It was situated about one hundred yards
from the stream. No sooner had we sighted it than the air resounded
with the loud beating of large gongs and plenty of shouting. There
was a great commotion among the Dayaks.
I at first felt doubtful as to the kind of reception I should get,
and immediately made my way to the house with Dubi, who explained
to the Dayak chief that I was no government official, but had come
to see them and also to get some "burong" (birds) and "kopo-kopo"
(butterflies). I forthwith presented the old chief with a bottle of
gin, such as they often get from the Malay traders, and some Javanese
tobacco, and his face was soon wreathed in smiles.
The Dayaks soon brought all my baggage into the house and I paid
off my Malays and proceeded to make myself as comfortable as I could
for my stay of several weeks, the chief giving me a portion of his
own quarters and spreading mats for me over the bamboo floor. On the
latter I put my camp-bed and boxes. I occupied a portion of the open
corridor or main hall, which ran the length of the house and where
the unmarried men sleep. This long corridor was just thirty feet
in width, and formed by far the greater portion of the house; small
openings from this corridor led on to a kind of unsheltered platform
twenty-five feet in width, which ran the length of the house and on
which the Dayaks generally dry their "padi" (rice).
The other side of the house was divided into several rooms, each of
which belonged to a separate family. Here they store their wealth,
chiefly huge jars and brass gongs. The house was raised on piles fully
ten to twelve feet from the ground, the space underneath being fenced
in for the accommodation of their pigs and chickens. The smells that
came up through the half-open bamboo and "bilian"-wood flooring were
the reverse of pleasant. The entrance at each end was by means of
a very steep and slippery sort of ladder made out of one piece of
wood with notches cut in it, the steps being only a few inches in
width. One of these ladders had a rough bamboo hand-rail on each side,
and the top part of the steps was roughly carved into the semblance
of a human face.
In the rafters over my head I noticed a great quantity of spears,
shields, "sumpitans" or blowpipes, paddles, fish-traps, baskets and
rolls of mats piled up indiscriminately, while just over my head where
I slept was a rattan basket containing two human heads, though Dubi
told me he thought the Dayaks had hidden most of their heads on my
arrival. This description of the house I resided in for some time,
applies more or less to all the Dayak houses I saw in Borneo.
This house or village was called Menus, and the old chief's name
was Usit. In spelling these names one has to be entirely guided by
the sounds and write them after the fashion of the English method
of spelling Malay. The village or house of Menus seemed to contain
about one hundred inhabitants, not counting small children. Upon my
arrival I was soon surrounded by a most curious throng, many of whom
gazed at me with open mouths, in astonishment at the sight of an
"orang puteh" (white man), as of course no white man had ever been
here before and but very few of the people had ever seen one. One old
woman remembered having seen a white man, and some of the older men
had from time to time seen government officials on the Rejang River,
but except to these few I was a complete novelty. Considering this,
I was greatly astonished at their friendliness, as not only the men,
but the women and children squatted around me in the most amicable
fashion, and sometimes even became a decided nuisance. My first evening
among them, however, I found extremely amusing, and as my Chinese cook
placed the food he had cooked before me, and as I ate it with knife,
fork and spoon, they watched every mouthful I took amid a loud buzz
of comments and exclamations of delight.
Though by no means the first time I have had to endure this sort of
popularity, or rather notoriety, in various countries of the world,
I do not think I have ever come across a people so full of friendly
curiosity as were these Dayaks. About midnight I began to feel a bit
sleepy, but the admiring multitude did not seem inclined to move,
so I told Dubi to tell them that I wanted to change my clothes and
go to sleep. No one moved. "Tell the ladies to go, Dubi," I said,
but on his translating my message a woman in the background called
out something that met with loud cries of approval.
"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.
