After he had been with me about three weeks, four Dyaks came overland from Stambak. They said they had been sent by Usat’s parents and friends, who felt certain that the boy must have given a great deal of trouble, and that I was anxious to get rid of him, and so they had come to fetch him home. I told them the boy was happy enough, and that I did not want to send him back, so they returned without him. I do not know what they said about the boy, but, anyhow, he was allowed to stay at my school for over two years, when his parents wished him to return to help them in their work.
A little boy from Seblak, a branch of the Krian River, came to me at Temudok, and asked to be admitted into my school. There were no Christians in the village where he lived, but his brother, who was in the Government employ at Kabong as a fortman, had heard of my school. Belawan was not a particularly sharp boy, but he was very strong for his age and a very good wrestler. Nothing gave him greater pleasure than to wrestle and beat a boy older than himself. He stayed at my school a little over two years. I have never done any missionary work on the Seblak River, but I am glad Belawan came to my school, because I learnt from him what absurd ideas the people at Seblak had of the missionary and the Mission House. One thing he said was that there was a general idea among some of the people that I had a roomful of antu (evil spirits) in the Mission House, and he said that was one reason why for a long time he hesitated about joining the school at Temudok! Seblak is rather out of the usual beat, and the Dyaks there do not come into contact with missionaries, and I was not at all surprised that the people of that district should have absurd ideas. I hope later on, when missionary work is begun in Seblak, the fact that Belawan stayed for two years in my house will have helped to pave the way for a kind reception of the missionary.
I was once returning to Temudok from a visit to the Saribas River, and as usual had in my boat a few Dyak schoolboys who had been on a visit to their friends at Saribas. We had had a tiring day, and my boat got to Kabong—the mouth of the Krian River—at about 7 p.m. The boatmen had not had their evening meal, and everybody was tired and hungry. I was going to spend the night at the Fort, so the men and boys carried from the boat such things as I might require. When everything I needed had been brought to the Fort, one of the schoolboys, Saran, said to me:—
“There is a Malay boy on the beach who says he would like to fight me. If you give me leave, I should be glad to fight him.”
“What do you want to fight for at this hour?” I said. “You are all tired and hungry. The best thing for you to do is to have your dinner.”
“The Malay boy was very cheeky,” Saran went on to say; “he shook his fist at me, and said I was afraid of him. I should like to give him a thrashing.”
“Very well,” I said; “go and fight him if you like, but don’t come back whining to me and say you are hurt.”
About half an hour afterwards Saran returned very pleased with himself. It seems that when the Malay boy saw Saran meant business, he took to his heels, and my schoolboy had the pleasure of chasing him to the Malay village. Though he did not have his fight, he had the pleasure of feeling he had defeated the enemy. I mention this little incident to show how very much like other boys the Dyaks are, and how my schoolboy was ready for a fight even though he was tired and hungry.
When stationed at Temudok, I used to visit the Christians on the Budu River—a branch of the Krian River—and I had there a little native-built hut, where I used to live for a week or so. The boys and girls there were very anxious to learn, so I got some slates for them. In the evenings there used to be about a dozen boys and girls in my room learning to read and write. It was amusing to see what they did when they wanted a slate pencil. They would go to the shingly bed of the river a few yards away, and pick up a long thin bit of slate, and rub it against some other stone till it was the right shape to be used as a pencil.
One day I went with my Catechist, Tujoh, and two schoolboys, who had accompanied me from my Mission School at Temudok, overland to a long Dyak house higher up the Budu River. A boy about fourteen years old was pointed out to me there, and I was told that he was a manang, or witch-doctor. I had never seen anybody as young as that acting as a manang, and knowing what a great deal of deceit is practised by the Dyak witch-doctor, there was to me something very sad in the thought of this young boy doing such work. I was also curious to know what led him to become a manang, so I spoke to him, and told him that if he cared to pay a visit to Temudok, or to come to school there, he would be welcome. After some little discussion, his parents allowed him to come with me on a visit, and later on the boy, whose name was Ambu, was allowed to attend my school. I found out from him that he understood very little of the doings of the witch-doctors. There were very few manangs near his village, and there was a difficulty in getting more than two or three to take part in their ceremonies over the sick, so Ambu was persuaded to join them and walk round when incantations were made. While the other Dyak doctors were well paid, Ambu received some trifle for his part in the proceedings. Ambu stayed with me nearly a year, and then returned to his people. I had a long talk with him before he went back about the work of the manangs. I said that my advice to him was not to have anything to do with their ceremonies for the next few years. If, when he was old enough to judge for himself, he still wished to be a manang, he could do so, but in the meantime he had better follow the advice of one who was older than himself, and knew something of the deceit of the manangs. I lost sight of Ambu soon after his return to his people, because the house was broken up, and the inmates moved to some distant part.