My Friends the Savages
by Giovanni Battista Cerruti · English · Gutenberg #28189 · 416,297 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: My Friends the Savages
Author: Giovanni Battista Cerruti
Translator: I. Stone Sanpietro
Release date: February 25, 2009 [eBook #28189]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28189
Credits: Produced by A Project Gutenberg volunteer working with
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Archive
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY FRIENDS THE SAVAGES ***
Produced by A Project Gutenberg volunteer working with
digital material generously made available by the Internet
Archive
MY FRIENDS
THE SAVAGES
BY
Captain G. B. CERRUTI
TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN
BY I. STONE SANPIETRO
NOTES AND OBSERVATIONS OF A
PERAK SETTLER (MALAY PENINSULA).
RICHLY ILLUSTRATED WITH
ORIGINAL PHOTOGRAPHS TAKEN BY
THE AUTHOR.
COMO (Italy)
TIPOGRAFIA COOPERATIVA COMENSE
1908
_Every copy of this work not bearing the
author's signature will be retained by him
as an infringement of his rights._
[Signature of author]
These notes, the fruit of much
sacrifice, I dedicate to the memory
of my dear ones.
The fond embrace of parents and
a sister, which for me was a sweet
augury at my departure, greeted me
no more at my return!
_Varazze, June 1906._
[Transcriber's Note: This table of contents was originally at the end
of the book but has been moved here for the convenience of users.]
CONTENTS
Chapter I: Malacca and its contrasts--Devourers of
the soul and devourers of the body--The realization
of a poet's dream--Temptations--A call from the
forest--Auri sacra fames--Baggage--Farewell to
civilization _Page_ 5
Chapter II: My escort--By steamer to Telok Anson--The
other bank of the Perak--Towards the forest--First
news--Blood-letting in the swamp--Robbed and
forsaken--Revenge in due time--The Malay's
instigation--My little Sam Sam's fidelity--
Philosophical reflections under a heavy weight " 11
Chapter III: A fearful nocturnal concert--Fire!
Fire!--A clearing in the forest--A general
flight--Masters of the camp!--Mortal
weariness--A morning greeting without any
compliments--A first meeting--In the
village--_Alà_ against the Orang-putei " 22
Chapter IV: New friends--Gold--An English official--
The purchase of my future treasure--Administrative
simplicity--England teaches!--The "sla pui"--Bitter
disappointment--The Sam-Sam--The poison of the
Savage and the venom of the Civilized " 31
Chapter V: Great Mother Earth--A dangerous meeting--
A living statue--Here or there?--An unrelished
supper--A dreaded immigration--A glance into
the past--A rape which was not a rape--A noble
task--Towards the mountain--Tiger-shooting--The
Sakais in town--Alloyed sweets--Musical tastes--
Hurrah for the free forest! " 42
Chapter VI: The great Sorceress--The forest seen from
above--A struggle for life--The crimes of plants--
Everlasting twilight--Births and deaths--Concerts
by forest vocalists--The "durian"--The "ple-lok"--
Vastnesses unexplored by science--Treasures
intact--Para Rubber--The Samaritans of the
jungle--The forest and its history " 59
Chapter VII: The snares of civilized life--Faust's
invocation--The dangers of the forest--Serpents--
A perilous adventure--Carnivorous and herbivorous
animals--The "sladan"--The man of the wood " 75
Chapter VIII: An official appointment--A tour
of inspection--Lost in the forest--I find a
philosopher--Lycurgus and his laws--A contented
mind is a continual feast--A night among the
tigers--On the Berumbum--I sleep with a serpent--
The last of many--Safe from trap and arrow--The
coronation of King Edward VII " 85
Chapter IX: The origin of the Sakais--Hypothesis
and legend--Physical character--Thick tresses,
gay flowers and troublesome guests--Hereditary
antipathy--The five senses reduced to two--
Food and drink--Tranquil life--Intolerance of
authority--Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law--
Logical laziness--A Sakai journalist--The story
of a mattress " 107
Chapter X: The Sakai woman--Conjugal fidelity--A life
of labour--Betrothals and nuptials--Love among
the Sakais--Divorcement--No kissing--Chastity--
Bigamy--Maternity and its excesses--Aged before the
time--Fashion and coquetry " 125
Chapter XI: A Sakai village--The "elder"--The family--
Degrees of relationship--Humorists disoccupied--On
the march--Tender hearts--Kindling the fire--A
hecatomb of giants--The hut--Household goods and
utensils--Work and repose " 141
Chapter XII: Intellectual development--Sakais of the
plain and Sakais of the hills--Laziness and
intelligence--Falsehood and the Evil Spirit--
The Sakai language--When the "Orang Putei" gets
angry--Counting time--Novel calendars--Moral gifts " 152
Chapter XIII: First attempts at industry--The story of
a hat--Multiplicity--Primitive arts--Sakai music--
Songs--Instruments--Dances--Ball dresses--Serpentine
gracefulness--An unpublished Sakai song " 172
Chapter XIV: The beliefs and superstitions of the
Sakais--Metempsychosis--The Evil Spirit--
Superstition among savages and ignorance among
civilized people--The two sources of life--The
wind--The Alà priest and physician--A scientific
vigil--Venerable imposture!-_Tenac_ and _Cintok_--
Therapeutic torture--Contagion--A Sakai's
death--The deserted village--Mourning--Births--
Fire--Intellectual darkness--The Sakais and
Islamism " 183
Chapter XV: Sakai arms--Shooting--Serpent
catchers--The Sakai and his poisons--_Toalang_,
_rengas_ and _sagol_--_Slà dol_, _slà plek_
and _slà clob_--_Akar toka_--Ipok--An antidote--
The _labar_, _lampat_, _masè_ and _loo_--The
_legop_--The Mai Bretaks--The preparation of
_legop_--Curious and superfluous ingredients--The
effects of _legop_--Strange contradictions--
Experiments--Poisons and antidotes--The settler
and science " 202
Chapter XVI: Past and future geography--Mountains
and plateaus--An attempt at a census--Temperature--
Maladies and remedies--_Alà_ a quack. " 221
AMONG THE SAKAIS
CHAPTER I.
Malacca and its contrasts--Devourers of the soul and devourers of
the body--The realization of a poet's dream--Temptations--A call
from the forest--Auri sacra fames--Baggage--Farewell to
civilization.
From the Bay of Bengal and the Gulf of Siam the Malay Peninsula, once
known as the Golden Chersonese, jets out into the Indian Ocean like an
arm stretched forth to unite once more within its embrace the
innumerable isles that belt its coasts and that have probably been
severed from the mainland by the combined force of Time and Sea.
In these surrounding islands, some as large as continents, others as
narrow as reefs, over which civilization passes in squalls of cupidity,
are concealed the strangest contrasts, for whilst around the shore human
wolves disguised as civilized men are devouring souls, or (with due
observance of the law) are usurping and stealing their neighbour's
property and products, (the cleverest and most respected being he who
best dissembles his rapacity or who knows how best to substitute
unscrupulous shrewdness for industrial activity) not far off towards
the centre of these scattered lands other men, in primitive ignorance of
the law, are devouring their neighbours' flesh and skin or stealing
their live bodies to serve as slaves.
But such curious contrasts are not after all so very striking when one
considers that to devour souls and to devour flesh are both natural
instincts of Man!
Around the coast of the Peninsula are many flourishing towns where every
modern and up-to-date accommodation is to be found. These seaside
resorts are thronged with a cosmopolitan population composed of
tourists, business men, nabobs and adventurers. There life rolls on in
the refined corruption of fashionable society amidst sports and
amusements, scandals and intrigues, every race and every tongue
contributing its share of good and evil. A motley crowd swarms their
streets, presenting to the eye of an onlooker the picturesque spectacle
that the contrast of costumes always produces. They are people of
different colours, dress and education, attracted thither by the
loadstone of wealth. The fortunate, the clever, the unscrupulous have
already gained the victory in Life's struggles and now ride about in
motor-cars of the newest types; the others look at them, most likely
envy them, and work all the harder to get rich themselves. Will they
succeed? The way, here is a short one but can only be successfully
trodden by those who possess sound energy and blind confidence in their
own brains and in their own muscles. It must not be thought, however,
that the motor-car is a prerogative, in these parts, of opulent
Europeans and Chinese for it is also a powerful auxiliary for those who
are striving to make their fortunes through agricultural and mining
speculations in the wildest regions of the Peninsula.
But whilst near the sea the inhabitants and travellers can enjoy all the
luxuries and conveniences of the 20th century, in the interior of the
Peninsula, leading a nomadic life in the thick of the jungle, which
covers the range of mountains from north to south, a primitive people
still exists. All unconscious of the violent passions and turbulent
emotions that disturb the tranquillity of their fellow-creatures
(civilized in form if not in fact) at some miles distant from them, they
live quietly and peaceably in their forest homes preserving intact their
original simplicity and ingenuousness.
The hot breath of our fagging life, that generates every sort of nerve
complaint, has not yet reached their mountain haunts. On those wild
heights the nerves rest; the affections are not tormented; love is pure
and, for this, lasting; ambition neither perverts the mind, nor consumes
the conscience; there are no honours or favours to arouse envy; no
artificial boundaries to liberty or difficult problems about Capital and
Labour; there are no rich and no poor, for in that blessed spot money is
an unknown article and what is more--strange triumph of the Savage over
the Civilized--every man is a brother to the other!
Up there in the forest there are neither princes nor subjects;
Governments nor Police; no Tax-gatherers, public meetings or strikes so
that if Stecchetti[1] were still living he might have been sent among
the Sakais to find the ideal place of which he was always seeking the
address.
* * * * *
The 15th of June 1891 I landed at Penang (the Prince of Wales's Island)
on my return from an exploring tour in the Isle of Nias. I was feeling
rather worn out with the fatigues lately undergone so resolved to rest
awhile on British territory.
I had brought with me a rich and interesting ethnographical collection I
found no difficulty in selling to the Perak Government that destined it
to the Museum at Taiping, a small town where is the British Residence.
During my well-earned repose I often heard speak of the Mai Darats, a
tribe of Aborigines dwelling in the interior of the Peninsula and who
were called by the name of Sakais by the Malays, a scornful appellation
which signifies _a people of slaves_, and this insulting term is
explained by the fact that formerly their neighbours carried on an
extensive slave-trade by making them victims and also took advantage of
their simplicity and good faith in many other ways, until the British
Protectorate was established and these poor wandering tribes were put
upon a par with more civilized races.
I began to gather information concerning these wild men of the bush and
learnt that they inhabited the unfrequented parts of the Perak and
Pahang States, that they were a nomadic race and that they passed most
of their time in the abstraction and preparation of vegetable and animal
poisons in which art they were exceptionally expert and that they were
equally skilful in shooting poisoned arrows. Some of my informants
wanted to make me believe that they were exceedingly ferocious by nature
and so superstitious that they would aim their deadly dart at whatever
stranger ventured to approach them, believing him to be the messenger of
some Evil Spirit and that afterwards they would make of him a dainty
meal to comfort their insatiable stomachs.
But knowing something of the previous relations between the Sakais and
the people surrounding them I was put on my guard against certain
exaggerated and prejudiced reports and felt strongly tempted to try and
dissipate the vague mystery--that I somehow guessed was based upon
self-interest--in which they wished to envelop the Mai Darats.
The more they told me about them the more I felt attracted towards the
Sakais, it seeming to me that a people so foreign to every light of
civilization, so bold as they were described to be, so free from every
regime or authority, must needs afford an interesting study to one who
sought to know them at close quarters. Perhaps, when once I had overcome
the, not always surmountable, difficulty of getting into their company,
I might find amongst them a tranquil life and settle down in their midst
as a planter or agriculturist for I was already convinced that I was
unfitted for commercial enterprises in which very often scruples of
conscience and uprightness are encumbrances.
My brief sojourn in civilized society made me long for the freedom and
peace which, may be, awaited me there; I longed to know intimately these
people who, I reasoned to myself, must be exempt from corruption as they
were so much hated by those who lived in its midst, and who were
surrounded by so much mystery.
There was, I must confess, another reason that helped to draw me towards
the Sakai camps. I know not how the germ took root, but in my brain the
conviction was always growing that in the heart of the Peninsula,
already proved to be rich in metals, a gold vein might be discovered.
The Virgilian _auri sacra fames_ took possession of me little by little,
solved every remaining doubt, conquered all my hesitations and removed
every obstacle.
This impetus united with the longing for new adventures, for profound
emotions, for a life far different in every respect to that I was then
passing in a sphere of elegant slavery, imposed by ridiculous
conventionalisms, decided me, and I packed up my baggage.
Just imagine: a strong piece of tarred canvas to be converted into a
camp-bed by means of four wooden pegs; a hat, four shirts and some
woollen undervests, a few pairs of trousers and socks, some very light
canvas shoes, and one or two khaki jackets as used by the soldiers in
Africa.
I did not forget though that it was very possible to catch some sort of
illness and as in those parts a malady followed by death may be
considered an involuntary suicide but never a homicide because.... there
are no doctors to cure you, I also provided myself with a small stock of
purgative lozenges, quinine, some antiseptic preparations and a
bistoury.
Thus having quickly arranged for my new journey and having supplied
myself with such elements as would be useful to me under the
circumstances, I added to them a large quantity of tobacco and coloured
beads--two things that exercise a great power over savages--and bidding
farewell to all the culinary delicacies adapted to weak digestions, and
turning my back upon all domestic comfort, I started forth towards the
Unknown.
[Illustration: A group of Mai Darats, called "Sakais".
_p._ 8.]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: An Italian poet who wrote many humorous
verses.--Translator's Note.]
CHAPTER II
My escort--By steamer to Telok Anson--The other bank of the
Perak--Towards the forest--First news--Blood-letting in the
swamp--Robbed and forsaken--Revenge in due time--The Malay's
instigation--My little Sam Sam's fidelity--Philosophical
reflections under a heavy weight.
The kind reader who peruses these poor pages of notes and memories,
accustomed to hear speak of expeditions organised for the purpose of
penetrating into inhospitable lands or into regions encompassed by all
the terrors of the unknown, will perhaps think that I was jesting when I
gave the inventory of my luggage in the last chapter and that from sheer
vaunt I did not mention the support of some Geographical or Commercial
Society and neither the tons of goods which would follow in my wake, nor
the numerous waggons and armed battalion that had to escort me.
No, nothing of all this, for to tell the truth I have always found more
harm than good done by these etceteras to an explorer's equipment, and
for this reason, even in my most arduous travels, I always set out, as
it were, alone, confiding only in my own forces. And let me explain why.
From the very beginning of my wanderings in countries populated by
savages, to some of whom is attributed the most sanguinary instincts, I
reassured myself by a logical conclusion which experience has shown me
to be quite right.
If the fierceness of wild beasts, I reasoned to myself, is nothing else
but a paroxysm of fear why should we consider the fierceness of the
savages caused by other motives? Man, however wild may be his state, has
been endowed with intelligence although in some cases this intellectual
faculty is possessed in the smallest possible degree. Let us then make
him understand that he has nothing to fear from us and little by little,
if our patience does not fail, he will grow more gentle and become a
friend instead of an enemy.
Therefore to-day, as well as in the past, I carefully avoid warlike
preparations, brigandish masquerades or any escort of a prepotent or
menacing appearance. I go ahead like a simple wayfarer, with a smiling
face and friendly gestures, leaving my gun (which is indispensable in
defending oneself from the attacks of wild beasts) slung over my
shoulder.
The first welcome, I admit, is far from being cordial, and there is
always the risk of falling into a trap dexterously laid for big game and
strangers or of being ably struck by a poisoned dart, but once a meeting
has been obtained without any serious consequences accruing, it is not
so difficult as it might be supposed to follow it up with a parley, for
the feared (and fearing) individual is dumbfounded at the extraordinary
double event of either not having killed you or of not having been
killed himself, according to the law of reciprocity which for him is
inviolable.
Under the impression of this very strange fact he will not oppose
resistance to a peaceable understanding and afterwards in order to
ensure his friendship there only needs a quick intuition of the poor
creature's superstitions, beliefs and susceptibilities and a spirit of
precaution against offending his puerile vanity or of in any way
provoking jealousy or mistrust.
When he is persuaded that the presence of his undesired guest brings him
no evil he will give you his full confidence and spontaneously accept
you as a benevolent and powerful protector.
The perils, I grant, are many and great, but greater still are those
that lie in wait for an armed traveller. The savage may be terrified and
overpowered by the massacres with which civilization asserts its
tyrannical superiority but the venom of hatred has entered his soul and
he meditates and prepares an ambush which sooner or later, without fail,
will give him his revenge.
The use of brutal force (that for me is a political error) is an
enormous damage to the study of the customs, beliefs, and psychological
peculiarities of the people with whom we are in contact, for they will
back out of every enquiry or investigation, will either refuse to
respond or will tell you lies, and this accounts for the contradictory
reports that different travellers give about the same tribe or race.
This, kind reader, is my modest conviction as, from their method of
proceeding, it is also of the English, who are Masters in everything
that concerns colonization.
* * * * *
My baggage being ready it only remained for me to find some carriers who
would be useful to me, if not as guides to the country of the Sakais, at
least as interpreters between me and its inhabitants.
Penang is populated chiefly by Malays but numerous other races are
represented there, especially Chinese and Indians. Without much trouble
I succeeded in engaging the services of five porters: a Malay, an
Indian, a Chinese, a Siamese and a Sam-Sam, quite a lad. Together they
formed a little Babel which I congratulated myself would prove of great
help in making overtures with the Sakais.
All my followers, with the exception of the Sam-Sam, had faces which
would have graced the gallows and I am sure that Lombroso[2] would have
classified them without hesitation as born-criminals. But their
forbidding countenances did not alarm me as it is well known that the
basest villain becomes timid and servile when confronted by unexpected
danger, and I was well aware that the dread of tigers, snakes, traps and
poisoned arrows, the thousand mysteries of Death which the wonderful
forest encloses amidst its countless trees, amongst the confusion of its
thick interlaced creepers and under its soft moss and long grass would
have converted these ugly-faced, crooked-souled individuals into docile
lambs. I knew that once they had entered a land, to them not known, they
would not forsake me, for the Oriental has faith in the European and
will follow whither the latter leads, attributing to him rare qualities
of courage and energy as well as a marvellous ability in overcoming
obstacles and getting out of difficult positions.
* * * * *
We left Penang on a coasting steamer and after going up the River Perak
for about 60 miles we reached the little town of Telok Anson where we
landed.
It was too early in the morning, when, we arrived for me to present
myself to the British Authority and as the local officials did not in
the slightest way interfere with my free passage nor subject me to any
sort of inquisitorial interrogations (which in other colonies and under
other Protectorates I had been obliged to undergo) I gave orders for our
immediate departure as I was anxious to commence our march as soon as
possible.
Having divided our load of provisions in equal parts we crossed the
Perak on a pontoon and with a "_slamat gialat_" (pleasant journey) from
the man on board we found ourselves upon the shores where my adventures
had to begin.
I was there, then, with my face turned towards a new land, and a thrill
of joyous emotion pervaded me. What surprises were reserved for me up on
the wooded mountains towards which we were bending our steps? What
things, what habits would be revealed to me when I reached my goal?
I was leaving behind me civilized company. I was isolating myself from
educated society but I was not perturbed at the thought of the hardship,
the sufferings, the dangers that lay before me. Vague and pleasant hopes
smiled upon me from the Future. Of what nature were they? I could not
tell.
"Forward!" I said to myself and my carriers. And the march began.
* * * * *
The first day passed very well, in spite of the intense heat, and
nothing occurred worth mentioning. It was growing dark and we had
already done about 20 miles when we came in sight of a hut erected
amongst some cocoanut and banana trees. We soon found that it was
occupied by a Malay, with his wife and children, who had come there for
the cultivation of rice.
My request for hospitality, until the morning, was received with evident
distrust, but the hope of coveted gifts in the end, got the better of
Islamatic superstition in the soul of the Malay, and a covered corner of
his humble residence was accorded me and my men.
During the night I tried to make the Malay talk about the Sakais but I
could not ask him any direct questions as it would have been a serious
affair if my companions came to suspect that our way through the forest
was entirely new to me and that I was ignorant of the place where our
journey would end.
I managed, however, to find out that quite recently some Sakais had
ventured as far as there to exchange _rattan_ (Malacca cane) and rubber,
for tobacco and rice. They had then departed, but the Malay did not know
from whence they had come or whither they had gone. He believed that
they could not be very far off as a few days before he had distinctly
heard their call-whistles.
For various causes I felt obliged to doubt the truth of what the man
related, not the least of which being his ill-disguised desire to rid
himself of our company as soon as possible.
* * * * *
At day-break we started off again, following an almost untracked path
which led us over miasmatic marshes swarming with insects. Our poor legs
were attacked by a perfect army of leeches and subjected to a most
inopportune and undesirable bleeding. From time to time we were
compelled to stop and free ourselves from their tenacious hold. They
seemed to prefer European blood to Asiatic and made me suffer more than
my escort, perhaps because my skin being more tender they could better
succeed in their sanguinary intent, but although my flesh smarted and my
strength failed it was necessary to keep cheerful and pretend, every
now and then, to recognize our whereabouts just as if I had passed the
same way other times. I even assured my five companions that when we
reached the Sakais there would be no more difficulties, and so urged
them on the faster.
I hoped that the farther we penetrated into the vast wilds around us the
more I might depend upon the fidelity of my carriers as they would have
to rely upon my supposed knowledge of the country we were entering and
so would be less likely to beat a retreat. As we went along, however, I
leading the way which. I did not know myself, I could not help noticing
that they paid particular attention to every characteristic point we
passed, cutting notches in the trees with their _parang_, or knives,
after we had waded through a brook or taken a sudden turn in our course,
but my mind was too much occupied with the duties of my self-assumed
pilotage for me to attach any importance to the fact.
The weather was fine all day so that we were able to go a long way
before night fell. Not having come across any sort of refuge we were
obliged to improvise one for ourselves and in about an hour we were
resting from our fatigues whilst the little Sam-Sam served us with
boiled rice, dried fish and certain capsicums which would have made
cayenne pepper seem sugar in comparison! There being nothing better to
eat I too had to take my share of the frugal repast.
Sleep soon stole over us all, but I was somehow uneasy, for certain
strange demands my companions made me had reminded me of the marks I had
seen them making on the trees a while before, and my suspicions were
aroused without my knowing exactly how to define them; therefore, with
the excuse of writing, I determined to keep watch. Until about four
o'clock in the morning I was able to resist the somnolence which
weighed down my eyelids but at last, exhausted with so many hours'
march, with the high tension to which my nerves had been pitched and
weakened by the abundant blood-letting in the swamp, my body triumphed
over my will and I also slept.
At dawn the little wild bird, the _cep plót_, broke the silent air with
its characteristic and shrill _ci ti rià_. To him the smaller and tamer
_cep riò_ replied with a sweetly modulated solfeggio of extraordinary
precision, and I awoke. At the same time I felt myself being roughly
shaken and the voice of my little Sam-Sam cried into my ear:
"Tuan lakas bangun samoa Orang suda lari" (Wake up quickly, sir; the men
have all run away)!
Ah, then, my misgivings had not been unfounded and it was Slumber that
had betrayed me. I jumped up and looked around. There was nobody to be
seen and nothing to be heard. I turned anxiously towards our heap of
provisions and discovered instantly that the four rascals had made off
with a large booty of my rice, tobacco, and matches, things that were
very precious to me at that moment.
What was to be done? Follow them? And if we did not find them? It would
be loss of time as well as goods. The only thing to do was to treat the
incident with philosophy, comforting myself with the remote hope of some
day meeting with the scoundrels and of making them pay dear for their
knavish trick. This hope, I may say in parenthesis, was not a vain one,
for a year later I met my Chinese culprit at Telok Anson and not long
after, his Malay confederate at Penang, on both of which occasions I had
the satisfaction--without troubling the legal authority to intercede for
or against me--of giving them a lesson in honesty that I dare warrant
will have made them lose the gust of treating others as they had treated
me.
I was glad to find that the Sam-Sam boy had not deserted me for I had
taken a kind of liking to him. He told me that the Malay who had
accorded us hospitality had narrated to his countryman most terrible
things about the Sakais, describing so many perils, and such ferocious
treatment, which awaited those who risked getting into their midst, that
even a man of dauntless courage would have shuddered. Nothing was said
to me of this, but the man had informed the other three, who understood
the Malay language, and between the four it was quickly decided to
escape.
The boy had heard it all but did not give me any hint, never thinking
that the wicked project of robbing and abandoning me would have been so
speedily carried into effect.
I asked the only companion left me if he was disposed to be faithful to
his engagement and to me, no matter where we went, or whom we met with,
and he expressed his readiness to accompany me. The answer put me into
better spirits and I made arrangements for continuing our journey.
* * * * *
We boiled enough rice and broiled enough fish to last us for two meals
and then divided both in two parts. We each took our own share and
wrapped it up in some leaves ready to eat when we made a brief halt on
the banks of the many streams flowing through the forest.
With the remaining provisions we made two bundles, as bulky as seemed
possible to carry, but their weight surpassed our strength so we were
compelled to sacrifice a large quantity of our victuals which we put
into a sack and left in the hut, hoping that there it would not be
damaged by the rain, and afterwards, still well-laden, we once more set
off.
Under the scorching rays of the sun and the weight of my burden I
plodded on, philosophizing to myself--like a Boetius lost in the
jungle--in order to draw some comforting conclusion out of this, my
first, unpleasant adventure. But my philosophy soon took the form of
certain meditations and comparisons that were not all serene. My
thoughts flew to the heroes of the Bar-room and the Club to whom Sport
means fatigue, boldness, development of the muscles, and sacrifice
provided.... that every athletic exercise, however slight, be followed
up by a tepid or shower bath, massage, or the rest prescribed by the
hygienist or trainer. I thought of those so-called explorers who
enlighten the civilized part of the world upon the habits and customs of
the uncivilized part; those literary swindlers who travel in a Pullman's
car or some other vehicle, equally convenient and comfortable, to a safe
place, near the land to be explored, there to make notes of the vague
reports and yet more vague "they says" that circulate about the
Aborigines in question, and afterwards with the help of their fertile
imagination turn these mere voices into startling facts, add a few
extraordinary occurrences in the Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver style (in
which they themselves always play the principal part) and then present
their interesting writings to the public as a scientific and instructive
volume. I was inclined to envy them their ability and to admire the
ineffable good-nature of Society that pays the expenses for these
triumphs of Humbug.
[Illustration: At our approach the Sakais fled terrified from the hut.
_p._ 25.]
"Ah!" I went on grumbling to myself, and it seemed to relieve me to thus
apostrophize them in their absence, "if you were only here now, you
gentlemen of sportive tastes and you, illustrious explorers of wonderful
lands and mysterious islands, how I should like to see your virtue put
to the test: here in the forest from whose black depths a poisoned dart
may at any moment fly towards you as a Messenger of Death or from
whence a huge wild beast may, unexpectedly, rush furiously forth: here
where one's steps may be suddenly arrested by the up-rising of a
venomous snake. Who knows what an assistance to your fervid fantasy it
would be to hear in the freedom of Nature's own menagerie the sinister
hissing of the serpent, the bellowing of the elephant, the lowing of the
_sladan_, the roar of the tiger, the grunt of the wild-boar, the squeal
of the monkey, and the peevish notes of the cockatoo all blended into a
formidable concert, the accompaniment being the rustling of reeds and
climbing plants, moved more by animal life than by the air; the
fluttering of leaves; the humming and buzzing of myriads of insects: the
murmuring of the brooks: voices and sounds that announce to the
traveller a continual increase of danger".
But I must apologize to my readers for this digression. The jungle and
its concerts often make one commit the sin of philosophy, and, in thus
sinning, I had involuntarily forgotten you.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 2: An Italian celebrated for his psychological
studies.--Translator's note.]
CHAPTER III.
A fearful nocturnal concert--Fire! Fire!--A clearing in
the forest--A general flight--Masters of the camp!--Mortal
weariness--A morning greeting without any compliments--A
first meeting--In the village--ALÀ against the Orang-putei.
Not having found even a trace of human habitation either on the second
day of our march we were once more compelled to prepare a shelter for
the night as best we could. We made two little alcoves of boughs and
leaves, and having satisfied the cravings of appetite we lighted a fire
on each side of our miniature encampment, piled up enough wood at hand
to keep them burning, and settled ourselves down to sleep, or rather one
of us had to sleep whilst the other watched, as we had agreed to take
turns. In our ignorance we had calculated upon finding ourselves
surrounded by a solemn nocturnal stillness in these remote regions; such
calm quietness as one enjoys during the night on the Alpine and
Appennine woods. We were soon made aware of our mistake, however, for
the monkeys, frightened at the glare of the fires, raised a hubbub of
protests, their shrill cries and chattering voices reaching to the most
acute notes. Leaping up to the very highest branches of the trees they
began to shower down upon us broken twigs, leaves, nuts and other
fruits. They seemed to be holding a meeting overhead at which each
one--and they were a multitude--tried to gabble out a speech and to make
himself heard above all the others.
Deeper and more ominous notes were not long wanting to complete the
infernal chorus. From the dense, dark forest came the blood-curdling
roars of tigers, panthers, and bears mingled with the loud bellowing and
heavy stampede of elephants; we could distinctly here the cracking of
boughs hurled to the ground in their furious course, and the crashing of
bamboo, which with them is a favourite food. One might have said that an
immense legion of demons had invaded the forest, because in its intense,
impenetrable obscurity, only dimly lighted for a yard or two by the
blaze of our fires, everything seemed to turn into life. Every creature,
every reed, every leaf had a voice of its own; a howl, a rustle, a sigh
that filled the night air with diabolical sounds. It was a fearful
pandemonium; a mighty strife twixt victim and victor; an insatiable lust
for blood; a ferocious manifestation of ferocious love.
"Fire! Fire! let us put on fuel!" and we threw log after log upon the
burning piles whilst thousands of sparks flew upwards and the bright
flames cast a red glow around.
But the great voice of the forest did not cease; it still spoke on in
the roars and the bellows of the strong and in the yells and wails of
the weak. It rose up against us, as though pronouncing a malediction
upon the intruders, upon the profaners of those mysteries that, in the
inmost recesses of the jungle, great Mother Nature celebrates during the
night.
For hours we remained there, in a state it is useless for me even to
attempt to describe, and then as day-break approached the fearful
clamour began gradually to die away. Evidently at the first streak of
dawn the wild beasts had returned to their dens. The monkeys were the
last to finish as they had been the first to begin, but what was their
chattering and gibbering compared to that terrible chorus which, with
freezing veins and paralized brains, we had been obliged to listen to
all night?
It has never happened to me to greet a friend with such fervour as I did
the sun that morning. At its appearance a new concert commenced, but now
it was with the pleasant harmony of the buzzing and humming of insects,
blended with the gay singing of birds.
It reanimated us and we began to stretch our poor limbs which, besides
being stiffened and benumbed by the horrors of the past night, and the
thick dew that had fallen upon us, had also been an unconscious prey to
leech and mosquito.
Comparisons are odious. Granted. But between a tiger and a leech, a
panther and a mosquito, notwithstanding their affinity in the liking of
human blood, believe me there is a great difference, and it was perhaps
for this reason that we had not previously noticed the onslaught made by
these lesser carnivora upon our appalled flesh.
A few hurried mouthfuls and we were on the tramp again. Our sleepless
night, and the strong emotions that had kept us awake, made us feel
tired and listless, but the bare idea of being exposed to the same
torment and fear another time, gave us courage and strength to press on
as far as possible in search of some nocturnal refuge, more secure from
the four-footed inhabitants of the land, before sunset should have
enticed them from their lairs.
Weary, and mechanically, we trudged along, anxiously peering in front of
us for some opening in the thick foliage and closely packed trees, or of
some other sign of human life.
It must have been about three o clock in the afternoon--for my watch had
stopped--and it had begun to drizzle, when we saw, at not a great
distance from us, the everlasting twilight of the wild forest dispersed
by the full light of day.
Our spirits revived at the sight, for in all probability it meant a vast
clearing for the erection of huts and, in consequence, the presence of
fellow beings, however savage they might be.
We advanced with alacrity and soon came out in a large open space closed
in by the felled trunks of enormous trees and planted with Indian corn,
yams and sweet potatoes.
In the middle stood two cabins made of the strong branches and gigantic
leaves of the plants and trees which had been cut down. We were just
able to catch a glimpse of some men lying about on the ground, whilst
some women were busily cooking monkey's, serpents, and colossal rats,
and several younger men were preparing poisoned arrows.
We took in the whole scene in a rapid glance for in an instant the dogs
began to bark and their masters were thrown into a state of alarm. We
stopped, and they saw us, saw _me_--a white man--and full of fright they
sprang to their feet. Like lightning they gathered up their provisions,
the women slung the children on to their shoulders and they all
disappeared, over the stout fence they had erected round their dwelling
place, with the agility and the speed of a troop of monkeys.
I really think that if the head of the Medusa, instead of turning into
stone those who looked at it, had given them wings to escape they could
not have flown away faster than did those poor savages at the sight of
me.
I had only time to see that they were quite naked and that their skin
was of a light brownish tint, but this for the moment satisfied me as I
knew that at last I had come into contact with the May Darats in search
of whom I had ventured there.
But I was so thoroughly exhausted in every way that I had even lost the
power of thinking about them or anything else.
I, and my faithful follower, entered the abandoned huts where we found
some hot potatoes (which were quickly devoured) and a curious stringed
instrument that had been left behind in the hasty flight.
Having taken the usual precautions for the night, too tired out to care
for the dangers that might be menacing us, dangers that might prove
worse than those we had experienced the previous night (for we knew what
we had to expect from quadruped enemies, but were ignorant of how our
biped foes would treat our presence in their domain) unmindful and
heedless of everything, dizzy with the need of rest, I threw myself down
on the rude floor and fell heavily asleep.
* * * * *
Towards two o'clock in the morning (as far as we could judge) my
Sam-Sam, who had been keeping watch, awoke me. It was his turn to sleep.
Nothing had happened, as yet, to excite suspicion or inquietude and this
made me hope that we should not receive any serious hostility from the
Aborigines.
By straining my gaze into the darkness of the forest I discerned that
some fires were lighted not very far off, a sure sign that the Sakais
were still near us. Was this a good or a bad omen? Day would without
doubt bring the answer. And day soon came, gladly welcomed by all
Creation save by those people and beasts whose deeds are better suited
to obscurity.
I was preparing a nice strong cup of tea to refresh my stomach and cheer
up my spirits (for recent events had greatly depressed them) when
something lightly whistled above my ear and glided over my head.
I gave a violent start and taking off my hat discovered that it had two
little holes in it, one on each side. At a few steps from me lay an
arrow, which had just fallen there, after having perforated my
head-covering and softly touched my thin locks. It was a hair breadth
escape, in a true sense of the saying, for the sharp missile shot at me
from the Sakais infallible blow-pipe had first been carefully poisoned.
That unexpected and not very friendly "good morning" called me back to
the bitter reality of my position, and warned me not to delay coming to
an understanding with them at once.
Prudence forbade my presenting myself in their midst because the colour
of my skin, although well sunburnt, would have drawn upon me certain
death. I was convinced that in their primitive superstition they would
have believed me an evil spirit and as such would have speedily
despatched me to another world. The only thing to be done was to send
hither my intelligent Sam-Sam who willingly allowed himself to be loaded
with tobacco, coloured beads, _sirih_ and matches and then sallied forth
to make a truce.
He was accorded an audience without any difficulty which fact was
perhaps due to the similitude of his race with theirs but more probably
to the gifts he carried with him.
My ambassador was interrogated with eagerness and curiosity about the
_orang putei_ (white man), and he told them that I had come laden with
gifts and full of good-will towards them. But the Sakais would not hear
of my approaching their new encampment and sent word that they would
soon favour me with a visit.
And they kept their promise without losing any time in making a toilet
or getting into a dress suit. They were in three, two stalwart youths
and a man of between forty and fifty, all armed with their _sumpitans_
(blow-pipes).
By means of the Malay language and the universal one of gestures, I
explained to them that I did not mean them any harm, that on the
contrary it was my desire to help them in whatever way I could and that
I should like to live amongst them if they would let me, as I wanted to
initiate some plantations in their part.
They replied by first trying to dissuade me from taking up my abode with
them, and then suggested that it would be better for me to go to a small
village at a short distance off, whither they offered to accompany me.
I thanked them and accepted the offer, telling them, as a recompense,
where we had left our sack of provisions. I afterwards heard that they
had succeeded in finding it.
* * * * *
I felt so contented at having made the first step--which is always the
most difficult--that notwithstanding the thoroughly exhausted state in
which I knew myself to be, I re-commenced my journey with a light heart,
escorted by the three Sakais and my Sam-Sam. But arrived at a certain
point it was impossible for me to proceed.
Besides the stiffness of my joints, my flesh was tingling and bleeding
with the bites and stings of many insects. In order to prove my
sufferings to my companions I showed my livid limbs to them and I saw an
expression of pity pass over their countenances. It seemed to me a good
augury for one who was joining their tribe.
We stopped, and the Sakais quickly built up the huts, lighted the fires
and afterwards ate some rice with us. We then lay down to repose for the
night, but if Sleep closed our eyes I think Mistrust opened them and
none of us enjoyed much slumber in the end.
Early the next morning we continued our course and reached the group of
cabins dignified by the name of village. Here the same thing took place
as on the previous day. In spite of my being in the company of three of
their own people, which I thought would have reassured them, at my
appearance the huts were rapidly deserted amidst cries of terror.
My three guides, however, managed to get into communication with their
brethren and after a while led them to me without their making any
resistance.
I got their consent to let me settle down near them on the condition
that I did not seek to enter their huts. The reason of this interdiction
I learnt later on. It had been a prescription of the Alà, a sort of
sorcerer, who believed, or made believe that my presence would have an
evil effect upon a sick mother and her new-born babe.
The Sakais, stimulated by my presents, built me a solid and pretty
comfortable cabin near a rivulet and not far from them, and I installed
myself there forthwith.
The first day of our acquaintance it happened that I accidentally called
them Sakais. They changed face and some of them protested angrily:
"You are not good, because you insult us and call us bad names!".
It was a dangerous slip of the tongue and I hastened to make my peace by
explaining that I had heard the term used by the other people but that I
knew they were really May Darats whose kindness and gentleness had
often been abused by their neighbours, and in the future I meant to save
them from being cheated and deceived by their former aggressors.
This declaration calmed their resentment and I was able to begin a
quiet, tranquil life amongst those simple, sincere beings, a life so
calm and undisturbed that I have never had cause, then or now, to regret
the civilized society from which I had voluntarily withdrawn myself,
persuaded that if my character and habits incapacitated me for the
dubious and not always straightforward transactions of the commercial
world, the same moral qualities which impeded me from becoming a
business man might find good ground for bringing forth fruit in the pure
hearts and minds of a primitive people, who knew neither fraud, nor
hypocrisy.
CHAPTER IV.
New friends--Gold--An English official--The purchase of my future
treasure--Administrative simplicity--England teaches!--The "sla
pui"--Bitter disappointment--The Sam-Sam--The poison of the Savage
and the venom of the Civilized.
My strength and health, which had suffered in consequence of those few
days' strain of muscle and nerve, soon returned to their normal state in
that peaceful retreat upon the grassy banks of the stream that is an
affluent of the Bidor.
My friendship with the Sakais increased every day because little by
little their suspicions concerning me were allayed and the curiosity
with which they watched my every act was no longer mixed with fear. They
did not attempt to run away when I bent my steps towards their rough
habitations in spite of the Alà's veto to my passage through their
village and it was not a rare thing for my gifts of tobacco and _sirih_
to be exchanged with pheasants and other game and sometimes even with a
chicken. I found it easy to talk with the men and prized these
conversations as a means of studying their characters and of learning
their language, which is composed of short, strongly accented words. It
was very seldom that I could find any sort of derivation from the Malay
tongue in these terse syllables.
At the same time that I sought to get upon a familiar footing with my
new friends I did not forget one of the principal motives that had
induced me to wander so far from the haunts of ordinary men, so one day
I cracked a cocoanut in half and, cleaning it well out, I dipped the
shell into the bed of the stream and drew it out again full of water and
sand.
I examined the contents with great care and found a few grains of gold
in the alluvion! This was joy indeed, and mentally I bade goodbye to the
life of a planter (although I had not yet begun it) and there on the
spot decided to dedicate my time and energy to the gathering of gold
which would be far the quickest way of making a fortune.
All at once, however, an unpleasant thought crossed my mind and dimmed
my bright hopes.
In my chats with the Sakais they had told me that there was another
_orang putei_ at Tapah. I endeavoured to discover who this person was,
and what he was doing, in the little Malay town, but I was unable to
obtain any information about him.
Now the idea suggested itself that this white man could be no other than
a British Government Officer to whom, from a feeling of delicacy,
respect of the law, and as a means of avoiding future trouble, I was
bound to explain what I wished to do before setting myself to work, as
his permission would be necessary for the execution of my desire.
My unfortunate experience of other colonial authorities inspired me with
very little confidence in that of the English and nothing seemed to me
more likely than to find myself expelled from the Protected States
instead of having my petition granted.
But on the other hand it would be very rash to commence work in earnest
without legal authorization, so one day, accompanied by some Sakais to
the confines of the forest, I betook myself to Tapah.
* * * * *
I could not help wondering to myself what sort of a gruff, bureaucratic
functionary I should find to deny me my fortune. Who knew how my Italian
enterprise would be judged on territory protected by H. B. M.?
But calling up my courage I was introduced into the presence of a young
and pleasant-mannered gentleman who received me with much politeness.
He had already been informed that a white man was to be found amongst
the Sakais and he had been greatly surprised, not understanding what
attractions anyone could find in the midst of a people so ignorant and
savage. He congratulated himself upon the opportunity of meeting and
knowing me, was pleased to hear that I was an Italian and wound up with
the stereotyped demand:
"What can I have the pleasure of doing for you?".
Encouraged by his kindness, but not without a little secret misgiving, I
told him frankly what I proposed doing and related all particulars.
Mr. Wise (for this was his name) listened to everything attentively, now
and then expressing a word of sympathy or approval and finally, for the
sum of a few dollars, made me the owner of the tract of land upon which
I had fixed my mind.
Thus it was that in the short space of an hour, without having to
surmount any obstacles, and at an almost ridiculous price I became the
legitimate possessor of a piece of ground that perhaps concealed a
treasure in its bosom.
* * * * *
As I had never before been at Tapah I took advantage of the time spared
in my business affairs to visit it a little and to form an opinion upon
the expedients used in a half-desert Eastern country, scorched by the
sun, populated by different tribes, infested by poisonous insects and
terrible microbes, to say nothing of a host of wild beasts!
Tapah is a modern little town, all villas and gardens. It rises white
and coquettishly at the foot of green hills and its smiling panorama,
although without the magnificent background of the sea, recalled to my
sight the sweet vision of my native Varazze, one of the most beautiful
gems that adorn the Riviera Ponente.
It is the chief-town of a district counting 30,000 inhabitants amongst
which about a thousand of diverse races and nationalities. It has two
large streets lined with shops where Malays, Indians, and Chinese offer
a varied and heterogeneous stock of goods for sale.
It is divided in the middle by the big river Batang Padang which
afterwards discharges itself into the Bidor, that too.
As capital of the district it possesses a Post Office, a very large room
where two Indian clerks perform their duties under the direction of an
English Postmaster who has also to overlook the branch offices of the
circuit.
My attention was attracted by an unpretending edifice in front of which
some Malay and Indian soldiers were seated. I was asking them what
building it was when an Englishman came out and courteously told me that
it was the Head Police Station of which he was the inspector.
During a subsequent conversation I learnt that the Police Service was
everything that could be desired as also that of all the other Public
Offices and that Indigenes and Indians were everywhere employed under
the direction of English chiefs. The number of clerks, as in other
British colonies, was according to strict necessity; no extra posts were
ever created for political or personal interest but when assistance was
required there was never any difficulty in selecting local aspirant, as
long as they had a sufficient knowledge of the official language.
So I found that Tapah, the chief-town of the district, is under the
direction of an Englishman, who is called the District Officer, and who
performs all administrative and magisterial functions.
Not much time lost here in the labyrinths of Bureaucracy! And yet I
heard that both the District Officer and the Police Inspector who are
under the control of the Authority residing in Taiping, capital of Perak
but who in reality enjoy almost complete liberty of action, find the
time not only to discharge all the various duties of their office but
also to take recreation in a little football and cricket. It is said
that sometimes the menservants too are called in to take part in these
national sports and for an hour freely compete with their masters in the
art of kicking and batting, returning serious and respectful to their
proper places at the end of the game.
Whilst I was passing the time pleasantly, talking with one and the other
I saw a little party approaching that was the object of great respect
from the bystanders.
It was Mr. Wise the District Officer who had received me so politely a
few hours before.
He was on his return from a survey made in order to define the boundary
of some land belonging to two Malays. Without donning any sort of
uniform or insignia, this British delegate had known how to preserve
all the solemnity and dignity of form due to the occasion, a virtue
peculiar to the English who are always and everywhere the most rigorous
observers of social and official etiquette.
Mr. Wise kindly invited me to follow him the Club where he kept me in
friendly conservation, answering all the questions I could not refrain
from asking him in my desire to become better acquainted with the colony
and its method of government.
Now Mr. Wise is no more, but in him his country lost a model functionary
for intelligence, solicitude and uprightness.
He died at the very moment his future seemed to smile its brightest;
when his fondest hopes were about to be crowned by matrimony with the
young lady of his choice.
Let me, through these pages, render to his memory the modest,
affectionate homage of admiration and deferential friendship.
* * * * *
That day, having made my peace with the authorities, I returned with a
clear conscience to the quiet nook I had found in the vast forest; to
that domestic corner reserved for me in Dame Nature's grand and wondrous
saloon: to that rude home so far removed from the generality of mankind,
but so close to the kings and princes of the animal kingdom, commonly
called--wild beasts.
[Illustration: A young Sakai with his inseparable blowpipe.
_p._ 40.]
Keeping tight hold of the receipt which had suddenly made me the owner
of a possible gold mine, I alternately made castles in the air and
meditated upon the simplicity of English administration that in a few
short instants had conceded to me an extensive zone of land with which
to do what I liked, without any need of setting in motion the intricate
machinery of the bureaucracy; without any stamped legal forms, surveys
and expensive reports; the presentation of birth certificate and that of
British citizenship; without digging into the past and the future, into
the state and position of one's family, etc. etc.
And because everything that happens to one abroad recalls one's
fatherland (a natural habit that neither distance nor time can change) I
thought of my native country and of the complicated organization of its
many bureaucratic departments that only too often clogs the boldest
Italian enterprise and raises an insurmountable barrier before creative
and inventive genius compelling it to seek elsewhere its fortune.
From my heart I longed that Italy might before long be liberated from
these toils which hinder the free expansion of its young and vigorous
forces.
One thing had particularly struck me during my intercourse with Mr.
Wise. The fact of my being an Italian was no obstacle to my request
being favourably received. This surprised me, for under other
governments I had seen that foreigners were considered anything but
necessary to the colony and after having opposed, more or less openly,
the intruder's initiative, the Authority seized the slightest pretext,
that offered itself under a decent aspect, to send the new-comer back
over the frontier for fear that their digestion might suffer from his
presence.
England on the contrary does not search into, nor care for, the origin
of those who bring energy or any other useful quality to her colonies.
In her dominions she only aims at reaching the highest point of
prosperity, she desires only the accumulation of riches, and whoever
promises well to further her interests, becomes an appreciated
collaborator, be he Italian, German, Portuguese or Turk.
England never repells talent or aptitude from an absurd prejudice of
Chauvinism. Considering the length and breadth of her possessions she
may well say that the world is her tributary, no wonder then that she
avails herself of the hands and brains of every one who knows how to use
them well, instead of confining herself exclusively to the merits of
those born on British soil.
In this broad way of seeing and treating things--which proves the
tranquil and perfect consciousness the English nation has of its own
strength--I believe lies the secret of its colonial success.
The well-known satire according to which it is impossible to find in the
world a rock or strip of land, however barren or sterile, without an
owner, for the simple reason that an Englishman is always prompt to
unfold and hoist the Union Jack there, is in reality the highest and
most just homage that can be paid to the spirit of enterprise that
characterizes this people. Where others only see sand and reefs, not
worth the trouble of cultivation, the Englishman discovers some
productive germ that with his indefatigable energy brings forth a
thousand fold. Nor is Colonial work, industrial activity and commercial
thrift disturbed by bureaucratic sophistry or immoderate fiscal
pretentions, that so frequently suffocate the most promising and
audacious undertakings in other places.
Colonial success very often depends upon the ability of its
administrative body in directing all available force to this one end:
the increase of its wealth. Bureaucracy is a cancer which paralyzes all
life and motion that it finds within reach of its tentacles.
Old England has understood this for a long time, ever since, from the
island once fruitless and barren, she spread her wings and flew to the
conquest of the World's markets.
When will certain other nations comprehend that antiquity and past
glory, instead of offering the precious fruit of experience, has
brought upon them a palsied decrepitude?
When wilt thou understand this, my Italy, risen as thou art to the third
maturity of thy civilization and glory?
* * * * *
I set myself at once, with a good will, to the extraction of gold, and
engaged the services of a few Malays and Chinese coolies, who were
expert enough, to assist me in my work.
The method we followed was a very primitive one. We filled some round
wooden bowls with the water and sand, then by gently stirring the mass,
particles of tin and gold were separated from the sand and went to the
bottom. This deposit carefully gathered up was passed into other bowls
full of water, into which we threw a well-pounded leaf of the _sla
più_.
The juice of these leaves possesses a chemical property which I cannot
explain but it draws up to the surface the sand still sticking to the
metals, leaving them quite pure.
But the yellow tempter was not at all profuse in his favours and the
golden metal came in very small quantities. I did not lose courage,
however, and persevered for a long time without any change of luck. I
even tried to trace out the auriferous bed from whence the waters of the
stream transported the metals. I made innumerable attempts to find it,
but in vain, and the day came when I was constrained to confess to
myself that alluvial mining for me was a failure.
After all my hopes and dreams it was a melancholy confession to make but
it was evident that I must turn in another direction if I wished for
fortune, so I settled my account with the workmen and dismissed them.
At their departure my Sam-Sam who had become in the meantime a robust
young man, begged me to let him return to his own part, saying that
there was a young Sakai willing to take his place in my service.
Although very sorry to lose the faithful companion of that never to be
forgotten journey through the forest, I could not refuse his request and
let him do as he wished.
It was with real pleasure that I fell in with him again some years after
when I was travelling through the interior of Kedah and he too evinced
great joy at the meeting.
He told me that what he had earned from me had been the means of making
his fortune, for with it he had bought a piece of ground and some oxen,
and now kept himself, his wife and two children, by agricultural work.
* * * * *
As I have said, the gold was very scarce. After the coolies had left I
tried to persuade the Sakais to take their post, which would have saved
expense in gathering it, but every effort was useless for these people
do not and will not understand what works means, or the pleasure it
gives, beyond that of preparing poisons.
Poison is the principal topic of conversation with them and their only
boast is the discovery of new or more deadly mixtures. The children
listen to these discourses with lively interest and pay anxious
attention to the experiments made by their elders in this primitive kind
of chemistry, and in this way the passion is propagated from father to
son and so it will continue until the breath of civilization reaches
that far-off spot and those good, simple men learn that, in the struggle
for life, civilized persons no longer use poisons that kill the body,
but those which are much more terrible and without an antidote, such as
envy, calumny, hatred and luxury, which destroy the mind and soul.
These are the venemous elements that my forest friends do not yet know,
those poor savages who extract their poisons from the _ipok_[3] and
other, trees to defend themselves against wild beasts and to procure
them food in their wild abode.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 3: The _ipok_, known in science by the Javenese name of
_upas_, is a tree that affords a very baneful poison as explained in the
chapter upon poisons.]
CHAPTER V.
Great Mother Earth--A dangerous meeting--A living statue--Here or
there?--An unrelished supper--A dreaded immigration--A glance into
the past--A rape which was not a rape--A noble task--Towards the
mountain--Tiger-shooting--The Sakais in town--Alloyed sweets--
Musical tastes--Hurrah for the free forest!
My gold mania was transient. My spirit was very soon liberated from its
thrall and I turned with alacrity to the study of a more practical and
satisfactory enterprise.
In that brief period of uncertainty I had somehow felt convinced that
fortune (if indeed fortune was reserved for me) would have to come to me
through the ground. But in what way?
I often accompanied the Sakais in their visits into the thick of the
forest where they were in the habit of going in search of poisons, and
sometimes I would even go by myself. During these excursions I tortured
my brain with the everlasting question of how to initiate a new line of
work and gain.
One day the forest itself answered my puzzling query!
There were extensive woods of rattan, and other magnificent reeds which
are called in England Indian and Malacca cane; there was resin oozing
copiously from the trunks of the trees. What more could be desired?
I began gently to make my Sakais comprehend how much I should like to
gather these products and transport them to where I might exchange them
for other articles that we were without. It was of no use to speak to
them of money because they had not the smallest idea of what it meant.
At first they responded roughly that they did not care anything at all
about the matter, for, as I before said, the Sakais from habit and an
innate spirit of independence will never hear of submitting themselves
to any regular, ordinate labour. Knowing, however, with whom I had to
deal, and divining what a great amount of patience would be necessary to
bring them round to my way of thinking, I began to distribute gifts,
especially tobacco, freely and frequently amongst them, only mentioning
my wish occasionally, as if by chance. And my prodigality had its
reward.
One day I saw them returning from the forest abundantly laden with the
products I wanted.
It was a good beginning and was followed up by a constant supply. I
stored up the bamboo and gum and when I had accumulated enough I went to
the coast to sell my merchandise coming back well provided with tobacco,
iron, coloured beads, matches, salt, rice padi and maize. These things I
dispensed amongst my friends and they, seeing the good result of their
fatigue in the form of articles which excited their cupidity, ended by
keeping me plentifully furnished with the goods in question.
* * * * *
The new branch of commerce, which I had started, required a good deal of
energy, but I let no grass grow under my feet and went frequently to
Tapah in order to open up a sale for my products.
It was on my return from one of these journeys that something happened
to me worth relating.
Only a few hours of daylight remained when I set out from Tapah for my
forest habitation. I was carrying with me six nice loaves and a piece of
venison that I had bought in town and I thought with keen appreciation
of the savoury supper I should have that night.
I hurried along as fast as possible in order to traverse the 2 miles of
highroad and the other of woodland track, which lay before me, ere night
fell. In spite of the 30 miles already done that day my legs continued
to serve me well and I walked rapidly on with a bent head, full of
thought.
At a sudden turning of the path I raised my eyes to scrutinize the way.
About 50 yards in front of me I saw a dark and confused mass slowly
moving. Thinking to meet with a party of coolies from a neighbouring
mine, who were perhaps going for provisions, I advanced for another 40
paces, then stopped short and was fixed to the spot. The formless mass
had taken the shape of nothing less than an enormous tiger!
There was no fear that step or gesture of mine would attract its
attention for at the sight I had become petrified, like Lot's wife! In
that atom of time, which seemed to me a century, I could not even think,
but across the deadened faculty of my mind flashed a warning I had
recently received from the Sakais: never make a movement in the presence
of a tiger, and never look it straight in the face.
[Illustration: Towards the mountains.
_p._ 52.]
The first part of this injunction was instinctively obeyed for I
remained there rooted to the ground, utterly unable to stir even if such
an imprudent idea had suggested itself. My senses were so paralyzed by
the unexpected encounter that I did not entirely realize my position and
had only a vague perception that when those fierce eyes once rested upon
me the end of the world would have come, as far as I was concerned.
Sideways I saw that the huge beast, which had been sniffing the ground,
to find out what animal had lately passed by, now raised its head and
looked slowly around with an indolent but suspicious air.
After a painful vibration, some of my muscles became rigid. The monster
cautiously advanced; it was certainly preparing to pounce upon me! I
could hardly resist the impulse of looking towards it. All my nerves
were quivering with anguish as if in a supreme protest against the
imminent slaughter. Already I felt the terrible creature's hot breath as
it opened wide its greedy jaws; already my trembling flesh felt the
fatal touch of its death-dealing claws--one instant--two....!
With a quick, irrepressible motion my eyes turned in its direction.
The tiger was leisurely crossing the path and disappeared into the
forest without taking even the least notice of me! Why, it was almost a
personal offence!
But although the blood began to flow once more through heart and brain,
and Life--which had been momentarily suspended--again ran through all my
being, filling the veins and relaxing muscles and nerves, I did not then
think of the slight offered me by the animal's indifference, for with
renewal of life had come an atrocious spasm of horror and of fear.
In those few seconds a drama, full of strange sensations, awful
impressions, and maddening effect had been enacted within me!
After the first moment of relief, and whilst I was still stretching and
rubbing my limbs, a serious problem presented itself for solution.
On entering the forest the tiger had gone the very way I had to go
myself. What had I better do? It was impossible for me to retrace my
steps, for my previous tiredness had increased to a singular degree
after my fright. It was equally impossible for me to think of stopping
where I was. And to penetrate into the forest following in the
creature's wake, would it not be like going to seek the ghastly end from
which I had just so narrowly escaped, thanks perhaps to the tiger's
defective sense of smell?
And yet, after having carefully pondered which course to take I was
obliged to make my decision in favour of the one that seemed the most
insensate of the three.
My cabin was not very far off. I should only have to quicken my pace, by
making a supreme effort, in order to arrive before it got dark.
And the tiger? But might I not have met a dozen of them on my road from
Tapah? And besides, who could say that the one I had seen was really
gone towards my home? It would indeed have proved a curious
predilection, especially after the affront just received!
So armed with these subtle reasonings, with which I sought to persuade
myself, I left the tragical spot where, according to the brief agony of
my feelings and the likelihood of procedure, I had been torn to pieces
and eaten by a wild beast, and I continued my homeward journey.
How the faintest sound startled me! A falling leaf; a blade of grass
moved by an insect; a snake or a lizard gliding out of my path; the
squeal of a monkey; the fluttering of a bird's wings as it flew up to
its perch, all subjected me to spasmodic thrills.
I always had in my sight that dreadful beast with gaping mouth, and
cruelly glittering eyes. The horrible vision gave new vigour to my body,
extraordinary suppleness to my legs and--wings to my feet.
Kind reader, who knows how many times in your sitting-room or perhaps in
somebody else's even dearer to you--_honi soit qui mal y pense_!--you
have found yourself in front of a tiger, leopard or panther whose
brindled and glossy skin you have admired; who knows how many times you
have absently played with its head, still ferocious-looking, in spite of
its glass eyes and red cloth tongue; who knows how often you have toyed
with its fangs and claws whilst you were persuing a pleasant thought or
inebriating your spirit with the soft tones of a certain voice!
Well, have you ever tried to imagine what emotions you would experience
if quite unexpectedly those glassy eyes should become animated; if that
ugly mouth should open wider; if those white fangs should gleam with
life; if those splendid claws should be stretched out in the act of
lacerating you: if that magnificent skin should once more be
incorporated and rise up to face you?
I confess the truth when I say, that the dainty supper I had brought
with me from Tapah, lost its flavour for me that evening.
* * * * *
A report of my flourishing trade and the news that gold was to be found
at the bottom of the little river which flowed past my humble dwelling
soon spread outside the Sakai region. The consequence was quite an
invasion of our tranquil village.
This immigration greatly alarmed the poor Indigenes who cannot easily
forget how they were once treated by those not of their own race.
They still remembered with terror how the strangers had plundered their
villages, carrying off everything they could lay their hands upon, even
their young men and women to serve as slaves and concubines.
The majority of these poor victims, torn from the unlimited freedom of
the jungle, unused to any sort of work that was not voluntary, and
faithful to their traditions and superstitions did not long survive
their separation from kin and tribe. The others, who managed to adapt
themselves to their new conditions, as a matter of course, had their
primitive simplicity corrupted, and little by little learnt the vices
and habits of their masters. For this they were considered by their
brethren as inferior beings and were looked upon with grave suspicion,
when, taking advantage of the first occasion that offered itself, they
fled back to the forest. Although by their return to their own people
they foreswore their past moral and material bondage they could not help
bringing with them some of the depravity they had seen, or endured, in
their exile which clashed with the customs and sensibilities of the pure
type of May Darats, remarkable for their sincerity and integrity.
In this way, by degrees, the original Sakai race diminished whilst new
clans sprang up around them, formed of those who had been, and continued
to be, in contact with comparatively civilized people, who knew their
languages and their craftiness, notwithstanding which they frequently
became their dupes under the show of good-feeling and cordiality.
The British Protectorate came as a blessing to the Sakais because it
officially abolished slavery and shortened their neighbours' talons,
that had grown a little too long.
But in spite of the vigilance exercised by their white protectors the
others still found the means of depredating and imposing upon these good
but ignorant creatures. Instead of devastating their rude homes and
arbitrarily taking possession of everyone and everything they pleased,
they soon established another system for achieving their end.
They supplied them with goods of the very worst quality, charging them
at the highest prices, and as these consisted principally of tobacco,
salt, iron, _sirih_ and pieces of calico they lasted no time, and had to
be frequently replaced. As a matter of course this fraudulent manner of
trading made the poor Sakais' debts amount to fabulous proportions and
then their swindling creditor dictated the conditions he best liked: the
man had to follow and serve him or if there was some woman in the family
he preferred, he would carry her off either to keep for himself, or
privately sell to another.
To better succeed in their roguery they depicted the white man as an
incarnate devil, never tired of doing evil, who had come there for
nothing else but to ravage their land and disperse its inhabitants. The
_orang putei_ was described to the credulent Sakais as the most terrible
and cruel enemy that one could possibly imagine.
Thus the real persecutors of this primitive people were regarded by them
as true friends, whilst the relation of imaginary and fantastic perils
distracted their minds from the more practical dangers of this false
friendship.
By instilling in them fear of the white man there was less chance that
the wretched individuals, whose good faith and domestic affections had
been abused and outraged, would appeal to a British magistrate for
justice, believing him to be a worse enemy than the actual one, and if
sometimes a complaint was brought before this functionary through a
third party, a most distressing scene ensued.
The victim, under the influence of his injurer's glance and presence,
would acknowledge whatever misdeed, debt, and even crime was attributed
to him, responding to the demand if what his accuser said was true,
with the invariable and laconic words: "What he says is true".
I may here cite a case in which I took an active part when I was the
Superintendent of Sakais under the British Government.
One day a family of these Sakais who have dealings with other races,
rushed wildly into my hut, crying desperately. The parents, sobbing,
told me that a Chinese, to whom they owed a great deal, had seized and
led away their daughter.
I set myself to find the blackguard and after some difficulty succeeded.
I rescued the girl and restored her to her relations and then sent in a
report of the incident to the Magistrate. A case for abduction was made
out, and the English law does not jest on such matters. The Chinese
declared that as his debtors could not pay him his due he had agreed, if
the girl consented, to take her as his wife or servant, and so cancel
their debt towards him.
Whilst he spoke he never took his eyes off his accusers. The father and
mother of the young woman were interrogated and although they were in my
presence they replied, after a momentary hesitation:
"What he says is true".
The girl was then asked if she had followed the Chinese of her own free
will or if violence had been used in taking possession of her and she
too repeated like an automaton:
"What he says is true".
Nothing availed to get other words than these out of the poor wretches'
mouths, nor the magistrate's clever cross-questioning, nor my entreaties
to tell the whole truth. I re-called to their memory the pitiful state
they had been in when they ran into my house, crying and invoking
justice. It was all in vain; but fortunately for them the legal officer
himself was convinced that the Chinese--who stood by with a sarcastic
smile upon his lips--was guilty, and closed the process by condemning
him to six months' imprisonment.
[Illustration: A forest shooting-box.
_p._ 54.]
I made up my mind to go to the bottom of the affair if only to discover
why the Sakais, by nature so far removed from falsehood, had denied the
truth.
My investigations proved that the Chinese had threatened to revenge
himself by utterly destroying the whole family if they made any
complaint about his way of proceeding, and had also terrified them by
stories of the inhuman tortures to which they would be subjected by the
British magistrate if they spoke against him.
The confession came too late because, if they had spoken in time the
scoundrel would have had a much heavier sentence.
From this simple episode one can understand what an amount of energy,
boldness, and resolution the English Authorities need in order to
liberate the poor Sakais from the moral tyranny that still oppresses
them. But the British Government is quite equal to the task it has
undertaken, and there is no reason to doubt that before long it will
have reduced to impotency these dregs of Society who creep in amongst
the Sakai tribes, that are far removed from civilization and justice,
there to work out their wicked schemes and practise their crafty wiles.
I have written the word "dregs" on purpose, as of course peoples in a
collective sense cannot be held responsible for the bad-doings of a
small number of their countrymen, and I wish it here to be distinctly
understood that when I speak of the villainous acts and thievish
propensities of these latter (who being too well-known and despised in
their own place, to be able to succeed in their base tricks go elsewhere
in search of victims) I do not mean to offend, or cast a slight upon
Malays, Chinese, or Indians in general.
On the contrary, I have the highest esteem and respect for all three,
especially those who faithfully follow the ways of Progress, and have
certain virtues peculiarly theirs.
* * * * *
After this rapid glance into the past it is not difficult to understand
with what inquietude and uneasiness the Sakais saw their little
settlement invaded by those they feared.
The new-comers, though, no longer found such a credulous and frightened
people as they had been accustomed to on other occasions. Their
calumnious stories of the white man (whose vigilant and not very lenient
control troubled them a great deal) made little or no impression. They
knew the white man by now, he had been among them for some time and they
had even come to look upon him as a good protector.
So by mutual agreement we let our unwelcome visitors choose their sites
and erect their huts, allowing them to enjoy the ecstasy of a vigorous
abuse of the humble Sakai village and everything they could find within
reach; then one fine morning, to their infinite wonder, we left them to
their own devices and betook ourselves to the heights from whence flowed
down the little river Bidor. This sudden change of locality did not
cause me any serious sacrifice as the spot where we had been living was
not very healthy owing to the frequently stagnant condition of the
stream and, apart from hygienic motives, I was not altogether sorry at
being thus compelled to seek new quarters as I was anxious to get well
acquainted with the whole district, studying its products and its
fitness for colonization, hoping in the end to succeed in inducing the
Sakais to abandon their nomadic life for one of honest work, in the
field of agriculture. Besides so teaching my good friends the value and
the nobleness of labour I should have a useful occasion myself for
employing latent energy.
We selected a beautiful place in the forest for our new encampment, and
the men set to with a good will to cutting down the splendid timber and
luxuriant climbers within the circle drawn out for the clearing. The
thick interlaced boughs and bushy underwood were alive with reptiles,
and our advent, with the noisy and destructive blows with which we broke
the drowsy stillness of the air, brought an indescribable panic in that
little centre of animal life.
Our huts were quickly raised and we were soon able to resume our
habitual occupations.
* * * * *
Some time passed without our camp being disturbed by any sort of
incident when one day a tiger was seen to stealthily approach our
clearing and snatching up a dog in its mouth, it fled back into the
forest, the poor little beast yelping pitifully as it was being carried
off.
The fact was a graver one than the mere loss of the dog would have made
it seem because if the animal had been constrained to commit such an
audacious act by the pangs of hunger, it would most probably return
again, and who could say that there would always be a dog ready for its
meal? It is however well known, that this dreadful feline creature does
not devour its prey all at once but invariably leaves a part of the
flesh sticking to the carcass, reserving the picking of its bones for
the following night. Therefore there was a good chance of speedily
liberating ourselves from our ferocious enemy, if the Sakais had not
regarded the tiger with superstitious respect, for a reason which I will
explain later on, a vague belief in metempsychosis that also has the
effect of making them fond of their domestic animals.
I had the greatest difficulty in convincing my ignorant companions that
the tiger must be killed if we wished to remain in peace and safety. It
was a long time before I could overcome their reluctance and terror at
my proposal.
At last they consented to let me rid them of their dangerous friend and
built me a small house up one of the trees we considered to be in the
best position. Armed with a first class _Martini_ I took my place there
with two or three Sakais.
What I had expected came to pass: at dead of night the beast returned.
We could see it crawling cautiously through the high grass. I took
careful aim and fired. The sharp report was instantly answered by a
fearful roar, and the formidable creature, after giving a tremendous
jump into the air, once more disappeared into the darkness of the
forest.
The Sakais were awed and dismayed by the thunder and lightning of my
gun.
We could still hear the furious laments of the wounded animal so we
thought it advisable not to stir from our posts until morning.
At the first streak of day, as the groans of the evidently fallen tiger
had not ceased, some of the men went to ascertain its refuge whilst I,
with my loaded rifle, kept myself prompt to defend them in case of an
unlikely attack.
The beast was soon found, stretched out on the turf In spite of its fury
it was unable to move as one or two of its legs had been shattered by my
lead.
I finished it with another shot. Its skull now displays its beauties at
the Ethnographic Museum at Rome.
Not much later on I was obliged to repeat the same sport.
Another tiger had stolen a dog, and we had found its half-eaten body.
Knowing that the rest would be devoured within a few hours by the same
beast of prey we made a little shelter of leaves and branches up a tree
close by and remained there to await his majesty.
At nightfall he punctually arrived and was received, according to his
merit, by my rifle. My shot did not miss its mark and he rushed off
howling with pain and rage. All night long the forest echoes were
awakened by his horrible cries but towards morning we managed to trace
him out and he too was finished by a second shot.
* * * * *
In the year 1898 the ever increasing solicitude of the Sakays had
enabled me to accumulate a considerable quantity of Malacca cane,
rattan, resin and orchids which I had made up my mind to take to Penang
for sale.
But I wanted to indulge myself in the pleasure of conducting with me
some of my friends, the savages, that they might for the first time see
a modern town.
It was no easy matter to prevail upon them to follow up my desire but
finally I persuaded five of them to come with me as carriers.
Keeping always along the banks of the Bidor we descended as far as the
Perak which we crossed in order to do a part of the journey in train and
then board one of the steamers that ply between Telok Ansom and the
island of Penang.
During the voyage I noticed nothing particular in my companions beyond a
great wonder, not unmixed with fear, when they felt themselves
travelling upon water.
They observed everything with grand curiosity, and were immensely
interested in the noisy movement of the ship's engines and its steam
sirens.
Arrived at Penang, where I met with numerous friends, they soon became
the centre of attraction.
Dainties of every kind were pressed upon them, and they were offered
loads of the finest sweetmeats and white sugar. They accepted it all
without enthusiasm but threw away the sweetmeats as soon as they had
tasted them. When I asked them why they did so they replied that there
was something not perfectly sweet in their flavour and they feared that
whatever it was would do them harm.
The gifts which they seemed to appreciate the most were cigars, tobacco
and white sugar.
My five Sakais divided their presents with each other, putting away some
for the dear ones at home, and I often noticed that in the midst of the
bewilderment which those simple souls must have experienced at being
surrounded by people and things so totally new to them, they never
seemed to forget for a moment the beloved persons they had left behind
in the jungle.
The Town-Band gave a concert and I accompanied my protegés to hear it.
The bass instruments with their deep notes jarred upon the acoustic
sense of the poor fellows and visibly inspired them with terror. They
stopped their ears with their fingers and gave clear signs of the
unpleasant feelings they were suffering from. But it was quite different
when they heard the higher-toned instruments, especially those of wood,
as the flute, the clarionet and the oboe. The pure, vibrating notes gave
them intense enjoyment judging from the pleased expression of their
countenances and their singularly brilliant eyes.
I also took them to a Chinese theatre, but the skill of the yellow
artistes did not find its way to the Sakai heart and after having
witnessed the spectacle for a few minutes they frankly declared that
they were not at all amused.
Their artless natures and simple affections remained unpolluted by the
seductions of civilization. Nothing was wanting to content them: they
were caressed by the English, received heaps of gifts and lived without
the slightest fatigue, yet they were not happy. I saw them change humour
and become more melancholy hour by hour. The distractions with which I
tried to cure their home-sickness tended only to increase it.
The third day of our sojourn at Penang they implored me so earnestly to
let them return to their families that, impressed by their sickly looks
and disconsolate air, I promised at once to grant their desire.
This promise put them into better spirits and their good humour was
quite restored when the steamer left the harbour at Penang and bore us
towards the river Perak. No one would imagine the transformation that
had taken place in my five fellow-travellers.
Four days of town-life had told upon them physically and morally. They
were tired and disgusted with everything. Accustomed, on an average, to
walk twenty miles a day, at Penang, after strolling through a few
streets, they had been weary. Exposed to privations and hardships in the
Jungle (often owing to their own improvidence) they were soon nauseated
with the ease and abundance offered them in the city.
Where the climate, the charms of the place and the security from wild
beasts were all calculated to captivate their fancy and render them
contented, the poor Sakais drooped and pined for the vicissitudes of
their wild life in the woods where comfort was unknown and food was
sometimes scarce. Their thoughts, their very souls were always back in
the remote forest, in that enchanting wilderness whose magic spell
blinded them to its mortal perils and inconveniences. Up yonder there
was perfect liberty of action; up yonder there were their families!
That sudden transition from a primitive existence to the progress of
many centuries had been a severe shock to them. In the same way that an
abrupt change from profound darkness to the most dazzling light, or from
the temperature of the pole to that of the equator, inevitably produces
grave disorders in the organism if it does not actually prove fatal, so
the turning of a savage into a citizen at a day's notice incurs a
dangerous risk.
The popular idea amongst us that anyone can quickly habituate himself to
the luxuries and commodities of modern life finds a check when applied
to primeval people like the Sakais. They may observe, enquire, and seek
to understand--as far as their intelligence permits--everything they see
around them; they remember well all they have heard and seen, and will
mimic and describe it in their poor, strange language to their relations
and friends; they carry with them presents which are a tangible record
of their travels; they explain to the others how the houses were
protected from wind, sun and rain; they will teach how to imitate the
engine whistles, the roar of the steam flowing out of the open valves,
and the hollow sound of that mysterious monster, the motor-car, but
their enthusiasm and affections are firmly fixed upon their native
forest, wondrous in its riches and allurements.
Though it may bring to its lovers death and suffering it is always the
best beloved of the savage and only a very slow, patient and--to
them--imperceptible introduction of civilizing elements in their midst
will be able to weaken this attachment for savage surroundings and turn
those treasures of affection and fidelity to a more useful and logical
end.
CHAPTER VI.
The great Sorceress--The forest seen from above--A struggle
for life--The crimes of plants--Everlasting twilight--Births
and deaths--Concerts by forest vocalists--The "durian"--The
"ple-lok"--Vastnesses unexplored by science--Treasures
intact--Para Rubber--The Samaritans of the jungle--The
forest and its history.
To speak of the forest without having seen it, and after having seen it,
to describe its marvellous beauties, are equally impossible tasks.
When Art shall have re-produced faithfully the magnificent harmonies of
colour, voice and outline peculiar to the jungle, it may be said that
there are no more secrets of beauty for it to penetrate, because nowhere
else has Nature been so profuse in bestowing her multifarious tints or
has manifested Life with such triumphal glory of fecundity; nowhere else
can be found such a prodigious variety of forms and attitudes or such
ineffable multiplicity of sounds.
Like a paean of love the forest breaks forth from the bosom of its
great Mother and rises eagerly, passionately towards the sun, its
Benefactor.
Were it possible to soar on high and look down upon that wide verdant
sea, its infinite gradations of green, enlivened here and there by the
audacious brightness of a thousand wondrous flowers, we should have
under our eyes the most complete, artistic and suggestive representation
of life and its struggles.
The gigantic trees shoot up straight towards the sun, each one seeming
to strive to outstrip the other; but a thick and even more ambitious
undergrowth of plants twine round their trunks and enclose them in a
tenacious embrace, then twisting, and creeping, amongst the spreading
boughs, reach and cover the highest tops where they at last unfold their
several leaves and flowers under the sun's most ardent gaze.
The tree, thus encircled and suffocated by the baneful hold of the
climbers, lacks light and breath; the sap flows in scarce quantities
throughout its organism and it languishes under the shade of the close
tendrils; swarms of insects increase its agony by making their food and
their nests of its bark; reptiles make love within the hollows of its
trunk and at last the day comes when the lifeless giant falls with a
frightful crash bearing with it the murderous parasite that is the
victim of its own tenacity, which first raised it to bask in the
sunshine and then caused it to be crushed under the rotten weight of its
former supporter.
These are furious embraces of envy and jealousy; phrenzies of egotism in
the vegetable kingdom: strange expressions of formidable hate and love,
of oppression and vengeance.
All these myriads of plants are invaded by the irrepressible mania to
ascend as high as possible and to receive the first, the most burning,
perhaps the most pernicious, but the most liberal kiss of the sun. And
they all hasten to arrive as though fearing to be superseded in the
ascent as much by the colossal tree destined to brave centuries--if its
massive roots are not ruined by its minute foes--as by those slender
growths of a month or a day.
"Higher still! Always higher!" the green-leafed multitude seem to cry,
"Excelsior!"
* * * * *
The sun never penetrates under this tangled mass of vegetation except
where an opening has been made by the hands of the savages or by the
work of lightning and hurricane.
In the dim light of its damp atmosphere the interminable rows of tall
straight trunks, some stout and some slight, assume the oddest shapes
which can appeal to the observer's phantasy. Now they are colonnades,
adorned with pendant festoons stretching away into the distance; now
they are mysterious aisles of monster temples; now they are the
unfinished design of some giant architect whose undertaking was arrested
by a sudden, mystic command. However fruitful may be the imagination of
the artist he would here always find fresh and superb inspiration from
the enthralling sight of Nature's virginal beauties.
The stagnant waters of the ponds, round which the frogs croak and the
leeches crawl, are plentifully strewn with water-lilies, reeds and other
aquatic plants.
On the hoary trunks of ancient trees whole families of orchids have
insinuated themselves into little clefts in the bark, and flower there
in the brightest of colours: red, purple, blue and also white.
Everywhere there is a joyous exuberance of life and vigour. Each day
begins or ends the cycle of time destined to the vegetable inhabitants
of the jungle, because as there is no regular round of seasons the
plants and flowers finish their course according to the short or long
existence prescribed them by natural laws, and one continually sees
dried and withered leaves and flowers falling to the ground whilst
others open and blossom in their stead. Those that die to-day afford
nourishment to the new-born generation and in this manner there is a
ceaseless renovation of the various species without any need of a
gardener to prepare the soil.
The exuberance of animal life is in equal proportion, as there is
abundance of food for all.
A deep and uninterrupted buzz fills the air; it comes from the cicadas
whose monotonous note wearies the ear, and from hornets and bees of
every description that keep up an incessant hum as they suck Juices from
the plants or dive their antennæ into the ripe fruit or perhaps into
some carrion lying near. The bassoon-like sound never ceases a single
instant and tells the listener how innumerable are the populations of
insects which live and generate their sort under the shade of their
jungle retreat. Other inexplicable noises--far off crashes, mysterious
sounds that chill one's veins, howls that make one shiver--for a sole
moment break the noon-day silence. What is their origin? Nobody can say.
* * * * *
The different animal sounds to be heard in the forest follow a rule
which knows no exception.
The day is hailed by a full concert warbled from the throats of
feathered songsters. This morning hymn rises in all its innocent purity
to the skies whilst the fierce protaganists of the past night's bloody
tragedies slink off to their dens and leave the field free to the more
gentle herbivorous animals.
[Illustration: The durian tree.
_p._ 64.]
But at noon, when the sun is casting down its hottest rays upon that
vast emerald palace of life, gay voices are hushed and the forest echoes
only with the drowsy buzzing of insects.
As evening draws near the birds once more begin to chirp and trill, they
salute the setting sun and fly away to rest. Then the monkeys commence
their screeching and chattering and soon after the owls and other night
birds take their turn, making the now dense darkness more terrible with
their harsh, sinister cries. Little by little as the night deepens,
bellows, roars and howls resound upon every part in a slow crescendo
until they are fused into a general and appalling uproar which could not
be more awful if the gates of Hell were to be opened on Earth.
* * * * *
I am not an artist and still less a scientist but as a simple observer I
like to take note of all that is worthy of notice and that is possible
for me to transmit in an intelligible form.
Having depicted, to the best of my ability, the characteristics of
forest life, I think it will be well--setting aside its magic charms and
manifold wonders which would make a poet even of one who has no tendency
for poetry--to describe, in a more practical way, some of its products.
I will begin with the durian, or _sumpà_, the fruit of which is unknown
in our country.
It is a very large tree, growing to the height of 40 or 50 metres and
distends around it a huge pavilion of rich branches, covered with little
leaves.
It is to be found sometimes singly and sometimes in clumps and is the
only tree that the Sakais show any interest in multiplying, and this
cultivation, if we may so call it, is done by them almost
unconsciously, not from any sentimental feeling but rather from the
effect of a sentiment and a superstition.[4] It produces a most
extraordinary quantity of fruit, the exquisite flavour of which it is
difficult to match. It has been calculated that every tree bears, on an
average, about 600 durians but some have even reached the enormous
figure of 1000.
If one were treating of berries or nuts this would not be so remarkable
but each fruit of the durian weighs about two kilograms and is as large
as a child's head. For this reason it is a dangerous thing to stand or
pass under one of these trees when the fruit is quite ripe as so heavy a
ball falling from a height of forty or more metres would suffice to
split open one's head even if the long prickles with which it is covered
did not make it more to be feared.
The Sakais are quite greedy over durians and Mr Wallace writes that its
delicate flavour is so exquisite it would well repay the expense and
disturbance of a journey Eastward on purpose to taste it.
This assertion of the English writer may be somewhat exaggerated but for
my own part, I must say that I have never tasted anything more
delicious. But not everyone can enjoy or appreciate this strange fruit
for the disgusting smell that distinguishes it and that is apt to cause
nausea to a weak stomach.
Imagine to have under your nose a heap of rotten onions and you will
still have but a faint idea of the insupportable odour which emanates
from these trees and when its fruit is opened the offensive smell
becomes even stronger.
When mature, that is to say in the months of August and September, the
durians fall to the ground and are eagerly gathered up by the natives,
who at the period of their ripening, leave the women and children, the
old and the sick in their villages and encamp themselves in the forest
around these precious trees.
The outside of the durian is ligneous and is covered with strong
prickles of nearly an inch long. The interior consists of a great many
small eggs each one being wrapped in a fine film which, when broken,
reveals a pulp of the consistency and colour of thick custard. A big
seed is embedded in the centre of each egg, almond-like in size and
form, although not so flat.
I cannot describe in any way the flavour of this fruit which the real
Sakai calls _sumpà_. I can but repeat that it is exquisite and far
superior to any sweet dainty prepared by cook or confectioner. There is
nothing to equal it, and in eating one does not discern the least smell
as the disagreeable stench comes from the husk alone and the worse it
is, the more delicate is the taste of the pulp.
This fruit is too perishable for it to be exported to far countries even
if there was any chance of its finding favour in European markets, in
consequence of its horrible smell, which does not however protect it
from the voracity of the monkeys and their rodent companions--especially
the squirrels--that manage, in spite of its formidable prickles, to make
a hole in the husk and nibble out some of its contents leaving the rest
to rot inside.
To my knowledge the durian is not subject to any malady which might
effect the annual quantity of fruit to be gathered, this depending
entirely upon whether the wind has blown violently, or not, during the
time it was in flower.
This King of Trees, as it is called by the Sakai, will grow and prosper
nearly to the height of a thousand metres, and its fruit is preserved by
pressing it into large tubes of bamboo after the seeds have been picked
out.
The Sakais frequently exchange these original pots of jam for other
articles equally prized by them, such as tobacco and beads.
Another fruit, so delicious that it may almost be said to rival the
durian, is the _plè lòk_.
The tree on which it grows cannot be ranked amongst the giants of the
forest. It has big and long leaves something like those of the orange
but whilst on the top they are a glossy black in under they are of a
still glossier green.
The fruit, that ripens between September and November, is the size of a
peach but it is covered with a very thick husk (nearly black outside,
and a rusty red inside) after the sort of our walnuts. The pulp is
divided into a lot of quarters each one enclosed in a very thin skin. It
looks like snow-white Jelly and in fact melts in the mouth at once,
leaving only a little kernel. The flavour is sweet and exceedingly
pleasant.
The husk is utilized by the Sakais for producing a dye with which to
paint their faces and also for making a decoction as a remedy against
diarrhæa and pains in the stomach.
The Sakais are immensely fond of this fruit as indeed any European,
accustomed to the finest sweets, might be, the more so as it never does
any harm or brings about an indigestion, even when eaten in large
quantities.
Besides these two grand lords of the forest I will also mention the _ple
pra_, a colossus that, modestly, but without avarice, supplies the Sakai
with excellent chestnuts.
It is impossible, notwithstanding my desire, to describe the many other
trees and fruits which form the richness of the forest, as it would take
too long. Further on, in a chapter dedicated to poisons, I have named
some of the most dangerous in this respect, but between those that are
the ministers of Death and those that are the means of Life to the
simple jungle-dweller, there are countless species to which it would be
difficult to assign a particular class.
Many of these latter are regarded by the natives with distrust, perhaps
without any reason, but from who knows what strange belief transmitted
from father to son? And in the heart of the forest who is there to study
and make experiments upon such leaves and fruits in order to ascertain
if they are perfectly edible?
I, for instance, am of opinion that the fruit of the _giù ù ba a_ could
be safety used and to a great extent.
It is like a little pumpkin, green outside and yellowish-white inside. A
kind of oil is extracted from its pulp which, when cooked, is not of a
disagreeable taste and does one no harm. But the _giù ù ba a_ is a
creeper and it is among these parasites that poisons abound and this is
why the fruits obtained from them are used with reluctance and if
possible, avoided altogether.
* * * * *
Treasures not to be imagined are still hidden in the profound recesses
of the Malay forest; priceless treasures for medical science and for
industry.
Could the former but discover the exact therapeutic and venomous virtues
of some of those plants, many of which are quite unknown to botanists,
what innumerable new and potent remedies might be found to enrich the
pharmacopoeia of civilized people!
Agriculture, in all its varied branches, could here find incalculable
treasures of fertility!
Without counting the rice that gives a wonderful annual product, the
Indian-corn that gives two harvests a year and the sweet potatoes that
give three, there is the yam, the _sikoi_,[5] the sugar-cane, coffee,
pepper, tea, the banana, the ananas, indigo, sago, tapioca, gambier,
various sorts of rubber, gigantic trees for shipbuilding, and so on.
The Para Rubber, from which is extracted our gutta percha grows
marvellously well in the Malay soil and requires very little attention
or expense.
There is the _ramiè_ whose fibres will by degrees supplant the silk we
get from cocoons, or mixed together will form an excellent quality of
stuff. It is a herb with long, fibrous stems which when well beaten out
and bleached become like a soft mass of wool. After being carded it can
be spun into the finest threads as shiny and pliant as silk itself.
[Illustration: The Durian.
_p._ 65.]
This plant flourishes to a great extent in Perak and its stems may be
cut off twice a year. It only needs to be cultivated, for industry to be
provided with a new and precious element. In fact there are few who do
not know that the greater part of Chinese silk stuffs are woven with the
_ramiè_ fibres, but its utility might have a much larger extension if it
were made an object of study by those capable of drawing from it
profitable results.
Very few lands, I think, have been so favoured by capricious Nature as
the Malay Peninsula where she seems to have taken delight in bestowing
her treasures of flora and fauna as well as underground ones, for
several gold and tin mines are being worked, whilst lead, copper, zinc,
antimony, arsenic and many other metals are constantly being found,
besides some rich veins of wolfram, although a real bed of the latter
ore has not yet been discovered.
If once the still lazy but honest forces of the Sakais could be utilized
by turning them towards agriculture, all this natural wealth might be
sent to the World's markets and a sparse but good people, susceptible of
great progress, would be gradually civilized.
* * * * *
The Para Rubber, referred to above, constitutes one of the greatest
riches of the Malay agricultural industry.
Both soil and climate are very favourable for its cultivation in the
Peninsula, so much so that a tree attains the maturity necessary for the
production of this valuable article in four years, if special care and
attention is given it, or in five or six if left to its natural growth
(as in Ceylon), whilst in other places it takes eight and even ten
years.
Not many years ago the British Government had a limited space of ground
planted, with seeds brought from Brazil, as a simple experiment. The
result was encouraging enough to induce the Institute of Tropical
Researches--initiated under the auspices of the Liverpool University,
with the object of developing Colonial commerce--to make plantations
which in one season yielded no less than 150,000 pounds of gum.
About three years ago 60,000 acres of land were planted with Para
Rubber, the Government providing the seed at a very low rate.
It is calculated that each acre contains from 125 to 250 trees according
to the quality of the ground and its position.
These plantations continue to increase with surprising rapidity and it
may be said, at the present day, that four million trees are to be found
in an area of 200,000 acres.
When one considers that each tree renders, on an average, from 5 to 6
pounds of gum, and that that of Perak--chemically proved to be pure--is
quoted on the market at 6/10 per pound--whilst the best produced by
other countries does not exceed 5/7--one can form a pretty correct
estimate of the enormous sum derived from the Para rubber of Perak.
It was generally supposed that this valuable tree would suffer if it
surpassed a thousand metres in height but in the Malay Peninsula it
grows and nourishes even higher than 1,600 metres, especially the
so-called _ficus elasticus_ and India-rubber.
The British Government is doing its best to increase this cultivation,
and "its best" in this case really means "the very best" because besides
concession of land, and the providing of seed at a low rate, the
Government aids this industry, in which so many millions are invested,
by the making of fine, wide high-roads as well as by maintaining
railways for the conveyance of goods, fixing a minimum tariff for the
transport.
Perhaps some one will accuse me of being too partial in my remarks upon
the work done by the British Government in this its remote Eastern
Protectorate, but having assisted for many years in the ever increasing
agricultural and commercial development of the peninsula, and having
seen the steady conquest civilization has made by means of the most
practical and surest methods--such as the patient training of the
natives to the love of work, and the prompt and conscientious
administration of justice--I cannot but admire the enlightened and
benificent activity displayed by the English in those parts.
* * * * *
Closed this parenthesis about the plantations, which are now spreading
far and wide over the forest (the wood-cutter's hatchet continually
clearing new tracts of land for agricultural enterprises), I want you to
return with me to the jungle which is still almost untrodden and where
Nature reigns supreme over the thick tropical vegetation.
Having already spoken briefly and in a disorderly way of the riches
which are here gratuitously offered--not the riches of Midas and
Pymalion, because mother Nature does not refuse food to her children
even if they are profaners of that wonderful temple of her fecundity--it
is right that I should now draw your attention to two great friends of
travellers in the forest. One is the bamboo and the other a creeper
called the "water vine".
The bamboo, known to us only as one of the plants least considered in a
large, well-kept garden, or as a polished walking stick, as the legs of
a fancy table of uncertain equilibrium or as a tobacco box ably worked
by Chinese or Japanese fingers, in the free forest becomes a colossal
inhabitant. Its canes, at first tender and supple, grow to such a size,
and so strong as to be used for water conduits. It is a vigorous and
invasive plant that covers the surrounding ground with new shoots
whilst in under its long roots spread out and suck up all the vital
nutriment to be found in the earth around.
To one who lives in the forest, the bamboo is as necessary as food
itself. It provides light, solid huts; it makes the blowpipe, arrow and
quiver; it serves for carrying water and preserving fruit; it forms a
safe recipient for poisonous juices; it is bottle and glass, and finally
supplies the native cooks with a saucepan that only they can use because
they have the knack of cooking their food without burning the bamboo. I
have often tried to do the same but the result has always been that pot
and pottage have been burnt together.
The bamboo has also a secret virtue of incalculable value to the thirsty
wayfarer, overcome by the heat of a tropical sun: it is a perfect
reservoir of water.
By boring a hole just under the joints of each cane more than half a
litre of clear water, not very fresh, but wholesome and good, gushes
out. It is rather bitter to the taste and serves to restore one's forces
as well as to quench one's thirst.
The water-vine also acts as a Samaritan in the jungle. Like all the
others of its sort this climbing plant closes some giant king of the
forest in its cruel embrace (thus depriving it of its strength) and then
falls in rich festoons from its boughs, swaying and rustling with every
breath of air.
By making a cut at the extremity of one of the sprays that hang down
towards the ground, a fresh, drinkable water flows out.
It is superfluous, perhaps, to add that this grand necessity for the
traveller on foot may be obtained from other sources: the streams that
are to be found trickling along here and there, and the huge leaves that
upon drying up secrete a certain quantity of rain water within them.
So the jungle gives to eat and to drink, with wonderful abundance and
variety, but woe to him who does not know her well, for she also
proffers Death in a thousand unsuspected and seductive forms!
* * * * *
How many times in the solemn, languid hour of noontide, when bird and
beast were drowsing from the heat, I have stood in the shade and
interrogated the forest upon its first violators and their descendants!
But my demands remained unanswered; in its superb grandeur it does not
interest itself in the tragic vicissitudes of animal or vegetable lives,
it makes no records, on the contrary, it quickly cancels all traces of
past events.
I have vainly asked: from whence came those who have found shelter and
solitude in the obscure depths of its wooded hills? How many centuries
have they dwelt in those lone, wild parts? I have asked if that shy and
dispersed tribe was not the remains of a once great and strong people
eclipsed by a younger, stronger, and more savage race? Sometimes
watching, with admiring eyes, the strange architectural forms taken by
the massive trunks and graceful vines, fantastic but always majestic, I
have asked the forest if it had not arisen upon the ruins of some long
ago and lost civilization and if those same forms were not an
inexplicable evocation of the gigantic creations of vanished genii of
which I seemed in imagination to catch faint glimpses?
But the forest remained mute and kept its impenetrable secret.
Only here and there, groups of trees, lower than the surrounding ones,
and between them spaces of ground, which had evidently once been
clearings and were not yet totally re-covered by jungle growth, gave
proof of Sakai nomadism even in other ages. No other sign of the past,
and my query, perhaps absurd, repeats itself. Am I before the savage
infancy of a people, or the spent senility of a race, lost sight of in
the course of centuries? If the latter, would there not be some relic
left of its existence; a fragment of stone or concrete substance
inscribed with the figures of its period? Is it possible that everything
has been buried from the sight of modern man, under the rank luxuriance
of grass and bush? Or is it not I who vainly dream under the impression
of the forest's mute grandeur and the thousands of voices that to-day
awake its echoes and to-morrow leave none behind?
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 4: In another chapter, wherein I describe the superstitions
and beliefs of the Sakais, I have spoken of the custom they have of
depositing food, tobacco, etc., on the tombs of their dead for a week
after they have been buried. Naturally everything, not devoured by beast
or insect, rots upon the spot and the seeds of the fruit find their way
into the ground. For this reason many new trees spring up in groups,
obtaining their first alimentation from the dissolution of the corpse.]
[Footnote 5: The _sikoi_ grows on high mountains and the women have to
take great pains in cleaning it before it is cooked. It is a grain
something like our millet and has good nutritive qualities.
The Sakays mix it with water and make a sort of "polenta" cooking it, as
usual, in their bamboo saucepans. It is a favourite dish with them when
eaten with monkey flesh, rats, pieces of snake, lizards, beetles and
various other insects which would be of rare entomological value to any
museum that possessed them.
Ignorant of the repugnant compound, that gave such a savoury taste to
the _sikoi_, at the beginning of my sojourn with the Sakays, I ate it
with relish after seasoning it with a little salt, an article not much
used amongst my mountain friends. But when I came to know what
ingredients gave it flavour I refused it, as kindly as I could not to
offend their susceptibilities, because my stomach rebelled against the
mess.]
CHAPTER VII.
The snares of civilized life--Faust's invocation--The dangers
of the forest--Serpents--A perilous adventure--Carnivorous
and herbivorous animals--The "sladan"--The man of the wood.
The young man who incautiously ventures into the mysterious parts of
Drury Lane--where vice and crime have a classical reputation--or strolls
through the old Latin Quarter of Paris (where some of the streets are
anything but safe to pass through), or who finds himself, for whatsoever
reason you will, in one of those questionable labyrinths still existing
in the most civilized Italian cities, would certainly not run less risk
than in facing the dangers of the forest. The dart, the trap, the attack
of beast and reptile may be, with courage and calmness, averted or
parried, but the evils which menace man, under the hypocritical
euphemisms of Society (ever ready to vaunt its impeachableness) injure
not only the body but, what is worse, the spirit.
Those who succumb to the latter are ofttimes induced to lament that
death does not come swift enough to kill their flesh, after their souls
and intellects have been long since slain and consumed.
In the thick of the jungle the spirit rises and wanders free; there are
no restraints or limits to its flight. It is inebriated by the simple
and serene joys of living; it is pervaded by a current of new, potent
energy that makes one feel--alone, in Nature's realm--either immensely
great or infinitely small; exquisitely good or miserably wicked.
It is not prudent, when travelling in the forest, to let philosophy make
us linger long on the way, but there are some moments in which one's
inner life is so intense, in which thought and sentiment are so
impetuous that that fleeting atom of time is in itself sufficient to
mark an indelible epoch in the existence of men. Who knows but what if
Mephistopheles had lead Faust into the virgin forest, and there left him
free to his speculations, if the famous invocation would ever have
escaped from the fevered lips of the doctor?
But... what is this hissing? It is not the spirit that denies; it is a
snake I have disturbed along my path and that has not found my
philosophizing over pleasant (like you, perhaps, kind reader) and so I
will cut short my digression.
* * * * *
The forest abounds in reptiles. There are innumerable varieties of
serpents, big and small, venomous and harmless. It may almost be said
(especially towards the plain) that every bush and every tree has one of
these inhabitants.
The commonest species are the _tigi riló_, the _tigi paà_ and the _tigi
dolò_ but the most feared are the _sendok_ and the _bimaà_.
[Illustration: Cooking in a bamboo saucepan.
_p._ 72.]
As a rule none of these snakes will assail a person unless they have
been molested. They remain either rolled up close to a tree or lazily
swinging from one of its branches, keeping hold of it with its powerful
tail and so it is necessary to proceed very carefully and to look
attentively both up and down in order not to disturb them.
The serpent, when stumbled against, hurls itself as quick as lightning
upon the unhappy offender, encircling and suffocating him with its coils
and biting him with its sharp fangs even when they are not poisoned.
Like all other animals it becomes ferocious and seeks to kill from fear.
He who disturbs it is a foe to be vanquished.
But if you pass him without being afraid and without hurrying, with a
slow gliding step, taking care not to move your hands or arms, it will
let you go on your way and take no notice of you.
And this I can affirm from experiments I have myself made upon the
terrible _sendok_.
One day I was able, in this way, to pass quite close, almost touching
one of these most venomous reptiles. He never moved as I crept by but he
did not lose sight of me for a single instant. I am quite sure that if
my inward fear had betrayed itself by the slightest gesture, I should
have been a dead man.
Sometimes I have succeeded, very, very gently, in placing upon it a
stick about two metres long. Well, the horrid serpent just lazily
unfolded its coils and softly slipped from under it. Very different
would have been the result if I had put the stick upon its head roughly!
From this you will see that danger from snakes is much less than one
might believe from the thrilling adventures narrated by friends (between
a roast chestnut and a sip of wine), as they are snugly gathered round a
cosy fireside, adventures which they have read in the fabulous pages
written by one of those story-tellers who gull the respectable public
with the loveliest or the most terrifying descriptions of places, men
and beasts of which they scarcely know the name.
Serpents are always attacked and beaten down with sticks, except the
very large ones, that are taken by lassoes as I will explain in another
chapter. It is a quick and simple means of getting free, in a few
minutes, of a venomous enemy which it never fails to do when fear does
not make the eye and the hand miss its aim, precision in the blow being
all that is needed.
Not very long since I had an adventure with one of these reptiles which
threatened to be my last. I was quietly strolling in the forest and had
with me neither weapon nor stick. My thoughts were far away but a
rustling sound and a loud hiss brought them quickly back and arrested my
steps. A large, venomous snake was right in front of me! Erect, with
open mouth and protruding tongue, the embodiment of hatred, it was
there, prompt for an assault. My case was desperate and only a miracle
of _sang-froid_ could save me. Fixing my eyes steadily upon those of the
serpent, very gradually and with the slowest possible movement I bent my
knees and crouched down towards the ground, where, in an equally slow
and methodical way I groped for some sort of stick with which to strike
my adversary. Having found what I wanted, I drew myself up in the same
cautious manner and with a sudden, rapid gesture I hit the beast with
all my might. Fortunately for me, my blow told and I had an addition to
my collection of jungle foes.
The traveller in Malay who is not a thorough alien to timorous feelings
would do well to never leave his comfortable post in the railway
carriage between one place and another or at least to keep within a safe
distance of the forest, for although its perils have been greatly
exaggerated there are some, all the same, that require a stout heart and
firm nerves.
When there is no big game to put your courage and your pulse to the test
there is always a troop of smaller animals that make game of you and
prove your force of resistance. A rat bites your heel whilst you are
asleep; the leeches suck your blood; all sorts of insects sting you.
These little annoying incidents irritate flesh and spirit and may be the
cause of feverishness, but a dose of quinine and a compress over the
wound soon have a good effect.
* * * * *
But it is not sufficient to bravely face bodily danger, support physical
pain and endure with grace the mortifications inflicted upon one's flesh
by the more minute inhabitants of those regions, for the jungle also
exacts certain moral virtues which civilization does not always
appreciate or admire, nay, on the contrary, that it often laughs at.
The great Sorceress, for whom one feels a strange nostalgia after having
once known her magnificence and her horrors, kills the man who is not
temperate in his habits.
Moderation in eating is the first consideration for prolonging life in
the forest. The stomach must never be overladen and no strong drinks
must be used.
By following this method of living and allowing myself very rarely even
a glass of wine I managed to keep in excellent health in 1889 when an
epidemic raged violently in the island of Nias and made sad havoc
amongst the natives.
The human organism, especially that of a European, is beset by numerous
inconveniences which may generate illness; the burning sun, that seems
to cook one's brain; the cold nights and heavy dews; the violent storms
that quite suddenly break over your head, and the food that must be put
up with even when it is not actually hygienic.
For all this a strict regime, based upon moderation, is indispensable.
It is true that in my forest cabin I have an assortment of the best
wines and whiskies, notwithstanding the improbability of being able to
offer a glass to my friends, but those bottles remain well corked,
waiting for their legitimate owner to feel indisposed, when a draught of
their contents will restore his lost strength without resorting to
medicine.
* * * * *
The greatest dangers in the jungle are those which cannot be met with
impunity; those that render every defence inefficacious when a man is
taken unawares.
I speak of the tigers and panthers that are very numerous and audacious;
of the bears, that do not act so jocosely here as in our streets and
menageries but vie with other wild beasts in blood-thirstiness; of the
rhinoceros, the elephant, the terrible _sladan_, the wild dogs that,
fierce as wolves, wander about in large packs.
A dissertation upon the tiger and its like does not seem to me a
sufficiently interesting subject for my readers who will have seen, who
knows how many, at the fairs and museums and will have learnt their
character and habits from Natural History books or from the description
(not always correct) of someone who has only set foot on the land where
they live. I must, however, make special mention of the _sladan_, the
only survivor of an almost extinct fauna.
This animal belongs to the herbivorous class but is more ferocious than
any of the carnivorous species. It does not kill from hunger or for
self-defence, but for the mere sake of killing.
It is a sort of buffalo or bison with two very solid, strongly planted
horns on its thick-set head. This animal possesses such vigour and
agility as to enable it to attack victoriously all other wild beasts.
Only the elephant sometimes succeeds, with difficulty, in mastering it.
Its den is in the most remote and inaccessible parts of the forest and
by day and by night it scours the neighbourhood, rending the air with
its awful roars. One is never sure of not meeting it, and to meet it
either means to kill it or to be killed.
It is very fond of the tender shoots of sweet potatoes and for this will
often visit the crops cultivated by the Sakais who, for fear of this
dreaded enemy, do not plant very much. Generally, though, the _sladan_
devastates the potato fields during the night.
The ferocity of this beast surpasses that of all others, for whilst the
lion, the bear and even the tiger and panther have been known to show
some feeling of respect, gratitude or fear, the _sladan_ never exhibits
one or the other. It would almost seem that in him is concentrated all
the hatred of a race of animals, fast dying out, against every living
creature whose species is still destined to remain in the world.
And yet quite close to the haunts of these champions in savagery, always
on the look out for blood and carnage, live other quiet and harmless
animals. I will say nothing of the wild boar (that in comparison with
the _sladan_, might pass for a lamb) of the wild goat or of the deer
which are in great numbers, but there are little rodent quadrupeds of
every sort, size, and fur, besides perfect crowds of monkeys of
different kinds. They belong to the herbivorous order and go about by
day in search of food, hiding themselves when the first shades of night
call forth from their dens the heroes of nocturnal tragedies.
A garrulous population of birds enliven the forest; they are
insectivorous, granivorous, and omnivorous but all are beautiful in
their rich and wonderful variety of colour. Amongst these the pheasant
for its oriental plumage and the cockatoo for its querulous voice are
remarkable as the largest.
A gay concert is given in honour of the dawning and the dying day but
long before the birds of prey have unfolded their wings and soar, like
phantoms, through the darkness, the pretty carol-singers hush their
warblings and hide themselves from the horrors of the night.
A collector of butterflies would go into ecstasies over the splendid
varieties that flutter and flit in the air, and the countless multitude
of different insects would be well worth special study; amongst the
latter are verified the most curious mimetic facts that ever the
unprejudiced mind of a man of politics could imagine!
And yet, in the midst of so many contrasts, in the midst of so many
dangers which exact exceptional presence of mind and strong nerves, life
in the forest is full of charm and allurements.
The spirit is strengthened and elevated by this continuous warfare, open
and pronounced, so unlike those depressing struggles against narrow
minds, and tiger-hearts, which distinguish town-life.
* * * * *
It is very rare that one meets a man in the Malay forest. You may walk
on for weeks without encountering a soul. I happened once, though, to
fall in with one who was a primitive being in the strictest sense of the
term.
[Illustration: Trap for reptiles and rats.
_p._ 86.]
I was trudging along one day with my Sakai servant, when at the foot
of the hill (Chentok) I saw a little cot and wished to visit it.
Inside I found a man. At seeing me he caught up his blow-pipe--a
miserable-looking instrument--and his poisoned darts, and was about to
run away. I hastily made my companion offer him a few cooked potatoes
and a little maize which he accepted without saying a word and began to
devour ravenously.
In those brief moments I took stock of the poor creature. He was
painfully thin; his skeleton could be clearly seen under the unadorned
skin; his sunken eyes gleamed with mistrust and inquietude from out of
his fleshless face, and his long black hair lay in tangled masses round
his neck.
I had before me the true type of a wild man of the wood, less vivacious
and less loquacious than his brother, the ape.
I gave him some tobacco, that he eagerly crammed into his mouth and
then, keeping fast hold of his weapon he hurried off, without uttering a
single syllable, although I asked him many things in his own tongue.
Neither did he in any way express satisfaction, or gratitude for what he
had received but vanished mute, contemptuous and silently into the
thickest part of the jungle.
My little Sakai was not so surprised as I at this strange person and his
way of proceeding, because he had seen him before and could tell me
something about him.
He was known by the name of _Alà Lag_, or the sorcerer. He had no wife,
no children, no friends, and lived quite alone, far from everyone,
wandering about the forest, feeding upon wild-honey and the fruit he
found upon the ground. If he happened to catch some game he would light
up a bit of fire and seem to cook it but in reality he ate it raw.
Sometimes he came across a settlement when he would enter the first hut
which lay in his way, and by gesture more than by word, would ask for
food and after having obtained it, started off again.
The good Sakais pitied the poor vagabond and had often tried to make him
stop with them as a brother or a guest but he always resolutely refused
whatever proposal they made him and they were of opinion that not even
old age would have any effect upon the misanthropy of this poor
inoffensive being who isolated himself so obstinately from all his kind.
I thought to myself, is the poor fellow wise or mad in thus seeking to
live alone as Nature produced him, in the unlimited liberty of his
native jungle where he is secure from delusions and sorrows?
Men, little less savage than he, feel compassion for him as he passes
by. Nobody would dare to laugh at or injure such a harmless soul and so
he is allowed to ramble from hut to hut undisturbed, his eccentricities
and his odd behaviour being his safeguard.
It is not always so amongst people more advanced in civilization!
CHAPTER VIII.
An official appointment--A tour of inspection--Lost in the
forest--I find a philosopher--Lycurgus and his laws--A
contented mind is a continual feast--A night among the
tigers--On the Berumbum--I sleep with a serpent--The last
of many--Safe from trap and arrow--The coronation of King
Edward VII.
Having established a regular trade in forest products and attempted
something in the way of plantations, I felt a strong desire to explore
the whole country inhabited by the Sakai tribes to better estimate its
riches and at the same time to know more thoroughly the character of
this people of whom I knew only a limited number.
From the Bidor I passed into Sunkei Selin and Pahang, and when, in 1901,
I happened to be at Tapah I was offered the Government post of
Superintendent of the Perak Sakais.
The proposal was such as to gratify a little ambition of which I had not
really been conscious before. I therefore accepted it with great
pleasure, the more so as I felt flattered that the British Government
should repose so much confidence in an Italian.
My first official act was to make enquiries about a serious quarrel that
had taken place amongst the Sakais living in the plain, and that had
resulted in several deaths.
The fact was so uncommon and extraordinary considering the good nature
of the people, that it was quite worth the while of an investigation.
Two Bretak Sakais descended from the heights which bound Perak and
Pahang, and found hospitality in a family of those Sakais who are in
constant contact with strangers. Seeing them take some salt out of a
bamboo tube and eat it, the two guests asked to be allowed to taste it
in their turn. In whatever hut of the jungle savages, this desire would
have been anticipated but these others had learnt selfishness, as well
as other defects, in their intercourse with their neighbours, and simply
answered that salt did harm to anybody not accustomed to it.
This prevarication, which was equal to a refusal, offended the Bretaks,
as it was an infringement of the Sakai custom of sharing like brothers
all they possessed. They insisted upon their right and at last obtained
a handful of salt, given them grudgingly.
After the Bretaks had departed, the other men went to their traps and
brought back with them four big rats that were at once cooked and
abundantly salted.
It so happened, that one of the women,--who had been ill for some
time--ate two of them, thereby causing herself such a serious
indigestion that in a couple of days she was no more.
[Illustration: In quest of fruit and bulbs.
_p._ 91.]
The Sakais thought directly that her sudden decease must be owing to an
evil spell of the Bretaks who wished for a revenge for the reluctance
shown in giving them the salt. They quickly decided that the crime
should be punished by death and started off in pursuit of the supposed
culprits. As soon as they were within reach they attacked them with a
volley of poisoned darts. The others naturally defended themselves and
the conflict ended with three dead.
In the course of time the Government came to hear of the question and
bade the _pengulu_ (Malay chief) to make enquiries in order to establish
the responsibility. But he refused to interfere.
No sooner was I appointed Superintendent than I received orders to
interest myself in the matter, and an escort of armed soldiers was put
at my disposition for the arrest of those found guilty. But this way of
proceeding was not to my opinion, as I explained in my report. The fact
was quite an exceptional one and was the consequence of a deplorable
superstition. By imprisoning someone we should not have cured the great
evil of ignorance, but only have sown the seed of hatred against the
White Man, for the men who were taken prisoners could not live long in
seclusion and their untimely death would never be pardoned.
The British Authority being favourable to this my way of thinking I was
able to go alone and find out the rights of the case after which I
managed to obtain a complete pacification of all concerned.
* * * * *
I had been but a short time in my new office when I decided to make a
tour of inspection through the territory entrusted to my care and I
really do not remember any other of my travels so full of incidents and
emotional adventures. Two, in particular, will never be erased from my
memory.
I was journeying quite by myself, confiding perhaps too much in the
knowledge I had gained of the jungle, and the possibility of being lost
in the forest never entered my head.
And yet this is one of the greatest perils that can befall anybody, for
it may be a compendium of all the others.
He who is born and who grows up in the forest does not run this risk for
certain, because from a slight cut in a tree, a broken reed, a pendant
bough, the smallest sign that would escape the keenest of European eyes,
the native knows how to draw precise indications of the direction to be
followed. Wherever he goes, he never forgets to leave some trace of his
passage in order to find his way back without uncertainty and loss of
time. In this way the Sakais wander about the jungle with astounding
security just as if they were walking along a well-traced out path.
The same prodigious variety of woodland scenery that the forest offers
to the gaze gives it a certain uniformity in the mind of a white man.
The colossal trees that stretch away one after the other as far as can
be seen; the twining vines and creepers which cluster everywhere; the
huge bushes and flowering thickets; the dips and hollows in the ground,
and the little ponds over which the green of reed and rush triumphs
equally with bright floral colours. The European embraces all this in a
sole glance, in its entirety, but cannot discern, like the Sakai, the
difference that exists between this tree and that, this glen and the
other. And if the poor man be alone he will surely be lost; and if he is
lost there is very little chance of his ever getting out again.
* * * * *
Evening was fast approaching; the birds were singing their last songs
for the day, and in the first hour of a brief twilight breathed that
solemn calm which especially belongs to the forest when its more
innocent inhabitants are beginning to conceal themselves for the night,
and the ferocious beasts of darkness are not yet abroad in search of
prey.
It was getting late and I hastened to reach my cabin, but hurry as I
would it never came in sight. I could not understand this at all until
suddenly (with what dismay I will leave my reader to imagine) I
perceived that I had been following the tracks of a bear, believing them
to have been a man's.
Alarmed, I looked about me on every side, scrutinizing every part; I
advanced a little this way and that, then retraced my steps, anxiously
endeavouring to find out a clue to the right direction.
Alas! there was no mistaking the truth; I was lost in the depth of the
forest, and what was worse, at nightfall!
Little by little anguish parched my throat and drops of cold sweat stood
on my brow. What could I do? If I remained on the ground I should be
exposed to the fatal caresses of some wild beast, on the other hand if I
climbed up a tree (no very easy matter as I should have to find a
creeper strong enough to bear my weight) should I not be equally exposed
to the deadly clasp of a snake?
The darker it grew, the more my bewilderment and anxiety increased. I
began to hollo desperately, calling frantically for help with such a
piercing voice as I had never dreamt of possessing before. It was my
only and last hope.
Tired, hungry, thirsty and disheartened I continued to shout as loudly
as I could and at last it seemed to me that a human voice answered my
wild cries from a distance. Once more I bawled with all my might and
then listened. Yes, there was no doubt; someone had heard me, and with
the auricular acuteness of despair I turned towards the direction of
the sound and hurried forward.
It was not long before I came across a solitary hut that I found to be
inhabited by a family of six persons.
I narrated my perilous adventure and they gave me food (which was
certainly not intended for delicate stomachs) and water, and I, in
return, handed round some tobacco, then, tranquil as regarded the night,
with a sigh of relief I lighted my pipe, the ever faithful companion of
my travels, and began to chat with the old man, the head of the family.
I intentionally introduced the Sakais' dislike for work and asked him
the reason why.
Very quietly, and without the least hesitation, he replied:
"Why should we give ourselves the pain and fatigue of working like
slaves? Does not the earth give us, spontaneously, more than enough for
our need without tormenting it with implements?".
The argument was logical, but I smiled and remarked:
"It does not seem to me that the earth provides everything without
working it. When you want rice or tobacco you have to ask it from those
who cultivate it".
The old man quickly retorted:
"And what does that matter? We have the right of demand because both are
grown upon our soil. By cutting down our beautiful forest for
plantations we are deprived of game and fruit; by drying up our ponds we
have no fish to eat; by cultivating our land we are being continually
driven farther towards the mountains, in search of that food which
satisfied our fathers, but the stranger who comes amongst us beats the
path that we have traced with our feet. Is it not just then that we
should have some recompense, that certain of our needs should be
considered?".
[Illustration: In quest of animal food.
_p._ 91.]
"Povera e nuda vai, filosofia",[6] I muttered to myself, admiring that
old man, ignorant and bare, who in the rough, broken phrases of his poor
language solved with the greatest simplicity questions of civil rights
which a University professor would have found complicated and even
difficult. I continued however:
"But then if nobody came to you, treading your paths; if nobody
cultivated some strips of your forest, how would you obtain calico, and
tobacco and rice?".
With a shake of his head my humble host hastened to answer:
"Cannot man live without these trifles? Does not the forest supply us
with flesh, fish, and fowl? Does it not produce, for our use, roots,
bulbs, truffles, mushrooms, edible leaves and exquisite fruit? Do not
its trees provide us with shelter and their bark with a covering for our
bodies, when it is necessary? What more could one desire?".
I was nonplused! But noticing that my new friend was in the vein to
chat, a fact which I inwardly attributed to the effects of that same
tobacco, whose necessity he had just denied, but which he was smoking
with evident pleasure, I turned the conversation by asking why his
people were not be found in other parts of the Peninsula?
"We love our forest and our liberty too well ever to leave these
confines of our own accord" he replied placidly and in tones of
conviction, "and when, as sometimes happened in the past, our people
were forced to follow and serve their conquerors they brought little or
no profit to their masters because if they found a chance of escaping
back to their kindred they did so, and if not, in a short time they died
of broken hearts. As for our children, we would rather kill them
ourselves than let them go into the hands of our neighbours. Now that we
are protected by the _orang putei_" (he meant the British Government)
"we and our families live in more peace than before".
As though overcome by painful memories, he became silent and sad. After
a minute he went on in a dull voice, seeming to speak to himself: "Once
upon a time these parts were not so deserted, and populous, prosperous
villages were scattered over the forest. But our tranquillity and
well-being excited the envy of other tribes who wanted to subject us to
them and to make us work like slaves, so they came against us armed, and
pillaged, burnt and destroyed everything belonging to us. We were
dispersed and compelled to live in isolated huts erected in the most
inaccessible places in order not to attract the attention of other men".
He paused again and then added:
"We have nothing to lose now except our freedom which is more precious
to us than life itself, and for this we are ready to fight to the very
last even if our bodies are left on the ground for beasts and birds to
feed upon".
A fierce light kindled the old Sakai's eyes, which boded evil for anyone
who attempted to disturb the quietude of their present rambling life.
And I understood how much stronger these inoffensive people were in
their dispersion than when they were banded together in villages. If
aggressors should attack these solitary huts they would find their
owners prompt to meet the attack with all the ferocity of wild beasts
and even if nobody was saved from the massacre to report the terrible
news in other encampments, alarm would have been given by the sound of
fire-arms and cries. In consequence the other Sakais would immediately
destroy all signs of their habitation, and penetrate farther into the
forest which, for them, has no secret concealed. Towards night they
would creep among the tall grasses until they found the enemy that would
serve us a target for their poisoned arrows. However well their foes
might know the use of gun and revolver, they would be at a disadvantage,
for these weapons reveal the position occupied by those who shoot but
the fatal dart flies out of the darkness leaving the spot from whence it
comes uncertain.
Nothing could be more disastrous in the way of warfare than an attack
with poisoned arrows, in the midst of the forest, during the night. Your
men would fall right and left without having been able to defend
themselves in any way.
I afterwards got the old man to tell me something about their customs
regarding marriage and family organization.
"By thus living separate", he said "each family by itself, without being
subject to any chief or authority, save only that of the Elder (be he
father or grandfather), our peace is guaranteed. There are no quarrels,
there is no jealousy or bad-feeling, for all are equal, all live in the
same way and each one divides what he may possess amongst the others, so
that there is also no injustice".
I raised the objection that this perfect equality could not possibly
exist because the identical rights and duties in domestic economy could
not be applied in the same way to the hale and strong members of the
family as to the weak and sickly. But I had to repeat my idea in various
ways before the Sakai caught the meaning, then he exclaimed:
"Ah, I suppose you are speaking of some sort of deformity, or defect.
Amongst us it is so rare to find either one or the other that it would
be difficult for a Sakai to understand when you talk of men different to
him in form or robustness. If however, the Evil Spirit makes one of our
children be born deformed, or with a defect, he is treated with the care
necessary to his state but he cannot transmit his infirmity to others
because, first of all our customs compel him to lead a life of chastity,
and secondly, no woman of our tribe would consent to a union with him".
Oh, Lycurgus, I thought, thy wise laws have here, among savages, a less
brutal application. For one who dies loveless (and as the Sakais are not
given to strong passions, and are chaste by nature, this is not a very
great sacrifice) many are saved from unhappiness and a whole race
preserved from degeneration.
The old man having spoken of the Evil Spirit, I abruptly demanded who
this much feared being might be.
"He possesses all things", he answered, lowering his voice as if afraid
of being heard. "He is in the wind, the lightning, the earthquake, he is
in the trees and the water. Sometimes he enters our huts and makes
someone die; then we bury our dead very deep under the ground, leaving
to them food and their own property, and we fly from the spot, for it is
a dangerous thing to remain under the Spirit's gaze".
* * * * *
Finished our conversation, of which I have sought to give you a faithful
translation, although the Sakai had expressed himself in the short,
monotonous phrases peculiar to his tongue, that is scarce of words and
verbs, we prepared to follow the example of the other members of my
host's family who had gone to sleep during our quiet chat. But before
closing my eyes I repassed in mind the theories expounded by the old
forester, and I found in them such a just expression of rectitude, of
simple but strong logic, of spirit and intelligence that I could not but
admire and agree.
[Illustration: A half-breed Sakai.
_p._ 103.]
I asked myself if the philosophy of the learned was not inferior to that
of this savage, who considered existence as limited to the satisfaction
of material wants, without torturing himself about imaginary need, and
without consuming nerves, muscles, heart and brain in a daily struggle
for what he could dispense with? And I asked myself if in that perfect
inertness, in that immunity from all feelings of sensuality, hatred,
ambition or rivalry must he not be a thousand times happier than we in
civilized society who seek fortune and satisfy our caprices, our
follies, in the midst of excitement and strong emotions, living in a
continual fever of suspicion, jealousy and envy, accumulating perhaps
riches but withering up the soul which cannot enjoy even for a day the
supreme blessing of serenity?
Which is nearer the truth (I argued to myself), he who places himself in
report with Nature as one of her offspring receiving all the necessities
of life straight from her never-failing stores and thereby lowering
himself to the state of the humblest of her creatures, or we who worry
ourselves in building up a model of perfection, a mannikin, that every
one wants to dress up in his own way--with his own virtues or his own
defects?
"A contented mind is a continual feast". This adage was verified in the
person of the old Sakai. An enemy to progress of any kind he logically
conformed himself to his surroundings, and limited his desires to what
he was sure of obtaining.
But we who in our civilization hunger and thirst after progress, why do
we continually preach this proverb to our young, and illustrate it to
them on every possible occasion?
It is, perhaps, because on every hand we come across harsh
contradictions presented by those who, with all their study, try to
reconcile the true with the absurd in order to get the latter accepted
in homage to the former, and they make use of this maxim for their own
ends and to take advantage of others, whereas this savage, reared in the
maternal arms of Nature (that gives and takes, produces and causes
without either deceit or change) was in himself so satisfied with what
she provided and ordered that there would have been no need to make him
learn with his lips a precept that sprang spontaneously from his heart.
* * * * *
My kind reader will perhaps give a shrug of the shoulders at the mere
idea of my having the will to philosophize so soon after such a terrible
adventure. Well, I confess I did not feel inclined to do so after
another which was even more frightful still.
I had left my cabin in the afternoon to go and inspect the works of a
road which I was having made near a little Sakai village, situated at
the foot of a mountain. When I reached the spot I called out loudly, as
was my habit, to give the necessary orders; but nobody answered.
Wondering what it meant I descended to the group of huts which I found
empty and half destroyed. I supposed that Death had stricken one of the
inhabitants and that the others, according to their custom, had
abandoned their dwellings here to erect new ones far from the place
visited by the Evil Spirit.
The discovery vexed me and made me feel rather uneasy, for the sun would
soon be setting and no good could be expected of a several miles march
through the forest, alone, and without a light.
[Illustration: A meeting in celebration of king Edward VII's Coronation.
_p._ 104.]
I ascended with all haste to my previous position in order to find the
path I had come by. The sky was rapidly darkening with the frenzied
dance of heavy black clouds and it was not long before they opened their
flood gates and the rain fell in perfect torrents, accompanied by
dazzling flashes of lightning.
I pushed on as best I was able but under my feet rivers of water were
quickly formed, which cancelled all traces and made me lose my bearings,
whilst the fear of being again lost began to trouble me.
Only too soon I became aware that my inquietude was justified because,
in the meantime, night had fallen and neither the lightning nor my
matches were of any avail in showing me the way I ought to follow.
Then I was seized with that awful anguish I had experienced on the other
occasion and which has so direful an effect upon the spirit as to render
one incapable of even thinking.
I turned this way and that without any notion hardly of what I was
seeking.
I stumbled over the long grasses and more than once rolled down a hollow
full of nettles and thorns, which stung and scratched my face and hands
horribly. I scrambled out, however, almost directly, animated by a fiery
instinct of self preservation, and pulling out from my flesh the thorns
that hurt me most, I recommenced, blood-stained and unnerved, to grope
my way in the dark.
In one of my tumbles I felt a huge beast gallop over my body. What was
it? I thought it must be a wild-boar.
I remained there some time on the ground smarting and exhausted. My
strength and energy seemed to diminish every minute and the mad,
desperate thought flashed across my mind to not move any more but just
lie there under the rain to wait for death or daylight.
From the tall trees came peltering down upon me shells, husks and fruit,
the remains of a feast the monkeys were having upon the thick boughs
that sheltered them from the bad weather, and from afar came a low, dull
sound like the deep rumbling noise that often precedes Nature's
tragedies.
Life in the jungle had taught me what that fearful roar meant. It was
caused by the clamouring cries of thousands of wild beasts, rushing
forth from their dens and hastening towards the bloody convention which
every night they hold.
It gave me the force to make a supreme effort. I got up and staggered
forward, not knowing where I was going and trusting purely to chance.
But in the end I was obliged to give myself up for lost and every hope
of escaping my horrible fate forsook me. I could no longer shout but it
would have been useless, for the ever-increasing din would have
prevented others, and me, from hearing anything else. I managed to prop
myself up against a rock and with all the strength that was left me, I
clung to it with one hand whilst with the other I turned up the collar
of my thin, linen jacket and tried to cover my face.
Did I do this not to see the approaching danger and inevitable fate
which was fast overtaking me? I do not know; I only remember the act,
but not the thought that prompted it.
Anyway willing or not willing, I saw everything.
Close by, some big phosphorescent mushrooms illuminated the darkness
with their faint, ghastly gleams of light.
The tumult, the row, the trampling always seemed to get louder and
nearer. It was like the advance of an endless host of demons and evil
spirits.
Terrible crashes, furious roars, wild howls, and formidable feline cries
began to reach my ear distinctly. I could have sworn that all the
fiercest inhabitants of the forest had agreed to meet near me. Was this
conviction the effect of the terror which had taken possession of me or
was it a horrible fact?
Two burning orbs flashed through the night and an unearthly yell made my
poor body start once more, though stiffened as it was by horror.
A tiger was here, perhaps 50, perhaps 20 yards from me!
I feebly endeavoured again to hide my face; it would be preferable for
death to come upon me suddenly than to count the instants of its coming.
I backed myself closer under the rock, clinging to it with my left hand,
whose nerves, muscles and nails had turned into steel under the
supremacy of terror.
A few minutes of cruel, breathless suspense....
I felt dimly amazed at finding myself still alive: there were two tigers
and they were diabolically squalling out a love-duet. Who has not felt a
shiver run down his back when, snug in a warm bed, the mid-night
stillness has been broken by two amorous cats on the roof or in the
court that are putting their vocal powers and their hearer's patience to
the test? Imagine then to be frozen against a wet stone whilst a couple
of tigers express their sentiments of love in much the same language,
but in tones proportionate to their size!
In the fervour of their passion would they notice the dainty meal
prepared for them in my person?
Not far off the implacable _sladan_ was savagely bellowing. Was he too
bound for my place of martyrdom?
My slow torture, under the pale glimmer of the phosphorescent mushrooms
must have lasted for hours, but I no longer had the perception of time
or peril. Only the appalling fear of the flesh kept me grasping tightly
to the rock without making the slightest movement.
I did not know when the tigers went away or when the enormous multitude
of beasts of prey beat a retreat.
The first sensation I had of being alive was when the two heralds of the
morn, the _cep plôt_ and the _cep riò_ announced with their musical
notes the dawn of another day.
Then I stirred. My limbs were benumbed by that long immobility, and with
the cold which was all the more intense from the rain first and the dew
afterwards, both of which had drenched me to the skin.
I was shaking with ague and, weak from my long fast and the frights I
had passed through, I scarcely knew how to get away from that spot where
I had endured so many hours of agony, and yet it was necessary for me to
move as soon as possible.
The jungle was alive with gay voices; all the harmless, innocent
creatures, that populated its hospitable region, hailed the new day with
noisy acclamation, and their joy found an echo in me, for its
thousand-fold blessed light would show me my road to safety.
I afterwards learnt that my bad luck had guided me to a rock, close to a
spring of hot water, where the kings, queens, princes and princesses of
the forest were accustomed to hold their soirees!
* * * * *
I had to repose for some days before recovering from the physical and
moral shocks of that awful night and for some time afterwards I made my
faithful little Sakai accompany me on my tours of inspection round
Perak, as with him there was no fear of being lost.
[Illustration: Three types of tatooed Bretak Sakais.
_p._ 110.]
One day we got as far as the summit of the Berumbum where we passed the
night among some families that had taken refuge up there. I was
enchanted with the starry sky, the quiet air and mild temperature I
found upon that height and which made my thoughts fly across oceans and
continents to the sea which reflects my Liguria. Up there the nocturnal
silence is not rent by the blood-thirsty cries of wild animals, and
after having been lulled to sleep for so long by their distant clamour,
and especially after the strong emotions I had quite recently
experienced, that profound calmness was to me so full of sentimental
suggestion that instead of sleeping my spirit wandered into the past,
recalling with pleasure and sadness those evenings of sweet intimacy
once enjoyed in the bosom of my family, then a numerous one but now
reduced by death and other events.
When at last I fell asleep I did not awake till morning.
As soon as I had got up my young Sakai servant took the pillow I always
carried with me, and began to shake it, but he shrank back with a
frightened cry as a little snake of about a yard long, belonging to a
very poisonous class, fell from under it.
The dear little beast had slept upon the same pillow as I, perhaps to
prove to me that his sort is very much maligned and that if you leave
them alone to do what they like, without giving them any disturbance,
they will never think of biting you.
Ten Sakai families were encamped up there and I exhorted them all to
come down from that height of 5000 feet and occupy themselves in
agriculture, for the cold during the night is sometimes severe and the
poor things must suffer from it, as they have no clothes to keep them
warm.
But all my persuasions were fruitless.
I resumed my journey and it must have been about ten o'clock in the
morning when in the distance an old man who, as far as I could
understand from the half twilight of the forest, made me signs of
friendship.
I went towards him and saw that where he stood there had once been a
village but its now miserable aspect made it a strange contrast to the
riches of Nature with which it was surrounded.
The solitary inhabitant of that forsaken and dilapidated place offered
us some fruit and I asked him the reason of the battered huts and
general desolation. He told me with grief in his tones that the village
had been devastated by armed enemies. "Many of my brethren were killed
and many others were taken away as slaves and the rest have fled to
safer and more inaccessible parts, but I could not find it in my heart
to abandon this spot where I was born; where I grew up....".
This was indeed a strange sentiment for one whose people for the most
lead a roving life either from habit or from superstition!
* * * * *
Armed enemies! and who were they? For certain they appertained to the
scum of neighbouring peoples of which I have already spoken. Men who,
though encompassed on all sides by civilization, still remain
uncivilized; men who, shunned by their honest and laborious countrymen,
make the free forest a field for their vile passions, and now that they
can no longer give vent to their evil desires in depredation and
bloodshed, because of the severe measures taken by the Government,
continue to damage the poor Sakais in many odious and insidious ways
without always drawing down upon their heads the punishment they
deserve.
Who were they? Who are they? Delinquents by nature, such as are to be
found in most of our large cities; people born with savage instincts;
men who would rather pass their days in the midst of vice and open
corruption than live a life of honour and opulence.
None of these delinquents are to be found in thorough-bred Sakai tribes,
they may however be met with amongst the inhabitants of the plain where
there is a mixture of race, the result of those forced unions which were
the desperation of Sakai women when taken prisoners. In the children
born of these unions one can often trace the natural impulse towards
violence and robbery that they have inherited from their fathers.
I myself had a proof of this.
As Inspector I often used to pass from one encampment to another,
sometimes on the plain and sometimes on the mountain and I frequently
took these brief journeys alone as the paths were well trodden.
It so happened that one day I had stopped in the hut of one of these
half-breeds--where there were several real Sakais who had come from
their jungle home to exchange products--and on my return I was overtaken
by one of my good friends that offered to accompany me for a little way.
As we walked along together I noticed he proceeded with great caution
and kept looking about with suspicion. All at once he caught me by the
arm and pointed to a stick stuck into the ground just in front, from
which some leaves were dangling. As I did not understand his act he
advanced a step or two and showed me a well concealed trap, set with a
poisoned dart.
It had been fixed across the path and I should have assuredly fallen
over it, if my companion had not prevented me. He simply said that it
must have been prepared for game and soon after left me.
But later on I heard that he had not told me the truth in saying this
for the trap had been put there, on purpose for me, by the villanous
bastard in whose hut I had halted, and whose photograph I was afterwards
able to take and here present to my readers.
This man had not the least reason for resentment against me but he was
actuated by that spirit of hatred which induces all evil-doers to try
and get rid of those who may be an obstacle to their bad living and
knowing that I had the intention of passing his way again in a few days
he had placed the trap there in order to kill me. He was so contented,
however, with what he had done that he could not keep the secret to
himself, and his wife (a pure Sakai) upon hearing it, despatched my
friend to the ambush and so saved me.
If this had been discovered at the moment the wretch would most likely
have paid for his sin with his life.
From this episode it is easy to see the difference between a
thorough-bred and a half-bred Sakai; the former will risk life itself to
impede a crime that has been coolly premeditated by the latter.
* * * * *
Something of the same kind befell me on another occasion when I was
returning to my cabin by myself.
At Tapah preparations were being made for celebrating the coronation of
King Edward VII and I, as one of His Majesty's colonial officers, of
course felt interested in the proceedings and it seemed to me a right
thing that a representation of my friends the savages, who were under my
administration, should accompany me to town for the occasion. I had
therefore been round to as many as I could to tell them to be ready to
follow me whenever I gave them notice.
Towards evening I was going quietly along, rather tired with my long
march, and listening to the pretty good-night songs of the birds, when I
was suddenly hit in the abdomen by a poisoned arrow, shot by an unknown
hand. Aware of the terrible power of the forest venoms I gave myself up
for lost and so without doubt I should have been if fortune had not sent
me assistance. I was energetically squeezing the wound when one of my
faithful Sakais came up. Upon hearing what had happened, he exclaimed:
"This is the work of a _Mai-Gop_, because one of our darts would have
passed right through you, and besides none of us would harm you because
you are good to us".
The kind fellow sucked out my wound and knew by its reddish-black colour
that the poison used was a mixture of _legop_ and _ipok_ juices, most
deadly in its effect.
Hurrying me towards the village, in a few instants he had prepared an
antidote by mixing a pinch of lime and powdered charcoal together and
then wetting it with the urine of his little boy.
He washed the wound carefully with this strange lotion, making it
penetrate well in, and recommended me not to touch it.
I let him do as he would, as there was no better remedy to my knowledge,
although I had little or no faith in the mixture.
I suffered a great deal for some days, but at last the wound (which had
all the requisites for a fatal one) healed. Was this fact due to the
merits of lime, charcoal, or urine?
Let the disciples of Esculapius decide!
It got to be known not long after that I had been made the victim of one
of those ill-disposed individuals who come into the world with
criminality written on their brow.
But for one who has the compensation of devotion and affection from the
humble and good, is not the hatred of malefactors a thing to be proud
of?
* * * * *
So in the year 1901, I was invited by the British Resident (in my
quality of Superintendent of the Sakais) to take part in the festivities
in honour of King Edward the Seventh's ascension to the throne.
As I before said I had thought it would be nice to take with me a small
band of my forest friends and my desire was so well realized that when
the time came I gathered around me about 500 men, women and children,
belonging to different tribes, and with this troop of followers I
descended to Tapah.
Here the reception given to those poor inhabitants of the Jungle was
exceptionally kind, and they in their turn gladly did their utmost to
satisfy the curiosity they excited and were highly pleased at showing
the effect of their powerful poisons upon birds which they hit, with
remarkable dexterity, whilst on the wing.
The men displayed their skill in striking the bull's eye with their
darts, and in successfully climbing the greasy pole, and the women gave
proof of their musical talents by playing their _ciniloi_.
In this way they got a great many dollars and were overwhelmed with
presents and attentions by the English ladies and gentlemen, residing at
Tapah.
The women were invited to go to the stand reserved for the Authority and
came back with necklaces and strings of coloured beads, that they
admired with childish delight.
Not much less contented was I at the good impression my simple friends
made by their nice behaviour and modest manners.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 6: "Philosophy, poor and naked thou goest". This is a
quotation from the Italian poet Petrarch. _Translator's Note._]
CHAPTER IX.
The origin of the Sakais--Hypothesis and legend--Physical
character--Thick tresses, gay flowers and troublesome
guests--Hereditary antipathy--The five senses reduced to
two--Food and drink--Tranquil life--Intolerance of
authority--Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law--Logical
laziness--A Sakai journalist--The story of a mattress.
Paolo Mantegazza, the scientific poet writes:
"Man is eternally tormenting himself with unanswered questions: Where
did our species first come from? When did this life first begin?
"This is his real original sin, as it is also the source of his true
greatness. He is but a single link in an endless chain; he is but one
imperceptible moment enclosed by a Past which he does not know and a
Future which he will never see. But he feels the need of looking back
and asking: where did we begin? And of looking forward, asking: where
shall we finish?".
I, too, have often made much the same demands, not about myself, for I
have no inclination for metaphysical reflections, but about the Sakais
who have unconsciously given me a difficult problem to solve: who are
they? From whence did they come?
There is absolutely nothing that speaks of them, and in the absence of
positive fact we can only fall back upon mere hypothesis, more or less
probable, until an accurate investigation with regard to the origin of
this primitive people may present us with a convincing theory.
But in order to make these studies it would be necessary to live in
their midst (and not many could adapt themselves to the various
inconveniences of such a life) because the live Sakai never abandons his
native forest and to have a dead one for the purpose would be next to
impossible, as he who attempted to carry away a corpse would expose
himself to serious danger, there being no greater sacrilege, according
to the idea of these bushmen, than that of touching a dead body or of
digging up the ground where a skeleton lies.
Therefore there does not seem to be any near chance of arriving at a
definite conclusion upon the subject.
* * * * *
It is generally believed that anciently a people, called Benuas, not
willing to submit themselves to the laws imposed upon them by the then
flourishing and civilized India and fearing to fall into slavery,
advanced through Indo-China till they reached the Malay Peninsula. Here
also they found themselves pursued and surrounded by civilization, so,
instead of settling round the rich and smiling shores, they turned
towards the forest and encamped there. This version of their immigration
would account for the Sakais not having the least idea of the sea which
they never mention, not even in their legends or superstitions.
Shunning-all contact with the other inhabitants of the country they had
chosen as a refuge, they concealed themselves in the jungle, thus
preserving their independence and the purity of their race.
Some centuries later, in an era of fanaticism, invasions were made upon
them with the object of converting them to Mohammedism but the only
result was fire and bloodshed and after each conflict the surviving
Sakais fled further into the forest (into those parts which had never
been before explored) or to the natural strongholds of the far off
mountains.
If this hypothesis holds good then the Sakais must be a very ancient
people. It is an accepted fact that as far back as the 8th century
Arabian merchants traded with the inhabitants of the Peninsula and that
a very remote intercourse existed between these and Hindostan, and
although there is no substantial proof, no analogies of language,
customs or creed upon which to base such a conjecture, neither, as yet,
has anything been proved to the contrary whilst many primeval
superstitions prevalent amongst the Sakais are still to be found in
other tribes living in proximity with believers in Buddha and Brahma.
Another legend, sustained by the Kurumbus themselves, would make one
suppose that the Sakais belong to that people, once grand, but now
broken up and dispersed. In fact, even at the present time, there are
many popular songs amongst the Malays in which the Kurumbus and Sakais
are mixed up together.
Dr. Short, in his ethnological studies of India, describes certain
characteristics and habits of the Kurumbus, inhabiting the forest, which
perfectly coincide with those to be met with amongst the Sakais.
I refer to those regarding physiognomy, structure, and stature, the
primitive mode of cultivating corn, the choice of food, and the
improvidence shown in eating, with the consequence that deficiency
follows upon excess.
Naturally these points of similarity are no proof that the two peoples
are of the same origin but they give to the question a certain
argumentative value.
What seems to me sure is that the Sakais have nothing in common with the
Malays or with the various other races that surround them. This may
perhaps be owing to the contact the latter have with each other, the
result being a modification of customs, traditions and purity of blood.
I find, however, many traits which connect them with the Mongolian and
Caucasian races (Indians and Semitics) and there is much in them which
resembles other peoples living in Indo-China and India.
It must be understood, though, that I speak only of the Sakais of the
hills and not those of the plains who have in a great measure lost the
characteristics which should distinguish them through their mixing with
Kampongs, Malays and Chinese Ghedes.
But let us now leave aside all the vague suppositions that for several
reasons I have felt bound to mention (not the least of which being
perhaps the need we all feel of investigating our neighbour's past), and
let us rather examine the Sakai as he is in the 20th century.
* * * * *
Evidently he has not perceived the passing away of nineteen or more
centuries because they have left no inheritance for him.
The Sakai, then, is somewhat short in stature but sufficiently hardy and
well-formed, except in the lower limbs which render him slightly
bow-legged.
The cause of this trifling deformity is to be found in the habit they
have, from their earliest childhood, of sitting upon their heels, as it
were, thus leaving the knees wide apart.
This posture, however, is not a particularity of the jungle inhabitants
as I have frequently seen Italians in the same position, but the latter
lean their shoulders against a tree or wall for support so that there is
less strain upon the legs.
When they are eating or listening to something that interests them the
Sakai men and women will remain for whole hours in this attitude without
showing any fatigue whatever.
Their feet are rather large and properly arched. The big toe is well
separated from the others and is very strong.
The muscles of their arms are not much developed and sometimes these
members are too long in proportion to the rest of the body. Their hands
are also very long and slender. The chest muscles, on the contrary, are
very well developed owing probably to the continual habit of climbing
trees, rocks, rifts and the like in search of food or for any other
motive that their nomadic life may make necessary.
Altogether the figure of the Sakai does not reveal any large amount of
vigour perhaps because he is usually thin and is what might be termed
pot-bellied, owing to the sort of food he eats and the cold he suffers
during the night, but he is much more robust and taller (the average
height of an adult is a little past one metre and a half)[7] than the
other tribes and races around him who are in close reports with
civilization. This fact would almost make one believe that civilization
is detrimental to the physical development of an individual.
These Aborigines are endowed with wonderful agility, as may be seen when
they clamber up certain clefts that we should judge impossible of ascent
and also when they spring from one part to another with a nimbleness
that might excite the envy of our best gymnasts.
They have not much muscular force, as I have said, but they are second
to none in enduring fatigue, especially in the case of long marches, to
which they are well accustomed as every day they walk about 20 miles,
carrying upon their shoulders the by no means light product of the
chase, together with the various roots and bulbs they find in the
forest, as well as their inseparable blow-pipes and well-filled quivers.
They also resist very well the privations to which they are sometimes
subjected by their own improvidence. All that they bring back with them
they will eat at once, be it animal or vegetable food, and when they
cannot finish it up by themselves they invite people from another
village or tribe to come and help them devour it, laughing at every idea
of domestic economy that I have vainly tried to impress upon their
minds.
But are they wrong, after all? They know for certain that the forest
will not leave them to starve and when there is no more rice, durian,
mangosteen etc., it is never difficult to catch a pheasant, monkey, rat,
serpent or even a wild boar.
Were they acquainted with Italian operas their favourite lines would
certainly be:
Non curiamo l'incerto domani
Se quest' oggi n'è dato goder.[8]
and their choice would be appropriate, for where else could the Borgias
be so well remembered as in a land famous for its poisons?
The Sakais' skin is of a colour between light and burnt ochre, the tint
getting darker as they grow older (in consequence of their long exposure
to the sun), at which period the whole body becomes rough and wrinkled.
The children are of a much lighter colour until they begin their life in
the open air.
[Illustration: Another.
_p._ 113.]
The woman, as a type, differs very little from the man. She is rather
shorter as is the case with all the pure and mixed Mongolian races.
As a girl she has a rounded form and is not without grace. As long as
she is healthy and blooming she may be considered a beauty.... in the
forest, but she soon gets faded because of the fatiguing life she leads
and also because of her early marriage, for she is already a wife when
our girls are at the beginning of their teens.
The boys are generally healthy, sturdy little fellows.
* * * * *
The Sakai's head is regular in form and size like that of the Mongolian
race; the cheek-bones, however, are less prominent than those of the
Tartars and the eyes are wider open and less oblique.
The forehead neither retreats nor protrudes and is high and spacious
enough. The nose is large and slightly flattened at the root. The facial
angle measures pretty much the same as that of the Chinese.
The mouth, well-cut and not too large, with rather thick lips, would be
beautified by two rows of sound regular teeth if the latter were not so
blackened by the constant chewing of tobacco, betel-nut and sirih.
The chin is sharp.
All the features, in fact, are very marked and the jaws are a little
projecting but the countenance is not an unpleasant one and wears an
expression of frankness and goodness that soon wins sympathy.
The head is covered with a rich, crisp growth of very black hair but few
hairs are to be seen on the face or body. Those rare ones, whose
appearance would be rapturously hailed by our youths as the forerunners
of a possible mustache or beard, are plucked out by the Sakais in their
spare time!
A great many ladies would be highly contented to possess the beautiful
tresses that the Sakai woman generally has, but whilst amongst us an
artistic arrangement of the hair is an attraction which often makes us
forget the lesser charms of the face, the raven locks of these women
sometimes cause a feeling of disgust.
They do not take the least care of this splendid ornament bestowed upon
them by Nature; when they do not let their hair hang dirty and
dishevelled upon their shoulders they just tie it up badly with a strip
of many-coloured upas bark (a remedy against migraine) stick in some
roughly carved combs and hair-pins (amulets against the malignant spirit
of the wind) and adorn it with fresh flowers.
But alas! under that bow of natural ribbon, under those combs and
flowers there is a tiny world of restless inhabitants and the poor
primitive Eve is obliged to scratch her head furiously now and then.
And not less furiously does the man also scratch his though he takes
much more pains over his hair, combing and smoothing it in order to
divide it well in front and display the tattoo which distinguishes the
parting.
Frequently both the men and the women rub into their heads the finely
pounded root of a plant to which they attribute the virtue of softening
their rough, luxuriant locks and of destroying the inmates.
Even the men sometimes wear combs and hair-pins.
* * * * *
Cleanliness as the reader will have understood from the example given
above is not the highest quality of the Sakai any more than it is of
other primitive peoples. Hygienic practices march alongside civil
progress. The bath, as a pleasure or a necessity, is quite unknown to
them, and those who dwell amongst the mountains have the greatest fear
of water. The foaming torrents and noisy cascades that dash down the
ravines have inspired them with terror and as they have no notion
whatever of being able to keep afloat, they are afraid to venture near a
stream, however quietly it may flow, unless it is shallow enough for
them to see the bottom.
[Illustration: A Sakai beauty.
_p._ 119]
Not only have they no idea of swimming but they are equally ignorant of
any other means, of remaining on the water's surface. They have no
canoes of any kind and when they want to cross from one shore to the
other they either throw a huge tree into the river to serve as a bridge
or they walk on round the bank until they find a fordable point and can
reach the opposite side by jumping from stone to stone.
I am glad to say that my lectures upon cleanliness have not been
completely fruitless for many of the young people make their ablutions
now from time to time, especially the females, and come to me asking for
soap. Though not a great step towards progress this is always better
than nothing. The old people, of course, do not regard the bathing
innovation with kindly eyes. They are always filthy to a repugnant
degree, begrimed with ashes and earth from lying about round the fire,
day, and night; the smell that emanates from them certainly does not
invite one to approach them.
But their fathers and their grandfathers never washed themselves and so
it is their duty to follow their questionable example.
* * * * *
The five senses with the Sakais are practically reduced to two for
whilst they are very quick in hearing and seeing, the same cannot be
said of smelling, feeling and tasting.
The acuteness of the two first is due to the continual need they have,
in the forest, of keeping the ear and the eye open. To be on their guard
against enemies they must either hear or see them.
The weakness of the smelling faculty may be explained by the bad way the
Sakai men and women treat their noses, boring holes through them large
enough to pass a little bamboo stick, which they wear, partly for
ornament, and partly as a charm, against I do not exactly know what
danger. And not only this, but they are in the habit of playing a sort
of flute with their nose, stopping up the right nostril with leaves, so
it is easy to comprehend what little sensibility this unfortunate
appendix of the face can have.
Owing to their almost complete nudity their skin is not very susceptible
to touch for it is hardened and toughened by the effects of sun, rain,
cold and dew which makes it as weather-beaten as that of any old salt's;
besides this they are accustomed from childhood to be stung by insects
and nettles, to be pricked and scratched by thorns and brambles, and to
be cut by the dry stiff blades of the long grasses of their native
place. Habit is second nature.
Their deficient sense of taste results from the practices mentioned
further on.
[Illustration: Another Sakai beauty.
_p._ 119.]
* * * * *
Sakai cookery does not require much study or experience.
The vegetable food they have at their disposition consists of: sweet
potatoes, yams, maize, sikoi, different bulbs and tubers that they find
in the forest like we do truffles, many edible leaves and all sorts of
fruit, mushrooms, _nanka_, _guaccicous_, _guà pra_,[9] etc. Rice is an
imported luxury which they use when they can get it.
Here are the necessaries for a variety of dishes, but the Sakais know no
variety in the culinary art and with the exception of the fruit, the
yams and potatoes that are cooked under the hot ashes, the whole lot is
put, with a little water, into cooking-pots made out of large bamboo
canes, and boiled up together into a kind of paste with pieces of
serpents, rats, toads, lizards, beetles and other similar delicacies to
give it flavour.
The monkey, deer, wild-boar, wild-sheep and any other big game caught in
traps they just burn at the fire without taking the trouble to skin the
animal, and then they eat it nearly raw.
They season the meat with salt, when they have any, which is not often,
and with a capsicum that sets your mouth on fire. The use of this
capsicum, and the continual chewing of tobacco, and betel has ruined the
palate of the Sakais, and left them with little power of relishing.
Fish is rarely seen at the board (I use the word in a figurative sense
as the thing it signifies does not exist for them) of the mountain
tribes for the double motive that they have no fishing tackle and their
fear of the water makes them avoid it as much as possible. Nevertheless
when there is a dearth of other food they will throw in some beaten
_ple-pra_ and the fish, of a fair size, that rise to the surface to bite
it are deftly hit by a knife, the Sakai seldom failing in his mark.
To the simplicity of their cooking corresponds the still greater
simplicity of their drinks which are--of the singular number.
The inhabitants of the forest drink nothing but water but this they
require clear and fresh. Should it not be perfectly pure in colour and
taste they will not drink it. They always seek a spring to satisfy their
thirst and supply their families with the necessary liquid.
Sometimes, when I was first living amongst them, I happened to stoop
over a torrent or stream to drink some water but my companions protested
vehemently declaring that it might do me a great deal of harm.
They are afraid of poisons in every shape and form as they are also of
contagion and would even be frightened if in drinking they were to touch
their bamboo bottles and glasses with their lips. They are very clever
in pouring the contents down their throats without letting the
receptacle come in contact with their mouths, an accomplishment which we
should not be able to achieve until after many damp trials.
It might almost be desired that our civilization would imitate this
hygienic custom of the savages. How many infections the less! How much
fewer the microbes that poison the blood of our poor people!
The Sakais do not drink milk, not only from the difficulty in obtaining
it but also from a strange prejudice which I have never succeeded well
in understanding.
Once they are weaned they never swallow a single drop of milk.
Neither do they drink alcoholic beverages for the simple reason that
they have not got them and do not know what they are.
If they should ever come to taste them and procure them easily will they
not crave for them like all other savages?
As soon as the Sakai's frugal meal is finished he fills his mouth with
tobacco, or if he has none, with sirih.
[Illustration: Resting from work.
_p._ 123.]
This is composed of a leaf or two of betel--a plant that possesses a
certain narcotic virtue--smeared with lime and rolled up round a little
tobacco and a piece of areca nut. Both men and women chew these quids
with great relish, spitting out the juice from time to time.
The old people, whose want of teeth makes mastication next to
impossible, put the ingredients into a bamboo and pound them until they
are reduced to, what they consider, a delicious paste.
* * * * *
The young Sakai reaches the height of his vigour at about eighteen years
old, after which he has a brief stationary period, followed by a rapid
falling off that I think must be caused by his being continually exposed
to the inclemency of the weather.
The woman begins to decline soon after her first confinement. From the
age of 13 to 15 she becomes a wife and in two years from that date she
is but the ghost of her former self. Thin, and with a wrinkled skin, not
even a shadow remains of her youthful freshness and the attractive
points she had as a girl.
But what does this matter to her? Her husband is faithful to her, with a
fidelity that knows no hypocrisy; she is happy and is proud of her
maternity; she can still dance and strike chords upon her _krob_,
modulate a plaintive ditty on her _ciniloi_ and sing whilst she beats on
her bamboo sticks an accompaniment that tortures well-tuned ears. For
the rest, if her beauty soon fades, her ugliness does not create the
least feeling of disgust amongst the Sakais of the masculine gender, who
have aesthetic ideas peculiarly their own.
It is enough to say that the ugliest of the female sex are the prettiest
and the most admired.
I am speaking in earnest.
They, as well as the men, are in the habit of painting themselves in
grotesque stripes and hieroglyphics, in imitation of medicinal plants,
the principal colours used being red and black. Sometimes they add a
little white but very rarely yellow.
When I tell you that these strange designs are not only the
manifestation of coquetry or vanity but that they are also made to
frighten away the Evil Spirit you may well imagine how they each try to
arabesque their skin in a more horrible way than the other, in order to
look uglier and be more admired.
How many, even in civilized places, would like to adopt such a mode of
winning the admiration which their forbidding features cannot command!
One of these artistic creations cannot last more than a day. It is
carefully scraped off and replaced.
* * * * *
The Sakai's life is tranquil and serene. He does not pass much of his
time in the hut because every morning he goes off into the forest in
search of game and vegetable food. He is accompanied by his boys who
either practise with their blow-pipe or with a pointed stick dig in the
ground for roots and bulbs, or they catch insects and reptiles to fill
the baskets they carry on their backs.
When the Sakai is not out hunting, or visiting friends and relations in
other villages, he remains quietly in his hut sleeping, smoking, chewing
a nice quid or in preparing poisons and poisoned arrows.
He is good-tempered and good-hearted, and never quarrels with his wife.
I have never heard of one of these savages beating his wife or children,
or of ill-treating them in any way and neither of using violence with
any one else unless with a declared foe or one who has offended his
sentiments and superstitions.
One day I ordered a child to do something, I don't remember what, and he
answered me impertinently with a curt _neay_ (no). I turned to his
mother who was present and told her that the boy ought to have his ears
boxed.
The woman gave me a look of mingled wonder and irritation, then said:
"You are a bad man if you would hurt my son when he did not mean any
harm!".
Yet in spite of this kind of reasoning and the clemency shown towards
children (which would make a pedagogue of the educational rod system
commit suicide) the Sakais are honest and respectful to their parents
and the old; they are affectionate in their family and, poor savages!
are still a long way off from such a degree of civilization as to cut up
a cross wife or a troublesome lover into pieces and send them in a
mysterious valise to take a sea-bath or in a butcher's sack to take a
fresh water one
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