On the 31st, having heard that I should be well received, Dun and I started for Metomi, with an escort of Manipuris. We first made a descent of 2000 feet to the Lainer, which we forded, the water being knee deep; there were the remains of a suspension bridge for use in the rainy season. We then ascended for about 1000 or 1500 feet, till near the village, when I halted my men and sent on my Angami interpreter, and one of the Metomi men, to ask that a party might come down to welcome us, as I had reason to think that the villagers were undecided as to what they should do, and I feared to frighten them. After waiting a long time, we heard a war-cry, and we all started to our feet and seized our arms, in case of an attack; the next minute, however, there was another cry, showing that the people were carrying loads. Soon after a long line of men appeared, each carrying a small quantity of rice, and the heads of the village came forward, presenting us with fowls, and heaped up the rice in front of me. We then walked on to the village, distant about a mile and a quarter, along an avenue of pollarded oaks, backed by fir trees. At last, after passing a ditch and small rampart, we reached the outer gate, then passed along a narrow path, with a precipice to our right, and a thick thorn hedge to our left for about eighty yards, as far as the inner gate, on entering which we found ourselves in the village. We were then led along a series of winding streets till we came to the highest part.
This was the most picturesque Naga village I have ever seen, and reminded me of an old continental town, the ground it covered, being very hilly, and the houses, constructed of timber with thatched roofs with the eaves touching one another, built in streets. Sometimes one side of a street was higher than the other, and the upper side had a little vacant space railed in, in front of the houses.
The houses were more like those of the Tankhools than the Angamis, and contained round tubs for beer cut out of a solid block of wood, in shape like old-fashioned standard churns. The village contained pigs and dogs, and the houses were decorated with cows’ and buffaloes’ horns. We were welcomed in a friendly way, but our hosts did not seem to like the idea of our staying the night, of which we had no intention. Our watches and binoculars greatly interested them. We tried in vain to induce the women to come out, the men saying they feared lest we should seize them. This seemed very strange, as it was the only hill village I ever saw where the women had the slightest objection to appear. As the Manipuris always respect women, it could not be due to their presence, even had they had experience of them, which was not the case. On leaving the village, we passed through a splendid grove of giant bamboos, and then turned into our old path again. Metomi was said to contain seven hundred houses, but that seemed to me a very low estimate. We reached our camp near Jessami at 7 P.M., narrowly escaping a severe scorching, as some torch-bearers who came to meet us, set fire to the grass prematurely, and we had to run hard to escape the flames. I wanted to make a vocabulary of the Metomi language the next day, but the whole village had a drinking bout, and every one was incapacitated during the rest of our stay.
We marched to a place called Lapvomai on February 3rd, and next day, wishing to explore the country beyond, Dun and I, with a picked party of Manipuris, crossed the ridge above the village, and descending to the stream below, began the ascent of the great Eastern range, encamping in a most lovely spot in a pine forest. Every one was too tired to search for water, so the Manipuris went supperless to bed. Dun and I had brought a supply, which we shared with our few Naga followers, the Manipuris being prevented from doing the same, by their caste prejudices. Early next morning we started up the hill again, leaving the bulk of our party a mile or two in advance of our halting place, to search for water and cook. We, with two or three plucky Manipuris, whom hunger and thirst could not induce to leave us, pursued our upward path. At last we came on patches of snow, and in a hollow tree found the remains of a bear which had gone there to die. After a toilsome ascent, often impeded by a thick undergrowth of thorny bamboo, we, having long passed the region of fir trees, reached the summit at 8000 feet, only to find, to our great disappointment, a spur from the main range blocking our view. As this range might have taken another day to surmount, and after all be only the precursor of another, we reluctantly traced our steps backwards, and reached our party who found water and cooked their food. We witnessed some amusing instances of rapid eating, on the part of our hungry followers, who had well deserved their dinner. We then descended to the stream, and encamped on its banks after being on foot for eleven hours.
Next day, we marched to our old encampment at Lapvomai. On February 7th, we marched to Wallong, passing through lovely scenery, a series of deep valleys and ravines and high hills, with a splendid view down the valley of Thetzir and Lainer, and beyond, the junction of the latter with its north-eastern confluent, we finally encamped close to a very remarkable gorge. On the 8th, we had another march to the village of Lusour, where I greatly pleased a woman and some children, by giving them red cloths, the former would have denuded herself to put hers on, had I not prevented her. Next morning, before starting, we had our breakfast in public, and ordered some boiled eggs; the hill people are supremely indifferent to the age of an egg, and even seem to think the richness of flavour enhanced by age, so that almost all brought to us were either addled or had chickens in them. At least two dozen were boiled before we found one that we could eat, and as soon as an egg was proved to be bad, there was a great rush of Tankhools to seize the delicacy, and our bad taste in not liking them gave great satisfaction.
On February 9th, we reached Somrah, a most interesting but severe march of eighteen miles. We first crossed a ridge 8000 feet in height, where among other trees we found a new species of yew—Cephalotaxus. After reaching the summit, we made a gradual descent along an exceedingly steep hillside, where a false step would have landed us in the stream 2000 feet below. After this we descended more rapidly, and, crossing a stream, followed a beautifully constructed watercourse through some recently cleared land. We traced our way along its windings for some miles, and then, after another ascent, at last came to a lovely undulating path through a forest of firs and rhododendrons, the latter just coming into flower. The path at length, after an ascent of 200 feet, brought us to the village, a finely built one of the regular Tankhool type, with over two hundred houses, built with stout plank walls, and having an appearance of much comfort.
The next day we went to Kongailon, one of the Somrah group, making a descent of 2000 feet to cross a river, and again ascending 5600 feet. We passed many skilfully constructed watercourses and much terrace cultivation, indeed, the Somrah villages have the finest system of irrigation I have ever seen, and the long parallel line of watercourses on a hillside present a most remarkable appearance. At Kongailon, we halted a day to explore the country, and receive deputies from various villages. From the ridge behind the village, at a height of from 7000 to 8000 feet, there was a fine view of the Somrah basin—valley it cannot be called; it is a huge basin, the rim of which consists of hills, having an average height of over 8000 feet, the villages being on the inner slopes or on bold spurs.
On February 12th, a very severe march took us to Guachan, a miserable-looking village full of very dirty people, many of whom were naked, their bodies being covered with a thick coating of dirt. We had to halt next day to rest the coolies, and to have a path cleared ahead. On February 14th, we again started, halting on the Cherebee river, at a height of 4400 feet. On our way, while passing along a lovely ridge, covered with rhododendrons in flower, we had a fine view of Saramettie, with its snow cap.
Next day, we marched over Kachao-phung, 8000 feet high, and encamped on its slopes at 7600 feet. So perverse are the ways of the hill-men, that the road, a well-used one, was carried within fifty feet of the summit, though it would have been easy to cross at a much lower level. We encamped in a primeval forest of huge trees, the branches of which, moved by the fierce wind that blew all night, waved to and fro with such a threatening noise as to preclude sleep for a long time.
On the evening of the 12th, one of our coolies was brought to me, who had dislocated his shoulder. We had no doctor of any kind with us, and no one who understood how to reduce it. Dun and I tried our utmost, and I put the poor fellow under chloroform, to relax the muscles and spare him pain, but, alas! with no result. I tried to induce him to go to Manipur, and be treated by my native doctor there; but he objected, and preferred going to his home; so I gave him a present and let him go, and very sorry we were to see him relinquish his only chance of getting right again. Every one ought to be taught practically to reduce a dislocation; I had often heard the process described, but never seen it done, and my lack of experience cost the poor Naga the use of his arm. It is one of the saddest parts of one’s life in the wilds of India to meet cases of sickness and injury without the power to give relief. Simple complaints I treated extensively, and with great success, but it was grievous to see such suffering in more complicated cases, and to be unable to do anything. A skilful and sympathetic doctor has a fine field for good work in such regions. A sick savage is the most miserable of mortals.