Fruits, as the durian and
langsat, are rather scarce.
Fire is made by twirling, and these natives use the sumpitan. They know
how to make tuak, crushing the rice, boiling it, and then pouring it into
a gutshi until the vessel is half full, the remaining space being filled
with water. In three days the product may be drunk, but sometimes it is
allowed to stand a month, which makes it much stronger. If there is no
tuak there can be no dancing, they said. Many remarked upon the expense of
obtaining a wife, the cost sometimes amounting to several hundred florins,
all of which must be earned by gathering rubber. The tiwah feast is
observed, but as to legends there are none, and their language and customs
are disappearing.
These Tamoans are disintegrating chiefly on account of the ravages of
cholera. About forty years previously an epidemic nearly extinguished
Bangkal, and there was another in 1914. The result is that the population
has changed, people from other kampongs, at times from other tribes,
taking the places of the dead. At the kampong Sembulo there appear to be
no Tamoans remaining, the Malays having easily superseded them.
Although my journey to the lake yielded no evidence to substantiate the
legend connected with it, because I found no Dayaks left "to tell the
tale," still, satisfaction is derived even from a negative result. Having
accomplished what was possible I returned to Sampit, arriving almost at
the same time a sailing ship came in from Madura, the island close to
northeastern Java. It was of the usual solid type, painted white, red, and
green, and loaded with obi, a root resembling sweet potatoes, which on the
fourth day had all been sold at retail. A cargo of terasi, the well-known
spicy relish made from crawfish and a great favourite with Malays and
Javanese, was then taken on board.
In the small prison of Sampit, which is built of iron-wood, the mortality
from beri-beri among the inmates was appalling. Nine men, implicated in
the murder of two Chinese traders, in the course of eight months while the
case was being tried, all died except a Chinaman who was taken to
Bandjermasin. I understood a new prison was about to be erected. It seems
improbable that ironwood has any connection with this disorder, but Mr.
Berger, manager of the nearby rubber plantation, told me the following
facts, which may be worth recording: Six of his coolies slept in a room
with ironwood floor, and after a while their legs became swollen in the
manner which indicates beri-beri. He moved them to another room, gave them
katjang idju, the popular vegetable food, and they soon recovered. He then
replaced the ironwood floor with other material, and after that nobody who
slept in the room was affected in a similar way.
I met in Sampit three Dayaks from the upper country of the Katingan on
whom the operation of incision had been performed. According to reliable
reports this custom extends over a wide area of the inland, from the upper
regions of the Kapuas, Kahayan, and Barito Rivers in the east, stretching
westward as far as and including the tribes of the Kotawaringin. Also, in
the Western Division on the Upper Kapuas and Melawi Rivers, the same usage
obtains. In Bandjermasin prominent Mohammedans, one of them a Malay Hadji,
told me that the Malays also practise incision instead of circumcision.
The Malays, moreover, perform an operation on small girls, which the
Dayaks do not.
The controleur invited me to take part in a banquet which he gave to
celebrate the completion of a road. There were present Malay officials,
also Chinamen, and one Japanese. The latter, who arrived at Sampit one and
a half years before with forty florins, had since increased his capital to
a thousand through the sale of medicines to natives whom he reached by
going up the rivers. We were seated at three tables, twenty-eight guests.
The natives were given viands in addition to the menu provided, because
they must have rice. Their women had helped to cook - no small undertaking
for so many in an out-of-the-way place like Sampit. It was an excellent
dinner; such tender, well-prepared beef I had not enjoyed for a long time.
Claret, apollinaris, and beer were offered, the latter appearing to be the
favourite. Women were served in another room after the men had dined.
FOLKLORE OF SOME OF THE TRIBES IN DUTCH BORNEO VISITED BY THE AUTHOR
1. THE MOTHERLESS BOY
(From the Penyahbongs, kampong Tamaloe)
Ulung Tiung was left at home by his father who went out hunting. Borro,
the cocoanut-monkey, came and asked for food, but when Ulung gave him a
little he refused to eat it and demanded more. The boy, who was afraid of
him, then gave more, and Borro ate until very little remained in the
house. The monkey then said, "I am afraid of your father, and want to go
home." "Go," replied the boy, "but return again." When the father came
home in the evening he was angry that the food had been taken.
The following day when the father went out hunting, Borro again came
asking for food. The boy, at first unwilling, finally yielded; the monkey
ate with much gusto and as before wanted to go home. "Do not go," said the
boy, "my father is far away." "I smell that he is near," said Borro, and
went.
When the father returned in the evening and saw that the food again had
been eaten he was very angry with the boy, who replied: "Borro ate it - I
did not take any." Whereupon the father said: "We will be cunning; next
time he comes tell him I have gone far away.
