CHAPTERXXIV.RECOLLECTIONS OF CHEUNG MAI.Myfriends often say to me, “Tell us something about Laos, where you lived when a child.” Listen, then, to a few of the things I remember about Cheung Mai, the people who live in it and some of their customs.The province of Cheung Mai is the largest of the six Laos kingdoms, and is tributary to Siam. As no census is taken amongst this people, the population cannot be accurately stated, but it is supposed by some of the missionaries to be about eighty thousand. On the map which accompanies this book you will see that the capital city, Cheung Mai, is in latitude 18°48′north, and on the west branch of the Menam River; but the map will not tell you that its suburbs extend for some distance up and down each side of the river. In America the cities have no walls around them, but, like most Eastern cities, Cheung Mai is surrounded by high and thick brick walls, which in many places, however, have gone to ruin. When there is a rumor of war the king issues a decree that every man shall bring a teak log to repair the breaches in the wall. It was on the pretext that our two Laos Christians had disobeyed this command that they were arrested and so cruelly put to death.You may be interested in what Sir Robert Schomburg says about the streets of Cheung Mai: “The streets of this city have been (originally) laid out at right angles. Time, it seems, has worked changes with regard to their regularity; nevertheless, I have not seen any other Siamese city laid out apparently so regularly at its foundation as Cheung Mai appears to have been.” If you could walk about the streets of the city you would see, instead of our Christian churches, very manywats, or temples, and theprachadeeswhich seem peculiar to Cheung Mai. Again we quote Schomburg: “‘We pray to Guadama (or Buddh) on passing aprachadee,’ said a Laos. ‘They were built in memory of him and his divine acts, and some of his doctrines are written on tablets.’ These remarkable towerlets are only cased with brickwork and filled up with soil. They are plastered on the outside, are of pyramidal shape and terminate at the summit in a sharp-pointed spire.” Most of them are now in a state of decay, and are covered with vines and other vegetation. You would see no floating houses in Cheung Mai, as in Bangkok. The houses in the city are built far enough apart to afford space for the cultivation of flowers, for which the Laos have a great fondness. If the space is not large enough, they must still have flowers, so they cultivate house-plants. As temples are built of brick, it would “offend the spirits” to use brick for dwelling-houses, and teak-wood or bamboo is used instead. The bamboo houses of the Laos peasantry are roofed with thatch, the walls are made of bamboo matting and the floor of bamboo reeds, cut open so as to lie flat on the sills. Not a nail is used in such a house, but everything is secured with bamboo or ratan withes. Teak is the most durable wood we have, the houses built of it being the most substantial. These houses are covered with burnt tiles, and are more securely and closely built than the bamboo houses. All houses are built on posts several feet from the ground, and the teak houses have verandas, while the bamboo houses have open courts. The king has, however, built a new palace, and as it is a distant imitation of foreign houses which he has seen in Bangkok, it is in great advance of all others in Cheung Mai.If a stranger should enter the eastern gate in the morning, his attention would be attracted by a large concourse of women, who seem to be dressed alike, as all wear skirts with horizontal stripes and have their shining black hair combed straight back and looped into a beautiful knot, which needs no pin to secure it. In this market very few men are to be seen; the women dress as do the Siamese men. Each market-woman carries everything in two large neat baskets, which are suspended from each end of a long, flat, flexible bamboo stick which lies on her shoulder. Some of these women are seated on mats, with market-baskets at their sides, while others are hurrying hither and thither. On the right side of the street is a woman in whose baskets are vegetables, for which she wishes salt in exchange. Over on the other side of the street is a woman with rice to sell, but she prefers silver. Silver is superseding salt as a medium of exchange. By her side is another woman with bouquets of flowers, for which she finds a ready sale; the purchasers carefully wrap them in banana-leaves, and after sprinkling a little water over them deposit them in a cool place until evening. Late in the afternoon the owner, if a lady, will appear with the flowers tastefully arranged in her hair, while a gentleman would wear his blossom in a hole in the lobe of his ear.Unless the market-women have been successful in their business they do not leave the market until the increasing heat of the sun reminds them that it is time to retrace their steps homeward. Should you wish to accompany one of these women home, she would make you heartily welcome. On reaching the house you would first ascend several steps to the front veranda, which is usually, but not always, covered. From this veranda you would enter the front room or open court, where the daughter of the house spreads a clean mat on the floor for you and gives you a large three-cornered pillow on which you may rest one of your elbows. As a mark of hospitality a tray or box of betel-nut and seri-leaf will be set before you, and the invitation given to help yourself. Though you decline, you will be interested in watching those who may be seated beside you preparing their quid. The seri- or betel-leaf is taken first, and its tip overlaid with a minute quantity of slaked lime; then a pinch of finely-cut tobacco, a piece of cutch the size of a pea and the fourth of a dried areca-nut are wrapped in the seri-leaf, completing the mixture, which is chewed with evident enjoyment. To foreigners this is a very offensive custom, but so universal is it among both old and young that a box of these ingredients is carried with them in a bag suspended from the shoulders.Should a member of the family be sick, you might be invited nominally to see her, but you may be assured that you would have more occasion to use your ears than your eyes, for the only window in the room is a round hole about three inches in diameter and several feet from the floor. The mattress is placed on the floor and surrounded by thick mosquito-netting, through which you would think it scarcely possible to breathe.In the kitchen the stove consists of a wooden frame about four feet square and six inches high, filled with earth or sand. On this are placed three stones or bricks as rests for the pots, and between them the fire is kindled. As there is neither pipe nor chimney, the smoke is suffered to make its escape through openings as best it may, and if it is a bamboo house there is little difficulty. In the dry season cooking is often done in the yard.Setting the table is not a laborious process. The table is round, about a foot and a half in diameter and six inches high. When meal-time arrives the table is taken down from its shelf and placed on the floor, and by it the tall, slender basket of steamed glutinous rice. On the table is a bowl of curry, hot with pepper and other spices, a dish of pickled fish and some vegetables and fruit. Every member of the family dips his rice into the common bowl of curry; but if any is very fastidious he may have a dish of his own, but when he has finished his meal, in order to avoid being considered extremely lazy, he must wash his own dish.The women are not kept in bondage, as in China or India, but are a great power in the land; and the present queen has virtually the reins of government in her own hands, although her husband is the nominal head. She and her husband have always been friendly to the mission, and although the last persecution occurred since they came to the throne, it was carried on through the influence and power of the second king.As the queen walks out a maid walks behind, carrying over Her Majesty a large lined and fringed silk umbrella with silvered handle, which may be about six or eight feet long. Behind this maid is another, carrying a gold betel-nut box, while dozens of others follow her, all walking in single file, for two persons are never seen walking side by side. The queen has several times visited the missionaries in their homes. While she and the first maids-of-honor are quietly talking in a lady-like manner in the parlor, her more inquisitive servants are making a thorough examination of the house and what are, to them, its curious and strange contents. This annoyance does not arise from ignorance or lack of refinement of feeling among the people, but because there are about this court, as well as about every other court, undesirable satellites.Considering their disadvantages, the Laos are a remarkably refined race, as is shown by many of their customs. Should a person be telling another of the stream which he had crossed, and wished to say it was ankle-deep, as he would feel a delicacy in referring to his person, his expression would be, “I beg your pardon, but the water was ankle-deep.” If one wished to reach anything above another’s head, he would beg the latter’s pardon before raising his hand. A great and passionate love for flowers and music also indicates a delicacy of feeling. Although, before missionaries went there, the women did not know how to read, they were always trained to be useful in their homes, and a Laos girl who does not know how to weave her own dress is considered as ignorant as a girl in this country who does not know how to read.During the season of rice-planting and harvesting every member of the family works in the fields, and the baby is left at home under the care of the next oldest child. The children are thus early taught self-dependence, and a boy who here would be thought scarcely able to care for himself is expected, after the planting season, to take care of the buffaloes in the fields all day long. The Laos use buffaloes for ploughing, oxen for carrying rice, elephants for bearing other burdens and ponies for pleasure riding; in which latter only the gentlemen indulge, the ladies being debarred that pleasure. The motion of the elephant, which is the chief beast of burden, is a swaying one, but there is as much difference in the gait of elephants as in the gait of horses, and those with an easy gait always command very high prices. The top of a howdah, or elephant’s saddle, is very much like that of a buggy, and the seat is not unlike the buggy-seat; the difference being that there is a railing in front which extends a third of the way across from each side, leaving an opening in the centre. The person who is so fortunate as to secure the middle seat is as comfortable as though seated in a chair, having the elephant’s back as a footstool, but those sitting on either side have to assume the position taken when seated on the floor. The howdahs for carrying burdens have no coverings.It is exceedingly interesting to watch the elephants when drawing logs from the river. The teak logs are floated down from the forests, and the elephants haul them on to land. An elephant is chained to a log, which he drags to its destination, and after he is unchained he quietly picks up his chain and walks to the river again. After bringing up the logs he is very careful that they shall lie entirely even, and if any end projects he pushes it with his tusks until his trained eye can see no fault. The air with which he moves back and forth from the river is very amusing; he seems to say, “I understand my business.” The baby-elephant is a most mischievous creature, and is the horror of market-women, because he often insists upon meddling with the contents of their baskets.The holiday which most interests the missionaries’ children is the New Year, when all, and especially the young, give themselves up to a peculiar form of merry-making consisting in giving every one a shower. Armed with buckets of water and bamboo reeds, by which they can squirt the water some distance, these people place themselves at the doors and gates and on the streets, ready to give any passer-by a drenching, marking out as special victims those who are foolish enough to wear good clothes on such a day. It is most amusing to watch them, after exhausting their supply of water, hasten to the river or well and run back, fearing the loss of one opportunity. Sometimes several torrents are directed to one poor individual; then, after the drenching, shouts of laughter fill the air. On this day the king and his court, with a long retinue of slaves, go to the river. Some of the attendants carry silver or brass basins filled with water perfumed with some scented shrub or flower. When the king reaches the river’s brink he goes a few steps into the water, where he takes his stand, while the princes and nobles surround him. The perfumed water is then poured on the king’s head, afterward on the heads of the nobles, and they plunge into the river with noisy splashings and laughter. The custom is also observed in families. A basin of water is poured on the head of the father, mother and grandparents by the eldest son or by some respected member of the family. This ceremony has some religious significance, being symbolical of blessings and felicity; a formula of prayer accompanies the ceremony in each case.There is a mountain about five miles from Cheung Mai on whose summit is said to be a large footprint of Buddha; hence it is sacred ground, and over it has been built a temple. Into the room over that sacred spot none but priests are allowed to enter. When passing on the streets, it is sad to hear the priests repeating their prayers, which are literally “vain repetitions,” “for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking.” Besides the worship of Buddha, and in seeming opposition to it, are the worship of evil spirits and the belief in witchcraft. If a person is sick it must be ascertained who is the person in whom resides the spirit that caused the sickness. When found, he and his family are banished to a distant province and his house and goods burned. This is a sure method of wreaking vengeance on an enemy; if the sick has no grudge against any one, and is averse to accusing his neighbors, he is beaten until the spirit within him permits him to reveal the secret. A widow and two sons, thus accused, sought the protection of the mission, and were allowed to remain on the mission-compound. They have since become Christians, and the two boys are in school expecting to study for the ministry. This experiment has since been tried several times by the missionaries, and always with success, as the natives do not now dare to meddle with those under the protection of foreign residents. Has not evil in this case been turned into a means of good? These people are thus brought into daily contact with the missionaries and constantly hear the gospel preached. So great is the Laos superstition that after one of the missionaries had taken with him one of these boys to a village on a missionary-tour, the request came from the villagers that next time the boy be left at home, because he caused sickness in the village. The answer was given that he had been with the missionaries a long time and had done no harm. “Oh, well,” said they, “the spirits are afraid of you foreigners, and when the boys go into your yard the spirits climb up the tamarind trees by your gate and wait until they again leave your yard, when the spirits enter them again.”
Myfriends often say to me, “Tell us something about Laos, where you lived when a child.” Listen, then, to a few of the things I remember about Cheung Mai, the people who live in it and some of their customs.
The province of Cheung Mai is the largest of the six Laos kingdoms, and is tributary to Siam. As no census is taken amongst this people, the population cannot be accurately stated, but it is supposed by some of the missionaries to be about eighty thousand. On the map which accompanies this book you will see that the capital city, Cheung Mai, is in latitude 18°48′north, and on the west branch of the Menam River; but the map will not tell you that its suburbs extend for some distance up and down each side of the river. In America the cities have no walls around them, but, like most Eastern cities, Cheung Mai is surrounded by high and thick brick walls, which in many places, however, have gone to ruin. When there is a rumor of war the king issues a decree that every man shall bring a teak log to repair the breaches in the wall. It was on the pretext that our two Laos Christians had disobeyed this command that they were arrested and so cruelly put to death.
You may be interested in what Sir Robert Schomburg says about the streets of Cheung Mai: “The streets of this city have been (originally) laid out at right angles. Time, it seems, has worked changes with regard to their regularity; nevertheless, I have not seen any other Siamese city laid out apparently so regularly at its foundation as Cheung Mai appears to have been.” If you could walk about the streets of the city you would see, instead of our Christian churches, very manywats, or temples, and theprachadeeswhich seem peculiar to Cheung Mai. Again we quote Schomburg: “‘We pray to Guadama (or Buddh) on passing aprachadee,’ said a Laos. ‘They were built in memory of him and his divine acts, and some of his doctrines are written on tablets.’ These remarkable towerlets are only cased with brickwork and filled up with soil. They are plastered on the outside, are of pyramidal shape and terminate at the summit in a sharp-pointed spire.” Most of them are now in a state of decay, and are covered with vines and other vegetation. You would see no floating houses in Cheung Mai, as in Bangkok. The houses in the city are built far enough apart to afford space for the cultivation of flowers, for which the Laos have a great fondness. If the space is not large enough, they must still have flowers, so they cultivate house-plants. As temples are built of brick, it would “offend the spirits” to use brick for dwelling-houses, and teak-wood or bamboo is used instead. The bamboo houses of the Laos peasantry are roofed with thatch, the walls are made of bamboo matting and the floor of bamboo reeds, cut open so as to lie flat on the sills. Not a nail is used in such a house, but everything is secured with bamboo or ratan withes. Teak is the most durable wood we have, the houses built of it being the most substantial. These houses are covered with burnt tiles, and are more securely and closely built than the bamboo houses. All houses are built on posts several feet from the ground, and the teak houses have verandas, while the bamboo houses have open courts. The king has, however, built a new palace, and as it is a distant imitation of foreign houses which he has seen in Bangkok, it is in great advance of all others in Cheung Mai.
If a stranger should enter the eastern gate in the morning, his attention would be attracted by a large concourse of women, who seem to be dressed alike, as all wear skirts with horizontal stripes and have their shining black hair combed straight back and looped into a beautiful knot, which needs no pin to secure it. In this market very few men are to be seen; the women dress as do the Siamese men. Each market-woman carries everything in two large neat baskets, which are suspended from each end of a long, flat, flexible bamboo stick which lies on her shoulder. Some of these women are seated on mats, with market-baskets at their sides, while others are hurrying hither and thither. On the right side of the street is a woman in whose baskets are vegetables, for which she wishes salt in exchange. Over on the other side of the street is a woman with rice to sell, but she prefers silver. Silver is superseding salt as a medium of exchange. By her side is another woman with bouquets of flowers, for which she finds a ready sale; the purchasers carefully wrap them in banana-leaves, and after sprinkling a little water over them deposit them in a cool place until evening. Late in the afternoon the owner, if a lady, will appear with the flowers tastefully arranged in her hair, while a gentleman would wear his blossom in a hole in the lobe of his ear.
Unless the market-women have been successful in their business they do not leave the market until the increasing heat of the sun reminds them that it is time to retrace their steps homeward. Should you wish to accompany one of these women home, she would make you heartily welcome. On reaching the house you would first ascend several steps to the front veranda, which is usually, but not always, covered. From this veranda you would enter the front room or open court, where the daughter of the house spreads a clean mat on the floor for you and gives you a large three-cornered pillow on which you may rest one of your elbows. As a mark of hospitality a tray or box of betel-nut and seri-leaf will be set before you, and the invitation given to help yourself. Though you decline, you will be interested in watching those who may be seated beside you preparing their quid. The seri- or betel-leaf is taken first, and its tip overlaid with a minute quantity of slaked lime; then a pinch of finely-cut tobacco, a piece of cutch the size of a pea and the fourth of a dried areca-nut are wrapped in the seri-leaf, completing the mixture, which is chewed with evident enjoyment. To foreigners this is a very offensive custom, but so universal is it among both old and young that a box of these ingredients is carried with them in a bag suspended from the shoulders.
Should a member of the family be sick, you might be invited nominally to see her, but you may be assured that you would have more occasion to use your ears than your eyes, for the only window in the room is a round hole about three inches in diameter and several feet from the floor. The mattress is placed on the floor and surrounded by thick mosquito-netting, through which you would think it scarcely possible to breathe.
In the kitchen the stove consists of a wooden frame about four feet square and six inches high, filled with earth or sand. On this are placed three stones or bricks as rests for the pots, and between them the fire is kindled. As there is neither pipe nor chimney, the smoke is suffered to make its escape through openings as best it may, and if it is a bamboo house there is little difficulty. In the dry season cooking is often done in the yard.
Setting the table is not a laborious process. The table is round, about a foot and a half in diameter and six inches high. When meal-time arrives the table is taken down from its shelf and placed on the floor, and by it the tall, slender basket of steamed glutinous rice. On the table is a bowl of curry, hot with pepper and other spices, a dish of pickled fish and some vegetables and fruit. Every member of the family dips his rice into the common bowl of curry; but if any is very fastidious he may have a dish of his own, but when he has finished his meal, in order to avoid being considered extremely lazy, he must wash his own dish.
The women are not kept in bondage, as in China or India, but are a great power in the land; and the present queen has virtually the reins of government in her own hands, although her husband is the nominal head. She and her husband have always been friendly to the mission, and although the last persecution occurred since they came to the throne, it was carried on through the influence and power of the second king.
As the queen walks out a maid walks behind, carrying over Her Majesty a large lined and fringed silk umbrella with silvered handle, which may be about six or eight feet long. Behind this maid is another, carrying a gold betel-nut box, while dozens of others follow her, all walking in single file, for two persons are never seen walking side by side. The queen has several times visited the missionaries in their homes. While she and the first maids-of-honor are quietly talking in a lady-like manner in the parlor, her more inquisitive servants are making a thorough examination of the house and what are, to them, its curious and strange contents. This annoyance does not arise from ignorance or lack of refinement of feeling among the people, but because there are about this court, as well as about every other court, undesirable satellites.
Considering their disadvantages, the Laos are a remarkably refined race, as is shown by many of their customs. Should a person be telling another of the stream which he had crossed, and wished to say it was ankle-deep, as he would feel a delicacy in referring to his person, his expression would be, “I beg your pardon, but the water was ankle-deep.” If one wished to reach anything above another’s head, he would beg the latter’s pardon before raising his hand. A great and passionate love for flowers and music also indicates a delicacy of feeling. Although, before missionaries went there, the women did not know how to read, they were always trained to be useful in their homes, and a Laos girl who does not know how to weave her own dress is considered as ignorant as a girl in this country who does not know how to read.
During the season of rice-planting and harvesting every member of the family works in the fields, and the baby is left at home under the care of the next oldest child. The children are thus early taught self-dependence, and a boy who here would be thought scarcely able to care for himself is expected, after the planting season, to take care of the buffaloes in the fields all day long. The Laos use buffaloes for ploughing, oxen for carrying rice, elephants for bearing other burdens and ponies for pleasure riding; in which latter only the gentlemen indulge, the ladies being debarred that pleasure. The motion of the elephant, which is the chief beast of burden, is a swaying one, but there is as much difference in the gait of elephants as in the gait of horses, and those with an easy gait always command very high prices. The top of a howdah, or elephant’s saddle, is very much like that of a buggy, and the seat is not unlike the buggy-seat; the difference being that there is a railing in front which extends a third of the way across from each side, leaving an opening in the centre. The person who is so fortunate as to secure the middle seat is as comfortable as though seated in a chair, having the elephant’s back as a footstool, but those sitting on either side have to assume the position taken when seated on the floor. The howdahs for carrying burdens have no coverings.
It is exceedingly interesting to watch the elephants when drawing logs from the river. The teak logs are floated down from the forests, and the elephants haul them on to land. An elephant is chained to a log, which he drags to its destination, and after he is unchained he quietly picks up his chain and walks to the river again. After bringing up the logs he is very careful that they shall lie entirely even, and if any end projects he pushes it with his tusks until his trained eye can see no fault. The air with which he moves back and forth from the river is very amusing; he seems to say, “I understand my business.” The baby-elephant is a most mischievous creature, and is the horror of market-women, because he often insists upon meddling with the contents of their baskets.
The holiday which most interests the missionaries’ children is the New Year, when all, and especially the young, give themselves up to a peculiar form of merry-making consisting in giving every one a shower. Armed with buckets of water and bamboo reeds, by which they can squirt the water some distance, these people place themselves at the doors and gates and on the streets, ready to give any passer-by a drenching, marking out as special victims those who are foolish enough to wear good clothes on such a day. It is most amusing to watch them, after exhausting their supply of water, hasten to the river or well and run back, fearing the loss of one opportunity. Sometimes several torrents are directed to one poor individual; then, after the drenching, shouts of laughter fill the air. On this day the king and his court, with a long retinue of slaves, go to the river. Some of the attendants carry silver or brass basins filled with water perfumed with some scented shrub or flower. When the king reaches the river’s brink he goes a few steps into the water, where he takes his stand, while the princes and nobles surround him. The perfumed water is then poured on the king’s head, afterward on the heads of the nobles, and they plunge into the river with noisy splashings and laughter. The custom is also observed in families. A basin of water is poured on the head of the father, mother and grandparents by the eldest son or by some respected member of the family. This ceremony has some religious significance, being symbolical of blessings and felicity; a formula of prayer accompanies the ceremony in each case.
There is a mountain about five miles from Cheung Mai on whose summit is said to be a large footprint of Buddha; hence it is sacred ground, and over it has been built a temple. Into the room over that sacred spot none but priests are allowed to enter. When passing on the streets, it is sad to hear the priests repeating their prayers, which are literally “vain repetitions,” “for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking.” Besides the worship of Buddha, and in seeming opposition to it, are the worship of evil spirits and the belief in witchcraft. If a person is sick it must be ascertained who is the person in whom resides the spirit that caused the sickness. When found, he and his family are banished to a distant province and his house and goods burned. This is a sure method of wreaking vengeance on an enemy; if the sick has no grudge against any one, and is averse to accusing his neighbors, he is beaten until the spirit within him permits him to reveal the secret. A widow and two sons, thus accused, sought the protection of the mission, and were allowed to remain on the mission-compound. They have since become Christians, and the two boys are in school expecting to study for the ministry. This experiment has since been tried several times by the missionaries, and always with success, as the natives do not now dare to meddle with those under the protection of foreign residents. Has not evil in this case been turned into a means of good? These people are thus brought into daily contact with the missionaries and constantly hear the gospel preached. So great is the Laos superstition that after one of the missionaries had taken with him one of these boys to a village on a missionary-tour, the request came from the villagers that next time the boy be left at home, because he caused sickness in the village. The answer was given that he had been with the missionaries a long time and had done no harm. “Oh, well,” said they, “the spirits are afraid of you foreigners, and when the boys go into your yard the spirits climb up the tamarind trees by your gate and wait until they again leave your yard, when the spirits enter them again.”