Head-hunters, black, white, and brown

by Alfred C. Haddon

Hose had arranged for us to go up the Limbang and the Madalam rivers, to walk across a low watershed, and to come down the Malinau, Tutau, and Baram to Claudetown. The greater part of this route was the ancient war-path of the Kayans of the Baram, when they went head hunting in the river basin of the Limbang; it is also a route by which gutta hunters travel.

We left Limbang at eight o’clock on the morning of the 16th January in the Gaselle, and steamed up the river trailing three boats behind us. Each goban, or canoe, was about forty feet long, three to four feet wide, and was covered with a palm-leaf roof. Strips of nipa palm had been fastened together by ratan to form a kind of mat, or kajang; a number of these were laid over a bamboo framework. The hull of each boat was a large dug-out, the sides of which were heightened with boards.

For many miles up its course the river maintains the same general character that it has at Limbang, except that it narrows and the nipa palms which line the banks below the station are no longer to be met with.

We anchored that afternoon at Lasas, and search was made for fresh boats and more men. One of our canoes, which leaked considerably, we wished to replace, and we needed an extra one. Matters did not look promising at night, but next morning, about 5.30 a.m., the requisite boats turned up, and we started in them about eight o’clock, the steamer returning to the fort.

The heavy goods were packed in the middle of each boat, and behind these was the space reserved for each passenger. Four or five men paddled in front, and one or two behind. We arrived at Tulu at five. We established ourselves in the only house of the village, which was about a hundred and thirty feet in length. Like most of the houses in Borneo, it was situated on the bank of the river, and was built on piles, so that the floor of the house was some ten feet above the ground. A log with deep notches in it served for a ladder. On climbing up this we found ourselves in a long gallery or verandah on the outer, or river, side of which were placed mats. Along the verandah were one or two fireplaces, above each of which was a small staging, and at one end of the verandah was a raised platform used as a lounge and sleeping-place. The side of the verandah that faced the river was more or less boarded up, but a long, narrow opening was left of such a height that people sitting on the mats could conveniently look out. As we paddled up the river we always saw faces looking out at us through this opening in the various houses that we passed; sometimes there was a long row of buff-coloured faces without any body being visible.

On the other side of the verandah are the domiciles, each of which opens by a separate door on to the verandah. A long house averages from four to sixty or more distinct households, or “doors” as they are officially termed. On the low partition walls of the domiciles were stacked large quantities of firewood, and hanging from the rafters were loops of strips of palm leaves ready for plaiting into mats. On the floor of the verandah close to the walls of the homes were Chinese vases, gongs, and other valuables, and suspended from deer antlers were parangs, bamboo boxes, and various small articles.

The floor was composed of split bamboos placed a little distance apart, like lattice-work. This kept the floors clean, as rubbish fell through, and a little water spilt on the floor soon cleansed the smooth bamboo of any dirt.

Below the house were the pigsties. The pigs were fed in wooden troughs, which could be raised by a cord suspended from the floor of the house. If one pig tried to get more than its share it was poked away from the trough by a long bamboo, which passed through the flooring. When the trough was slightly raised above the pigs’ heads the fowls could get their meal in peace.

After our evening meal Ray brought out the phonograph and gave a selection of Sea Dayak songs that he had obtained at Limbang. These caused great delight. We tried to get some of the natives of the village to sing into the machine, but they were too shy; at last one man made an attempt, which was both feeble and brief. Then a Brunei Malay, one of our crew, sang, but as he put his mouth too close to the trumpet the result was rather tinny. Altogether our hosts were satisfied, and we had the opportunity of seeing how these people express the emotion of pleasure.

We reached some rapids early the following morning; they were by no means formidable, and merely necessitated extra exertion in paddling or in poling. The excitement, however, was sufficient to cause the boatmen to shriek and call out to one another. When really excited the Sea Dayak is noisy, but not so much so, nor so demonstrative, as the Papuan. The natives are skilled boatmen, creeping along under the banks out of the swifter currents, and know how to take advantage of the lesser currents in the concave side of the bends, so that the boat takes a comparatively straight course, and as far as possible avoids the force of the stream.