Working my Way Around the World

by Harry Alverson Franck; Lena M. Franck

The commissioner was reading in his study. To our surprise, he was a brown man—a Burman from “over Mandalay way.” He said he had not dined, and for that we were thankful; for to have missed the dinner that he invited us to share would have been a misfortune indeed.

We watched the commissioner with interest; for it is not often that England honors a brown man by making him a ruler over one of her districts. In appearance he was like other Burmans of the wealthier class. He wore the usual flowing robe, though his legs were dressed and his feet were shod. His long, thick black hair was caught up at the back of his head in a graceful knot. But in manners and speech he was like an educated European. He spoke English so well that if we had entered the bungalow blindfolded we should never have suspected that his skin was brown. We were much surprised to learn that he was still a bachelor; for people of Asia usually marry when they are very young. When we gave expression to our astonishment, he answered: “I have been too busy in my short life to give attention to such matters.”

The chief of a jungle village agrees to guide us for one day’s journey.

There was a dak bungalow in Kawkeriek. The commissioner’s servant showed us the way, prepared our bath, and arranged the sleeping-rooms for us. In the morning we took breakfast with the governor. Later that morning he called together his council of eight wise men for no other purpose than to talk over with them our plans for traveling to Siam on foot. Toward noon they called us in to tell us what they thought about it. One speaker said that the country east of the city was a trackless jungle overrun with savages, poisonous snakes, and man-eating tigers. Even the people of Kawkeriek dared not go far into it. However, if we were determined to risk our lives and go, there was outside the door a “wild man,” chief of a jungle village, who was going our way, and he would guide us for one day’s journey.

We answered that we must start immediately. A servant stepped out on to the veranda and summoned the boh, as they called the “wild man.” He came into the council-chamber, a tall, thin, bony, awkward wild man. His skin was a leathery brown, his hair short and standing up like bristles all over his head. His eyes were small, and moved about so restlessly that he made us think of a leopard. His cheek-bones were high and his forehead sloped backward to his hair. The chewing of betel-nuts had made his teeth jet-black. We began to fancy that we had seen him before, playing and chattering in the tree-tops.

His clothes, nevertheless, were brilliant. Around his head was wound a strip of pink silk; an embroidered jacket, having no buttons, left his chest bare to the waist-line; his hips and legs were clothed as far as the knees in many yards of bright red stuff draped to look like bloomers. Below the knees he wore nothing. At his waist was fastened a bag for betel-nuts. He carried a leather sack of the shape of a saddle-bag, and—an umbrella.

He spoke a Burmese so different from that used by the commissioner and his council that their words had to be translated for him by another native. We knew that they were telling him that he was to be our guide through the jungle. He listened carefully, and gave a grunt now and then to show that he understood, bowing so low each time he spoke that his head all but touched his knees. From time to time, when he wished to show unusual politeness, he sat down on his heels. When he left, he backed toward the door, bowing almost to the floor with every step, and forgetting his leather sack until he was called back by a member of the council.

The brilliant clothes that this jungle chieftain wore while calling on the governor were not his traveling costume, of course. As soon as we were outside the city, he signed to us to wait, and stepped inside a hut. When he came out again we hardly knew him. His fine clothes had been packed away in his sack. The broad strap of this sack was his only covering save a strip of cotton which he wore about his hips.

He turned at once into the jungle, moving with little mincing steps, while we stumbled along awkwardly over the uneven ground. The path was so narrow that the outstretching branches whipped us in the faces. It was overgrown with tough creepers that entangled our feet. None but a human being who had lived in the jungle all his life could have followed that wandering, often hidden path through the thick maze of vegetation. Had we been alone we should certainly have lost it. Flocks of brilliantly colored birds flew away before us, screaming shrilly; now and then we heard a sudden crashing in the underbrush as some wild animal fled from our path.