Calmly I began to take off my clothes, as if the
ladies were not there. At first my preparations seemed to make no
impression whatever, but finally, when I was about to divest myself of the
last of my few garments, they smiled and went away.
This was the season for the durian fruit and we much enjoyed this
delicacy, of which Mr. A.R. Wallace, fifty years ago, wrote: "To eat
durians is a new sensation, worth a voyage to the East to experience."
There were some superb trees seventy metres high growing not far from my
tent, and many others farther away. The people of the Mahakam do not climb
these tall trees to get the fruit, but gather them from the ground after
it has fallen. One night I heard one fall with a considerable crash.
Roughly speaking, it is of the size of a cocoanut; a large one might kill
a man and has been known to cause serious injury. It is most dangerous for
children to walk under the trees in the fruit season.
The durian is intensely appreciated by the natives, and tatu marks
representing the fruit are strikingly prominent in Central Borneo. It also
has its European devotees, though most of them take a dislike to it on
account of its strong odour, resembling that of decayed onions.
