CHAPTER XXIX.
LEAVE MUANG FANG—MY COMRADES HUNTING—THOSE BOYS AGAIN: PANIC-STRICKEN FISHERWOMEN—WATER-PARTING BETWEEN THE MEH PING AND MEH KONG—RAILWAY FROM ZIMMÉ TO MUANG FANG AND KIANG HSEN—A FREAK OF NATURE—TREE EIGHT FEET BROAD—A DEER-LICK—BED WITHOUT DINNER—ILLNESS OF MISSIONARIES—SITTING ON A SNAKE—HEAD OR TAIL, QUERY—EMIGRANTS CARRYING SPINNING-WHEELS—CROSS THE MEH NGAT—A BEAUTIFUL PLAIN—VIANG POW—VISIT FROM THE GOVERNOR—NGIO RAIDS—LOLO AND KAREN VILLAGES—EFFECT OF MONOPOLIES—PEOPLE DESERTING MUANG FANG—OFFICIALS COLLECTING TAXES FOR MONOPOLISTS—NO GAMBLING AND OPIUM DENS—COST OF CARRIAGE—EXPORT OF RICE—ONE SON-IN-LAW IN ONE HOUSE—TRADE-ROUTES—LEAVE VIANG POW—THE DEFILE OF THE MEH NGAT—ACCIDENT TO ANEROID—A FINE VIEW—AN ARISTOCRATIC GOVERNOR—POPULATION—WILD TEA—LIGHT TAXATION—FREE FROM VICES—PUT UP WITH A SHAN CONVERT—WOMEN WELL TREATED AMONGST THE SHANS—CUTCH-TREES—REACH ZIMMÉ.
We left Muang Fang on May 19, returning to Zimmé by a route five-eighths of a mile longer than that by which we had come. The first night we halted at Ban Meh Kih, where the two routes diverge. A mile beyond the village we commenced skirting the low plateau which intervenes between the Meh Fang and its eastern fork, the Meh Ta Loke. After crossing some low spurs of the plateau, which rises as it proceeds south, we again reached the Meh Fang, and halted on its bank in a valley about a quarter of a mile broad, and near a stream which bore traces of oil upon its waters. The hills about here are of sandstone.
During the morning’s march we passed five laden elephants on their way to Zimmé, and met a caravan of fifty laden cattle. The forest on portions of the plateau was composed of pine-trees. My companions amused themselves on the way by making small detours through the long grass, and started many deer, which, however, they failed to bag. The forest along the route was generally so dense, and the path was so crooked, that angles had to be taken by me every two or three minutes, which is fatiguing work.
The Meh Fang, which we crossed after breakfast, was 60 feet wide and 6 feet deep, with 1 foot of water. Its bed is composed of pebbles coming from sandstone, slate, granite, and quartz formations. The crossing was 61½ miles from Zimmé, and 1954 feet above sea-level. A little farther on we crossed a bend in the river in which a number of men and women were fishing, who, scared at our appearance, scuttled away as fast as they could—the women screaming with terror at the sight of my Madras servants. These boys were always amused at the horror and panic their black faces inspired in the women.
After crossing the bend we left the river, and for the next mile gradually ascended to the summit of the water-parting that separates the affluents of the Meh Fang, which flows into the Meh Kong, from those of the Meh Pam, which joins the Meh Ping below Muang Ngai. The summit of this pass is 59¼ miles from Zimmé, and only 2158 feet above the sea. A railway from Zimmé to Muang Fang, and thence to Kiang Hsen, would certainly be aligned up the valley of the Meh Pam, and over this pass into the basin of the Meh Fang. The rise from the latter river to the crest of the pass is only 204 feet.
In ascending the pass I noticed many palms, resembling small cocoa-nut trees, and seeing that they were in blossom, asked a man to get me some of the flowers, when he refused flatly, saying, “Whoever touched them would certainly suffer from the itch.” The wood of this palm is used in the construction of weaving-looms. The jungle was very dense, with aroids, ferns, and wild plantains scattered through the undergrowth. There are many plants in the jungle that one has to be chary in handling. Some blister the hand, while others are covered with prongs like fish-hooks. When riding, the eyes have to be kept constantly on the look-out, or your head-covering will be carried away and your coat torn into ribbons by these snares for the unwary.
The Shan States afford constant surprises, and one was before us as we looked to the west in descending the pass. Although we had crossed the water-parting, the high range of mountains which we had passed over on our former journey at the Pa Too Pa was still to our right, and we were now at the head of a valley worn out of the plateau formation at the foot of its slope. The range is here called Loi Pa Chan, and is limestone overlying sandstone, the latter rock appearing in the stream that drains the valley. The left side of the valley, from its easy slope, seemed especially made for railway purposes.
At 56 miles, Loi Pa Chan, which for the last 3¼ miles had been frowning down upon us, suddenly ended, and a mile farther we crossed the stream that drains the valley we had been traversing, having fallen only 288 feet in our easy descent from the crest of the pass. We shortly afterwards reached a low spur from the eastern hills, and crossed it to the Huay Pong Pow. We then followed that stream to Pang Pong Pow, and halted for the night. The trunk of a banian-tree not far from the camp was 8 feet in diameter, or more than 25 feet in girth.
The ground near the camp is boggy, with a strong smell of sulphur, the earth greasy and slimy, the strata a black shaly rock. The place is a deer-lick, and the caravans of cattle which passed through the camp early the next morning, taking rice to Muang Fang, so enjoyed licking the puddles that they could hardly be driven from the place. These pools are said formerly to have been a great rendezvous for wild cattle and other animals. Many trees in the neighbourhood of the camp were covered with the beautiful blossoms of the Rangoon creeper, and I noticed the single camellia of Burmah growing wild among the grass.
On halting for the night, we were so tired and weary that we at once fell upon sardines and cold rice, without waiting for dinner to be cooked, having had a very poor breakfast. When dinner was at length served, I was in bed, and my companions on their way there. The edge was off our appetites; sleep was dulling our senses,—so the boys enjoyed the dinner, while we enjoyed repose.
In the morning Mr Martin had a touch of the fever from which he had previously suffered. Dr M‘Gilvary had long been endeavouring to ward off recurring visits of the same enemy by taking quinine in teaspoonfuls. The Shan servants accompanying the missionaries, as well as my men, likewise had it at times, and I alone remained impregnable. I was very thankful for my immunity from it, as otherwise I could not have stood the constant strain upon my attention.
Leaving the camp, we crossed a spur to the Huay Pun, and proceeded for a mile up its course, rising 339 feet, to the crest of the pass over the range which links on the Pa-Yat Pa-Yai plateau to the eastern hills. This range of hills separates the waters flowing into the Meh Pam from those flowing into the Meh Ngat. The crest of the pass lies 51 miles from Zimmé, and 2277 feet above the sea.
Whilst sitting on a stone taking the height with the boiling-point thermometer, a snake, called Shin Byee in Burmah, wriggled from under it. The men said the bite of the snake was deadly, and that it possessed two heads, one where its tail should be. On using my magnifying-glass I proved to them that this was a delusion, though the shape and marks on the flat end to the tail gave some reason for the general belief. A number of emigrants passed us here on their way to Muang Fang; the women, like good housewives, were carrying their spinning-wheels on their backs.
We descended the pass to the Meh Ngat, and after breakfast continued up the valley of that stream for a mile and a half, when we crossed it near where some men and half-a-dozen women were fishing in the stream. These hurried away as fast as they could put foot to ground, and hid themselves in the forest. Our crossing was 48 miles from Zimmé, and 1676 feet above sea-level; and the river 30 feet broad and 4 feet deep, with 6 inches of water in its bed.
Leaving the stream, we marched over the low plateau round which the stream turns to enter the great plain of Muang Pow (Pau). On reaching the plain we had a magnificent view of Loi Chaum Haut and its eastern spurs, and could see the head of Loi Kiang Dow peeping over the hills I had sketched at Ban Meh Meh. To the east of the plain, which averages 12 miles in length and 8 miles in width, spur after spur was seen stretching in a south-easterly direction to the range in the background that divides the waters of the Meh Ping from those of the Meh Low. To the south the Meh Ngat breaks through the hills in a long defile, and to the north appeared the hills we had passed on our journey. Nothing could be more peaceful than the aspect of this beautifully situated plain. It seemed to be cut off from the turmoil and din of the world by the surrounding mountains,—a place one might long to retire to—
“Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,
Might never reach me more.”
But history tells a different tale: this pleasant little valley, encircled by beautiful parks of trees skirting the foot of the surrounding hills, has been the theatre of many a hostile raid, and its inhabitants are migrating from it, being discontented with the imposition of monopolies which they consider to be oppressive.
Owing to the sparseness of the present population, only a small portion of the rich plain was under cultivation; but it had evidently at one time been nearly entirely under rice, as only a few stunted trees, chiefly pouk (the stick-lac tree) and mai cha-lau, were scattered about it. After marching through the plain for 3 miles, we entered the north gate of Viang Pow, which is situated 44 miles from Zimmé, and 1426 feet above the sea. The city was surrounded by a newly constructed palisade raised above a low rampart, and by a ditch 10 feet broad and 1 foot deep.
Continuing along the main road of the city, we halted at a sala, nearly opposite the court-house. On hearing of our arrival, the brother of the governor, who was setting out the site of a new house, sent to borrow a compass so as to test whether he had guessed the true north and south. On proceeding to the spot, I found the posts had been placed only 5° out of the true magnetic meridian, giving the same error that appeared in the alignment of the main street. The city is well laid out, the roads are broad, and the whole place has an aspect of neatness and order.
In the evening the governor paid us a visit, and told us that Viang Pow was established as a Muang, or separate governorship, by the chief of Zimmé, in 1870: previous to that time the villages had been under the direct control of Zimmé. In 1868–69, Phya Kolon, a chief of the Ngio (Burmese Shans), raided the district, and burned six villages; and again in 1872, when they burned two more villages.
The Muang, according to him, contained 900 houses occupied by Shans: 200 of the houses were within the palisades of the city. It likewise included two Kiang Tung Lawa (Lolo) villages, and three Karen villages. Although over a hundred householders had lately removed to Muang Fang, he had remaining under him over 1000 fighting-men. In the city and district there were four temples, containing in all eight monks. Asked why the householders had left his Muang for Muang Fang, he became quite excited, and said it was because of the monopolies lately granted by the chief of Zimmé on spirits, pork, and tobacco, and the imposition of a tax upon stick-lac. The people had given up collecting lac since the tax was imposed; and even cotton-planting was being neglected, as the people thought a tax would also be levied on it.
On my inquiring how the monopolists levied their taxes, he replied that the officials of the district agree to sell the spirit for the Zimmé monopolist, adding a thirtieth to the price for their trouble. The people are not allowed to distil liquor for sale, or even for private use. The monopoly on pigs brings into the monopolist one rupee for each pig killed for spirit-worship, and one and a half rupee when killed for ordinary consumption. One-tenth of this amount goes to the officials for collecting the tax. The tobacco monopolist mulcts the people to the extent of one-fourth of the amount that is sold. This last tax, if not an exaggeration, is certainly most oppressive; but, outside this, I do not see that the people have anything to growl about. The taxation in the Shan States is far lighter than in Siam, and the people are in every way much better off than there.
One thing the governor said he was very proud of, and that was, there was not a single gambling-hell or opium-den in the Muang. Monopolists had tried to establish these vices amongst the people, but by common consent they had all set their faces against them, so the disconcerted monopolists had to shut up shop and leave in disgust. As to trade, he said there was little doing except the export of rice to Muang Fang; the cost of carriage to that place was 8 annas a bucket in the dry season, and 10 annas in the rains. A bucket weighed 25 lb., and an ox carried exactly 3 buckets, or 75 lb.
Previous to the establishing of Muang Fang, purchasers from Zimmé bought the surplus rice at a rupee for 8½ buckets; but in times of scarcity, like 1884, the people received a rupee for 5 buckets. No import duties are levied in the district. When telling us of the average number of people in each house, which, according to him, was six, he said that amongst the Zimmé Shans only one son-in-law is allowed at the same time to live with the wife’s parents. When the second daughter marries, the first removes to a house of her own.
The journey from Viang Pow to Kiang Dow takes only one day. To Ban Nong Kwang, on the Meh Low, the journey is done in three days. The range of hills crossed on the latter route, according to him, is as easy, and about the same height, as those crossed between Muang Fang and Viang Pow. An ancient city called Viang Wai (the city of rattan-canes) is situated 8 miles to the west of Viang Pow.
The next day we left Viang Pow, and continued through the plain some distance to the east of the Meh Ngat until the plateaux on either side commenced to draw in at 39 miles, when we crossed the river, which had enlarged to 55 feet in breadth and 8 feet in depth, with 1½ foot of water in the bed, and is 1300 feet above the sea. Up to this point the plain had continued from 9 to 7 miles broad. Several villages and large tracts of rice-fields were passed. Near the hills the plain had the appearance of a beautifully timbered park.
View across Muang Ken and the valley of the Meh Ping.
On a low plateau that rises some twelve feet above the fields, padouk trees were in flower, and numerous cattail orchids adorned the branches of the smaller trees. The Mai ma-kate, a shrub bearing both white and yellow jessamine-shaped flowers, and the Rangoon creeper, were frequently seen, as well as the tree bearing the gooseberry fruit, and a small tree with fruit resembling lemons in scent, colour, and shape. This latter fruit is held in high esteem by the Shans for its supposed healing qualities. I noticed the men plucking it as they went along, and scrubbing their skin with it. At one place, when passing some clumps of stunted trees, we came suddenly upon a group of Karen villagers, who, with their cloth blankets hooded over their heads and clutched round their bodies, reminded me strongly of pictures of gnomes in the Black Forest.
Hills west of the Meh Ping at 11.55 A.M. 23d May.
A little beyond Ban Huay Ngoo, we began to cross the plateau-topped spurs from Loi Chaum Haut, which, with the spurs from the eastern range, draw in and enclose the Meh Ngat in a defile. In crossing a stream near the village, my elephant gave a sudden plunge, and my last aneroid barometer came to grief, slipping off the mackintosh sheet upon which I was sitting, and tumbling to the ground; so I had to leave off taking intermediate heights between my boiling-point observations. This did not so much matter, as the Meh Ngat is an affluent of the Meh Ping, and I had no more water-partings to cross on the journey.
From the crest of the final spur, we had a magnificent view across the plain of Muang Ken to the plateau-topped hill, Loi Tat Muang Ken, which partly separates it from the Zimmé plain. Over the end of the hill and beyond it the splendid panorama extended along the broken hills lying to the west of the Meh Ping, and stretched as far as the eye could reach up the valley of the Meh Teng. Whilst I was sketching the view and taking angles to the hills, my companions were hurrying on to Ban Perng, so as to get breakfast ready by the time I reached that place. Ban Perng lies 21 miles from Zimmé, and is the principal village of Muang Ken, and the headquarters of the governor. My companions, whilst breakfasting under some fruit-trees, had been discomforted by a storm of rain which came pelting down upon them before they could remove into a house. My sketches had delayed me till long past noon, so the boys had to dish up a fresh meal for me. Whilst I was eating it, Dr M‘Gilvary and Mr Martin paid a visit to the governor, and brought him back with them for me to interrogate.
The governor was a distinguished-looking, white-haired old gentleman, very courteous in his manner, interested in his province, and perfectly willing to impart any information in his power. He said his Muang contained 400 houses, and over 400 fighting-men. The people gained their livelihood by cultivating rice, pepper, tobacco, and fruit-trees (chiefly oranges), and by fishing. Timber is only felled for local use, not for export.
On my asking if tea was cultivated in his district, he replied that it was not cultivated, but that it grew wild on some of the hills, notably on Loi Oo-um, one of the spurs of Loi Chaum Haut, and on the hills near Viang Dong, an ancient city on the Huay Chang Tai, situated six hours’ journey to the west of the Meh Ping. A great deal of tea was cultivated, according to him, on the hills to the east and the west of the Meh Khoke above the entrance of the Meh Fang. A ruined city called Viang Koo-an lay between the Meh Ping and Viang Dong; he knew of no other ruined cities in his neighbourhood.
The taxes are very light in this Muang, consisting of a basket of paddy for each basket sown; and the monopolies consist of only pork and tobacco. The monopolist takes a rupee and a half on each pig slaughtered for ordinary use, and one rupee if it is killed for spirit-worship; on tobacco he takes a quarter of a rupee on each hundred tobacco-plants. There are no spirit, opium, or gambling farms in the district; the people being addicted to none of these vices. A tax of ten rupees is levied on the sale of an elephant, half of which is paid by the seller and half by the purchaser.
Having thanked the governor for the information, we had the elephants loaded, and resumed our march. We shortly afterwards crossed the Meh Hau Prat (a stream 30 feet wide and 10 feet deep, with 1 foot of water), which drains the valley of Muang Ken. We then proceeded across several spurs from Loi Tat Muang Ken, and reached the Zimmé plain at 16 miles, near the village of Ban Hom Luang, in whose fields I halted to sketch the hills lying to the west of the Meh Ping, and to the south of the valley of the Meh Teng.
From the village to Zimmé is one great rice-plain, containing numerous villages, and beautified by orchards and by flowering shrubs, notably the Mai cha-lau, which in parts gave the fields the aspect of gardens of standard rhododendrons. It soon became so dark that I had to close the survey for the night, and hurry on to Ban Meh Set, where I found my companions accommodated in the house of Noy Sing Kat, one of Dr M‘Gilvary’s converts, and was hospitably entertained by Cheen Tah, his wife, he being absent from the village. The house was full of small red ants, which got through our mosquito-curtains and made us pass a miserably restless night, not improved by the sound of a ceaseless downpour of rain.
In conversation with Dr M‘Gilvary after dinner, he told me that women were very well treated amongst the Shans, quite as well as amongst the Burmese, and this is particularly noticeable in cases preferred by women against men in the courts; the woman’s word being taken as indisputable evidence. Child marriage is unknown in the country; divorces are very rare; marriage is a matter of choice, and not of trade; and the aged are respected by their relations and cared for.
On noticing a quantity of chips heaped up in the yard, I learnt that they were for boiling down to make cutch, and that a small thorny tree which I had frequently seen in the plains and forest, was the sha of Burmah, the tree from whence the cutch of commerce (the catechu of medicine) is extracted. The natives use this extract as an astringent to chew with their areca-nut and seri-leaf, which, with a little tobacco and slaked lime, form their betel-quid. Men, women, and children are addicted to betel-chewing, and where spittoons are not in use, expectorate about through chinks in the floor. This habit causes their gums to contract, loosens their teeth, gives their teeth and saliva a gory aspect, and renders even the fairest of the fair uncomely to European eyes.
View of hills west of the Zimmé plain at 4.24 P.M. 23d May.
Next morning I went back to the place where I had left off my survey, and continued it through the plain, passing several villages, until we reached the Meh Ping, and crossed it to Ban Meh Sa, which I had passed through on my way to Kiang Dow. Here I was only too glad to leave off work and enjoy myself during the remaining seven miles which separated us from Zimmé, by watching village life, and looking at the picturesque houses and temples framed in beautiful orchards, which formed an avenue to the bridge over the river.
On reaching Zimmé I put up in the Chinaman’s house, which was still vacant.