The home-life of Borneo head-hunters

by William Henry Furness

Outside the huts, when we approached, there seemed to be only a few old women. Although our friendly intentions had been announced, the younger folks had hidden in the huts, so as to observe us from a safe distance through the chinks in the leafy walls. There were only two men in the village when we arrived; all the others were away hunting with blow-pipes, or after camphor, gutta-percha, rattans, or other products of the jungle, which from time to time they trade off with their more civilized neighbors, the Sibops and Berawans, for cloth, tobacco, salt, etc. Three old women, however, at once greeted us, and, coming up boldly, insisted on touching all of us, passing their hands over our arms and our backs, and talking volubly all the while in a plaintive and much injured tone of voice. It was quite depressing. I was sure that we had unconsciously wounded their tenderest and holiest feelings, and that they were reproaching us for wandering near their ‘sacred bower’ and molesting their ‘ancient solitary reign;’ but, before long, I was immensely relieved by finding that a tone of petulant but resigned remonstrance was the common and invariable intonation of each and all. Little by little all fear was dismissed, and we were soon surrounded by a merry, but sad-voiced, crowd of boys and girls, young women and old; even babies in arms,—I should say, babies in slings on their mothers’ backs,—were pressed forward, not merely to look at us and to touch us, but to be touched by us. Gentle, simple-hearted creatures, they believed that merely to stroke us or to be stroked by us, brought them blessings; this then, we found, was the meaning of the feeble stroking and caressing touches that greeted us from the old women. Our interpreter told me, that what I had imagined were reproaches, was a continuous plaintive murmur of how good and kind it was of the wonderful white people to come so far just to see them and bring them blessings. They examined and admired everything we had with us or on us; our coats, our hats, our shoes, the buttons and button-holes on our clothes,—these excited their profound wonder.

A book of photographs, which I had taken during a former visit to the Baram, was looked at over and over again; they never wearied of it, and their clucks of admiration were constant while they explained to one another the meaning of the pictures. After they fully understood that these miraculous pictures had been made by my camera, they became absolutely without fear of having their pictures taken,—indeed, in their simple hearts, they had somehow come to believe that thereby bodily ailments would be cured. In the photograph of a group of women and children, on the opposite page, in the corner on the right, there sits a poor, unhappy mother, whose unfortunate little baby is so hopelessly and enormously hydrocephalic that it could never leave the basket which she holds in her lap. She begged me for medicine to cure it, but when I told her that there is none that would do it any good, she piteously begged to be allowed to sit in the front line, so that the little patient might derive the full benefit of the picture-making. Just beyond her stands another devoted mother, who, in order to bring the powerful curative effect of the camera to bear on the alleviation of the severe sufferings of her little boy, is holding her hand on the abdominal locality, where little children most frequently have pains. On her right, and again in the front row, are women afflicted with goitre, which they, too, hoped would be cured by the picture-making.

HUNTING FOR SMALL GAME WITH THE SUMPIT.

THESE MEN ARE NOT PUNANS, BUT LEPPU ANNANS OF THE TINJAR RIVER; THE MANNER OF HOLDING THE SUMPIT IS, HOWEVER, THE SAME IN ALL TRIBES. THE JOINT OF BAMBOO, HANGING AT THE BELT, IS THE QUIVER FOR POISONED DARTS; IT IS USUALLY LINED WITH FUR, TO PROTECT THE DELICATE POINTS OF THE DARTS. THE POISON SEEMS TO ACT VERY SLOWLY ON BIRDS; UNLESS THE WOUND FROM THE DART CRIPPLES THE FLIGHT OR ENTERS A VITAL PART, THE GAME ESCAPES THE HUNTER. FOR KILLING SMALL BIRDS, CLAY PELLETS ARE QUITE AS EFFECTIVE AS DARTS.

WOMEN AND CHILDREN OF THE PUNAN SETTLEMENT NEAR THE HEAD WATERS OF THE DAPOI.

BECAUSE THEY SAW IN THE PHOTOGRAPHS WHICH I SHOWED THEM ONLY HEALTHY-LOOKING PEOPLE, THEY BELIEVED THAT THEREFORE PICTURE-MAKING MUST BE A PANACEA FOR ALL AILMENTS.

The Punans are nomads, never building permanent houses, nor remaining long in one locality. Of all the tribes they are, perhaps, the most mild and gentle; they are not head-hunters, and care no more for a collection of human heads than for that of any other animal, and, therefore, never go on a raid. They know the country more thoroughly than any other natives, and are always sought by the Sibops, Kayans, Kenyahs, and Ibans as guides in expeditions after camphor, gutta-percha, and bees-wax. They live solely on the products of the jungle, esculent roots and plants, such as caladium, wild tapioca, a species of canna, the tender, uncurled fronds of ferns, and the heart of several species of palm.

The men are extremely skilful with the blow-pipe and in the construction of snares and traps. When they are not surfeited with small birds, they are completely happy with roast or boiled monkey, and as for the small Bornean porcupine,—it is a delicacy never to be rejected. For some reason, which I could never discover, they will not kill a python. Salt, tobacco, and rice are downright luxuries. They cultivate no fields, owing to their nomadic life; consequently, the Punan fathers and husbands and sons work hard to obtain from the jungle, far and near, those articles for which they themselves have no use, such as camphor, bees-wax, etc., which they can barter with Malay and Chinese traders. Most valuable of all these articles is rhinoceros horn; in fact, the killing of a single rhinoceros places the wealth of a Punan village almost ‘beyond the dreams of avarice;’ there is no scrap or portion of the animal that is not prized; the flesh is coveted food; the horn, nails, hair, skin, and even the contents of the stomach, are traded at the highest rate of exchange to the Chinese, who use them all for medicinal purposes.