to those who have been kind to them; and these qualities cover a multitude of deficiencies, and are rather unusual in Eastern races.
They are kind and affectionate to children, and in all the many years I lived in Borneo I did not meet a single instance of cruelty to children. They are considerate to the aged, and parents who are past work are generally kindly treated by their children and grandchildren. They are most hospitable to strangers, and offer them food and shelter. And yet these are the people who some sixty years ago were dreaded pirates and terrible head-hunters! Their improvement under a kind and just Government has been wonderful.
A Dyak Woman making a Mat with Split Cane
She is seated on the outside open veranda of the Dyak house. The flooring in the picture is made of the round trunks of small trees, and these are tied down with cane. Sometimes the flooring is made of split palm or split bamboos, but more often of laths of bilian or ironwood, so as to stand exposure to the weather. The outside uncovered veranda is a favourite place to sit in in the cool of the evening.
The Dyaks are industrious and hard-working, and in the busy times of paddy-planting they work from early in the morning till dusk, only stopping for a meal at midday. The division of labour between the men and the women is a very reasonable one, and the women have no more than their fair share of work. The men do the timber-felling, wood-cutting, clearing the land, house and boat building, carrying burdens, and the heavier work generally. The women help in the lighter part of the farm work, husk and pound the rice they eat, cook, weave, make mats and baskets, fetch the water for their daily use from the well or river, and attend to the children.
The Dyak is frugal. He does not as a rule seek to accumulate wealth, but he is careful of whatever he may earn. He plants each year what he supposes will produce sufficient rice to supply his own needs—a portion of this is for family consumption, a portion for barter for such simple luxuries as tobacco, salt fish, cloth, etc., and a third portion for hospitality. If he happen to have an exceptionally good harvest, he may sell some paddy, and the money thus obtained is not lavishly squandered, but saved with the object of investing in gongs or other brassware, old jars, etc., which do not decrease in value with age. On such occasions as feasts nearly all the food and drink used are home products or begged from friends. A Dyak drinks water as a rule, but if he takes alcohol in any form, it is a home-brewed rice spirit (tuak). To spend money upon anything which he can make for himself, or for which he can make a substitute, is, in his opinion, needless waste.
The Dyak in his jungle home is remarkably honest. Families are often away from their homes for weeks at a time, living in little huts on their farms, and though no one is left in charge of their rooms, things are seldom stolen. Sometimes Dyaks become demoralized by associating with other races in the towns, but a case of theft among the Dyaks in their native wilds is indeed rare. I have not been able to discover any enactment of traditional law which fixes the punishment for theft. It has not been necessary to deal with the subject at all. In my missionary travels in Borneo I have often left by mistake in a Dyak house some small thing like a soap-box, or a handkerchief, or a knife—things I know the Dyaks love—but it has always been returned to me.
With an experience of nearly twenty years in Borneo, during which I came into contact with thousands of the people, I have known of only two instances of theft among the Dyaks. One was a theft of rice. The woman who lost the rice most solemnly and publicly cursed the thief, whoever it might be. The next night the rice was secretly left at her door. The other was a theft of money. In this case, too, the thief was cursed. The greater part of the money was afterwards found returned to the box from which it had been abstracted. Both these incidents show the great dread the Dyak has of a curse. Even an undeserved curse is considered a terrible thing, and according to Dyak law, to curse a person for no reason at all is a fineable offence.
A Dyak curse is a terrible thing to listen to. I have only once heard a Dyak curse, and I am sure I do not want to do so again. I was travelling in the Saribas district, and at that time many of the Dyaks there had gone in for coffee-planting; indeed, several of them had started coffee plantations on a small scale. A woman told me that someone had over and over again stolen the ripe coffee-berries from her plantation. Not only were the ripe berries stolen, but the thief had carelessly picked many of the young berries and thrown them on the ground, and many of the branches of the plants had been broken off. In the evening, when I was seated in the public part of the house with many Dyak men and women round me, we happened to talk about coffee-planting. The woman was present, and told us of her experiences, and how her coffee had been stolen by some thief, who, she thought, must be one of the inmates of the house. Then she solemnly cursed the thief. She began in a calm voice, but worked herself up into a frenzy. We all listened horror-struck, and no one interrupted her. She began by saying what had happened, and how these thefts had gone on for some time. She had said nothing before, hoping that the thief would mend his ways; but the matter had gone on long enough, and she was going to curse the thief, as nothing, she felt sure, would make him give up his evil ways. She called on all the spirits of the waters and the hills and the air to listen to her words and to aid her. She began quietly, but became more excited as she went on. She said something of this kind:—
“If the thief be a man, may he be unfortunate in all he undertakes! May he suffer from a disease that does not kill him, but makes him helpless—always in pain—and a burden to others. May his wife be unfaithful to him, and his children become as lazy and dishonest as he is himself. If he go out on the war-path, may he be killed, and his head smoked over the enemy’s fire. If he be boating, may his boat be swamped and may he be drowned. If he be out fishing, may an alligator kill him suddenly, and may his relatives never find his body. If he be cutting down a tree in the jungle, may the tree fall on him and crush him to death. May the gods curse his farm so that he may have no crops, and have nothing to eat, and when he begs for food, may he be refused, and die of starvation.
“If the thief be a woman, may she be childless, or if she happen to be with child let her be disappointed, and let her child be still-born, or, better still, let her die in childbirth. May her husband be untrue to her, and despise her and ill-treat her. May her children all desert her if she live to grow old. May she suffer from such diseases as are peculiar to women, and may her eyesight grow dim as the years go on, and may there be no one to help her or lead her about when she is blind.”
I have only given the substance of what she said; but I shall never forget the silence and the awed faces of those who heard her. I left the house early next morning, so I do not know what was the result of her curse—whether the thief confessed or not.
The children are just as honest as their elders. A missionary used to visit certain stations once a quarter. At one of the stations he had a small native hut built for his accommodation. On one occasion some small Dyak boys came to him with three cents (less than one penny in value), which they said they wished to return to him. They had picked them up under the floor of his hut. They thought they had fallen through the open floor, and belonged to the missionary, and, as a matter of course, they wished to return the money to the owner. I have never had occasion to punish any of the schoolboys living in my house for theft. They had access to everything there was, but, though they had no scruples about asking for things, they never stole anything.
The Dyaks are also very truthful. So disgraceful indeed do the Dyaks consider the deceiving of others by an untruth that such conduct is handed down to posterity by a curious custom. They heap up a pile of the branches of trees in memory of the man who has uttered a great lie, so that future generations may know of his wickedness and take warning from it. The persons deceived start the tugong bula—“the liar’s mound”—by heaping up a large number of branches in some conspicuous spot by the side of the path from one village to another. Every passer-by contributes to it, and at the same time curses the man in memory of whom it is. The Dyaks consider the adding to any tugong bula they may pass a sacred
