A thousand miles on an elephant in the Shan States

by Holt S. Hallett

When talking about the temple we had visited at Ban Meh Pik, Dr M‘Gilvary told me that the Shans are afraid to visit a deserted temple, for the reason that the images of Gaudama are inhabited by Pee Soo-a Wat, the spirits of deceased Buddhist monks, who are the protecting spirits of the temple. If neglected, having nothing to live on, they become savage, and sit like Giant Despair, gnawing their nails; being thenceforth classed amongst demons, or malignant spirits. If a temple is not totally abandoned, and offerings are made to only one image by a worshipper, the envious spirit of another is apt to avenge himself by startling the votary; and should the person afterwards become ill, or should accident or other misfortune happen to him, the image is thenceforth regarded by the people as the embodiment of a malign spirit. Ancestral spirits and those of a family clan, if not worshipped and fed every three years, likewise become malignant in their inclinations.

View of Loi Kook Loi Chang at 1.3 P.M. 14th March.

When an abbot, celebrated for his learning and virtue, dies, it is the custom for those who have spent their monastic life under his instruction, to prepare a shrine for him in some part of their house, or, if still in the monastery, in their dormitory, where flowers and food are placed for the acceptance of the spirit of their deceased teacher. If he is treated with neglect or disrespect, he may become a spirit of evil towards his former pupils. Apparitions may be caused by good or evil spirits.

With reference to his having told me that the Shans were a romantic people, Dr M‘Gilvary said that suicide amongst them was by no means unusual. If a man considered that he had been slighted or ill-used in any way, he was apt to brood over the fact, and work himself into a state—when he would take his own life. Only a year or two ago one of the princesses being crossed in love, hung herself from a branch of a tree; and two of her maids, finding her suspended, in sorrowful despair at having lost their sweet mistress, sought to accompany her in death by dangling from the same branch.

Starting early the next morning, we crossed a few low spurs and then descended to the great plain of Kiang Hai. As we passed near the first village, my elephant, which had taken a trunkful of water at the last brook, made a bad shot, and sent it flying over me and my survey-book. This feat made Portow, who was walking by the elephant to translate for me, nearly die of laughter; his sense of fun for once becoming greater than his sense of his own dignity. We halted for the night at the large village of Don Chi. The villages in the neighbourhood belonged to three Kwangs, or sub-districts, and contained 600 houses. In one of the villages I noticed several papaw-trees in the orchards. The juice of the fruit of this tree renders any tough meat tender, and has been successfully employed in the removal of the false membrane in diphtheria.

We put up for the night in the hunting residence of the Chow Hona, or second chief, of Kiang Hai, who arrived in the evening, but courteously insisting that we should remain, put up elsewhere. From the large plain near the village we could see Loi Poo-ay eleven miles to the east, stretching away to the south, and giving rise to the small hillocks that separate the sources of the Meh Low from those of the Meh Ing; and to the west were Loi Kook Loi Chang, and some smaller hills on the south of the Meh Khoke.

CHAPTER XV.

PRINCES IN THEIR BEST CLOTHES—A PROCESSION—REACH KIANG HAI—DILAPIDATED HOUSES—THE MEH KHOKE—NGIOS FROM MONÉ—KIANG HAI—FORMER SIAMESE CAPITAL—EARLY HISTORY OF SIAM—VISIT THE CHIEF—POPULATION—RUINED CITIES—ARRANGEMENT BETWEEN BRITISH SHANS AND SIAMESE SHANS—RECENT ENCROACHMENT OF SIAMESE—NAME ENTERED AS BENEFACTOR IN ROYAL ANNALS—VISIT FROM LA-HU—OVAL FACES—KNOWN BY THEIR PETTICOATS—MONOSYLLABIC LANGUAGES DIFFICULT TO TRANSLATE—LA-HU A LOLO TRIBE—COMPARISON OF VOCABULARIES.

The following morning I noticed that Chow Nan and his son had cast their travelling attire, and were gorgeously arrayed, looking like gay butterflies. The prince was resplendent in a new red silk panung, a blue jacket with gold buttons, and, for the first time since we left Zimmé, in shoes and white stockings. His son, similarly shod, was adorned with a green satin jacket and a yellow silk panung.