Travels in the East Indian archipelago

by Albert S. Bickmore

March 4th.—At 6 A. M., started from Rau for Padang Sidempuan, at the northern end of this valley, which begins on the south at Marisipongi, where we first saw the Battas. All day our route has been in the bottom of the valley, at a general elevation of one thousand feet. Sometimes we passed over gentle undulations, but usually over one monotonous level area covered with tall grass, in which were interspersed large clumps of shrubbery. In one village there were two most enormous waringin-trees, under which the villagers had prepared a rude table. On this they had spread young cocoa-nuts, and bananas, apparently the only kinds of fruit they had to offer.

As we advanced, the mountains on our right dwindled until they formed hills, whose tops were only five or six hundred feet above the plateau in which we were travelling. Before us rose another great transverse ridge, in which towered up the peak of Lubu Rajah to a height of over six thousand two hundred feet above the sea. It is the highest mountain in the Batta Lands, as the Dutch call the high plateaus of Silindong and Toba which lie north of this transverse ridge, and are beyond the limits of the territory subject to the government of the Netherlands India. Soon after we arrived, the controleur received a letter from a Batta chief. It was nothing but a piece of young bamboo a couple of inches in diameter and about six inches long. On this had been scratched, with a blunt needle, characters of various shapes, quite intricate, but not having by any means the barbarous appearance of those used by the Chinese. The object of this letter was to inform the controleur that during a recent rain a bridge near the rajah’s village had been washed away. Unlike the Chinese language, where every character is a word, the Batta is an alphabetic language, and one of their own invention. As spoken by the various branches of this tribe it differs only to the degree of dialects, and the language is, therefore, a unit. The religion of this people is a belief in evil spirits and omens. The place where their aboriginal civilization sprang up was probably in the neighboring plateau of Silindong and on the borders of Lake Toba. Thence they seem to have spread over all the area they now occupy in the interior and to the sea-coast on either side. In later times the people of Menangkabau, or Malays proper, extended their power along the coast and made the Battas an inland people.

The strangest fact concerning this people, who have come to such a state of civilization as to invent an alphabet of their own, is, that all of them, beyond the territory under the Dutch Government, are cannibals. Those living on this plain also feasted on human flesh until the Dutch conquered them, and obliged them to give up such a fiendish custom. The rajah of Sipirok assured the governor at Padang that he had eaten human flesh between thirty and forty times, and that he had never in all his life tasted any thing that he relished half as well. This custom has prevailed among the Battas from time immemorial.

From Marco Polo’s writings we learn that, as early at least as in 1290, they were addicted to their present revolting habits.

Sir Stamford Raffles, who visited Tapanuli Bay in 1820, was informed that any one who should be convicted of the following five crimes must be cut up alive: For adultery; midnight robbery; in wars, where prisoners were taken; intermarrying in the same tribe; and for a treacherous attack on any house, village, or person. The facts which came to my knowledge while in this region, and the statements of the Dutch officials and of the natives themselves, entirely confirm this account of their customs and laws, except in regard to that against intermarrying. Such are yet the practices of the people in this immediate vicinity, and such, not many years ago, were those of all the people among whom we had been travelling for the last four days.

Here, and at several other places in the interior, I have seen young trees of a species of cinnamon, kayu manis, or “sweet wood” of the Malays. Its leaves and bark have a considerable aroma, but it is not the true cinnamon of Ceylon, nor that of Cochin China nor China. Cinnamons of one or more species occur also in Java, Borneo, Luzon, and Magindanao. As our carriage needed repairing, and both the inspector and I were becoming fatigued, we therefore rested at this place for a day.

March 6th.—Started early in the carriage for Lumut, in a westerly direction. Our road continued to ascend until we reached the water-shed formed by the Barizan, and were two thousand five hundred feet above the sea. We now passed out of the great valley of Mandéling, which is fifty-five miles long in a right line, but only from six to ten miles broad.

The descent from the water-shed toward the sea is gradual, but the road is execrable and exceedingly narrow at best, and wholly covered, except a narrow footpath, with tall grass. Besides, our horses had never been harnessed to a carriage before, and, after many fruitless attempts to guide them, I said to the inspector that the only way we should be able to proceed would be to make the wild natives, who gathered to look on, haul us themselves. He replied that that would be perfectly impossible, for they respect no one but the governor. However, I noticed that they recognized our “American” as the one the governor had used in travelling that way once before—the only time a carriage had ever been seen on the road—and jumping out, directed our Malay attendants, who could speak their language, to say to them the governor wished us to take the “American” through to Siboga, and every man must help us obey his command. This chanced to strike them favorably, and their rajahs detailed some twenty to haul us as far as the next village. I selected three of the tallest and fleetest and placed them between the thills, and ranged others outside to haul, by means of long rattans fastened to the forward axle, and a suitable proportion behind to hold back by a rattan secured to the hind part of the carriage as we went down-hill. All being in their places, I jumped into the carriage. A wild yell was raised, and away we dashed down a gradual descent, as if we were drawn by a race-horse; the road became steeper and steeper, and we flew faster and faster; those behind had evidently forgotten what was expected of them. Those in front, who were outside of the thills, dropped the rattan and leaped aside for fear of the rattling wheels behind them, and those in the thills shouted out all sorts of implorings and execrations against those behind, who seemed to enjoy the discomfiture of their fellows too much to hold back at all. When we reached the bottom of the long hill, the men in the thills were the only ones near the carriage. The others were scattered at intervals all the way down the hill, but were coming on as fast as they could. All seemed in the best of temper, except those in the thills, who gave a spirited lecture to the others; but at once all formed as before, and took us up the succeeding hill. The inspector was in constant apprehension of some mishap, but I thought we might as well be drawn by wild men as wild horses.

Just before we arrived at each village, the rajah of that place met us with men enough to take us on to the next kampong, and sometimes we had forty or fifty of them drawing us at a time. On the level lands they usually took us along at a fast canter, shouting, and screaming, and leaping, as if they were half mad.