CHAPTER XXX

AN EXPEDITION TO THE KATINGAN RIVER - TATUING OF THE ENTIRE BODY - THE GATHERING OF HONEY - A PLEASANT INTERMEZZO - AN UNUSUALLY ARTISTIC PRODUCTION - UP THE SAMBA RIVER - WITH INCOMPETENT BOATMEN

Arrangements were at once begun for another expedition, this time to the west of Bandjermasin. I planned to ascend the Mendawei, or Katingan River, as it is also called, and, if circumstances permitted, cross over to the headwaters of the Sampit, returning by that stream. Through the kind efforts of the resident, Mr. H.J. Grijson, arrangements were made that would enable me to use the government's steam-launchSelatan as far up the river as it is navigable, to Kuala Samba, and in case necessity arose, to have it wait for my return. This arrangement would save much time.

Accompanied by Mr. Loing, the surveyor, on the last day of November I left Bandjermasin on the steamship Janssens, which, en route for Singapore, was to call at Sampit. There is always a large contingent of Malays who with their families go on this steamer to and fro between Borneo and the Malay Peninsula, where they work on rubber and cocoanut plantations; out of their earnings they buy the desires of their hearts - bicycles and yellow shoes. Thus equipped they go back to Bandjermasin to enjoy themselves a few weeks, after which the bicycles are sold and the erstwhile owners return to the scene of their labours to start afresh.

The controleur, Mr. H.P. Schouten, had just returned on the Selatan from a trip up the Katingan, and turned it over to my use. When the coaling had been done and our goods taken on board, the strong little boat lay deep, but the captain said it was all right. He was the same able djuragan of two years before. Having received from the controleur letters to the five native officials located on the Katingan, we departed, and the following morning arrived at the mouth of the river. At first the country was very thinly inhabited, because the banks are too low to encourage settlement. As hitherto noted the country bordering on the lower portions of the great rivers is populated by Malays exclusively, and here their territory stretches almost to Kasungan. The remainder of the riparian lands is occupied by Katingans. There is some slight difference in the language spoken by those who live on the middle part, from Kasungan to Bali (south of Kuala Samba), and those who from Bali northward occupy the rest of the watercourse. They are termed by the Malays Lower and Upper Katingans. Those of the first category appeared to be of medium size and inclined to stoutness; on the upper stretches of the river they are taller. These and other differences may be due in a measure to tribal changes brought about by head-hunting raids. It is known that there was an influx of Ot-Danums from the Samba on account of such raids. While all Katingans eat snakes and large lizards, the upper ones do not eat rusa but the lower ones do. Their total number is estimated to be about 6,000. In 1911-1912 this river was visited by cholera and smallpox, which reduced the population by 600 and caused the abandonment of some kampongs.

Under favourable circumstances one may travel by prahu to Kuala Samba, our first goal, in sixteen days, the return journey occupying half that time. On reaching Kasungan the river was not quite two metres deep, dimming our chances of proceeding further with the steam-launch. The djuragan put up his measuring rod on the beach, for unless the water rose he would have to go one day down stream. The prospect was not pleasing. The under kapala of the district, a native official whose title for the sake of convenience is always abbreviated to the "onder," at once exerted himself in search of a large boat belonging to a Malay trader, supposed to be somewhere in the neighbourhood, and a young Dutchman who recently had established himself here as a missionary was willing to rent me his motor-boat to tow it.

After several days of preparation, the river showing no sign of rising, we started in an unusually large prahu which was provided with a kind of deck made of palm-leaf mats and bamboo, slightly sloping to each side. It would have been quite comfortable but for the petroleum smoke from the motor-boat, which was sickening and made everything dirty.

In 1880, when Controleur W.J. Michielsen visited the Katingan and Samba Rivers, the kampongs consisted of "six to ten houses each, which are lying in a row along the river bank and shaded by many fruit trees, especially cocoanut palms and durians." A similar description would serve to-day. The large communal house as known in most parts of Borneo does not seem to obtain here. Communal houses of small size were in use ten years previously and are still found on the Upper Samba. Their gradual disappearance may be explained by the fact that the government, as I was informed, does not encourage the building of communal houses.

Whatever the reason, at the present time the dwelling is a more or less flimsy structure, built with no thought of giving access to fresh air, and sometimes no provision is made for the escape of smoke from the fireplace. But the people are very hospitable; they gladly received us in their houses, and allowed me, for purposes of ventilation, to demolish temporarily part of the unsubstantial wall, which consisted of bark or stiff mats. The high ladder is generally provided with a railing leaning outward at either side.

The Katingans are shy, kind-hearted natives, the great majority of them being unusually free from skin disease. No illness was apparent. With some of the Lower Katingans the calf of the leg was below normal size. This was the case with three women in Pendahara, and also with a blian who otherwise was a stout man. All the men have a large representation of the full moon tatued on the calf of the leg, following the custom of the Ot-Danums, Murungs, and Siangs. As far as I ascended the river the Upper Katingans rarely have more tatuing than this, but the Lower Katingans are elaborately ornamented, chest and arms being covered with illustrations of familiar objects. Several old men, now dead, had their bodies, even their backs, legs, and faces, covered with tatu marks, and one thus decorated was said still to be living.

Near the kampong Pendahara, where we camped the first night, were many of the majestic tapang trees which I first noticed on the Barito. In the calm evening after a light shower, with the moon almost full, their tall stems and beautiful crowns were reflected in the placid water. The Katingans guard and protect these trees because they are the abode of bees, and when the Malays cut them down the Dayaks are indignant. Both honey and wax are gathered, the latter to be sold. The nest is reached in the customary manner by a ladder of sharpened bamboo pegs driven into the rather soft wood as the man ascends. The gathering is done at night, an assistant bearing a torch made of bark and filled with damar or wax. The native first smears himself with honey in order that the bees shall not sting him; when he reaches the deposit a large bark bucket is hoisted up and filled. In lowering it the honey sometimes disappears, my informant said, because antoh is very fond of it.

About noon, as we were passing a ladang near Bali, we heard the beating of a gong, also weird singing by a woman. It was evident that a ceremony of some kind was in progress, probably connected with funeral observances, so I ordered a halt. As we lay by many people gathered on the top of the steep bank. We learned that an old woman had died and that the ceremonies were being performed in her honour. I climbed the ladder and found in front of me a house on poles, simply constructed, as they always are at the ladangs. Several of the men wore chavats; an elderly female blian sang continuously, and a fire was burning outside.

Ascending the ladder of the house I entered a dingy room into which the light came sparingly. In a corner many women were sitting silently. Near them stood one of the beautiful red baskets for which the Katingans higher up the river are famous. As I proceeded a little further an extremely fine carved casket met my astonished eyes. Judging from its narrowness the deceased, who had been ill for a long time, must have been very thin when she passed away, but the coffin, to which the cover had been fastened with damar, was of excellent proportions and symmetrical in shape. The material was a lovely white wood of Borneo, on which were drawn large round flowers on graceful vines, done in a subdued light red colour procured from a pigment found in the earth. The effect was magnificent, reminding me of French tapestries. Two diminutive and unfinished mats were lying on the cover, symbolising clothing for the deceased, and tufts of long, beautiful grass had been tied to the top at either end. The coffin was to be placed on a platform in the utan. Its name in Katungan is bakan runi; (bakan = form, exterior; runi = dead person)

To see such an artistic production was worth a great deal of trouble. Usually this and similar work is made by several working in unison, who co-operate to obtain the best result in the shortest time. I was gratified when they agreed to make an exact copy for me, to be ready on my return from up country. When one of the men consented to pose before the camera his wife fled with ludicrous precipitation. A dwarf was photographed, forty years old and unmarried, whose height was 1.13 metres.

I was about to leave when the people began to behave in a boisterous manner. Men caught firebrands and beat with them about the feet of the others. Some cut mats in pieces, ignited them, and struck with those. A woman came running out of the house with a piece of burning mat and beat me about my feet and ankles (my trousers and shoes were supposed to be white) and then went after others, all in good humour and laughingly. She next exchanged firebrands with a man, and both struck at each other repeatedly. This same custom is used at funerals with the Ot-Danums on the Samba, and the explanation given in both tribes is that the mourners want to forget their grief.

After distributing pieces of chewing-tobacco to all present, which seemed to please them much, I left the entertaining scene. In the afternoon we arrived at a small kampong, Tevang Karangan, (tevang = inlet; karangan = a bank of coarse sand or pebbles) where Upper Katingans appeared for the first time. No Malays live here, but there is much intermixture with Ot-Danums. The people were without rice, and edible roots from the jungle were lying in the sun to dry. The cemetery was close at hand in the outskirts of the jungle, where little houses could be seen consisting simply of platforms on four poles with roofs of palm-leaf mats, each containing one, two, or three coffins. It is impossible to buy skulls from the Dayaks on account of their fear that the insult may be avenged by the ghost of the original owner, through the infliction of misfortunes of various kinds - illness, loss of crops, etc. According to their belief, punishment would not descend upon the stranger who abstracted a human bone from a coffin, but upon the natives who permitted the theft. Moreover, they believe they have a right to kill the intruder; the bone must be returned and a pig killed as a sacrifice to the wandering liao of the corpse. But the case is somewhat different with slaves, who up to some thirty years ago were commonly kept in these districts, and whose bodies after death were disposed of separately from those of free people.

Kuala Samba is quite a large kampong situated at the junction of the Samba with the Katingan River, and inhabited chiefly by the Bakompai, a branch of the Malays. Our large boat had to remain here until we returned from our expedition up the Samba, the main tributary of the river and inhabited by Ot-Danums who are called Duhoi, their proper name in these parts. I desired to start immediately and the "onder" of the place, as well as the pumbakal, at once set to work chasing for prahus, but things moved slowly and people seemed to take their own time about obeying the authorities.

Not until nine o'clock next day could we leave, and I was glad it was no later. The prahus in these regions are large and comfortable, with a bamboo covering in the bottom. They probably originated with the Bakompai, but the Duhoi also make them. At five o'clock it was thought best to camp at the lonely house of a Kahayan, recently immigrated here, whose wife was a Duhoi woman. As usual I had to remove part of the wall to get air, the family sleeping in the next room. In the small hours of the morning, by moonlight, two curious heads appeared in the doorway, like silhouettes, to observe me, and as the surveillance became annoyingly persistent I shortened the exercises I usually take.

At the first kampong prahus and paddlers were changed, and on a rainy day we arrived at a small kampong, Kuluk Habuus, where I acquired some unusually interesting carved wooden objects called kapatongs, connected with the religious life of the Duhoi and concerning which more will be told presently. As a curious fact may be mentioned that a Kahayan living here had a full, very strong growth of beard. A few more of the Kahayans, one in Kuala Kapuas for instance, are known to be similarly endowed by nature although not in the same degree as this one. The families hospitably vacated their rooms in our favour, and a clean new rattan mat was spread on the floor. At Tumbang Mantike, on this river, there is said to be much iron ore of good quality, from which formerly even distant tribes derived their supplies.

I had been told that a trip of a few hours would bring us to the next kampong, but the day proved to be a very long one. There were about five kihams to pass, all of considerable length though not high. It soon became evident that our men, good paddlers as they were, did not know how to overcome these, hesitating and making up for their inefficiency by shouting at the top of their voices. However insignificant the stream, they yelled as if passing a risky place. Sunset came and still the kampong was - djau (far). Mr. Loing had gone in our small prahu with four of our best men to finish the map-making, if possible, before darkness set in.

The light of day faded, though not so quickly as the books represent, but soon it was as dark as possible before the appearance of the waning moon which would not be visible for several hours. I had let Mr. Loing have my lamp, so I lit a candle. It was not a pleasant experience, with clumsy stupid men who, however, did their best, all finally taking to the water, wading and pushing the boat, constantly emitting loud, hoarse cries to encourage themselves; and thus we progressed little by little. What with the faint light of the candle, the constant rush of water, and the noise of the rapids, though not dangerous in the day time, the situation demanded calmness. Moreover, there was the possibility of an overflow of the river, which often happens, caused by rains above. I thought of the Kenyahs of the Bulungan - if I only had them now. After an hour and a half of this exasperating sort of progress we came to smooth water, but even here the men lost time by running into snags which they ought to have seen, because I had gotten my hurricane lamp from Mr. Loing whom we had overtaken. One of the men was holding it high up in the bow, like the Statue of Liberty in New York harbour.

There were only three or four houses at the kampong where we arrived at nine o'clock, but people kindly permitted us to occupy the largest. The men were allowed an extra ration of rice on account of their exertions since eight o'clock in the morning, as well as some maize that I had bought, and all came into the room to cook at the fireplace. Besides Mr. Loing and myself all our baggage was there, and the house, built on high poles, was very shaky. The bamboo floor gave way in a disagreeable manner, and it did not seem a remote possibility for it to fall, though the genial lady of the manor, who went away herself, assured us that the house was strong. I did not feel thoroughly comfortable until the "onder" and the thirteen men had finished their cooking and gone elsewhere to camp. When all was quiet and we could go to sleep it was twelve o'clock.

Early in the morning Mr. Loing went back in the small prahu to take up the map where he had been compelled to quit on account of the darkness. In the meantime I had opportunity to receive a man who had been reported to me the previous night as wanting assistance because of a wound on his head. Knowing that the Dayaks are always ready to seize an opportunity to obtain medicine, even when they are well, I postponed examining into his case. He had merely a scratch on his forehead - not even a swelling.