Through Central Borneo An Account Of Two Years' Travel In The Land Of The Head-Hunters Between The Years 1913 And 1917 By Carl Lumholtz
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Northeast Borneo And North Celebes Have A
Comparatively Cool Climate, But From Samarinda Southward It Is Warmer.
I
called on the assistant Resident, in whose office a beautiful blue
water-rail, with a red head, walked unconcernedly about.
He advised me that
this was the worst time for travelling, when the northwest monsoons, which
are accompanied by much rain, are blowing.
The peace and contentment among the natives here, mostly Malays, impresses
one favourably. They are all very fond of their children and take good
care of them. The crying of children is a sound that is rarely heard. It
was my fortune to travel over two years in the Dutch Indies; it is
gratifying to state that during that time I never saw a native drunk, cit
her in Java or Borneo. My visits did not extend to the Muruts in the north
of Borneo, who are known to indulge excessively in native rice brandy. Nor
was I present at any harvest feast, but according to reliable report,
"strong drink is seldom or never abused" by the tribes of Borneo. The
Muruts and the Ibans are the exceptions.
Two days later, among mighty forests of nipa-palms, we sailed up the Kayan
or Bulungan River and arrived at Tandjong Selor, a small town populated by
Malays and Chinese, the number of Europeans being usually limited to two,
the controleur and the custom-house manager. It lies in a flat swampy
country and on the opposite side of the river, which here is 600 metres
wide, lives the Sultan of Bulungan.
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