Assuming that the requirements are six in number, according to my informant, the following should be observed by the widow: (1) To make the tiwah feast; (2) to refrain from remarriage until the feast has been celebrated; (3) to abstain from sexual intercourse; (4) to remain in the same place until after the feast; (5) to ask permission from the family of the deceased if she wants to leave the kampong temporarily; (6) to wear no red garments until the feast has been completed. Should any of these injunctions be disregarded a gutshi, the value of which may be twenty florins, must be paid to his relatives. If the widow desires to marry earlier than the tiwah feast she is required to pay the entire cost of the celebration, and sometimes an additional amount.
A simpler device than the panyanggaran is also used, serving a similar purpose and called sapundo. It consists of an upright post carved to represent the face of a good antoh, with tongue hanging out. To this pillar is tied a water-buffalo (as substitute for the slave formerly employed), a cow, or pig. As the sapundo is much easier to make it is used by the orang kampong or poor people. For a rich man who has gone hence both contrivances may be erected.
Another matter demanding attention is the erection of a tall, rather slender pole of ironwood, called pantar. A gong or gutshi strung near the top signifies that the deceased was a person of wealth and prominence, while a wooden image of the rhinoceros hornbill occupies a lofty position on the pinnacle. On account of its ability to discern objects at a great distance, this bird is regarded as a good watchman to guard the sacrifice, whether it be a water-buffalo or other animal. The pantar itself simply means "in memoriam," as if enjoining: "Don't forget this man!" These primitive monuments sometimes last over a hundred years, and more than one may be raised for the same man. Should it prove impossible to secure a water-buffalo, an ordinary cow may serve as sacrifice. The family thereby presents the animal's liao (soul) to the liao of the deceased, and the blian by dancing and sacrifice calls the latter to come and eat. Not only this, but the liao of every animal, bird, and fish which the family eats from the time of his death until the tiwah feast is given to him. Account is kept by incised cross-cuts on certain posts, notifying him of the number. I was told that when a raja died similar marks of account were made on a slave. The jaws of pigs or other animals, hanging by scores in the houses, together with heads of fish and legs of birds, are similar accounts for the same purpose, and all close with the tiwah feast.
A kapatong must be made, or, if the deceased were rich, perhaps two or three, which are inaugurated by the blian in the usual way, to be the ghost's attendants and guardians. The remaining duties to be performed are the making of a box or coffin for the bones to rest in, and the house in which it is to be deposited, either above or under the ground as may be decided. These tasks accomplished, no further responsibility devolves upon the widow or other members of the family.
On my return journey I stopped a few hours at a kampong in the vicinity to see some stones that, according to Katingan belief, are alive and multiplying. As my visit was expected, a fowl had just been sacrificed to these guardians of the kampong, and a fire made from bark was burning near by to keep the stones comfortable, so they would not be angry at being photographed. There were two roundish specimens, almost honeycombed with small cavities, one of them, scarcely twenty-five centimetres high, being regarded as masculine and the other, smaller and covered with green moss, was supposed to be of feminine gender. Originally, as the story goes, only these two were there, but later six "children" appeared, as evidenced by six smaller stones lying close to the "parents." The domain held sacred to this interesting family was bounded by four pieces of wood, each about a metre in length. Over all was extended a small square piece of red cloth supported on four upright sticks, which had been placed there two weeks before on behalf of a sick man whose recovery was attributed to this act of veneration. In front of the small enclosure lay four stones of inconsiderable size, lying in two pairs and supposed to be attendants; in the rear was a small house, reputed to be over three hundred years old, its purpose being to protect the stones, where offerings of food, with skulls of deer and pigs, were deposited.
Next day we met the Selatan on its way up the river, brought our luggage on board, and continued our journey. We had a disagreeable night before arriving at Bandjermasin; in fact, it is risky to travel south of Borneo in a steam-launch in January. As the wind was strong and the waves were too high for us to proceed, anchor was thrown and we were tossed about, the lamps went out, and, according to the captain, the boat nearly turned over. Mr. Loing, prostrate with seasickness, saved himself from being thrown overboard by grasping the rail.
After packing my collections I again set out for Sampit with the intention of revisiting Sembulo by another route, proceeding by prahu up the Kuala Sampit as far as possible, and then marching overland to the lake. The controleur was absent, but his native clerk and the kapala together got me the prahus and the men, such as the place afforded. As usual, the Malay coolies were late in arriving and began making many difficulties about various things. To cheer them I gave each f. 1.50 in advance, which made them all happy, and in buoyant, talkative spirits they immediately went off to buy rice, dried fish, tobacco, cigarettes, and other things. All was well, and at ten o'clock in the morning we finally started, with a native policeman in attendance.
An hour later the coolies wanted to cook rice. It did not take long to discover that they were not very useful, though the clerk had done his best. Two brothers were intolerably lazy, continually resting the paddles, lighting cigarettes, washing their faces, etc., the elder, after the full meal they had eaten, actually falling asleep at times. The interest of the men centred in eating and early camping, and we made slow progress, detained besides by a thunder-storm, as it was impossible to make headway against the strong wind. The man at the helm of the small prahu was intelligent, and from him I finally obtained information about a place to stop for the night.
At six o'clock we arrived at the mouth of the Kuala Sampit, where we found it difficult to effect a landing on account of the dilapidated condition of the landing-float. Some distance from the water stood a lonely house, in genuine Malay style, with high-gabled roof. The stairs afforded precarious access, a condition which may have been regarded as a protection, but more likely it was due to laziness and want of care. However that may have been, the interior was surprisingly substantial, with an excellent floor like that in a ballroom. I slept in a detached ramshackle room used as a kitchen, comfortable because of being open to the air.
In the morning the Malays were again too late. I was ready for a start at six o'clock, but about that time they began to cook. The small river, perhaps twenty metres wide, is deep enough to have allowed a steam-launch of the Selatan's dimensions to go as far as the kampong Rongkang, our first destination, and there is little current. At five o'clock we had to stop to give the men opportunity to prepare their rice, and in the evening we arrived at Rongkang. The gongs were being beaten lustily in the darkness; we thought it must be on account of a death, which proved to be the case, a woman having died some days before. The house which was placed at my disposal was more nearly airtight than usual.