our first visit has turned out so well and the natives seem so friendly that there seems to be no reason why we should not move camp so as to be near them and thus save a long hike through the jungle every time we wish to see them. a walk through the jungle is the occasion of a fight with mosquitos, particularly at this time of year, february, which is the beginning of the rainy season. with the assistance of several of the younger men we transfer our belongings from the beach to the kampong and settle down for a long visit. this kampong is as good as any to study the natives in and the inhabitants seem fairly trustworthy.
our tent is placed, this time, between two of the large family shacks, and after a day or two 98we begin to feel quite at home. the natives do not interfere with us, and as we are careful not to impose upon them, all is well. the first night of our stay in the kampong is one of sadness for the natives, we find, for one of their very old men has passed away in its course. he has been ailing a long time, they tell us, and it has surprised them all that he should last so long. they are very much like civilized people in the affection they appear to feel for any sick or ailing member of their immediate family.
we stumble upon a kia kia mourning party quite unexpectedly. when one of these people dies the body is placed in a sitting posture in the spot where death overtook him, if that is in the house, and his nearest relatives decorate him with fresh paint and feathers. there is no wailing while the body is kept in the house. one or two members of his family hold a vigil beside him and fan the flies away, while others go to the burial ground to prepare the grave. this is usually about six feet deep, but as the body must be placed within it seated there is a shelf built 99two feet from the bottom on which the deceased rests. when the grave is ready—and its preparation may consume three or four days—the body is transferred to it with much solemnity. the grave is not filled with earth, but a framework covered with a heavy thatch of palm-leaves is placed over the dead and the earth is piled to a depth of two feet on that. as the body is lowered into the grave the relatives begin a quavering chant and all present seem to feel deeply the loss of their kinsman.
they surround their burial places with strong fences, for if any one were to walk across a grave he must inevitably break through its thin, ill-supported top, which would be disconcerting, to say the least. one of our neighbor’s pigs, an exceptionally large and heavy one, one day wanders into the cemetery and, judging from the howl of wrath that ensues, raises havoc in the graveyard. at any rate, when the noise has quieted down, the pig is dead, and for some reason it is buried in the grave it has just despoiled.
100the death of the old man casts a gloom over the entire kampong and for a few days we leave the inhabitants to their own devices. the few kodak pictures we have snapped aroused their resentment to such an extent that we have decided discretion to be the better part of destitution. we fill diaries, these days, with notes of happenings observed from a discreet distance.
one of the things that comes to our notice is the way the women gather cocoanuts. when the family larder is low, one of the men will call the attention of one of the women to the fact and she dutifully prepares to replenish the stock. her preparations are interesting. it is a considerable distance straight up in the air to the crown of a full-bearing cocoanut-palm, and the nuts cluster well up in the lower fronds about forty feet from the ground. the tapering trunk offers a good grip for the legs and one could climb it easily by simply clasping the legs about it after the fashion of our own boyhood, but the kia kia has a method all his own.
the native climbs a cocoanut-palm in a series of humps and stretches, like a giant inch-worm
making fire. a piece of hard wood is rotated by hand while in contact with a softer piece
101when about to ascend the trunk, the woman first gathers a bunch of long grass which she twists into a rope and ties snugly about her ankles. this done, the feet are placed against the trunk of the palm, with the soles gripping it, while the grass binding on the ankles serves as the fulcrum of a lever of which the lower leg forms the long end. the legs are bowed outward so that with set muscles a surprising grip is obtained. with the feet in this position, the arms grasp the trunk and lift the body upward six or eight inches and the legs are drawn up to a higher position. in this manner the native proceeds upward like a great inch-worm, in a series of humps and stretches. when the top is reached one hand only is clasped around the trunk, while the other twists the nuts off their stems. this is done by merely grasping the lower surface of the nut and rotating it until the fibers of the stem are broken. the nut is then allowed to drop to the ground, where it lands with a thud and a bounce that make one shudder at the thought of what it might do were it to land squarely upon one’s head. when a sufficient 102number of ripe nuts are gathered, the woman descends the trunk much as she climbed upward, though this seems to be a more arduous undertaking. apparently, however, this is due to fatigue rather than to the actual difficulty of climbing down, for these people have no stamina and seem to tire quickly.
the cocoanut supplies both food and drink to the kia kia. true, he eats many other things, but the flesh of this fruit is the great staple, the others being sago cake, surf-fish, wild pig, bush kangaroo, and “long pig” (human flesh), the use of each being in ratio to the order named. when a kia kia is thirsty he goes to the pile of nuts beside the house and selects one that appeals to him, walks to a shady place, and leisurely sits down. he places the nut between his feet, which are drawn well against the body, and with a deft blow of his stone war-club breaks the thick husk at the small end of the nut. this he grips in his teeth and peels off, holding the nut between his palms, with his elbows raised. after the husk is removed one blow of the club opens the 103end of the nut and the cool water is attainable.
the kia kias do not drink. that is, they do not drink in the sense that we use the term. when a kia kia desires water, he wants it in sufficient volume to wet his throat and stomach at one and the same instant, so he simply throws back his head, opens his gullet, and without swallowing lets the fluid run in and down. it goes down in one continuous stream. nowhere in the world can one see a similar operation. it is absolutely unique and all kia kias have the same drinking—let us call it technique.
their sago is prepared in a simple manner. the palm from which the starch is derived is indigenous to their jungles, and we are told that one large trunk of, say, two-foot thickness and twenty-foot length will supply food for four persons for a year. when sago is to be prepared a palm is felled and the pithy center is scraped from it, macerated with pestles, and soaked in water. the water dissolves the starch content and, when evaporated, leaves the starch ready for immediate consumption.
104the moist starch is molded into cakes which are dried bone-dry, and in this form it seems to keep indefinitely. in preparation for eating, the cake is simply softened with water and toasted over a fire until cooked sufficiently to suit the individual taste. with the exception of the surf-fish, the other articles of kia kia diet are seldom eaten except on some special occasion, as at a feast. the surf-fish are gathered with each full tide, but of course only the natives on the sea-coast get these. they are always cooked, never eaten raw. in fact, the kia kias eat everything but cocoanut cooked, and even cook that sometimes.
the heads of enemies, both animal and human, are kept as trophies denoting the prowess of the hunter or warrior. boar tusks are made into armlets, and the greatness of a hunter is easily determined by the number of these that adorn his arms. in the case of a human enemy the head is severed from the body and smoked after the brains have been removed. it is kept carefully, within the house of the man who collected 105it, until the ravages of time and multitudinous insects have removed the last remaining traces of dried flesh from it, and it then becomes a mural decoration for the house or graces the doorway of the shack. in the case of the human enemy the body is always eaten; that is, when the feast can be compassed with no great danger of news of the orgy coming to the ears of the punishing white men who rule the country. these feasts are becoming increasingly infrequent, but cannibalism still exists and perhaps a dozen cases yearly are brought to the attention of the authorities. for each of the cases that come to the notice of the assistant in merauke there are many that never come to light, for the natives have held them in great secrecy of late.
the skulls of deceased foemen sometimes litter up the place to such an extent that the children play with them as with toys, and one little black rascal—the son of the chief, by the way—seems to take a particular delight in hearing his mother describe the affrays in which his father collected them. we are so fortunate as 106to get a snap-shot of her entertaining the youngster in this way, and later secure one of the little shaver trying to pile them one upon the other, like one of our kiddies at play with building-blocks. he is so engrossed in his attempt to balance them that he fails to notice that we are taking his picture.
as the savages have no matches, they obtain fire in a crude but very practical way. it takes several of them to do it, for they do not care to exert themselves much. in a piece of soft, very dry wood they make a small indentation into which they insert the point of a thin, round stick of ironwood or similar hard, close-grained wood three or four feet in length. holding the stick between the palms of their hands, they rotate it rapidly, meanwhile pressing it into the softer wood, the pulverized fiber of which finally ignites from the friction. when the wood dust is smoldering, small bits of dried tinder are piled around it and the whole is blown gently into flame. the operation consumes about twenty 107minutes and on account of this and the labor involved their household fires are seldom allowed to go out; but a supply of the soft wood is kept on hand for use in an emergency.
the kia kias are extremely lazy, we find; in many little ways they show that they will not exert themselves in the slightest if they can avoid doing so. if one of them is walking along and happens to see something lying on the ground that he desires, will he stoop to pick it up? never! he simply grasps the object between his great and second toe and raises the foot to his hand, and he does it gracefully, never losing his poise or missing his stride.
on an afternoon, shortly after the heat of midday, the men gather in the shade of the cocoas back of the kampong to discuss the latest scandal or politics. inasmuch as the kapala kampong, or chief, holds his position solely by the sufferance of the others, or possibly because of some trait of natural leadership inherent in him, changes in administration frequently occur. these are in the main caused by the chief’s forming 108a liaison with the wife or daughter of another influential member of the tribe without giving sufficient remuneration. then the fight is on. it takes the form of lengthy diatribes by the injured party and much muckraking. the daily papers (the ladies) drop in to listen at first and then monopolize the conversation, as is the general custom elsewhere. they settle the argument, for they get in the last word. here in kia kia land the women literally “run the ranch.” it behooves the aspirant for leadership to stand well with them, for in the end it is their will that is done. the only thing that the women have not been successful in is to make the men work. they often make them fight, but it is much easier for them to do the chores themselves than to try to force the men to do them. hence, all kia kia men are gentlemen of leisure.
one little fellow takes great delight in hearing his mother describe the battles in which his father collected his trophies
after the heat of midday the men gather in the shade to discuss the latest scandal or politics
109as the heat is almost intolerable under our tent, we, too, withdraw to the grateful shade of the fringe of the jungle, and they clear a space for us most genially. there is a little group of them sitting on our left. what they are doing is very interesting. they are eating dried mud. that’s it,—just plain dried mud. we hardly believe it when first it comes to our notice, but upon close examination—and invitation, too, to join them—we find it to be true. the dirt is a sort of heavy yellow clay, of which they have several large chunks. from time to time one or another of them breaks off a portion and crumbles off pieces the size of a thimble which he munches with apparent relish. the dogs, of which there are many, sit within the circle of the group and with hungry eyes watch the proceedings. they refuse the clay if it is offered them, but continue to gaze at their masters just as though they thought the men were fooling them and were in reality eating something palatable to the canine taste.
the clay is washed down with copious drafts of cocoanut water taken a pint at a—well, “irrigation” is the only word that seems to suit the process. in response to our stumbling inquiries as to why they eat dirt, they indicate that it is 110bagoose, or good for them. we come to the conclusion that it must supply some mineral substance otherwise lacking in then diet.
some of the men are busy with their toilets. they are all fops when it comes to personal appearance. several of them are sitting upon their haunches or with outstretched legs, with the inner lid of a malay tobacco-box held upright for a mirror, busy with a lip-stick of bamboo upon which is smeared a mixture of lime and water. this they spread on in layers of varying thickness; or, if the whim strikes them, they will besoot their already dusky skin with black and outline thereon circles composed of white dots and red lines. one dandy, who has been leisurely fashioning a rattan handle for a stone war-club head, pauses in his labor and from the wicker basket or gauntlet on his arm—which, by the way, is his only pocket—takes a small pouch of kangaroo hide containing his war-paint. this is yellow ochre in its native state. breaking off a fragment of it, he pulverizes it between his palms, then, with the powder heaped equally 111in each hand, bends over in the manner of one about to wash the face and briskly rubs the color over his entire face and neck. the surplus he blows off by protuding the lower lip and exhaling forcibly. his exertion over the club handle evidently started the perspiration and this is his method of powdering his nose.
one beau brummel whom we dub “little playmate” for lack of a better name, because he is really such a hideous sample of humanity, seems to have some difficulty with his breathing and has removed his nose tubes to inspect his nose. the tubes are slightly over an inch in diameter, but the facility with which he reinserts them in the widely distended sides of the nostrils makes evident the fact that he could wear even larger ones without serious discomfort.
the majority of the women are down at the beach, for it is high tide and the surf-fish are close inshore. the women will bring in many of these queer little fellows, which have an odd habit of puffing themselves up like tightly distended rubber balloons the minute they are 112taken from the water. they are of a bright-blue color when freshly caught, but the delicate hues soon fade, after death, to a somber olive. these fish are considered a delicacy by all of the malay-speaking peoples, and the polynesians, too.
as soon as the women return the company in the grove will break up and all will repair to their respective shacks, where they will gather around the fires and roast the fish on spits, eat their sago cake, and at the same time pet the dogs and pigs which wander in and around the family circles, as much at home, and quite as welcome, as any one present. in the waning sunlight of late afternoon these simple groups engaged in homely intercourse at their frugal meals are a pleasing sight. the leaping flames of the firelight cast a ruddy glow over their naked forms, bringing into relief the rugged contours of their torsos and faces. as the evening creeps upon them they drift away, one by one, to the smoke-filled shacks, where the smudge protects them from the mosquitos. by the time darkness has come they are all inside, where they gossip and carry on for an hour or two before finally falling off to sleep.
eating mud! that’s it, just plain, dried mud
“little playmate” readjusts his nose-tubes
113our own meals moh serves beneath the protecting klambu, which encloses within its spacious tent-like interior our camp table and several folding-chairs. the large gasolene lamp, which is a continual source of wonder to the natives, lights the camp with almost daytime brilliance, and we doubly enjoy our dinner in the cool, refreshing air of early evening.
during the month of february it grows dark shortly after six in kia kia land. as we are continuing the night sentry duty, which entails somewhat broken slumber, the one of us who takes second watch turns in after an after-dinner pipe, while the other mounts guard and for want of better company talks to moh until that worthy has finished with the dishes. his fears are slowly diminishing, which fact we ascribe in part to the eyes one of the dusky maidens has cast upon him. we have, however, 114stopped the incipient affair with threats of dire punishment. moh has a large respect for our ability to punish and dutifully refrains from returning the amorous glances of the charmer, who finds it convenient to pass the cook-tent every now and then. to complicate matters, she speaks a little malay. as we keep moh near us at all times, there is little to fear and we warn him of how her kia kia “husband” will prepare him for the roasting-pit without interference from us. moh tells us volubly how much he loves his bagoose prempuan in jahwa (java), and we listen with amused tolerance. the malay does not live that is not susceptible to the charms of the gentler sex, and moh is no exception.
there is a young moon, and as it rises from the palms that fringe the point that stretches seaward on the left of our camp the dogs gather in what seems to be an indignation meeting. their howling makes the night hideous. there must be fully a hundred in the pack and each is trying to outdo the others in the most soul-rasping, 115blood-curdling oratorio imaginable. this is a nightly occurrence whenever there is a moon and is one of the things that linger long in the memory. in no other place in the world, it seems to us, have we ever heard the equal of these kia kia dogs. their howls might be the wails of long-departed spirits in mourning over their untimely demise and subsequent place upon the menu.
