"What does she say, Dubi?" I asked.
"She says, Tuan," replied Dubi, "they like see your skin, if white
the same all over."
This was rather embarrassing, and I told Dubi to insist upon their
going; but Dubi, whose advice I generally took, replied, "I think,
Tuan (master), more better you show to them your skin." I therefore
submitted with as good a grace as possible, and took my shirt off,
while some of them, especially the women, pinched and patted the skin
on my back amid cries of approval and delight.
They asked if the skin of the Tuan Muda (the Rajah) was as white, and,
on being told that it was, a long and serious conversation took place
among them, during which the name of the Tuan Muda kept constantly
cropping up.
The great naturalist, Wallace, met with much the same experience
among the Dayaks, and as the natives of many other countries among
whom I have lived never seemed to display the same curiosity about
my white skin, I put it down to the Dayaks wishing to see what kind
of a skin the great white Rajah, who rules over them, possesses.
The next two or three nights the crowd that waited to see me change
into my pyjamas was, if anything, still larger, a good many Dayaks
from neighbouring villages coming over to see the sight. But gradually
the novelty wore off, to my great joy, as I was getting a bit tired
of the whole performance. I had come here to see the Dayaks, but it
appeared that they were even more anxious to see me.
For the next two or three weeks an odd Dayak would from time to time
ask to see my skin, so that at length I had absolutely to refuse to
exhibit myself any longer.
I had luckily brought several illustrated magazines with me to use
as papers for my butterflies, and these were a source of endless
delight to the crowds around me in the evenings. They behaved like a
lot of small children, and roared with laughter over the pictures. They
generally looked at the pictures upside down, and even then they seemed
to find something amusing about them. With Dubi as my interpreter
I used to make up stories about the pictures, and, pointing to
the portrait of some well-known actress, described the number of
husbands she had killed, and I'm afraid I grossly libelled many a
well-known politician, general, or divine in telling the Dayaks how
many heads they possessed or how many wives they owned, till it was
quite a natural thing for me to join in their uproarious merriment,
as I pictured in my mind some venerable bishop on the war-path.
As is well known, the Dayak women all wear rings of brass around
their waists.
