Read Ebook: Del sentimiento trágico de la vida by Unamuno Miguel De

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The silver coinage in use in Sarawak is the Mexican dollar, but the copper coinage of cents and half-cents bear the head of the Raja.

A walk under the arcades of the Bazaar in the busy part of the day is well repaid by the curious spectacle presented--thronged as it is with the quaint dark blue dresses of the Chinese and the gaudy, rainbow-hued garments of the Malays, while now and again a land Dyak from up river may be seen, clad in his "chawat" and turban, evidently quite out of his element, and half-scared at the busy scene around him.

The public health of Kuching, which has a mixed population of 20,000, is good, notwithstanding a severe outbreak of cholera which occurred in 1877 and carried off a great number of the inhabitants; and the climate, for a tropical one, is exceptionally healthy. Although the mid-day heat is during six months in the year excessive, the nights are nearly always cool, for a day seldom passes without a squall of wind and rain during the latter part of the afternoon, which clears the atmosphere. Consumption is unknown in Sarawak; and an English officer who came out to join the government service, afflicted with this complaint, completely recovered after a residence of three years in the country. Indeed, if due attention be paid to diet, and the excessive use of stimulants avoided, a long period may elapse in this climate without returning home to recruit; and there is now an officer living in Kuching who has not been out of the place for eighteen years, and who is in as good health as when he left Europe.

Our days at Kuching slipped pleasantly by. A plunge in the large Astana swimming-bath at dawn began the day; after which, our light breakfast of coffee, eggs, and fruit over, we would go across river for a ride or stroll out with a gun; and during my morning's walk past the neat town and bungalows, the latter surrounded with their pretty gardens and trim hedges, I often thought of what poor old Muda Hasim would think could he arise from his grave and compare Kuching the modern with the Kuching of forty years ago--half a dozen Malay houses on a mud bank!

But the loveliest countries have their little drawbacks, Sarawak not excepted. Mosquitoes and sand-flies are not, although very numerous, the worst evils in the land, for I was startled, my first night in Kuching, while lying half-awake in bed, to feel something cold and slimy run across my chest. Thinking it was a snake, I was out of bed like "greased lightning," and was not a little relieved to find that the cause of the mischief was only a "chik-chak," or common lizard of the country, which was larger than usual in this case, being nearly a foot long.

But the true curses of Sarawak are the rats. Go where you will, avoid them as you may, there is not a bungalow that is not infested with them, and boots, shirts, and even cigars, suffer in consequence. No sooner in bed, and the lights out, than their gambols commence, and they sometimes make such a noise as to keep one awake for the greater part of the night. I have sometimes gone out to the verandah, thinking I heard men's footsteps, and found it to be rats, who fled at my approach. These pests occasionally migrate at night in large numbers, several hundred of them on one occasion passing through the Raja's bed-room at Astana on one of these nocturnal expeditions. Nor are mosquito curtains a guard against them, for an out-station officer at Simanggang, on the Batang Lupar river, woke up one night to find a huge grey rascal sitting on his chest and endeavouring to make a hearty meal off his jersey.

To get rid of rats is, therefore, well-nigh impossible, though a plan adopted by some Europeans of keeping a boa-constrictor between the roofs and ceilings of their bungalows is the most effectual.

There are many snakes in Borneo, but none, with the exception of the cobra, are deadly. Centipedes and scorpions are common, and the Tarantula spider is also occasionally, though rarely, met with.

After nearly a fortnight's stay in the capital, we made preparations for an excursion to Matang, of which we wished to make the ascent, and whither we were about to accompany Mr. H., who was formerly agent of the Raja's coffee estate, half-way up the mountain.

Travel in Borneo--Travelling Boats--Leave for Matang-- Our Crew--Alligators--Mosquitoes--Matang Bungalow--The Garden--Ascend the Mountain--The Waterfall--A Nasty Jump--View from the Summit--Snakes--Return to Kuching.

Travelling in the south-western districts of Borneo, and indeed generally throughout the island, excepting in the far north and interior, is done in boats, the density of its forests and swampy nature of the ground rendering journeys overland in most parts of the territory next to impossible. Jungle paths there are, running inland to native houses, and "padi" clearings, as well as one or two native roads of considerable length, such as the one leading from Lundu, in Sarawak, to the Dutch settlement of Sambas, a distance of twenty-eight miles; but the walking is very severe, and the journey but seldom attempted except by Dyaks.

Its rivers may therefore be said to be the highways of Sarawak, and, fortunately for the traveller, it is a well-watered country. The Rejang, Batang Lupar, and Sarawak rivers are the largest, while among many other smaller streams are the Sadong, Saribus, Kalaka, Eyan, Muka, and Oya; the three latter, although small, are very important, as they run through the sago districts, where are large forests of that palm.

The travelling boats used by Europeans are propelled by means of paddles, and vary considerably in size, from those pulled by six or eight men, to those having a crew of thirty or forty, some of the Dyak war canoes holding as many as eighty men. The latter are used only on expeditions against the enemy. The ordinary travelling boat is roofed over from stem to stern with "kadjangs," or dried palm-leaf awnings, having a space in the centre some 8 feet long or more, according to the size of the boat, walled in on each side with the same material, the better to exclude the fierce rays of the sun. Herein sits, or rather lies, the traveller, the lowness of the awning precluding any other position. Boxed up in this manner, but little can be seen of the surrounding country, but as in Sarawak one river is so precisely alike another this is no great loss. In the interior, however, the scenery improves, and is much finer, as I shall presently show.

A short journey in this style is pleasant enough, but when the unhappy traveller has to live, and cook, &c., for days together in one of these craft it becomes very irksome and trying to the temper. Moreover, the smell from the remnants of the crew's meals, such as stale fish and decayed fruit and vegetables--which they will not take the trouble to throw overboard, but invariably drop under the "lanties" or bamboo deck--is well-nigh insupportable.

We left Kuching on the 4th of June for Matang, intending to make the ascent of Sorapi, the highest peak of the Matang range. The tide not serving further, Santubong was to be our resting-place that night, and we were to proceed on our journey early the following morning. Matang, though only eight miles from Kuching in a straight line, is fully thirty by river, the stream which runs past the landing-place at Matang having its outlet at Santubong. It was once intended by the Sarawak Government to make a road from Kuching to the mountain, but on being surveyed the intermediate country was found to contain a deep swamp four miles across, so the project was abandoned.

Our craft on this occasion was pulled by a crew of six men, and, though small, was, thanks to Mr. H. , replete with every comfort. On our way down river, H. pointed us out his crew with pride as being all prisoners, who, although he never took a gaoler with him, had never once taken advantage of him for three years, during which time he had made several trips.

Three of these men were in for murder, and H.'s own body-servant, who cooked our meals, waited on us. He was working out a sentence of fifteen years for the murder of a Chinaman, whose head he had one day conceived a desire to possess, which desire he had promptly gratified! This man was a "Kayan," a tribe inhabiting the interior of Borneo, of whom more anon.

There has ever been something most repulsive to me about the latter, who, when they have seized their prey, human or otherwise, do not at once devour it, but stow it away in their nests under water for two or three days until the flesh becomes decomposed, when they return to their hideous meal. Alligators do not attain a very large size in Borneo, ranging from 10 to 15 feet long only. The offer by the Sarawak Government of 30 cents, per foot, when captured, has greatly decreased their number in most of the rivers. An amusing anecdote is told of an enterprising Malay fisherman, who, when these rewards were first offered, established a "farm" at the mouth of one of the rivers, killing them when they grew to their full size, and claiming the money for their capture. This did not last long, however, and the "wily Oriental's" ingenuity was nipped in the bud by a punishment that has deterred other natives from following his bad example. It is a curious fact that the eggs of alligators are invariably found in the following numbers--11, 22, 33, 44, 55, 66, &c.

Two Malay children, the elder a girl, aged seven and four years, were playing at low tide on a mud bank close to their dwelling, and some 15 yards from the water, when an alligator, which had advanced unperceived, seized the younger, and was making for the water with the child in its jaws. The little girl, on seeing this, had the presence of mind to leap on the animal's back and plunge her fingers into its eyes, when it instantly dropped the child unhurt, and made off into the river.

We enjoyed a cool and refreshing dip in the sea, and it was almost dark ere we left the water to return to the boat. A light was placed in her little cabin, which shone like a firefly over the sands, giving promise of good things within, to which we were shortly doing justice, in the shape of an excellent fowl curry , washed down by a bottle of claret cool and fresh from the spring on shore, where it had been placed on arrival. The night was beautiful and starlight, and, our repast over, the awning was removed, and we sat out enjoying our cigars in the cool night breeze blowing in fresh and strong from the sea. The quiet ripple of the waves as they broke on the sandy beach had a soothing effect very favourable to reflection , and the lights of the little fishing village twinkling at the foot of the black and rugged peak of Santubong--which rose to a height of 1,500 feet above our heads, and behind which the moon was just rising--presented a fine and uncommon picture.

The morning was bright and sunny, and, starting at seven, we were entering the Matang stream which runs past the Bungalow landing-stage at eleven o'clock a.m. Our destination was reached at one p.m., and, loading our amiable crew with baggage and provisions, we started off up the mountain for the bungalow, which was reached, after a rather severe climb, at three o'clock.

There was formerly a coffee estate on Matang belonging to the Raja. This was started in 1868, but the coffee, though good in quality, grew in such small quantities that it was deemed advisable to abandon the scheme, and this was accordingly done in 1873. The bungalow, however, which was built in the same year is still kept up as a sanitarium--a great boon to the Europeans in Kuching, as the climate here is delightful, the temperature at night never exceeding 80 even in the hottest season. The bungalow, which stands about 1,000 feet above sea level, is a comfortable wooden house, containing a sitting-room and three good bed-rooms. It stands on the sheer mountain side, the jungle for 100 feet or so below it having been completely cleared, and replaced by a pretty garden, built in five terraces one below the other, and containing roses, honeysuckles, sweetbriar, and many English flowers that would not live a day on the plains below.

To arrive at the foot of the Sirapi mountain two distinct ridges must be ascended and descended, and after an hour's hard walking , we descended the second ridge, into the valley, and arrived at the waterfall, which here descends the mountain from a height of some 600 feet.

Seating ourselves on a huge black boulder overhanging the fall, we paused here for a while to regain our breath, of which we should shortly stand so much in need, for up till now the work had been child's play compared with what was coming. The most striking thing about this valley was its dense gloom, the huge forest-trees of Tapang, Pli, and other kinds, excluding every ray of light, excepting where here and there a bright patch of blue sky peeped in through the thick trellis-work of branches overhead. Beautiful palms, kladiums, and tree ferns, grew in profusion around us, and rare orchids filled the air with their sweet perfumes. Strangely enough not a bird, or living thing, was to be seen in this lovely glen, and the solemn stillness which reigned, broken only by the plash of the water as it fell from rock to rock, was almost oppressive.

We could have lingered here willingly for an hour, but our guide was inexorable, and "forward" was again the cry. Climbing now commenced in real earnest, for, leaving the old track altogether, we began the sheer ascent of the mountain. Dense undergrowths and sharp rocks impeded our every step, and cut our feet cruelly, while, every now and then, a fall flat on the face was the result of misplaced confidence in a fallen tree trunk, which had become rotten from the ravages of ants or other insects. Falling any considerable height was, however, scarcely possible, as the binders and undergrowth, which tore our clothes and scratched our faces, legs, and arms, unmercifully, prevented that.

After three-quarters of an hour of this work--which in a tropical climate, with the thermometer something like 90? in the shade, was no joke--we again struck on the old path, which, though now completely overgrown, we determined to follow for a short time. With injunctions from H. to "hold on by our eyelids," and "'ware holes" where the path had given way, we proceeded along this track about three feet wide, whence descended a sheer precipice of at least 2,000 feet. Glancing upwards, however, we could see that the neck of the journey was broken, and, encouraged by this, we went ahead merrily. But our pride was destined to have a fall. L. and I were proceeding alone, H. having stopped behind to secure an orchid, when, on turning a corner, we were brought up "all standing." About ten paces in front of us was an enormous landslip. It had commenced about 150 feet above the track, and, carrying huge rocks and trees with it, had swept down to the base of the mountain, demolishing the path on which we stood, and leaving a smooth, perpendicular precipice of earth, rocks, and trees, to mark its course. Going round was impossible, for it had left a gap about twelve feet wide, while under us yawned the dread gulf, a fall down which must have been fatal. Over this chasm lay a thin bamboo pole about a foot in circumference, evidently thrown over the chasm, and crossed by some native, for Dyaks and Malays are as active as cats, and in feats of this kind know no fear.

This mode of transit seemed to us, however, out of the question, and we were lamenting our bad luck in having to return without having reached the summit, when H. came up. Without a moment's hesitation, and merely remarking "rather an awkward place," he crossed the pole, while it swayed and oscillated with every movement he made, in a way that made my blood run cold. Having seen him over safely, there was no help for it but to follow, and, dissembling a feeling within me very much akin to what schoolboys denominate "funk," I determined to jump for it, but cross that infernal stick--never! Consigning Matang and all things connected with it to a considerably warmer sphere than Borneo, I "threw my heart over" and followed it a run, a wild bound in the air, a scramble, and I was over, L. almost jumping on my back, and both being ignominiously hauled out of danger by H., who showed no more interest in the whole affair than he would have done in crossing Piccadilly!

This little adventure over, matters were easy enough, until within a short distance of the summit. It then became terrible work. Tearing and struggling through masses of briars and thorns, cut about the feet by sharp rocks, and having literally to pull ourselves upwards by tree trunks and branches, on we went, until a shrill yell from L. gave us a happy excuse for a halt. He had been bitten by a "sumut api," or fire-ant, the pain of whose bite is intense, and strongly resembles the running of a red-hot needle into the flesh. "Never mind," said H., "you won't feel it in a minute." We resume the climb, and I am just beginning to be aware that very few minutes more of this work will sew me up altogether, when, O joyful sound! a faint cry from H., who is some distance ahead, comes back to us. "Hurrah! here's the top!" Panting and exhausted, we at length reach the summit, and throw ourselves on the ground dead beat.

When sufficiently recovered in wind and limb to get up and look around us, we feel that double the hard work undergone would have been amply repaid by the magnificent view now disclosed to us.

Far away in front of us, surrounded by an interminable forest of jungle, lies Gunong Po?, the south-west boundary of Sarawak, while behind it again rise the long low hills of Sambas, in Dutch Borneo. Stretching far out to sea, and to the right of Po?, is the long spit of land, or promontory, known as "Tanjong Api," on this side of which lies the mountain of "Gading," or Mount Brooke, in Sarawak territory. Nearer to us again are Santubong and Moratabas, and far down the coast the Sadong mountains, the home of the Mias or orang utan of Borneo.

We can plainly trace the course of the Sarawak river, which looks from here like a thin silver thread, as it winds its way past Kuching, its white houses glittering in the sunshine. The mountains of Singgi and Cerambo are plainly discernible, as also the sharp rugged hills of Legora, where the cinnabar and antimony mines are; while farthest away of any on the dim horizon, we can distinguish the island of Burong, at the mouth of the Batang Lupar, and the flat-topped mountain of Lingga, where the Sarawak Mission has established its headquarters. The sky was cloudless, and H. told us that never before had he been able to procure such a good view from the summit.

We enjoyed the fresh breeze at the top for half an hour, and then commenced our descent, avoiding the landslip, and reached the waterfall in a little over the hour. Pausing here for a few minutes to rest, and quench our thirst, we resumed our journey, and reached the bungalow at midday none the worse, with the exception of leech-bites and cut feet, for the climb. Remarking to H. on the extraordinary number of snakes I had noticed on the way up, he informed me that Matang is famed for them, and that, on rising one morning at the bungalow we were then in, he discovered a cobra eight feet long, curled up asleep under his pillow. It had evidently been there all night, and, not best pleased at the interruption, was crawling away when a bullet from H.'s revolver cut short its career.

We stayed two days more at the bungalow, after which we returned to our quarters at Kuching, not a little pleased at having accomplished the ascent of "Sirapi."

The Rejang Residency--Wild Tribes of the Interior--Start for Rejang--Timber Ships--Sibu--Attack by Katibus--A Dinner Party--The Fireship--Kanowit--"Jok"--Kanowits' Dwellings--Human Heads--"Bones" and "Massa Johnson."

Sarawak is divided into six districts or Residencies, each of which is under the supervision and control of a European Government officer. The latter, who is stationed at the fort established at the principal town of the district, is styled the Resident, and settles law cases, receives revenue, &c.; the entire Residency being under his control.

These districts are as follows:-- Sarawak proper ; Rejang; Batang Lupar; Muka; Bintulu; Lundu.

The races dwelling on the banks of this great river are very numerous, varying from the totally wild and wandering Ukits at its head to the Malay and Milano races inhabiting its shores from Sibu to the mouth. The population of Rejang is roughly estimated at 103,000, but the difficulties of obtaining anything like an accurate census are obvious. The number I have given comprises 40,000 Dyaks , 30,000 Milanos, 30,000 Kayans, and 3,000 Malays--the latter do not live above Sibu. There are also other tribes of totally different language and customs to the above, whose number it has been found impossible to ascertain. Of these I shall give an account anon.

The Dyaks may be classed as follows:-- the Sea Dyak; the Land Dyak.

Of the other races inhabiting Sarawak, and especially the Rejang district, may be mentioned the Kayans, a powerful tribe living at the head of the Rejang river, and occupying the vast tract of land between it and the territory of the Sultan of Brunei in North Borneo; the Kanowits, who take their name from the stream of that name, which rises in the Batang Lupar Residency, and runs into the Rejang; and the Poonans, Pakatans, Sians, and Ukits, the latter of whom are acknowledged to be the wildest of the human race yet met with in Borneo. Of these tribes, all with the exception of the Ukits are tattooed, unlike the Dyaks, who look upon the practice with contempt, and say that they have no need to disfigure their faces to frighten their enemies. A curious mixture of the Dyak and Malay races are the Milanoes. These occupy the sea-coast and Oya, Muka, and Bintulu rivers. The custom of flattening their children's heads is prevalent among them.

Such a journey undertaken at our own cost and responsibility would have been next to impossible, for, apart from the danger of travelling among unknown tribes without a guide, we should have lost all the valuable information we were able to obtain from the Resident. Of the Dyak language I had a slight knowledge, but this is practically useless at Kapit and in the interior, the natives around being, both in language and customs, totally unlike Dyaks.

We arrived off the mouth after a pleasant run of seven hours along the coast, and entered the river Rejang, which is here four miles broad. On the right bank stands the little village of Rejang, and lying off it was a large Portuguese sailing vessel, loading "bilian" or iron wood. This is a tedious business. The wood is cut a considerable distance up river and floated down in rafts, an operation which sometimes detains a ship here for three or four months. Deaths are frequent on board these timber ships, as the country for miles round is one dismal mangrove swamp, and very productive of fever. A great quantity of this timber is exported yearly to China direct from Rejang, and it must be a lucrative speculation for the shippers, as the cost is merely a nominal charge of 1 dol. per ton to Government, and it fetches a considerable price in the Chinese market.

We anchored at sundown off Sarikei, a lonely-looking place, twenty miles from the mouth, consisting of four or five tumble-down Malay houses on a mud bank, and starting next day at daybreak reached our destination at ten o'clock a.m.

A daring attempt was made by the Katibus tribe eight years since to capture Fort Brooke, but although taken by surprise, the Resident and his handful of men drove them back with great ease, killing eight of their number, and shooting their chief with his own hand. The fort was attacked just before daylight, and the enemy were estimated to number about 150.

The Kanowits are a small tribe, numbering about 500, and are quite distinct and totally unlike any other race in Borneo. They have not unpleasant features, are of lighter complexion than the Dyaks, and, though not so warlike, are fine, strongly-built men. Nearly all were tattooed from head to foot with most intricate patterns, and others representing birds, beasts, fishes, &c., while round the face and throat the marks were made in imitation of a beard, an ornament which none of the tribes yet met with in Borneo possess.

Arrived off the village, we cast anchor for the night off the fort, and at the mouth of the Kanowit stream. Kanowit village consists of three long houses, built on wooden posts about 40 feet high. They are so built for the purposes of defence, and it is no uncommon thing in Bornean travel to come across a whole village living under one roof. The longest of these dwellings that I have ever seen was when travelling up the Baram River , in 1873, about 170 miles in the interior. This was a house, 103 yards long, which contained the whole village, consisting of about sixty families.

Fort Emma stands on the opposite side of the river to the village, and is in charge of a sepoy and four Malays. It is on a good position, armed with three small guns, and commands the village and entrance to the Kanowit stream. It was on this spot that Messrs. Fox and Steele were brutally murdered by the Kanowits in 1859; but ever since the terrible vengeance that followed, on the part of the Government, the tribe have always been among the firmest allies of the Raja.

We visited Jok's dwelling in the cool of the evening. As all houses belonging to the more civilised indigenous races in Borneo are built on the same principle as Jok's, a description of this will suffice for all.

The houses are built on wooden posts driven firmly into the ground, and ranging from thirty to forty feet high, according to the size of the dwelling. They are entered by a wooden pole, placed in a slanting position, at one end of the building, having notches cut into it to afford firmer foothold. This pole can be drawn into the house on occasion, thus cutting off all communication with the outside. The interior of the house was divided by a thin wooden partition running its entire length and dividing it into two equal portions. On the one side of this partition is the "ruai," or large hall, which is the common dwelling-place of the tribe, and on the other a series of small boxes about twelve feet square, which are sacred to the married people. Each of these compartments has a door of its own leading into the "ruai," and these are taxed by Government at 1 dol. a door. Overhead, again, is the "sadow," an upper storey which runs the length of the building, the residence of the unmarried girls, and wherein the valuables of the tribe are kept.

The floorings of these houses are made of split bamboo, which offers but a precarious footing to the unsuspecting traveller, as holes are numerous, and a slip through would precipitate one forty feet below. In front of the house runs a bamboo verandah about twenty feet broad, where domestic operations, such as cooking, padi grinding, &c., are carried on. The roof of dried palm-leaves is a high sloping one, and comes down to within about foot and a half of the floor, throwing the interior of the building into almost total darkness, even in broad daylight.

The Resident's entry was hardly a dignified one, as he had to clamber up the pole and into the building on all fours, drawing his body through the small aperture hardly three feet square, which formed the entry of the house. Once in the "ruai," however, great preparations were made by the inmates for his welcome. Some beautifully-worked mats were spread out on the floor, and siri and betel-nut produced; and while the Resident was holding his "Bechara" , surrounded by a ring of admiring natives squatted around him, L. and I slipped away with a young Kanowit warrior, who offered to show us round the building.

These women were fair specimens, as we were afterwards informed, of the tribe, and were, like the men, tattooed from head to foot. But for the disgusting habit of blackening their teeth and disfiguring the lobes of their ears, they would not have been bad-looking. They wore a light brown petticoat of cloth woven by themselves, and reaching from the waist to just above the knee. Their hair was not left to fall loose, but tied tightly into a knot at the back of their heads, very much as it is worn in Europe at the present time. A few brass rings round their waists and arms completed their attire. Strangely enough, the Kanowit women are, as a rule, darker than the men.

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