First they considered it essential to make a feast for the badak (the
Malay name for rhinoceros). When going out on their expedition they had
promised to make a badak effigy if they found much rubber. As the man on
its back represented the owner, there was the risk that one of the souls
of the latter might enter his image, resulting in illness for the owner,
to avoid which a pig would have to be killed and various ceremonies
performed.
The festival was scheduled to take place in three days, but it had to be
postponed one day on account of difficulties in procuring the pig. I
presented them with three tins of rice and another half full of sugar,
which they wanted to mix with water to serve as drink because there was no
rice brandy. It required some exertion to bring the heavy image from the
float up to the open space in front of the house where the rubber
gatherers lived, but this had been done a day or two before the feast, the
statue in the meantime having been covered with white cotton cloth.
Several metres of the same material had also been raised on poles to form
a half enclosure around the main object. The feast had many features in
common with the one we had seen, as, for instance, dancing, and a good
deal of Malay influence was evident in the clothing of the participants,
also in the setting. Nevertheless, the ceremonies, which lasted only about
two hours, were not devoid of interest.
The men, manifesting great spontaneity and enthusiasm, gathered quickly
about and on the badak, and one of them took the rubber man by the hand.
This was followed by pantomimic killing of the badak with a ceremonial
spear as well as with parangs, which were struck against its neck. The man
who was deputed to kill the pig with the spear missed the artery several
times, and as blood was his first objective, he took no care to finish the
unfortunate animal, which was still gasping fifteen minutes later.
An old woman then appeared on the scene who waved a bunch of five hens, to
be sacrificed, whirling them over and among the performers who were then
sitting or standing. The hens were killed in the usual way by cutting the
artery of the neck, holding them until blood had been collected, and then
leaving them to flap about on the ground until dead. Blood was now smeared
on the foreheads of the principal participants, and a young woman danced a
graceful solo.
Having ascertained, by sending to the kampong below, that I could obtain
twenty men with prahus whenever I intended to move, I discharged with
cheerful willingness most of the Puruk Tjahu Malays. Their departure was a
relief also to the Murungs, who feared to be exploited by the Malays. As
soon as the latter had departed in the morning, many Dayaks whom I had not
seen before ventured to come up to the kitchen and my tent to ask for
empty tin cans. The Malays had slept in the Dayak houses, and the last
night one of them carried off the mat which had been hospitably offered
him.
One day there were two weddings here, one in the morning and the other in
the evening. A cloth was spread over two big gongs, which were standing
close together on the floor and formed seats for the bride and bridegroom.
She seemed to be about sixteen years old, and laughed heartily and
frequently during the ceremony, which occupied but a few minutes. A man
waved a young live hen over and around them, then went away and killed it
in the usual manner, returning with the blood, which, with the help of a
stick, he smeared on the forehead, chest, neck, hands, and feet of the
bridal pair, following which the two mutually daubed each other's
foreheads. The principal business connected with marriage had previously
been arranged - that of settling how much the prospective bridegroom was to
pay to the bride's parents. With most tribes visited I found the
adjustment of the financial matter conclusive in itself without further
ceremonies.
The officiating blian took hold of a hand of each, pulled them from their
seats, and whisked them off as if to say: "Now you can go - you are
married!" Outside the full moon bathed the country in the effulgence of
its light, but being quite in zenith it looked rather small as it hung in
the tropical sky.
The moist heat in the latter part of September and first half of October
was more oppressive here than I experienced anywhere else in Borneo. When
for a few days there was no rain the temperature was uncomfortable, though
hardly rising above 90 F. As there was no wind Rajimin's skins would not
dry and many spoiled. Flies, gnats, and other pests were troublesome and
made it difficult even to take a bath. Itching was produced on the lower
part of the legs, which if scratched would become sores that usually took
weeks to heal, and though the application of iodine was of some avail, the
wounds would often suppurate, and I have myself at times had fever as a
result. The best remedy for these and like injuries on the legs is a
compress, or wet bandage, covered with oiled silk, which is a real
blessing in the tropics and the material for which any traveller is well
advised in adding to his outfit.
Rain with the resultant cooling of the atmosphere seldom waited long,
however, and when the river rose to within a metre of my tent, which I had
pitched on the edge of the river bank, I had to abandon it temporarily for
the house in which Mr. Demmini and Mr. Loing resided, a little back of the
rest of the houses.
