Day after day goes by. No one comes back, and the skulls begin to feel sure something is wrong. However, they live in hope for some time. After a month or so the leafy roof begins to leak; when the skulls feel the rain they say to the roof, “Why do you serve us so badly? Why do you allow the rain to fall on us? Why don’t you make the people come and mend you.” The roof replies, “Don’t you know that you have been left. The people have gone long ago.” Then the skulls begin to hustle around and seek to revenge themselves on the people who have deserted them. They look up river and down river and along the banks, but rain has obliterated all the tracks the people made when they flitted; and finding it hopeless to follow them they give themselves up to their fate, and gradually become bleached by the rain and the heat of the sun. Their ratan lashing rots, and they fall to the ground. So the people are saved from any serious harm coming to them.
It may be asked, Why do people ever leave skulls behind them when they move into a new house, as they are always very anxious to obtain new ones? There is a very common-sense reason for this apparently anomalous proceeding.
Although the skulls are very old, and those who obtained them are long dead and buried, they have to receive the same care and attention while they are still in the house as the more recent skulls. They have to be fed with pork and refreshed with borak, and the fire has to be attended to daily; unless all this is done the inhabitants of the house will have only bad luck. On the other hand, those in the house receive no benefit from these skulls, that is, assuming the owners to have died. Why, then, should they be put to all this trouble and even run a risk of ill luck should the skulls consider themselves slighted, but at the same time gain no advantage? The natives of Borneo are sharp enough to appreciate that this is not good business, and so they judiciously relieve themselves of their somewhat troublesome benefactors.
CHAPTER XXV
PEACE-MAKING AT BARAM
At the close of our stay at Baram we had the good fortune to be present at a great gathering of chiefs and representative men, with their followers, from all parts of this large district. The festivities and competitions connected with the gathering commenced on April 8th, and lasted for several days. After these were over, taxes were paid in at the fort, and during the whole time that the visitors were in Claudetown a great deal of business was done in the bazaar with the Chinese storekeepers, for large quantities of jungle produce were brought down the river, and many goods purchased by the natives. To do them justice I must add that the leading Chinese storekeepers had volunteered a handsome donation towards the heavy expenses of the meeting, the remainder being met by private subscriptions from the white men then present.
It was not possible to count the number of people gathered together. Tama Bulan estimated the Kenyahs at about 2,500; there may have been 1,500 Kayans, and some 500 Madangs, including a few Batang Kayans; the Long Kiputs, Long Patas, Naroms, etc., probably numbered 1,500; thus making a grand total of at least 6,000 persons.
It was quite exciting seeing the canoes arrive and to welcome old friends, whom one had met in their own homes, and to make fresh acquaintances, as they come to pay their respects to the Resident.
From every part of the district they streamed in, and even from beyond. Deputations came from the Orang Bukits of the Balait River, and from the people of the Tutong River who are still under the authority of the Sultan of Brunei. Representatives also came from tribes on the upper waters of the Batang Kayan, or Balungan River, who are nominally under the Dutch Government. Besides all these settled peoples, numerous nomad Punans put in an appearance from different quarters.
In order to give a stimulus to the cultivation of padi of superior quality, a padi and rice competition was previously announced; unhusked rice is here referred to as padi. As this was the first attempt at a competition of this sort in the district, only the down-river natives were invited to compete. There were a hundred and fifty-seven entries in each class; for each class there were three prizes. The native judges unanimously awarded the first rice prize to Abit, an Orang Bukit.