village, improve them by implanting in their minds rightideas, and then send them back to live with their own people the ordinary work-a-day life of the Dyak. I agree with those who say that to place Dyak boys in one of the larger schools in Kuching for any length of time will make a return to their old surroundings distasteful to them, and unfit them for the ordinary life and occupations of their people. And therefore I think that only those who show a special aptitude to become teachers should be sent on to the school at the capital to be taught to read and write English. A certain number of clerks are needed, but that number is very limited, and to produce a large number of Dyak clerks for whom there is not sufficient work is surely a mistake. There are some who advocate technical education for the Dyak. No doubt he would with training make an excellent carpenter or smith, but again he would find difficulty in getting work. He would never be able to compete with the Chinese artisan into whose hands all the skilled labour has fallen.
The main object of my school in the jungle was to teach Dyak boys for a few years, and then send them back to their own people. Unfortunately, I had not the means to carry this out to any great extent.
A few of my schoolboys, after being with me for some time, were sent on to the larger school at Kuching to be taught English. These were the boys who one hoped would in after years become teachers and catechists. There is so little Dyak literature that it is necessary that a person learn English so as to be able to educate himself by reading English books. But the majority of my boys stayed with me for two, three, or four years, and then returned to their Dyak homes. In my school there was manual work as well as lessons to do. They lived plainly,cooking their own food and doing most of their own work. They were cut away from all the superstitious customs of their people, and received a certain amount of moral and religious training. After three or four years of such school life they were ready to return to their old surroundings, taking with them the lessons they had learnt.
For the present, at any rate, there is no need for the Dyak to take up new industries. What he wants is to be taught to do the work he has to do more thoroughly, and to be released from the bondage of superstition and the constant fear of evil spirits in which he lives. The problem of his future will work itself out by a natural process. When the present sources of supply fail him, necessity will force him to take up new industries.
My schoolboys came from different Dyak villages, but the majority of them were boys from Saribas. The Dyaks of that district are more anxious to improve themselves than other Dyak races. The following incident will show how keen they are to learn to read. A party of Saribas Dyaks going on a gutta-hunting expedition asked for a copy of the first Dyak reading-book, because one of them could read, and thought he would teach the others in the evenings when they were not at work. And this is indeed what did happen, and when the party returned most of them were able to read. The Saribas women are just as keen as the men, and many of them have been taught to read by some Dyak friend. I have myself noticed, when holding services for the Christians in some villages in Saribas, how many of those present were able to use the Dyak Prayer-Book and follow the service and read the responses.
A Dyak schoolmaster, who had taught in Banting for many years, afterwards worked as the Government clerkat Betong in Saribas. He told me that he was struck by the number of Dyak men and women in Saribas who could write, and how they often wrote letters to their friends who were away, and received letters from them.
The school programme for the day was as follows:
5.45a.m.—The two boys whose turn it was to cook, and the two boys whose turn it was to sweep out the school-room and the lower room of the Mission House, would get up and begin their duties.
6.30a.m.—A gong would be struck telling the boys to come to breakfast. They would all go to the kitchen and have their meal, consisting of rice with a little salt fish or vegetables.
7a.m.—The boys would be told what manual work they had to do: either they would weed the paths, or cut the grass, or work at their different vegetable gardens. Sometimes they would go out into the jungle to get firewood. At Temudok, where the soil was good, the schoolboys had excellent vegetable gardens.
8.30a.m.—A gong would be struck to let them know they were to stop working and have a bath, after which, at 8.45a.m., there would be a short service.
9-11a.m.—Morning school.
12noon.—Midday meal.
2-4p.m.—Afternoon school.
5p.m.—Evensong, to which some of the Dyaks from the village would come.
6p.m.—Evening meal.
7-8p.m.—Preparation for next day’s lessons.
9p.m.—Two or three short prayers and one verse of a children’s evening hymn, after which the boys would go to bed.
On Saturdays there was no school. The boys did their washing on that day, and often went into the jungle for firewood, but they had most of the day for play.
The children were taught to read and write Dyak, and a little arithmetic. They were also taught the elements of the Christian religion. They were always encouraged to ask the schoolmaster or myself any questions they liked. I have learned from conversations I had with my boys what were the special points in Christianity that needed explanation to Dyaks. Living with me as they did, I got to know my boys very well, and through them I learnt to know their parents and friends. They did not have many lessons to learn; there was plenty of time for play and work. It was not so much what they learnt from books that did the boys good, as their being separated for a time from the customs and superstitions of the Dyaks. We have had many instances of families becoming Christian through some children of theirs coming to school.
Most of the boys in the school were Christians, but all, whether Christians or not, attended the services and were taught about God. Some of the bigger heathen boys, after being in the school some time, have asked to be baptized.
The following schoolboy reminiscences may be of interest to my readers:—
When I was visiting the different villages in the Saribas River and teaching the people in the evening in the public hall of the Dyak house, very often some boys would say they would like to join my school. Then I would speak to their parents, and if they agreed to it these boys would go back with me on my return to the Mission House and attend my school.
I must relate an incident which occurred when I was stationed at Temudok on the Krian River. I paid my usual quarterly visit to Saribas, and when I was at Stambak a boy named Usat, about twelve years old, said he would like to attend my school. In the evening, when we were seated on mats in the public part of the house, the headman, who was a great warrior, and had a very gruff manner, said to me:—
“I hear you are thinking of taking Usat to your school. His brother is here, but he is a fool and cannot speak, so I will speak for him. I should not advise you to take Usat. He is a bad boy, and never obeys his elders. Why, one day he took a knife and wanted to attack me! Of course, if you wish to take a boy of that kind with you, you can, but I have warned you.”
Usat was himself present and heard all this, but said nothing. I said to him: “If you come with me to school you must do what you are told; I don’t want disobedient boys.” He made no reply.
Later on in the evening, when I was returning to my boat, I heard a pattering of feet behind me on the log which formed the path. Turning round, I saw it was Usat, who had followed me, and wanted to say something to me.
“If you take me with you,” he said, “I will do as I am told.”
I liked his looks, as he seemed bright and intelligent, so I told him I would call for him in about ten days’ time, when I had visited the other Saribas villages, and was on my way back to Temudok, and if his parents consented to his going to school, he could accompany me.
He was waiting for me on my return from up-river, andI took him in my boat to Temudok, where he soon made friends with the other boys. He was full of fun and mischief, but very frank and open, and we all liked him very much.
After he had been with me about three weeks, four Dyaks came overland from Stambak. They said they had been sent by Usat’s parents and friends, who felt certain that the boy must have given a great deal of trouble, and that I was anxious to get rid of him, and so they had come to fetch him home. I told them the boy was happy enough, and that I did not want to send him back, so they returned without him. I do not know what they said about the boy, but, anyhow, he was allowed to stay at my school for over two years, when his parents wished him to return to help them in their work.
A little boy from Seblak, a branch of the Krian River, came to me at Temudok, and asked to be admitted into my school. There were no Christians in the village where he lived, but his brother, who was in the Government employ at Kabong as a fortman, had heard of my school. Belawan was not a particularly sharp boy, but he was very strong for his age and a very good wrestler. Nothing gave him greater pleasure than to wrestle and beat a boy older than himself. He stayed at my school a little over two years. I have never done any missionary work on the Seblak River, but I am glad Belawan came to my school, because I learnt from him what absurd ideas the people at Seblak had of the missionary and the Mission House. One thing he said was that there was a general idea among some of the people that I had a roomful ofantu(evil spirits) in the Mission House, and he said that was one reason why for a long time he hesitated about joiningthe school at Temudok! Seblak is rather out of the usual beat, and the Dyaks there do not come into contact with missionaries, and I was not at all surprised that the people of that district should have absurd ideas. I hope later on, when missionary work is begun in Seblak, the fact that Belawan stayed for two years in my house will have helped to pave the way for a kind reception of the missionary.
I was once returning to Temudok from a visit to the Saribas River, and as usual had in my boat a few Dyak schoolboys who had been on a visit to their friends at Saribas. We had had a tiring day, and my boat got to Kabong—the mouth of the Krian River—at about 7 p.m. The boatmen had not had their evening meal, and everybody was tired and hungry. I was going to spend the night at the Fort, so the men and boys carried from the boat such things as I might require. When everything I needed had been brought to the Fort, one of the schoolboys, Saran, said to me:—
“There is a Malay boy on the beach who says he would like to fight me. If you give me leave, I should be glad to fight him.”
“What do you want to fight for at this hour?” I said. “You are all tired and hungry. The best thing for you to do is to have your dinner.”
“The Malay boy was very cheeky,” Saran went on to say; “he shook his fist at me, and said I was afraid of him. I should like to give him a thrashing.”
“Very well,” I said; “go and fight him if you like, but don’t come back whining to me and say you are hurt.”
About half an hour afterwards Saran returned very pleased with himself. It seems that when the Malay boysaw Saran meant business, he took to his heels, and my schoolboy had the pleasure of chasing him to the Malay village. Though he did not have his fight, he had the pleasure of feeling he had defeated the enemy. I mention this little incident to show how very much like other boys the Dyaks are, and how my schoolboy was ready for a fight even though he was tired and hungry.
When stationed at Temudok, I used to visit the Christians on the Budu River—a branch of the Krian River—and I had there a little native-built hut, where I used to live for a week or so. The boys and girls there were very anxious to learn, so I got some slates for them. In the evenings there used to be about a dozen boys and girls in my room learning to read and write. It was amusing to see what they did when they wanted a slate pencil. They would go to the shingly bed of the river a few yards away, and pick up a long thin bit of slate, and rub it against some other stone till it was the right shape to be used as a pencil.
One day I went with my Catechist, Tujoh, and two schoolboys, who had accompanied me from my Mission School at Temudok, overland to a long Dyak house higher up the Budu River. A boy about fourteen years old was pointed out to me there, and I was told that he was amanang, or witch-doctor. I had never seen anybody as young as that acting as amanang, and knowing what a great deal of deceit is practised by the Dyak witch-doctor, there was to me something very sad in the thought of this young boy doing such work. I was also curious to know what led him to become amanang, so I spoke to him, and told him that if he cared to pay a visit to Temudok, or to come to school there, he would bewelcome. After some little discussion, his parents allowed him to come with me on a visit, and later on the boy, whose name was Ambu, was allowed to attend my school. I found out from him that he understood very little of the doings of the witch-doctors. There were very fewmanangsnear his village, and there was a difficulty in getting more than two or three to take part in their ceremonies over the sick, so Ambu was persuaded to join them and walk round when incantations were made. While the other Dyak doctors were well paid, Ambu received some trifle for his part in the proceedings. Ambu stayed with me nearly a year, and then returned to his people. I had a long talk with him before he went back about the work of themanangs. I said that my advice to him was not to have anything to do with their ceremonies for the next few years. If, when he was old enough to judge for himself, he still wished to be amanang, he could do so, but in the meantime he had better follow the advice of one who was older than himself, and knew something of the deceit of themanangs. I lost sight of Ambu soon after his return to his people, because the house was broken up, and the inmates moved to some distant part.
I conclude this rambling chapter with the romantic but true story of how one of the most influential native Catechists became a Christian through seeing the missionary teaching some boys in an up-country Mission School.