We reached Ma-li-pa about one o'clock in the afternoon and found it to be a straggling village built on two sides of a deep ravine, with a mixed population of Shans and Chinese. It happened to be the weekly market day and the "bazaar" was crowded. A number of Indian soldiers in khaki were standing about, and I called out to Roy, "I wonder if any of them speak English." Instantly a little fellow approached, with cap in hand, and said, "Yes, Madame, I speak English."
One cannot realize how strange it seemed to hear our own language from a native in this out-of-the-way spot I He was the "compounder," or medical assistant, and told us that the hundred native troops were in charge of a white officer whose house was on the opposite side of the river gorge. He guided us to a temple and, while the mules were being unloaded, in walked a tall, handsome young British officer who introduced himself as Captain Clive. He was almost speechless with surprise at seeing me, for he had not spoken a sentence in English or seen a white person since his arrival at this lonely post five months before.
He asked us at once to come to his quarters for tiffin and we accepted gladly. On the way he gave us our first news of the outside world, for we had been beyond communication of any sort for months, and we learned that the United States had severed diplomatic relations with Germany.
Captain Clive's bungalow was a two-room bamboo house with a broad verandah and thatched with straw. It was delightfully cool and dark after the glare of the yellow sun-baked plains about us, and in perfect order. The care which Britishers take to keep from "letting down" while guarding the frontiers of their vast empire is proverbial, and Captain Clive was a splendid example of the Indian officer. He was as clean-shaved and well-groomed as though he had been expecting us for days and the tiffin to which we sat down was as dainty and well served as it could have been in the midst of civilization.
The great Lord Clive of India was an ancestor of our young officer who had been temporarily detached from his regiment, the 129th Baluchis, and sent on border duty. He was very unhappy, for his brother officers were in active service in East Africa, and he had tried to resign several times, but the Indian government would not release him. When we reached Rangoon some months later we were glad to learn that he had rejoined his regiment and was at the front. Ma-li-pa was a recently established "winter station" and in May would be abandoned when the troop returned to Lashio, ten days' journey away. Comfortable barracks, cook houses, and a hospital had been erected beside a large space which had been cleaned of turf for a parade ground.
Captain Clive was in communication by heliograph with Lashio, at the end of the railroad, and received a résumé of world news two or three times a week. With mirrors during the day and lanterns at night messages were flashed from one mountain top to another and, under favorable conditions, reached Lashio in seven or eight hours.
We pitched our tents a short distance from the barracks in an open field, for there was no available shade. Although Captain Clive was perfectly satisfied with our passports and credentials he could not let us proceed until he had communicated with the Indian government by heliograph. The border was being guarded very closely to prevent German sympathizers from crossing into Burma from China and inciting the native tribes to rebellion.
In December, 1915, a rather serious uprising among the Kachins in the Myitkyina district on the upper waters of the Irawadi River had been incited by a foreigner, I believe, and Clive had assisted in suppressing it. The Indian government was taking no further chances and had given strict orders to arrest and hold anyone, other than a native, who crossed the border from China.
Very fortunately H. B. M. Consul-General Goffe at Yün-nan Fu had communicated with the Lieutenant-Governor of Burma concerning our Expedition and we consequently expected no trouble, but Captain Clive could not let us proceed until he had orders to do so from the Superintendent of the Northern Shan States. Through a delayed message this permission did not reach him for five days and in the meantime we made the most of the limited collecting resources which Ma-li-pa afforded.
Clive ordered his day like all the residents of Burma. He rose at six o'clock and after coffee and rolls had drill for two hours. At half past ten a heavy meal took the place of breakfast and tiffin; tea, with sandwiches and toast, was served at three o'clock, and dinner at eight. His company was composed of several different native tribes, and each religious caste had its own cook and water carrier, for a man of one caste could not prepare meals for men of another. It is an extraordinary system but one which appears to operate perfectly well under the adaptable English government. Certainly one of the great elements in the success of the British as colonizers is their respect for native customs and superstitions!