A thousand miles on an elephant in the Shan States

by Holt S. Hallett

Sketch at 216½ miles from Ban Ta Kare.

Owing to the swift current and drifting sandbanks, the passage up-stream is very tedious, and boats from Bangkok to Raheng take between thirty and thirty-five days in the dry season. The river varies between 700 and 1000 feet in breadth; but at one place opposite a small hillock below the revenue station of Dan Wung Chow, which is situated at the border of Raheng with Kamphang, it is contracted for some distance to 400 feet. Near here we halted for the night, having made 17 miles in the day.

The province of Raheng is mainly occupied by descendants of Zimmé Shans, owing to its having formerly been part of the kingdom of Zimmé. Even in the city, more than half the people are Zimmé Shans and Peguans. As we proceeded southwards from Raheng, the daintily dressed Zimmé women, with their neat coiffure and pleasant faces, rapidly gave place to slovenly brazen-faced Siamese females, often made more repulsive by their recently shaven heads being covered with short bristles. All of these women whom we addressed on our way to Bangkok, asking the names of villages or for other information, answered us cheekily, and never by any chance digressed into the paths of truth. The men were but little better; and we had frequently to inquire the name of a village from half-a-dozen separate people before I considered it safe to enter it in my field-book. My steersman seemed to enjoy the game, and constantly hailed the women and small girls passing by in their little dugout canoes, the women as sow-ey and the girls as rat-ey—sow being the polite Siamese term for a woman, and rat for a girl.

The following morning we continued for five miles through islands. Below the last island the villages became more numerous, fringing both banks for three miles out of the six to Kamphang Pet. Carts were seen in these villages, the first we had encountered since we left Burmah: they were remarkable for the size of their spoked wheels, which were fully six feet in diameter. Just before reaching Kamphang Pet we halted for a few minutes at Muang Ko, an extensive village on the opposite bank of the river, built on the site of an ancient city. The village possesses a fine temple and large pagoda. To the north of the village a stream called Krong Suen Ma enters the river, down which much teak is floated from the western hills.

Shortly after anchoring for the night at Kamphang Pet, whilst the boys were preparing dinner in the gloaming, a shower of stones was flung at the boat by some lads from the bank. All my men were quickly after them, but failed to catch the urchins, who retreated but to return and salute the boat in the same manner several times during the evening. As Veyloo happened to be hurt by one of the missiles, and a fresh supply of ducks and fowls was required, I determined to look up the governor before starting the next morning. Ten of my fowls had died since we left Zimmé, being found by the boys dead in the morning, and being considered unfit for my consumption, had been eaten by the boatmen. Fowls are apt to die a natural death, but rarely in such swift succession. I had been rendered suspicious by seeing the eagerness with which the boatmen besought Veyloo to give them a duck which had been found dead that morning, instead of chucking it overboard, as he threatened to do. I therefore told him to carefully skin it and see whether its neck had been dislocated, and this was found to be the case. I had that duck for breakfast, and need scarcely say no more fowls and ducks were found dead during the journey.

Near the governor’s house I met Moung Byay, one of our Burmese subjects, and his wife, and had a chat with them. After some talk, he said he would be glad if I would come and put up with him for a day or two at his house at Wung Pa Tat, when he could give me a good deal of information about the country. I thanked him, and replied that I was sorry I could not afford the time, and said I would be much obliged if he would come and interpret for me at the governor’s. He told me that the great flood of 1878 had risen ten and a half feet on his fields, which lay about a gunshot to the west of the river. The country to the east was higher, and the flood there was less than five feet in depth.

On reaching the governor’s, I found him in the company of half-a-dozen of his head-men. He received me courteously, and appeared anxious to do what he could for me. I told him of the reception my servants had met with, and made Veyloo show him the scar on his shoulder. I said it was the first incivility I had met in the country, and that such rowdyism did not speak well for the government of his province. He was evidently annoyed at the incident, and at once sent two of his officers to inquire into the circumstances, and see whether the lads could be traced. I then asked him about the flood, and he showed me the mark he had made on his own house in order to register the height. It was four and a half feet above the ground, and eighteen and a half feet above the water in the river, which was at the time of my visit fourteen feet below the bank.

I said I should be much obliged if he would order some fowls and ducks to be supplied to me at the market rate, as my supply was running short, and I wished to continue my journey in the afternoon. He at once put down four rupees on the mat before him, and each of the head-men put down one, and a couple of officers were despatched to purchase the birds and carry them to my boats. He assured me there were at least 3000 houses in the city—including the neighbouring suburbs Noung Palin, Muang Kow, and Nong Ping—and fully 30,000 in his province. Elephants take three days proceeding to Sukkhothai, and five days to Sawankalok on the Meh Yom: there are no mountains on the way, and carts can be taken to either place. During the conversation the wife of Moung Byay interpreted for me, and did so in a most intelligent manner.

After thanking the governor and his officials, and refunding the money they had given, I returned to the boats accompanied by the Burmese, who said they would be glad to receive me as their guest if I happened to be in the neighbourhood again. Having thanked them for their kindness, I sketched the hills; and the men having brought the fowls and ducks, I continued my journey, and halted for the night at Ban Wung Pone, close to a house that had been erected for the local demons, and had four yellow flags planted before it. The village lies 5 miles from the city and 261 miles from Zimmé.