If I arrive at the house early in the day, most of the men will probably be out, and only women and children at home. These crowd round, standing at a respectful distance, and the wife or daughter of the headman asks us what we have come for, and invites us to stay in the house. She also clears away their own cooking from the fireplace, and my servant is asked to do whatever cooking is needed for the Tuan in their room.
The cooking is generally a simple matter. The dinner generally consists of one course. My servant buys from the Dyaks a fowl—it would be libel to call it a “chicken”!—and cooks it, or else he falls back on tinned food, of which I always had a supply.
During all the years I worked in Borneo I always had a Dyak servant, and I was fortunate in having for many years an excellent native named Ah Choy. He was born at Banting, and attended the Mission School there, and then went on to the school at Kuching. I joined the Mission Staff soon after he left school, and he worked for me as my general factotum—cook, housekeeper, boatman, personal attendant, etc.—for ten years or more. He was, what is unusual among the Dyaks, a good cook, and, in addition to this, was an excellent servant in many ways. He understood about boats, and I found his advice in all matters connected with travelling very trustworthy. He had a good idea of carpentering, and was able himself to fit up many little conveniences in my boat. Besides all this he was able to help me in my missionary work, as he was a Christian and a communicant himself. I think that if a Missionary visits native houses to teach the Dyaks, and has as his attendant a “heathen Chinee” or a “scoffing Mohammedan,” it must be a hindrance to his work. Ah Choy left me to work for his mother, who was a widow, but even after he had left my service he often accompanied me on my missionary travels as one of the boatmen, and I was always very glad to have him with me. He died, while quite a young man, during an epidemic of cholera.
When my dinner is ready my servant tells me, and I go into the room to eat it. A mat is spread for me, and I sit cross-legged upon it. A few of the women of the house sometimes stay in the room while I have my meal, but never a crowd, and one is able to have one’s food in comfort.
After the evening meal I come out into the common hall, where the mats are spread and the people gathered together. The evening is the usual time for any discussion, as the men are all back from their outdoor work then. I sit down on a mat, and both men and women are seated in a semicircle before me, and I try to teach them. Very simple things at first—telling them how God created the world, and made all things good, and how man of his own wickedness brought sin into the world—very simple things of this kind, and these said over and over again, because it takes them time to take in new ideas. After two or three evenings spent in this way I leave the house, but visit it again after an interval of some weeks or months.
A Long Dyak Village House
When a house is very long, as in this case, in addition to the ladders at each end, there are often extra ladders in the middle of the house. One of these ladders is seen on the right of the picture. The logs of wood on the ground are for walking upon.
In the nature of the Dyak there has grown up a crop of rank superstitions which he cannot overcome easily. He has his gods, but his conception of a God is quite different to that of the Christian. Innumerable hostile spirits he believes are around him, and these have to be dealt with, propitiated or outwitted. Though he has many ceremonies the Dyak has little religious spirit. The ceremonial rites which he practises—sacrifices, incantations, observance of omens—are magic charms to procure material benefits. Hence he has a difficulty in conceiving a spiritual religion. In the conversations one has in the Dyak house it is very usual to be asked such a question as this: “What material advantage shall I get if I become a Christian? Shall I get better paddy-crops and become rich? Shall I have better health?” Another question which is often asked the Missionary is: “Must we give up our old customs?” “Yes,” says the Missionary, “such of them as are founded upon falsehood or derogatory to the true God.” Dreams are often discussed, and numerous examples are brought forward of dreams which have come true. The Missionary acknowledges that God has spoken in ancient days to men in dreams, but maintains that the necessity for doing so no longer exists.
Endless questions lead to endless explanations, and often the Missionary feels at the end of it all that little has been gained. But unpromising as the soil apparently is, the good seed does germinate. On the next visit the Missionary makes to that same house, he will probably find that some of his hearers have thought over what he has said, and are willing to learn more. And after a few visits some of the Dyaks are willing to put themselves under instruction, and these are taught by the native Catechist in charge of the district, and also by the Missionary when he pays his visits. When they are sufficiently taught and wish to become Christians, they are baptized, and if they live good consistent Christian lives, and have been further instructed, later on they are brought to the Bishop to be confirmed.