As soon as dinner is over the pounding of the PADI begins (Frontispiece, Vol. II.). Each mortar usually consists of a ma.s.sive log of timber roughly shaped, and having sunk in its upper surface, which is a little hollowed, a pit about five inches in diameter and nine inches in depth. Into this pit about a quarter of a bushel of PADI is put. Two women stand on the mortar facing one another on either side of the pit, each holding by the middle a large wooden pestle. This is a solid bar of hardwood about seven feet long, about two inches in diameter in the middle third, and some three or four inches in diameter in the rest of its length. The two ends are rounded and polished by use. Each woman raises her pestle to the full height of her reach, and brings it smartly down upon the grain in the pit, the two women striking alternately with a regular rhythm. As each one lifts her pestle, she deftly sweeps back into the pit with her foot the grain scattered by her stroke.

After pounding the PADI for some minutes without interruption, one woman takes a winnowing pan, a mat made in the shape of an English housemaid's dustpan, but rather larger than this article, and receives in it the pounded grain which the other throws out of the pit with her foot.

Both women then kneel upon a large mat laid beside the mortar; the one holding the winnowing pan keeps throwing the grain into the air with a movement which causes the heavier grain to fall to the back of the pan, while the chaff and dust is thrown forward on to the mat. Her companion separates the rice dust from the chaff by sifting it through a sieve. A considerable quant.i.ty of the dust or finely broken rice is formed by the pounding in the mortar, and this is the princ.i.p.al food given to the pigs. The winnowed grain is usually returned to the mortar to be put through the whole process a second time. The clean rice thus prepared is ready for the cooking-pot.

The winnowing and sifting is often done by old women, while the younger women continue the severer task of plying the pestle. In the Kayan houses the mortars are in many cases double, that is to say, there are two pits in the one block of timber, and two pairs of women work simultaneously. In the middle of the afternoon the whole house resounds with the vigorous blows of the pestles, for throughout the length of the gallery two or more women are at work beside each room, husking the day's supply of rice for each family.

For the women of all the peoples, except the Punans, the husking of the PADI is a princ.i.p.al feature of the day's work, and is performed in much the same fashion by all. The Kenyahs alone do their work out of doors beside the PADI barns, sometimes under rude lean-to shelters.

When this task is completed the women are covered with dust; they descend again to the river, and bathe themselves and the children once more. They may gather some of the scanty vegetables grown in small enclosures near most of the houses, and then proceed to prepare supper with their rice and whatever food the men may have brought home from the jungle. For now, about an hour before sundown, the men return from expeditions in the jungle, often bringing a wild pig, a monkey, a porcupine, or some jungle fruit, or young shoots of bamboo, as their contribution to the supper table; others return from fishing or from the PADI fields, and during the sunset hour at a large village a constant stream of boats arrives at the landing-place before the house. Most of the home-comers bathe in the river before ascending to the house. This evening bath is taken in more leisurely fashion than the morning dip. A man will strip off his waist-cloth and rush into the water, falling flat on his chest with a great splash. Then standing with the water up to his waist he will souse his head and face, then perhaps swim a few double overhand strokes, his head going under at each stroke. After rubbing himself down with a smooth pebble, he returns to the bank, and having resumed his waist-cloth, he squeezes the water from his hair, picks up his paddle, spear, hat, and other belongings, and ascends to the gallery. There he hangs up his spear by jabbing its point into a roof-beam beside the door of his chamber, and sits down to smoke a cigarette and to relate the events of his day while supper is preparing. As darkness falls, he goes to his room to sup. By the time the women also have supped, the tropical night has fallen, and the house is lit by the fires and by resin torches, and nowadays by a few kerosene lamps. The men gather round the fireplaces in the gallery and discuss politics, the events of the day, the state of the crops and weather, the news obtained by meetings with the people of neighbouring houses, and relate myths and legends, folk-tales and animal stories. The women, having put the children to bed, visit one another's rooms for friendly gossip; and young men drop in to join their parties, accept the proffered cigarette, and discourse the sweet music of the KELURI,[49] the noseflute, and the Jew's harp (Figs. 17, 18, 19). Or Romeo first strikes up his plaintive tune outside the room in which Juliet sits with the women folk. Juliet may respond with a few notes of her guitar[50]

(Fig. 20), thus encouraging Romeo to enter and to take his place in the group beside her, where he joins in the conversation or renews his musical efforts. About nine o'clock all retire to bed, save a few old men who sit smoking over the fires far into the night. The dogs, after some final skirmishes and yelpings, subside among the warm ashes of the fireplaces; the pigs emit a final squeal and grunt; and within the house quietness reigns. Now the rushing of the river makes itself heard in the house, mingled with the chirping of innumerable insects and the croaking of a myriad frogs borne in from the surrounding forest. The villagers sleep soundly till c.o.c.k-crow; but the European guest, lying in the place of honour almost beneath the row of human heads which adorns the gallery, is, if unused to sleeping in a Bornean long house, apt to be wakened from time to time throughout the night by an outburst of dreadful yelpings from the dogs squabbling for the best places among the ashes, by the prolonged fit of coughing of an old man, by an old crone making up the fire, by the goats squealing and scampering over the boats beneath the house, or by some weird cry from the depths of the jungle.

In the old days the peace of the night was occasionally broken an hour before the dawn by the yells of an attacking force, and by the flames roaring up from bundles of shavings thrown beneath the house. But happily attacks of this kind are no longer made, save in some few remoter parts of the interior where the European governments have not yet fully established their authority.

The even tenor of the life of a village is interrupted from time to time by certain festivals or other incidents -- the harvest festival; the marriage or the naming of a chiefs son or daughter; the arrival of important guests (one or more chiefs with bands of followers coming to make peace, or nowadays the resident magistrate of the district); the funeral of a chief; the preparations for war or for a long journey to the distant bazaar of Chinese traders in the lower part of the river; the necessity of removing to a new site; an epidemic of disease; the rites of formally consulting the omens, or otherwise communicating with and propitiating the G.o.ds; the operations of the soul-catcher. The more important of these incidents will be described in later chapters. Here we need only give a brief account of the way in which some of them affect the daily round of life in the long house.

A visiting chief will remain seated in his boat, while a follower announces his arrival and ascertains that there is no MALAN (TABU) upon the house which would make the presence of visitors unwelcome. Such MALAN affecting the whole house or village obtains during the storing of the PADI for ten consecutive days, during epidemics of sickness in neighbouring villages, and at the time when the preparation of the farm land begins. If a favourable answer is returned, the visitor remains seated in his boat some few minutes longer, and then makes his way into the gallery, followed by most of his men, who leave their spears and shields in the boats. If the visitor is an intimate friend, the chief of the house will send a son or brother to welcome him, or will even go himself. Arrived in the gallery, the visitor advances to the central platform where the chief of the house awaits him, unstrings his sword from his waist, hangs it upon any convenient hook, and sits down beside his host; while his men, following his example, seat themselves with the men of the house in a semicircle facing the two chiefs. The followers may greet, and even embrace, or grasp by the forearm, their personal friends; but the demeanour of the chief's is more formal. Neither one utters a word or glances at the other for some few minutes; the host remains seated, fidgeting with a cigarette and gazing upon the floor; the visitor sitting beside him looks stolidly over the heads of his followers, and perhaps clears his throat or coughs. Presently a woman thrusts into the semicircle a tray of freshly made cigarettes. One of the men of the house pushes it forward towards the princ.i.p.al visitor, who makes a sign of acceptance by lightly touching the tray; the other, crouching on his heels, lights a cigarette with an ember from the fire, blowing it into a glow as he waddles up to present it to the visiting chief. The latter takes it, but usually allows it to go out. By this time the chief of the house is ready to open the conversation, and, after clearing his throat, suddenly throws out a question, usually, "Where did you start from to-day?" The embarra.s.sing silence thus broken, question and answer are freely exchanged, the cigarette of the visitor is again lighted at the fire by a member of the household, and conversation becomes general. Not infrequently the host, becoming more and more friendly, throws an arm across his guest's shoulders or strokes him endearingly with the palm of his hand.

In the meantime the women are busy preparing a meal, a pig having been killed and hastily cut up. When it is ready, the visitors, if old friends, are invited to partake of it in the chief's room. But if they are not familiar acquaintances, the meal is spread for them in the gallery on platters placed in a long row, one for each guest; each platter containing many cubes of hot boiled pork and two packets of hot boiled rice wrapped in leaves. The s.p.a.ce is surrounded with a slight bamboo fence to keep away the dogs. In either case the visitors eat alone, their hosts retiring until the meal is finished. As the chief's wife retires, she says, "Eat slowly, my children, our food is poor stuff. There is no pork, no fish, nothing that is good." Before withdrawing, one of the people of the house pours a little water from a bamboo vessel on the right hand of the visiting chief, who then pa.s.ses on the vessel to his followers. With the hand thus cleansed each guest conveys the food to his mouth, dipping his pieces of pork in coa.r.s.e salt placed in a leaf beside his platter; and when he has finished eating, he drinks water from a bamboo vessel. The chief, and perhaps also one or more of his upper-cla.s.s companions, leaves a little of the pork and a little rice on the platter to show that he is not greedy or ravenous; and his good breeding prompts him to prove his satisfaction with the meal by belching up a quant.i.ty of wind with a loud and prolonged noise, which is echoed by his followers to the best of their ability. After thus publicly expressing his appreciation of his host's hospitality, he rinses out his mouth, squirting out the water towards the nearest gap between the floor boards, rubs his teeth with his forefinger, again rinses his mouth, and washes his hand. Then relighting his cigarette, which he has kept behind his ear or thrust through the hole in its sh.e.l.l, he rejoins his host, who awaits him on the dais.

On such an occasion, and in fact on any other occasion suggestive of festivity, the evening is enlivened with oratory, song, and drink. After supper the men gather together about the chiefs, sitting in close-set ranks on and before the dais. At a hint from the chief a jar of BURAK (rice-spirit) is brought into the circle. This may be the property of the chief or of any one of the princ.i.p.al men, who, by voluntarily contributing in this way towards the entertainment of the guests, maintains the honour of the house and of its chief. A little is poured into a cup and handed to the house-chief, who first makes a libation to the omen-birds and to all the other friendly spiritual powers, by pouring a little on to the ground through some crevice of the floor, or by throwing a few drops out under the eaves, saying, as he does so, "Ho, all you friendly spirits." Then he drinks a little and hands back the cup to the young man who has taken charge of the jar of spirit. The latter, remaining crouched upon his heels, ladles out another cupful of spirit and offers it in both hands to the princ.i.p.al guest, who drinks it off, and expresses by a grunt and a smack of the lips, and perhaps a shiver, his appreciation of its quality. The cup is handed in similar formal fashion to each of the princ.i.p.al guests in turn; and then more cups are brought into use, and the circulation of the drink becomes more rapid and informal. As soon as each man has had a drink, the house-chief rises to his feet and, addressing himself to his guest, expatiates upon his admirable qualities, and expresses eloquently the pleasure felt by himself and his people at this visit. Then speaking in parables and in indirect fashion, claiming perhaps indulgence on the ground that he is merely talking in his sleep, he touches upon local politics at first delicately; then warming up he speaks more directly and plainly. He may become much excited and gesticulate freely, even leaping into the air and twirling round on one foot with outstretched right arm in a fashion that directs his remarks to each and all of the listening circle; but, even though he may find occasion to admonish or reproach, or even hint at a threat, his speech never transgresses the strictest bounds of courtesy. Having thus unburdened himself of whatever thoughts and emotions are evoked by the occasion, he takes from the attendant Ganymede a b.u.mper cup of spirit and breaks into song. Standing before his guest and swinging the cup repeatedly almost to his (the guest's) lips, he exhorts him in complimentary and rhyming phrases to accept his remarks in a friendly spirit, and reminds him of the age and strength of their family and tribal relations, referring to their ancestral glories and the proud position in the world of their common race. At the end of each sentence all the men of both parties break out into a loud chorus, repeating the last word or two in deep long-drawn-out musical cadence. Then, with the last words of his extemporised song, the chief yields up the cup to the expectant guest, who, having sat rigidly and with fixed gaze throughout the address, takes it in one long draught, while the chorus swells to a deep, musical roar. At this moment the circle of auditors, if much excited, will spring to their feet and swell the noise by stamping and jumping on the resounding planks. The house-chief smilingly strokes his guest from the shoulder downwards and resumes his seat. The chorus and commotion die away, and are followed by a moment of silence, during which the guest prepares to make his reply in similar fashion. He rises and begins by naming and lightly touching or pointing to his host and other of the princ.i.p.al men present. Then he makes acknowledgment of the kind and flattering reception accorded him, and his pleasure at finding this opportunity of improving the understanding between himself and his hosts. "The views so eloquently expressed by my friend (naming him and using some complimentary t.i.tle, E.G. brother or father) are no doubt correct. Indeed, how could it be otherwise? But I have been told so and so, and perhaps it may be, ..." and so he goes on to state his own views, taking care to shift the responsibility for any remaining dissension on to the shoulders of some distant third party. He congratulates all parties on this free discussion of matters of common interest, and with free gesticulation exhorts them to turn a deaf ear to vague rumours and to maintain friendly relations. Then, dropping down beside his host, he says "Take no notice of what I have said, I am drunk." Ganymede again approaches him with a b.u.mper cup, and then rising to his feet and calling on his men, he addresses his host in complimentary song and chorus, using the gestures and expressions peculiar to his own people. The song culminates as before in a general chorus, long drawn out, while the house-chief drains the cup.

The cups then circulate freely, and the smoking of cigarettes is general; other shorter speeches may be made, perhaps by the sons or brothers of the chiefs. As the evening wears away, both guests and hosts become increasingly boisterous and affectionate; but few or none on an occasion of this sort become intoxicated or quarrelsome. If a man becomes a little too boisterous, he is led away to one of the sleeping platforms in the gallery, and kept there until he falls asleep.

During an evening of this sort the women congregate in the adjacent rooms, where they can overhear the proceedings; and if they find these exceptionally interesting, they will congregate about the doors, but will strictly abstain from interfering with, them in any way. The flow of speech and song and conversation goes on uninterruptedly, except when the occasional intrusion into the circle of some irrepressible dog necessitates its violent expulsion; until, as midnight approaches, the men drop away from the circle by twos and threes, the circle being finally broken up when the visiting chief expresses a desire to sleep. Each guest spreads his own mat on the platform a.s.signed to the party, and the men of the house retire to their rooms.

We will not conclude this chapter without stating that among the Kayans, Kenyahs, and most of the Klemantans, alcoholic intoxication is by no means common. At great feasts, such as are made at the close of the harvest or on the return of a successful war-party, much BORAK is drunk, the women joining in, and a few of the men will usually become quite drunk; but most of them will hardly go further than a state of boisterous jollity.

Although in a year of good PADI harvest each family constantly renews its supply of BORAK, yet the spirit is never drunk in private, but only on festive occasions of the kind described above, or when a man entertains a small party of friends in his own chamber.

The account given above of the reception and entertainment of guests would apply with but little modification to the houses of the Kenyahs and Klemantans. In the Sea Dayak house the reception and entertainment of guests is less ceremonious, and is carried out by the unorganised efforts of individuals, rather than by the household as a whole with the chief at its head. On the arrival of a party of visitors, the people of each room clamorously invite the guests to sit down before their chamber. The guests thus become scattered through the house. First they are offered betel nut and sirih leaf smeared with lime to chew, for among the Sea Dayaks this chewing takes the place of the smoking of cigarettes which is common to all the others; and they are then fed and entertained individually, or by twos and threes, in various rooms. No pig is killed or rice-spirit offered, though possibly a toasted bat or bit of salted wild pig will be served as a relish.

At great feasts the Sea Dayaks drink more freely than the other peoples, except the Muruts. Men and women alike drink deeply, and many become intoxicated. The men take pride in drinking the largest possible quant.i.ty; and when the stomach is filled, will vomit up large quant.i.ties, and then at once drink more, the women pressing it upon them. The Dayaks and Muruts alone thus sink in the matter of drink to the level of those highly cultured Europeans among whom a similar habit obtains: while among all the other tribes strong drink is seldom or never abused, but rather is put only to its proper use, the promotion of good fellowship and social gaiety.

CHAPTER 8

Life on the Rivers

With the exception of the Punans and some of the Muruts who inhabit the few regions devoid of navigable streams, all the peoples of Borneo make great use of the rivers. The main rivers and their princ.i.p.al branches are their great highways, and even the smallest tributary streams are used for gaining access to their PADI fields. It is only when hunting or gathering jungle produce that they leave the rivers. Occasionally PADI is cultivated at a distance of a mile or more from the nearest navigable stream, and a rough pathway is then made between the field and the nearest point of the river. Here and there also jungle paths are made connecting points where neighbouring rivers or their navigable tributaries approach closely to one another. In the flat country near the coast, where waterways are less abundant than in the interior, jungle tracks are more used for communication between villages. Where a route crosses a jungle swamp, large trees are felled in such a way that their stems lie as nearly as possible end to end. Their ends are connected if necessary by laying smaller logs from one to the other. In this way is formed a rude slippery viaduct on which it is possible for an agile and bare-footed man to walk in safety across swamps many miles in extent.

But the jungle paths are only used when it is impossible to reach the desired point by boat, or if the waterway is very circuitous. On the lower and deeper reaches of the rivers the paddle is the universal instrument of propulsion. It is used without any kind of rowlock -- the one hand, grasping the handle a little above the blade, draws the blade backwards through the water; the other hand, grasping the T-shaped upper end, thrusts it forward. The lower hand thus serves as a fulcrum for the other.

A small boat may be propelled by a single rower, who, sitting at the stern, uses the paddle on one side only, and keeps the boat straight by turning the paddle as he finishes his stroke. In a boat of medium size one man seated at the stern devotes himself to steering with his paddle, although here and there among the coast-people a fixed rudder is used. In a war boat of the largest size, the two men occupying the bow-bench and the four men on the two stern-most benches are responsible for the steering; the former pull the bow over, or lever it in the opposite direction.

During a day's journey the crew of a boat will from time-to-time lighten their labour with song, one man singing, the others joining in the chorus; and if several boats are travelling in company the crews will from time to time spurt and strive to pa.s.s one another in good-humoured rivalry. At such times each crew may break out into a deep-pitched and musical roar, the triumphal chorus of a victorious war party.

In the upper reaches of the rivers there are numerous rapids, and here and there actual falls. The boat is usually propelled up a rapid by poling. Each member of the crew has beside him a stout pole some eight or nine feet long; and when the boat approaches a rapid, the crew at a shout from the captain, usually the steersman, spring to their feet, dropping their paddles and seizing their poles. Thrusting these against the stony bottom in perfect unison, the crew swings the boat up through the rushing water with a very pleasant motion. If the current proves too strong and the boat makes no progress, or if the water is too shallow, three or four men, or, if necessary, the whole crew, spring into the water and, seizing the boat by the gunwale, drag it upstream till quieter water is reached. It is necessary for a man or boy to bale out the water that constantly enters over the gunwale while the boat makes the pa.s.sage of a rapid. All through these exciting operations the captain directs and admonishes his men unremittingly, hurling at them expressions of a strength that would astonish a crew on the waters of the Cam or Isis: "Matei tadjin selin" (may you die the most awful death) is one of the favourite phrases. These provoke no resentment, but merely stimulate the crew to greater exertions.

Sometimes, when much water is coming down after heavy rains, the current is so swift in deep places that neither paddling, poling, nor wading is possible. Then three or four men are landed on the bank, or on the boughs of the trees, and haul on the boat with long rattans, scrambling over rocks and through the jungle as best they can.

The pa.s.sage down stream in the upper reaches of a river is even more exciting and pleasurable. The crew paddles sufficiently to keep good steerage way on the boat, as it glides swiftly between the rocks and shallows; as it shoots over the rapids, the steersman stands up to choose his path, the water splashes and gurgles and leaps over the gunwale, and the men break out into song. The smaller waterfalls do not check its onward rush; as the boat approaches a fall, several men near the bow stand up to see if there is sufficient water; then, as they resume their seats, all paddle with might and main until the boat takes the leap. Occasionally a boat is upset during such an attempt, and rarely one or two of the crew are lost through being hurled against rocks and drowned while stunned.

In making a long journey the nights are pa.s.sed if possible in friendly villages. When no such village can be reached, the night is pa.s.sed either in the boats moored to the bank or on the river-bank. In the former case the leaf mats, of which each man carries at least one in his basket, are used to roof the boat; in the latter case a rude hut is quickly built, a framework of saplings lashed together, roofed with the mats, and floored at a level of some feet above the ground with bamboos or slender saplings. On camping in the evening and before starting in the morning, rice is cooked and eaten; and about mid-day the journey is interrupted for about an hour while the party lands on the bank, or, if possible, on a bed of pebbles, to rest and to cook and eat the midday meal.

Fishing

Fish are caught in the rivers in several ways, and form an important part of the diet of most of the peoples. Perhaps the cast net is most commonly used. This is a net which, when fully extended in the water, covers a circular patch about six yards in diameter, while its central part rises in a steep cone, to the peak of which a strong cord is tied. The main strands run radially from this central point, increasing in number towards the periphery. They are crossed by concentric strands. The periphery is weighted with bits of metal or stone. This net is used both in deep and in shallow water. In the former case one man steers and paddles a boat, while the other stands at the prow with the cord of the net wound about the right hand. The bulk of the net is gathered up on his right arm, the free end is held in the left hand. Choosing a still pool some two fathoms in depth, he throws a stone into the water a little ahead of the boat, in the expectation that the fish will congregate about the spot as they do when fruit falls from the trees on the banks. Then, as the boat approaches the spot he deftly flings the net so that it falls spread out upon the surface; its weighted edge then sinks rapidly to the bottom, enclosing any fish that may be beneath the net. If only small fish are enclosed, the net is twisted as it is drawn up, the fish becoming entangled in its meshes, and in pockets formed about its lower border. If a large fish is enclosed, the steersman will dive overboard and seize the lower part of the net so as to secure the fish.

Or the boat is paddled to the foot of a small rapid; the fisherman springs out and runs to the head of the rapid, and casts his net in the still water immediately above it where fish frequently congregate.

Or a party takes the same net to the mouth of a small tributary, and, while some hold the net so as to block the mouth almost completely, others run through the jungle to a point some hundred yards up the stream, and then drive down the fish by wading down stream splashing and shouting. As soon as a number of fish come down against the net its upper border is thrown down so as to enclose them.

Another net, made quite flat and some fifteen yards long by four feet wide, is suspended by wooden floats across a small river so that the fish may become entangled in its meshes.

Another net is used only by the women. In shape it is like a deep basin; its wide mouth is attached to a stout circle of rattan, and a wooden bar is tied across the mouth to serve as handle. With this the women catch the sucker fish in the shallow rapids, one turning up stones, the other catching in the net the fish that dart from beneath them.

Yet another mode of netting fish is to suspend a square of net attached by its corners to the ends of two crossed and downward bending sticks. The net is suspended by cords from its corners to the end of a long bamboo, which rests upon a post about its middle. The fisherman lowers the net into the water by raising the landward end of the bamboo lever, and when he sees fish swimming above it, attracted by a bait, he suddenly depresses his end of the bamboo, so as to bring the net quickly above the surface. On the coast drag nets are used.

The SELAMBO is used in small streams where fish are abundant. A fence of upright bamboos is built out from either bank, starting at opposite points and converging down stream to two points near the middle of the stream and about seven feet apart; where each terminates a stout pole is driven firmly into the bed of the river. These two poles are connected by a stout cross-piece lashed to them a little above the level of the water. The cross-piece forms a fulcrum for a pair of long poles joined together with cross-pieces, in such a way that their downstream ends almost meet, while up stream they diverge widely. They rest upon the fulcrum at a point about one-third of their length from their downstream ends. Between the widely divergent parts up stream from the fulcrum a net is loosely stretched. The net lies submerged until fish coming down stream are directed on to the net by the convergent fences. The fisherman stands on a rude platform grasping the handle-end, and, feeling the contacts of the fishes with the net, throws his weight upon the handle, so bringing the net quickly above the surface. Beside him he has a large cage of bamboo standing in the water, into which the fish are allowed to slide from the elevated net.

A rod and line and baited hook are also in common use. The Kayans make a hook of stout bra.s.s wire, cutting a single barb. The Kenyahs use a hook made of rattan thorns. A strip is cut from the surface of a rattan bearing two thorns about an inch apart; this is bent at its middle so that the cut surfaces of the two halves are brought into opposition, and the thorns, facing outward opposite one another, form the barbs. The line is tied to the bend, and the bait is placed over the tip projecting beyond the thorns. When the fish takes the hook into his mouth and swallows the bait, the barbs being released spring outward and secure the fish.

A rough kind of spoon bait is also used with rod and line.

Fish are taken also in traps. The most generally used is the BUBU. This varies in length from eighteen inches to eight feet or even more. The body of the trap is a conical cage of bamboo. From the wide mouth of the cone a second smaller flatter cone pa.s.ses upwards within the outer one; the slender bamboo strips of which it is made come almost together in the centre, their inner ends being free and pliable. This is fixed beside the bank, its mouth turned down stream, and a few stakes are driven into the bed of the river to guide the fish into the mouth; or it may be laid in shallow water, two barriers of stones converging to its mouth. The fish working up stream pa.s.s in at the mouth, and, when they have pa.s.sed the inner lips, cannot easily pa.s.s out again.

A still simpler trap consists merely of a long slender cone of bamboo strips. The fish entering the mouth and pa.s.sing up to the confined s.p.a.ce of the other end become wedged fast in it.

A Sea Dayak trap found in the south-west of Borneo is a cylindrical cage of bamboo attached to a pole driven vertically into the bed of the river. (Fig. 21). At one side of the cage is a circular aperture. Into this fits a section of bamboo, the end of which within the cage is cut into longitudinal strips that are made to converge, forming a cone, through the apex of which the fish can push his way into the cage, but which prevents his return. It is an application of the same valve principle as that used in the trap first described above.

A larger trap is the KILONG, which is used in the lower reaches of the rivers and also on the coast. It consists of a fence of stakes running out from the bank or sh.o.r.e into water some two fathoms in depth. The free end of the fence is wound in a spiral of about two turns. One or two gates are made between the outer and the inner chambers of the spiral on the side nearest to the bank or sh.o.r.e, and are left open when the trap is set. The fish, finding themselves confined by the fence, make for deeper water, and, entering the central chamber, do not readily return. The fisherman then closes the gate and takes out the fish with a landing net.

A prawn trap consists of a cylinder of heavy bark. One end is closed with a conical valve of bamboo strips like that of the two traps described above; the other flattened end is hinged to open for the extraction of the catch. The trap is baited with decaying cocoanut and thrown into the river with a long rattan attached to it and tied to a pole; the trap sinks to the bottom and is examined from time to time.

Tuba Fishing

Fish are caught on the largest scale by poisoning the water with the juice of the root of the tuba plant. This is usually practised in the smaller rivers at times of slack water, all the people of a village co-operating. The TUBA plant is cultivated in patches on the PADI fields. Pieces of the roots are cut off without destroying the plants. When a large quant.i.ty has been gathered, a fence is built across the river at the spot chosen, and big BUBU traps are let into it facing up stream. Then all the available small boats are manned and brought into the reaches of the river extending about a mile above the fence. Each boat carries a supply of tuba root, which the people bruise by pounding it with wooden clubs against stumps and rocks on the bank or against the side of the boat. Water is thrown into the bottom of the boat and the pounded root is rinsed in the water, pounded again, and again rinsed, until all its poisonous juice is extracted. The water in all the boats, become milky with the juice, is poured at a given signal into the river, either by baling or by overturning the boats. After some twenty minutes the fish begin to rise to the surface and rush wildly to and fro. In the meantime the boats have been put to rights, and now begin to pursue the fish, the men armed with fish-spears, the women with landing-nets. The sport goes on for several hours. Some men armed with clubs stand upon a platform which slopes up at a low angle out of the water and rests upon the fence. Big fish come leaping upon this platform and are clubbed by the men, who have to exert their agility to avoid the spikes with which some of the fish are armed. Large quant.i.ties of fish are sometimes taken in this way; what cannot be eaten fresh are dried and smoked over the fires in the house.

While the TUBA fishing is being arranged and the preparations are going forward, great care is taken to avoid mentioning the word TUBA, and all references to the fish are made in oblique phrases, such as "The leaves (I.E. the fishes) can't float over this fence." This precaution is observed because it is believed that the birds and the bats can understand human speech, and may, if they overhear remarks about the preparations, give warning to their friends the fish, whose magician[51] (a bony fish called BELIRA), will then make rain, and, by thus swelling the river, prevent the successful poisoning of the water.

Tickling is also practised with success, the men standing in the edge of a lake among the gra.s.s and sedges, where the fish seek cooler water in the heat of the day.

All the methods of taking fish described above are practised by most of the peoples, except of course the use of the drag-net in the sea.

The crocodiles, which are numerous in the lower reaches of the rivers, are not hunted or attacked, save on provocation, by any of the peoples of Borneo except the Malays.[52] Occasionally a bather is seized by one of them while in the water or standing on a log floating in deep water; and more rarely a person is dragged out of a small boat, while drifting quietly on deep water at evening. If men and boats are at hand they turn out promptly to attack the crocodile, if it rises to the surface; but there is small chance of rescue. If the victim has sufficient presence of mind and strength to thrust his thumbs against the eyes of the reptile it may release him, escape in this way is not unknown. In the case of a fatal issue, the men of the village turn out to avenge the outrage, and, in the case of the seizure of an important person, those of neighbouring villages will join them. All available boats are manned by men armed with spears, some of which are lashed to the ends of long poles. Congregating in their boats near the scene of the disaster, the men prod the bed of the river with their spears, working systematically up and down river and up the small side streams. In this way they succeed in stabbing some of the reptiles; and in this case, though they usually do not rise to the surface, their bodies are found after some days in the creeks, death having ensued from the inflammation set up in the wounds. The wound caused by a spear-thrust would seldom be fatal to the crocodile, but that the wound is liable to the perpetual a.s.saults of smaller creatures -- fish while he is in the water, flies when he lies on the bank. These irritate and extend the wound. The stomachs of those crocodiles that are captured are opened in search of traces of the person taken, traces which usually remain there for some time in the shape of hair or ornaments. If no trace is found the people's vengeance is not satisfied, and they set baited hooks, or pay Malays to do so, partly because the Malays are experts and claim to have potent charms to bring the offender to the hook, partly because a Kayan does not care to take upon himself the individual responsibility of catching a crocodile, though he does not shrink from the collective pursuit. The decaying body of a fowl, monkey, or other animal (Malays sometimes use a living dog) is bound to a strong bar of hard-wood, sharpened at both ends and some fifteen inches in length. A number of small rattans are tied to the bar about its middle, their other ends being made fast to a log. This arrangement is allowed to float down river; if it does not float freely, the crocodile will not take the bait. When a crocodile rises to the bait and swallows it, the bar gets fixed cross-wise in his gullet as he pulls on the rattans. The hunters, having kept the log in sight, then attach the ends of the rattans to the boat, tow the reptile to the bank, and haul him up on dry land. They secure his tail and feet with nooses, which they lash to a pole laid along his back, and lash his jaws together. Throughout these operations the crocodile is addressed deferentially as LAKI (grandfather). He is then left exposed to the sun, when he soon dies; in this way the people avoid the risks attaching to slaying the crocodile with their own hands.