Living an isolated existence, confined within the thinly-populated jungle, where Nature furnishes the means of obtaining all the necessaries of life, the Kādir possesses little, if any, knowledge of cultivation, and objects to doing work with a māmuti, the instrument which serves the gardener in the triple capacity of spade, rake, and hoe. But armed with a keen-edged bill-hook he is immense. As Mr. O. H. Bensley says:[8] “The axiom that the less civilised men are, the more they are able to do every thing for themselves, is well illustrated by the hill-man, who is full of resource. Give him a simple bill-hook, and what wonders he will perform. He will build houses out of etâh, so neat and comfortable as to be positively luxurious. He will bridge a stream with canes and branches. He will make a raft out of bamboo, a carving knife out of etâh, a comb out of bamboo, a fishing-line out of fibre, and fire from dry wood. He will find food for you where you think you must starve, and show you the branch which, if cut, will give you drink. He will set traps for beasts and birds, which are more effective than some of the most elaborate products of machinery.” A European, overtaken by night in the jungle, unable to light fire by friction or to climb trees to gather fruits, ignorant of the edible roots and berries, and afraid of wild beasts, would, in the absence of comforts, be quite as unhappy and ill-at-ease as a Kādir surrounded by plenty at an official dinner party.
At the forest depôt the Kādir settlement consists of neatly constructed huts, made of bamboo deftly split with a bill-hook in their long axis, thatched with leaves of the teak tree (Tectona grandis) and bamboo (Ochlandra travancorica), and divided off into verandah and compartments by means of bamboo partitions. But the Kādirs are essentially nomad in habit, living in small communities, and shifting from place to place in the jungle, whence they suddenly re-appear as casually as if they had only returned from a morning stroll instead of a long camping expedition. When wandering in the jungle, the Kādirs make a rough lean-to shed covered over with leaves, and keep a small fire burning through the night, to keep off bears, elephants, tigers, and leopards. They are, I am told, fond of dogs, which they keep chiefly as a protection against wild beasts at night. The camp fire is lighted by means of a flint and the floss of the silk-cotton tree (Bombax malabaricum), over which powdered charcoal has been rubbed. Like the Kurumbas, the Kādirs are not, in a general way, afraid of elephants, but are careful to get out of the way of a cow with young, or a solitary rover, which may mean mischief. On the day following my descent from Mount Stuart, an Oddē cooly woman was killed on the ghāt road by a solitary tusker. Familiarity with wild beasts, and comparative immunity from accident, have bred contempt for them, and the Kādirs will go where the European, fresh to elephant land, fears to tread, or conjures every creak of a bamboo into the approach of a charging tusker. As an example of pluck worthy of a place in Kipling’s ‘Jungle-book,’ I may cite the case of a hill-man and his wife, who, overtaken by night in the jungle, decided to pass it on a rock. As they slept, a tiger carried off the woman. Hearing her shrieks, the sleeping man awoke, and followed in pursuit in the vain hope of saving his wife. Coming on the beast in possession of the mangled corpse, he killed it at close quarters with a spear. Yet he was wholly unconscious that he had performed an act of heroism worthy of the bronze cross ‘for valour.’
Kādir.
The Kādirs carry loads strapped on the back over the shoulders by means of fibre, instead of on the head in the manner customary among coolies in the plains; and women on the march may be seen carrying the cooking utensils on their backs, and often have a child strapped on the top of their household goods. The dorsal position of the babies, huddled up in a dirty cloth, with the ends slung over the shoulders and held in the hands over the chest, at once caught my eye, as it is contrary to the usual native habit of straddling the infants across the loins as a saddle.
Mr. Vincent informs me that “when the planters first came to the hills, the Kādirs were found practically without clothes of any description, with very few ornaments, and looking very lean and emaciated. All this, however, changed with the advent of the European, as the Kādirs then got advances in hard cash, clothes, and grain, to induce them to work. For a few years they tried to work hard, but were failures, and now I do not suppose that a dozen men are employed on the estates on the hills. They would not touch manure owing to caste scruples; they could not learn to prune; and with a mamoti (spade) they always promptly proceeded to chop their feet about in their efforts to dig pits.” The Kādirs have never claimed, like the Todas, and do not possess any land on the hills. But the Government has declared the absolute right of the hill tribes to collect all the minor forest produce, and to sell it to the Government through the medium of a contractor, whose tender has been previously accepted. The contractor pays for the produce in coin at a fair market rate, and the Kādirs barter the money so obtained for articles of food with contractors appointed by Government to supply them with their requirements at a fixed rate, which will leave a fair, but not exorbitant margin of profit to the vendor. The principal articles of minor forest produce of the Ānaimalai hills are wax, honey, cardamoms, myrabolams, ginger, dammer, turmeric, deer horns, elephant tusks, and rattans. And of these, cardamoms, wax, honey, and rattans are the most important. Honey and wax are collected at all seasons, and cardamoms from September to November. The total value of the minor produce collected, in 1897–98, in the South Coimbatore division (which includes the Ānaimalais) was Rs. 7,886. This sum was exceptionally high owing to a good cardamom crop. An average year would yield a revenue of Rs. 4,000–5,000, of which the Kādirs receive approximately 50 per cent. They work for the Forest Department on a system of short advances for a daily wage of 4 annas. And, at the present day, the interests of the Forest Department and planters, who have acquired land on the Ānaimalais, both anxious to secure hill men for labour, have come into mild collision.
Kādir.
Some Kādirs are good trackers, and a few are good shikāris. A zoological friend, who had nicknamed his small child his “little shikarī” (=little sportsman) was quite upset because I, hailing from India, did not recognise the word with his misplaced accent. One Kādir, named Viapoori Muppan, is still held in the memory of Europeans, who made a good living, in days gone by, by shooting tuskers, and had one arm blown off by the bursting of a gun. He is reputed to have been a much married man, greatly addicted to strong drinks, and to have flourished on the proceeds of his tusks. At the present day, if a Kādir finds tusks, he must declare the find as treasure-trove, and hand it over to Government, who rewards him at the rate of Rs. 15 to Rs. 25 per maund of 25 lb. according to the quality. Government makes a good profit on the transaction, as exceptionally good tusks have been known to sell for Rs. 5 per lb. If the find is not declared, and discovered, the possessor thereof is punished for theft according to the Act. By an elastic use of the word cattle, it is, for the purposes of the Madras Forest Act, made to include such a heterogeneous zoological collection of animals as elephants, sheep, pigs, goats, camels, buffaloes, horses—and asses. This classification recalls to mind the occasion on which the Flying-fox or Fox-bat was included in an official list of the insectivorous birds of the Presidency; and, further, a report on the wild animals of a certain district, which was triumphantly headed with the “wild tattu,” the long-suffering, but pig-headed country pony.
I gather, from an account of the process by one who had considerable knowledge of the Kādirs, that “they will only remove the hives of bees during dark nights, and never in the daytime or on moonlight nights. In removing them from cliffs, they use a chain made of bamboo or rattan, fixed to a stake or a tree on the top. The man, going down this fragile ladder, will only do so while his wife, or son watches above to prevent any foul play. They have a superstition that they should always return by the way they go down, and decline to get to the bottom of the cliff, although the distance may be less, and the work of re-climbing avoided. For hives on trees, they tie one or more long bamboos to reach up to the branch required, and then climb up. They then crawl along the branch until the hive is reached. They devour the bee-bread and the bee-maggots or larvæ, swallowing the wax as well.” In a note on a shooting expedition in Travancore,[9] Mr. J. D. Rees, describing the collection of honey by the Kādirs of the southern hills, says that they “descend giddy precipices at night, torch in hand, to smoke out the bees, and take away their honey. A stout creeper is suspended over the abyss, and it is established law of the jungle that no brother shall assist in holding it. But it is more interesting to see them run a ladder a hundred feet up the perpendicular stem of a tree, than to watch them disappearing over a precipice. Axe in hand, the honey-picker makes a hole in the bark for a little peg, standing on which he inserts a second peg higher up, ties a long cane from one to the other, and by night—for the darkness gives confidence—he will ascend the tallest trees, and bring down honey without any accident.” I have been told, with how much of truth I know not, that, when a Kādir goes down the face of a rock or precipice in search of honey, he sometimes takes with him, as a precautionary measure, and guarantee of his safety, the wife of the man who is holding the ladder above.