Whether I am prejudiced by the sympathy I feel for this people amongst whom I live, and who have granted me hospitality without any limit, I will leave you to judge, kind reader, you who have the patience to peruse these modest pages written, not from an impulse of personal vanity, but in all sincerity, and whose only aim is to do good to the poor Sakais, unknown to the world in general and slandered by those who know them and who are interested in preventing any sort of intercourse with other outsiders besides themselves.

Nobody has ever been to teach the Sakai to be honest and as no kind of moral maxims are known by them it stands to reason that this honesty which speaks in their looks, words and acts depends upon their natural sweet temper and their way of living.

The real Sakai recoils from everything approaching violence and never assaults a fellow creature unless he believes himself or his family seriously menaced or badly treated.



Paolo Mantegazza has written that the nature of a weapon indicates not only the technical ability of a race but also its degree of ferocity. All those arms which serve to make suffer instead of to kill are certain signs of cruelty.

Well, the Sakai inflicts no suffering upon his foe. The terrible poisons with which he tinges his fatal arrows cause almost immediate death, and his sole motive for killing is to rid himself of one whom he thinks will do him harm, but should his enemy run away before he can hit him he would neither follow nor lay an ambush for him. He might almost take as his motto the celebrated line by Niccolini:

Ripassi l'Alpi e tornera fratello.[14]

Even if their gentle, peaceable characters did not disincline them for a deed of crime, if their indolence and lack of passionate feelings were not safe-guards from evil-doing the entire absence of incentive power prevents them from committing a guilty action. Why should they rob when their neighbours' goods are also theirs? When everything is everybody's, be it a rich supply of meat, fruit, grain, tobacco or accomodation in a sheltered hut? And why should they kill anybody?

For pure malignity? Because there is no other reason to prompt such a wickedness. They have no excuse for jealousy, even if they were capable of entertaining it, for when two young people are fond of each other no pressure is ever made upon them to suffocate their love or to fix their affections upon another through ambition or some sort of hypocritical respect for the usages of society. If the enamoured swain can manage his blowpipe ably enough to procure animal food for his wife their amorous desires are at once contented. And so is the custom among more mature couples. Should it happen that a man no longer cares for his wife or a woman for her husband (which seldom befalls) or should they have met with somebody else that they like better, no demoralizing love-intrigue, or guilty flirtation is the consequence; they simply announce their change of feeling to their conjugal half and if the latter still cherishes a sincere attachment for the faithless partner in wedlock he or she will hasten to make the other happy by giving up all claim upon the loved one and they agree to part upon the best of terms, as also they do when by chance they are reciprocally tired of one another's company. The fact does not give rise to drama, tragedy or Othello-like fury.

Now tell me under what impulse can the Sakai become a criminal?

He is honest and sincere from the kindness and indolence of his character, because of the free life which is his, and the society of people like himself, not because he fears being punished or has any hope of a prize in Heaven.

Will not this strange fact induce some genius of the State to meditate the subject, there being full proof that the alliance of Prison and Hell does not succeed in eradicating the seeds of corruption and crime in civilized nations?

This innate honesty of the Sakai is especially revealed in the manner he respects whatever engagement he has, of his own accord, assumed. Mistrustful in dealing with others, violent and apparently overmastering from the vivacity with which he speaks and gesticulates, as soon as the bargain is fixed he will keep it faithfully to the very letter.

In conformity with the custom that both the Sakai of the hills and his brother of the plain have of not providing for the future, he will consume even beforehand his share of the exchange agreed upon, but all the same he will perform his duties towards the other with the most scrupulous punctuality.

Many times I have intentionally left outside my cabin such articles as would excite in the Sakais a desire of possession, but upon my return I have always found them intact and in their right place. My habitation is always open, even when I am far away but I have never missed a single object.

A little from habit, a little from the virtue I have frequently mentioned, and a little, very likely, because he is too lazy to be otherwise, the Sakai is a just and upright man. He has a great respect for the old, seeks their advice, and—what is much more—follows it; he has a deep sense of gratitude, is unselfish, open-hearted and open-handed, and ever ready to do a service to those who belong to his own village. And this exclusiveness is one of the curious contrasts that may sometimes be noted in human nature.

Meeting upon his road a person who is evidently suffering and has need of aid, if he does not recognize in him, or her, one of his own tribe he will pass on with indifference and grumble out cynically: "All the worse for them". But if the same person were to make an appeal to his charity on the threshold of his rude home, he or she would receive hospitality without being known, and in the event of an accident or any other misfortune which has occasioned grief or trouble to a kinsman, however distant, he will share in their affliction, and do all he can to relieve them in their distress.

After all this, that close and continual observation permits me to affirm, may I not ask the public, or at least those who have followed me in my rambling notes until now: might not this type of savage be held up as an example of perfection to many of our acquaintances in the civilized world whose boundary line of honesty is where it ceases to bring profit, who scorn the thought of gratitude for a favour received as being inconsistent with their "spirit of independence" and who never lose an occasion for exemplifying the tender brotherly love of Cain?

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 12: The author of this book has given the pronunciation of the above words according to the sounds and rules of Italian and it has been a difficult task to present them in a sufficiently orthoepical form for English readers to understand, for the reason that all the vowels and many of the consonants are so differently articulated in the two languages.

Where a is followed by h it should be pronounced as in father; by w as in all; by y as in may. The consonants g k and n which precede certain words and which would be mute in English must be very lightly accented with the same sound they have in the alphabet.—Translator's Notes.]

[Footnote 13: The scudiscio is a very large fungus that grows upon trees. It is easily broken into strips which the Indigines use for tying up things and for putting round their necks to protect them from fever. The Sakais call it tennak kahrah that means literally "the root of a stone".]

[Footnote 14: Go back over the Alps and we shall be brothers again.]



CHAPTER XIII.

First attempts at industry—The story of a hat—Multiplicity— Primitive arts—Sakai music—Songs—Instruments—Dances—Ball dresses—Serpentine gracefulness—An unpublished Sakai song.

Primitive, like their language and their agriculture, are also Art and Industry among the Sakais.

They make blowpipes, arrows and quivers from bamboo, strings from twisted vegetable fibres, ear-rings and ornamental combs for the women. Now, under my direction, they have begun to plait mats with dried grasses, as well as bags and even hats, using for the latter the fibrous part of the pandanus, and copying one of Panama which I gave them as a model. I cannot give an estimate of the time and patience I spent over this new branch of industry.

The first time I mentioned such a thing to the women I had the unenviable success of making them laugh heartily. And I laughed with them, remarking however, that as they were so good and clever they would have no difficulty in accomplishing the feat if they would only set themselves to try.

Vanity is the great spring of a woman's soul that cannot resist the charm of flattery. This is proved by History from the time of Eve to our days and I myself proved it when I again spoke on the subject of hats. The laughter was not so loud and soon ceased altogether. At last the women answered me, with an annoyed and discontented air, that my insistance vexed them. Then I knew that the fortress was about to capitulate and re-doubled my attacks.

The day of surrender was near.

A girl, accompanied by a group of inquisitive, mocking companions, presented herself at my hut bringing with her something in the shape of a hat which was meant to be an imitation of mine. It was full of knots, puckers and other defects.

The little artist was very confused and mortified but I praised her work a great deal and after showing her the mistakes she had made I gave her several bead-necklaces.

In a few days the hats multiplied. The other girls and the women, seeing the presents I had given their companion, felt offended and devoted themselves with fury to the manufacture of the head-covering I desired, improving the form so much as to obtain an exact copy of the pattern one.

When some were finished they brought them to me and throwing them on the ground with a gesture of scorn cried:

"There! take your hats!". But a generous distribution of beads soon made their good-temper return.

Thus I was able to start this new industry by flattering the vanity of the Sakai females ("oh, Vanity, thy name is Woman" even among the savages) and the goods produced, after having been awarded a silver medal and a diploma at Penang were the object of general admiration at the Milan Exhibition of 1906.

It is some time now that I have got the men to work in iron. I provide them with the raw material and it is really a wonder to see how well they manage to make knives without possessing any of the tools used in the trade.

When they understood the necessity of a very fierce fire for reducing the metal into such a state as to enable them to make it take the wished-for form, they attempted to put together a sort of bellows and at length succeeded in the following way.

At the bottom of a very big piece of bamboo, they cut a hole into which they inserted a smaller one, joining and fixing them together with gum that the air might not escape from the wrong part. Then at the extremity of a thick stick they fastened a bunch of leaves and grasses large enough to pass with difficulty into the bamboo tube. By working this as a piston the air was expelled from the lower bamboo cane and kindled a bright fire.

After the iron has taken the form required, whilst it is still red-hot, they throw it into a bluish-coloured mud which smells of sulphur and leave it there to temper.

In fact the metal tempers and becomes very hard but I could not tell anyone what properties this slimy earth contains or how the Sakais came to know its value in connection with iron. I only know that they have to dig very deep in the ground before getting at it, a thing that is not either easy or agreeable owing to the lack of necessary implements.

Steel being a very scarce article amongst my good friends they have learnt to make great economy with it using it solely for the blades of the knives and for other purposes. They mix the two metals with surprising skill.

This is the boldest and most intelligent step that the Sakais have made as yet in the field of industry.



* * * * *

That Art which expresses elevated thought and refinement of spirit, in whatever form it manifests itself, is at its lowest ebb among the Sakais and especially representative art, although it is curious to notice how much more they prefer (I speak of the male sex) this latter to that of sounds. Music may procure some moments of bliss to those who yield themselves to its charms but it is transitory and, with them, leaves no reminiscence for the performer or the listener; on the contrary representative art remains and can also give satisfaction to the self love of the artist. It is limited to some rough designs and still more rough incisions on the blowpipes, quivers and the women's combs and their earrings.

Bamboo is the principal material used in making their hunting requisites, their personal ornaments and their domestic utensils.

The combs are large and their teeth vary from 2 to 4 in number. Across them are carved, more or less deeply cut, various signs, some of an angular form that display a pretty correct geometrical precision and others in curved lines, all of which are intended by the several artists to represent birds' heads, snakes or plants. Sometimes this intention is expressed sufficiently clearly; at others there is need of interpretation.

The plants reproduced in this way are always medicinal or those to which superstition attributes some virtue, so that the primitive art is in a great measure due to the desire of possessing an amulet.

The same designs are repeated on the ear-rings, blowpipes and quivers. The Sakais are very proud of these incisions and he who has the most upon his weapon enjoys a certain fame. As a natural consequence this makes him somewhat jealous of his finely decorated cane, much more so than he is of his wife, that for her part gives him no motive for cultivating the yellow demon's acquaintance.

Up to the time I am writing the Sakais' artistic genius has not passed this limit, unless we reckon the horrible paintings upon their faces and bodies, but this branch of art—it may seem irreverent, though none the less true, to say so—brings to the mind dainty toilet-rooms and cosy boudoirs in other parts of the world, in the very heart of civilization, where its devotees think to beautify (but often damage) Nature.

Oh! what a chorus of silvery voices are calling me too, a savage!

* * * * *

The Sakais like music but nearly always the notes are accompanied by a dancing movement, sometimes lightly as if to mark the time, but at others they kick their legs about so furiously, at the same time twisting and writhing their bodies in such a strange series of contortions that an uninitiated looker-on would surely receive the impression that they were suffering from spasmodic pains in the stomach, whereas in reality they are only imitating the wriggling of a serpent.

The woman is particularly fond of dancing and with it she measures the cadencies of her own songs and gives point to the words themselves whilst her companions repeat a sort of chorus which completes the musical passage.



It must not be thought, however, that song as it is known among the Sakais is the melodious sound we are in the habit of considering as such. With them it is an emission of notes, generally guttural ones which are capriciously alternated without any variety of tune and which in their integrity fail to express any musical thought.

The women sing with greater monotony, but more sweetly, than the men. Often they join in groups singing and dancing, and this, I believe, is the gayest moment of their lives and to this honest pleasure they will abandon themselves with rapture, forgetting the fatigue of the day. Then feminine coquetry triumphs before the other girls and the young men.

When night falls the air becomes cool, and even cold later on. Having finished their evening meal the old folk and the children stretch themselves out to sleep round the fire which is always kept lighted. The women sit about weaving bags, mats and hats, their work illuminated by flaring torches composed of sticks and leaves covered with the resin found in the forest. To the extent permitted by their poor language they chat and jest among themselves, laughing noisily the while.

The young men are scattered around preparing their arrows for the next day's hunt, dipping them into the poisonous decoction when it is well heated.

It is not long before work gets tedious to the girls. They jump up and daub their faces in a grotesque manner. With palm leaves they mark out a space of some yards square that has to be reserved for the dancers, and then commences the women's song to which is soon added the stronger voices of the men. At times the chorus is accompanied by an orchestra of those instruments that the Sakais know how to play.

They will take two bamboo canes of six, eight or more inches in diameter, being careful to select a male and female reed. These they beat violently one against the other, the result being a deep note with prolonged vibrations which awake the forest echoes but not the old people and the children who are sleeping.

There is also the krob a very primitive kind of lyre that consists of a short but stout piece of bamboo on which two vegetable fibres are tightly drawn. The plectrum used by the player is equally primitive being a fish-bone, a thorn or a bit of wood. The sound caused by grating the two strings is more harmonious than one might suppose.

But the Sakais possess besides a wind instrument that claims more study both in the making and the playing.

It belongs to the flute family and, of course, is made of bamboo. Like all its brothers in the world it is open at one end, with three or four holes on the top side.

Before playing it the performer carefully stops up one of his nostrils with leaves and then applies the other to the first hole into which he gently blows with his nose. From the instrument issues a sweet, melancholy note. By leaving all the holes open a clear sol (G) is obtained; by shutting them all a mi bemolle (E flat); the first hole gives the note mi (E) and the second fa (F).

The ciniloi[15] (for so it is called) is not artistic to the eye and loses all its poetry when one sees its owner blowing his nose into it but the notes emanating from it breathe a vague sense of melody and sadness not entirely unpleasant.

Some of the Sakais are quite masters of this instrument and the women too prefer it to the krob. They seem to find extreme delight in sending forth those long sustained and plaintive sounds as though lulled by a dream, or absorbed in some pathetic thought.

On festive occasions when the solemnity of the entertainment increases in proportion to the noise made, there is a full orchestra. The choruses bawl, the bamboos deafen one with their loud noise like that of huge wooden bells, the krobs sob desperately at the way they are treated by the plectrum, the ciniloi whistles and laments, and all without any fixed measure of time or modulation of tones, in a confusion of sounds so discordant as to recall a very, very faint echo of the infernal nocturnal concerts of the forest.

* * * * *

The orchestra prompt and the singing begun the female dancers advance by twos and threes into the open space confined by palm leaves. Their features are incognizable so disfigured are they with stripes and daubs in red, white, black and sometimes yellow.

Their ball costume is exceedingly simple. They just lay aside the girdle of beauty or chastity which they ordinarily wear and present themselves to the public as Eve did to Adam; or like so many brown-skinned Venuses with variegated masks.

They are however, profusely adorned with flowers.

The first time I saw a similar sight I was struck with surprise but then remembering the cut of some of the evening dresses worn by our Society ladies I came to the conclusion that comparing the clothes with which the latter and the Sakai women are habitually covered there was nothing to be said about the difference made in the toilet on grand and festive occasions.

But to return to the dancers. They hold in their right hands a bunch of palm leaves and begin their performance with curtsies, skips and the contortions I have spoken of; then follows an undulating movement of the flanks as they hurry forward, something in the same position as "cake-walk" dancers, lightly beating the leaves in their hand against others of the same kind they have fastened on their right hip.

The dance is a continual exercise of the joints and muscles, but its swaying motion is not without grace and displays all the seductive beauty of the girls whose freshness has not been destroyed by love and maternity.

A little innocent vanity may be found in this Terpichorean competition because every movement, every jump and contortion receive the greatest attention and are followed by admiration and applause, when worthy of the demonstration, from those who have danced before or have to do so afterwards.

The men sometimes take an active part in the dance but their steps and their movements are always the same as the women's.

The strange thing is that they take the serpent as their model of gracefulness and elegance and seek to copy as closely as possible the flexibility of its body and the gliding motion peculiar to that reptile.

A malignant person would perhaps find here the subject of a witty sarcasm thinking that in the forest serpents in the guise of women dance alone but with us, if we wish to dance at all, we are obliged to embrace them!

These dances will often last until dawn, just as it is at our own evening parties.

* * * * *

Neither song, nor dance, nor the sound of those primitive instruments ever take the character of a religious demonstration.

Only on the nights enlivened by bright moonlight, whilst dancing in the open air, their impromptu songs contain a greeting to the shining orb that presides over their festivity and with its silvery rays enhances its enjoyment. But in this there is nothing to suggest a special cult.



Over yonder they do not dance with any intention of intrigue in their minds, or with the pretext and hope of meeting young persons of opposite sexes in order to kindle the fatal spark that will lead them to matrimony; there they dance for the pure pleasure of dancing, for sincere, hearty enjoyment without any other scope or desire, because, as I mention in another place, the young men and maidens of the same village being all relations, marriage is not permitted between them; the wives must be chosen from a different tribe. This wise custom was evidently established to exclude consanguineous unions (with their degenerating consequences) and perhaps also to consolidate the brotherly ties between people of the same race.

I think if Mantegazza had ever been present at one of these dances of the Sakai girls, he would have added another beautiful page to his estasi umane ("Human Ecstasies") because at these little festivals, whether they are held in the hut or outside, one never sees pouting faces, frowning brows or any other indication of preoccupation or passion. Everybody is merry and their delight can be read upon their countenances (notwithstanding the frightful way they are besmeared with paint), and shines in their eyes; happy are the women who blow into the flute or grate the krob or beat the bamboo sticks; happy are the girls that dance; happy are the youths who join in the chorus. It is an innocent amusement for innocent souls.

* * * * *

To finish off this chapter I here give a very free translation of a song, whose words I was able to catch and remember, which came from the lips of my dear friends upon my returning among them after a long absence:

"O'er mountains and rivers you have passed to come amongst us as a friend, as a friend who will not hurt us, and behold we are here to meet you bearing with us all that the forest has yielded us to-day.

"The clear and beautiful mountain announced the good news and now you have returned to us who rejoice at seeing you again".

The form was not so but I have given the thought exactly, a thought, as you see, full of affection and with a very faint perfume of poetry about it. You will not accuse me, therefore, of being too optimistic when I affirm that the Sakai, in spite of his semblance to a wild man of the bush, savage, suspicious and superstitious as he is, is susceptible of rapid intellectual progress whenever the right means are used in his favour, and towards that end.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 15: Pronounced chinneloy—Translator's Note.]



CHAPTER XIV.

The beliefs and superstitions of the Sakais—Metempsychosis—The Evil Spirit—Superstition among savages and ignorance among civilized people—The two sources of life—The wind —The ALA priest and physician—The scientific vigil—Venerable imposture!— TENAC and CINTOK[16]—Therapeutic torture—Contagion—A Sakai's death—The deserted village—Mourning—Births—Fire—Intellectual darkness—The Sakais and Islamism.

The good notary Chirichillo, born in the fervid fancy of Ippolito Nievo firmly believed that the many tribulations of his modest life would be compensated one day by God, and that this recompense would be a second birth, when he would relive in another person, under another name and under a luckier star.

Although less learned and although they have but a vague intuition of the idea relating to the soul immortality, the Sakais do not refuse the theory of reward or punishment hereafter. According to them the spirit freed from the body wanders about in the air and often, in a transitory way, retakes a corporal form in the shape of certain animals (more especially the tiger, for which reason the terrible beast is respected as almost sacred by them) or it takes refuge in certain herbs which thus acquist healing properties.

In no case will a Sakai willingly kill, wound or lay a trap for the animals he thinks consecrated by the indwelling of a spirit, this is so true that even whilst preparing one of the usual traps for catching big game he will turn himself towards the thickest part of the forest and murmur, "this is not for thee" to warn the tiger to be on his guard. And should one happen to be caught it causes real grief to the Sakai who you may be sure would give it back its liberty at once if he had not found it dead or did not fear to be killed himself as soon as it was free. The Sakai does not believe in the natural death of a person but attributes the decease to the spell of the Evil Spirit who is continually on the watch to play his wicked tricks. So ready is he to do harm that he even slips into the little holes made in their darts thus carrying death where they strike, otherwise the poison would not have the force to kill.

This is the superstition that inspires every sort of terror in the inhabitants of the jungle and which renders it so difficult to approach them and so dangerous to disturb the serenity of their simple minds. The wind, the thunder-storms, the violent hurricanes that frequently invade the forest, bringing destruction and fear in their course are the vehicles used by this Evil Spirit to declare open warfare against the frightened savages.

When the clouds begin to gather thick and ominously, and first with a distant roar and then with the fury and the voice of a hurricane, the wind sweeps fiercely on, howling and whistling over the great green sea that is quickly strewn with wreckage; when the colossal champions of the forest are struck by lightning and the fall of their huge branches and gigantic trunks increase the general uproar, whilst the boom of Heaven's artillery thunders around their huts, then the trembling Sakais throng together. They paint themselves in a manner to scare the devil himself (which is however their intention) and shoot out from their blow-pipes a volley of poisoned arrows, directed against the tumultuous messengers of the awful Being they fear; the women, keeping their children close at their side as if to defend them, throw pieces of burning wood into the air, and beat their big bamboo sticks till the noise is insupportable, at the same time screaming to the wind:

"Go away and leave us alone! We have not harmed thee, so do not harm us!".

So they implore and imprecate, turning themselves into the ugliest and fiercest creatures they can, to frighten the evil spirits that they believe have come against them on the outspread wings of the storm.

To the wild cries, arrow shots and loud noise of the bamboos, the mothers add an exorcism. They burn locks of their little ones' hair and disperse the ashes to the wind whilst the Ala energetically spits.

And in civilized Italy is there not a superstition very like this of the poor savages? I refer to the odd custom still observed in the country, or at least in some of the villages (and which not so very long ago was put into practice also in towns) of trying to arrest a heavy thunder storm, by the tocsin, the deep noted ringing increasing the general alarm amongst the timid of the place. The women too, will go to the door and rattle together the shovel and tongs just as their Sakai sisters beat their bamboos, and olive branches (that previously have received the priest's benediction) are burnt with incense that the smoke may rise up to appease the fury of the elements just as over there locks of the children's hair are burnt for the same purpose.

These are superstitions that vary a little in form but are exactly equivalent in the substance and show how much remains in us of primitive ignorance and how our boasted civilization is still bound to the antique customs and childish beliefs of the uncivilized, over whom we sing the glory of our own triumph.

The Sakais also admit the existence of a Good Spirit but precisely because he is good, so much so as never to reveal himself, they do not deem it necessary to bother him. To the Good Spirit the Sakais oppose in their mind, the Evil Spirit exercising his empire upon the souls of their ancestors. To him they make many and different exorcisms and supplications, with the hope not to be molested by him after death if they keep good. Such a belief may be considered as a kind of demonclatry.

* * * * *

To learn thoroughly the beliefs of a people still in a savage state, and who are totally without any written guide to their faith, would be indeed a difficult undertaking. First of all they always fear that a stranger, particularly if white, brings with him a whole legion of bad spirits, and secondly because they are extremely jealous of their superstitions and are afraid of incurring evil by revealing them to others.

It must also be considered that the Sakais (like all the other peoples to be found on the same level of intellectual development) have ideas so fragmentary and undetermined about religious matters that they are quite incapable of giving an explicit description of their spiritual feelings and convictions. It is only by living amongst them for a long time in confidence and familiarity that one can obtain any correct knowledge, and even then only by intent observation of facts which pass under one's eyes, as it is useless to attempt to get an explanation or ask questions, for the Sakais, truthful as they are by nature, would most certainly tell you a falsehood for the reasons alluded to in another chapter. Superstition always prevails over veracity when treating with persons not belonging to their race.

Wilken so writes in his book Animism: "With all the peoples in a primitive natural state nearly every daily event, every illness, every misfortune, every phenomenon, when not attributed to the souls of their dead, has a special spirit as the author. Lakes, seas, rivers, springs, mountains, caverns, trees, bushes, villages, towns, houses, roads, air, sky, the ground in under, in short all nature and the principal things they see, are, in their opinion, populated by supernatural beings. I need hardly say that not all the innumerable spirits in whom they believe have the same importance in their minds and therefore are not all venerated to the same extent. In the animist's cult fear reigns over every other sentiment, such as gratitude, trust, devotion, etc., and the spirits that inspire the most fear are those invocated with the most fervour; in this way the bad spirits are installed in the place of the good ones".

We see then that the Sakais form no exception to this summary description of Mr. Wilken's.

They believe that only their sorcerers have the faculty of beholding spirits which satisfactorily explains to them the strange fact that they are always invisible to other eyes. For the rest, though, the Sakais, like all those on the same par in intellectual capacity, do not trouble their heads at all over whatever natural phenomena.

He feels deep veneration for the sun and water as being the two great sources of Life; he venerates also the moon and the stars without however applying any sacred rites to this sentiment but they do not care in the least to know of what these luminaries are composed, where they come from or where they go when they are not in sight. When the day arrives for the Sakai to put such questions to his brain he too will enter triumphantly into the vortex of civilization, impatient to find out the reason of everything he sees around and above him.

From force of habit he does not wonder at the change of day into night and the different phases of the moon but he is seized with great terror when an eclipse of the sun or moon takes place. He weeps and despairs, making horrible noises to put to flight the accursed spirit that is devouring one or other of the heavenly bodies, and as soon as the eclipse in over, he seems mad with joy that the mahgis (sun) and getcheck (moon) have got the better of their enemy.

He is equally overcome with fright at the appearance of a rainbow, or at a shock of earthquake.

* * * * *

The Sakais have no idols of any kind, but they have great faith in the amulets which they make themselves by incising upon their combs and hair-pins (as before written) the form of certain plants, fruits, leaves and roots that they are fully persuaded are possessed of prodigious virtue.

In fact when a storm is approaching and the wind begins to agitate the forest, before commencing their usual invocations, both men and women hasten to stick in their hair all their combs and hairpins with the firm conviction that the wind, blowing upon these miraculous carvings will lose its power to do them harm.



Here it must be observed that, apart from the superstitious character of the fear the Sakais (especially those of the hills) have of the wind, this terror may be said to be almost justified.

The impetuous currents of air coming from below often bring amongst them the germs of various infections and in particular malarial fevers.

The poor natives in their ignorance of this, when they see their dear ones fall ill and often die after the wind's raging believe that it has brought into their village and left there, an invisible enemy.

* * * * *

The Ala, sorcerer, physician, and magician of the local superstitions does all he can to keep unshaken the belief in spirits and exorcism. He fulfils the functions of his two-fold office with all the ignorance and the deception which is possible to him; ignorance, because he shares with the others a sincere terror of the Evil Spirit, and deception because he makes the others think that he can see the dreaded Being and has a certain power over him by means of words and gestures.

He is, upon a close and vigorous analysis, nothing but a vulgar swindler who obtains some sort of advantage by his artefices and succeeds in over-ruling his own people by giving advice which is often sought and always followed.

The Ala is generally the son of an Ala, a circumstance that might lead someone, who is fond of similar studies, to make accurate researches in order to ascertain if imposture should be considered as a hereditary disease.

When the Evil Spirit, notwithstanding the cabalistic signs and mysterious words that proclaim the Ala's prerogative in resisting and defeating him, has overcome and killed him, the corpse is not buried but is placed in an upright position between the roots of a tree not very far from his late residence. For seven days continual watch is kept over it and it is provided with food, tobacco and betel.

An old tradition, which I have managed with difficulty to piece together from fragments unconsciously dropped now and then, pretends that ab antiquo a covenant was made between the tigers and sorcerers that after one of the latter had been dead a week his soul should enter a feline body.

If a son of the deceased Ala wishes to succeed to his father's dignity, he must, at the end of the seven days established, go alone to keep watch over the corpse, taking with him a sort of incense-pan in which he burns a great quantity of perfumed resin in honour of the dead (an honour that is most opportune for his own nostrils!). He passes the night in this way, or it is believed that he does, for nobody sets himself the task of spying his actions or of learning something about the night's proceedings fearing that evil would overtake him in consequence.

Whilst still engaged in this sanitary act, the tiger, animated by the soul of the defunct sorcerer, presents itself to the man who is engrossed in his scientific vigil and feigns to spring upon him to tear him to pieces. But he continues to keep alight the sweet-smelling resin and does not betray his inward perturbation or give the slightest movement of fear, which would, without emission, cost him his life. Then the terrible scene changes; the wild beast suddenly disappears and encircled by a soft light two beautiful fairies come forward to teach the new Ala the occult science of his chosen ministry including cabalistic words and medical art. The two elves then become the familiar spirits of the sorcerer who is in this manner consecrated.

No witness is allowed to be present. No profane eye may see those two good spirits.

If it happens that the aspirant never makes his return it is immediately decided that he showed he was afraid and had been eaten up by the not too fatherly tiger. It would be, at least, a sure proof that he had watched that night in the forest!

The succession of a son to his father in the office of Ala is not obligatory but all the Sakais wish it to be so as otherwise the soul of the dead man would always remain in the body of a tiger and treasures of wisdom and power would be lost to the tribe he had belonged to.

Not all the villages have the fortune to possess an Ala of their own who—by the way—does not differ in his domestic life from any of the poor mortals around him. He has a wife, and children, makes poisons, chews tobacco and sirih, sleeps and goes out shooting. Those settlements that have no Ala in their midst go in search of one in the nearest encampment and the physician-priest responds quickly to the invitation by hastening to the spot indicated.

* * * * *

There being no ritual in the Sakai ceremonies, the simple functions of the Ala are very limited.

He has to mumble in an unintelligible manner mysterious words (the meaning of which he does not know himself) when a poisonous mixture is being boiled in order to render its venomous virtue more efficacious. He makes exorcisms against the evil spirits when the wind arises or a heavy storm breaks or he is called to visit a sick person.

In the latter case duties are merged in those of the physician's for whilst preparing some remedies with herbs possessing medicinal properties (of which he knows very few out of the multitude that grows in the Malai forests) he proceeds to exercise the authority reposed in him, according to the Sakai beliefs by attempting to cast out the evil spirit from his patient.

This act is called the tay nak. He first asks the sufferer where the pain is, then making a sort of brush with some palm leaves he holds it in left hand. The right he closes loosely and lays it on the place that aches, puts his mouth to the opening left through the lightly closed fingers and begins to pull in his breath as hard as he can. Sometimes he is able in this way to draw out the demon which has caused the illness, from the patient's body into his hand and drives it away by energetically beating it with the brush.

The sorcerer is aware if the spirit has come out by a very pale light, which only he can see, though!

But if the malady is a serious one this cure fails, a sure proof that the spirit is one of the most dreaded class and must therefore be heroically fought by means of the chintok, as follows.

The village in which the afflicted person lives is closed in by numerous traps, and planted all round with poisoned arrows so that nobody can come near, even if someone were to succeed in crossing that original cordon sanitaire without any fatal consequence he would most certainly be killed inside it as it is feared that another evil spirit may be imported by an outsider, in aid of the one they are trying to get rid of.

Over the body of the infirm they form a canopy of medicinal herbs; the Ala and the company present paint themselves in the most horrible manner possible and as soon as it is quite dark (any sort of light is absolutely forbidden) they dispose themselves around the invalid and begin to madly beat their big bamboo canes. Their frenzy and the noise they make cannot be described; it makes one shudder, and the sound can be heard several miles off.



But it is intended to heal the poor wretch in the middle who, if he does not succumb to the violence of his disease, has a good chance of dying from the torture endured.

The diabolical concert lasts until the garrulous harbingers of the sun announce the dawn but is repeated after sunset for seven days during which period only the men are permitted to go into the forest in search of food.

If on the seventh day the patient is still alive he is left in peace unless a relapse should render another night of music necessary, and if he dies it is believed that the malignant spirit would not depart without taking the soul of his victim with him.

* * * * *

The most frequent illnesses to which the Sakais are subject are rheumatic complaints and very heavy colds which not rarely turn into severe bronchial and pulmonary ailments. Both are due to the cold at night against which they take no pains at all to protect themselves. Their huts shelter them from the rain but not from the air.

Some contagious skin diseases are also prevalent amongst them.

Directly somebody is seized with this malady a tree is selected at some distance from the settlement up which a little bower is hurriedly made and the person attacked is placed there and left with a little food at hand. Next day the relatives go to see if he or she is living and call out their demands, in a loud voice, a long way off. If there is a movement or an answer they go nearer and throw up some food but if there is no sign of life they hasten back and leave the corpse to decompose in the bower that now serves as a sepulchre.

* * * * *

No rites whatever are performed at the death and burial of an individual.

When the sufferer has breathed its last all the people in the village unite in making grand lamentations. They cry, moan and howl worse than at the proverbial Irish funeral, they blacken their faces with charcoal and daub it with other colours to frighten away the bad spirit whilst the family crowd round the dead body and let their tears flow freely, exclaiming:

"Alas! Look at us, don't leave us! Who will take care of us now! Who will defend us? Thou has departed before us and we shall follow thee".

The first moments of grief over they quickly destroy the hut visited by Death, then taking up the corpse they carry it into a thick part of the forest.

Here a grave is dug, from five to six feet deep and the body is placed in it, sometimes lying on its back, and sometimes in a sitting posture but always with its face turned towards the west. Some tobacco, betel and personal objects of the deceased are put near and then it is covered up with the ground. Sometimes these articles are strewn on the top of the grave and sometimes too instead of interring the corpse it is laid upon pieces of wood placed horizontally across the branches of a large tree, close to the trunk.

But whether buried or not, for seven days the dead person's relatives carry water, fruit, tobacco and sirih to the spot, over or under the last resting-place of their lost one, taking care to always keep a bright fire burning within the vicinity.

It is however with fear and trembling that this duty is performed and they regularly implore:

"Here is thy portion, but don't hurt us!"



Finished the seven days mourning the memory of the dead fades, only awakening afresh when somebody passes by the burial place when they deposit there a part of whatever they have with them, game or fruit.

For the sake of truth, though, I must say that the grief of parents for a child is not so soon cancelled, for I have seen some moved to tears at the remembrance of one who had been dead perhaps for many seasons.

* * * * *

The immediate consequence of a Sakai's death is the forsaking of the village by all the survivors for fear that the evil spirit which has bereaved them of a kinsman may do the same with another.

Then follows the march in search of a desirable spot, as I have already described. Taking the children and the little domestic goods they possess upon their shoulders they troop away seeking suitable ground for the erection of their new huts. The Elder, as head of the immense family, gives the signal for stopping where he thinks best and if there is an Ala in their midst he consults with him about the choice of position.

When the site seems favourable a fire is quickly lighted and if the smoke goes up straight they settle there otherwise they continue their wanderings for the Sakai thinks that his whereabouts will be betrayed if the smoke is dispersed in the forest and that it will serve as a guide to some bad spirit—eager to do harm—that will cast its fatal influence over the company fleeing from the cruel spell of another.

Once the decision is made, with wonderful rapidity trees, and bushes are cut down and the huts are raised.

* * * * *

As in civilized countries. Death amongst the Sakais exacts an exterior manifestation of mourning, with this difference perhaps that with them it is much more sincere because they have not the comfort of a long expected and coveted legacy to make it a farce.

All ornaments have to be put aside; ear-rings, bracelets, necklaces, nasal sticks, flowers, tattooing etc, for a period of time determined by the Elder but generally for not less than six months.

Those in mourning are rigorously prohibited to sing, play, dance, marry and even (quite a Lenten sin) to eat fish and meat on the some day.

The Sakais observe all these prescriptions with the greatest strictness and are scandalized should any of them be infringed before the appointed time. Whoever violates them is judged a heartless being and if a woman loses all the consideration that was hers before.

The duration of mourning varies according to relationship. That for a father or a mother is the same, but it is shorter for brothers and sisters and for little children there is none at all.

In this respect the Sakais are not dissimilar to their civilized fellow-beings who measure their grief by the black clothes they wear and at the demise of a baby, notwithstanding its parents' desolation, make the church-bells ring out the liveliest tunes.[17]

* * * * *

When a little Sakai opens its eyes to the light of this world no religious ceremony greets its arrival.

The woman who is about to become a mother separates herself from the rest of the family and retires by herself to a hut apart, where the floor is very high. Nobody assists her at her confinement because there is perhaps no other event in the existence of a Sakai so involved in tenacious and perilous superstition as is that of birth. Her own husband and the father of the new-born babe dare not cross the threshold of the hut or make the acquaintance of his child until a long time after, that is, until it has got some strength.



It is always feared that by entering the cabin the smell of the child may be carried into the forest by means of which the Evil Spirit would be able to trace it out and do it some mischief. And for the same reason the newly-made mother dare not have contact with any of the adults who go into the jungle to hunt or for other purposes, but has food and water taken her by the children.

It is superfluous to add that for a given time before and after a confinement the presence of a stranger in the village is not tolerated, worse still if he is a white man.

The Ala, seconded by all, both males and females, is inflexible about this, asserting that it would be the death of the babe, and it is a prudent thing to accept the veto with a good grace and to obey the sorcerer's orders without hesitation. Sometimes a stranger is not even allowed to look upon a woman who is in an interesting state, as it once happened to me.

Another time upon arriving at a village where a child had been born a few hours before, I was flatly refused hospitality, some Sakais preferring to accompany me a long way off and there erect a hut for my use on the formal understanding that I should not for any motive whatever attempt to approach the settlement. Had I not kept to this condition I should probably have been killed.

One cannot reason with terror.

The hut in which the poor woman is fulfilling the noblest of Nature's missions is jealously guarded by day and by night.

Woe to the unfortunate individual who is found loitering around it if he is not one of the village!

The floor of the hut does not touch the ground that the odour of excrements may not penetrate into the earth and proclaim to the Evil Spirit: Here a babe is born!

The mother herself, with extreme caution places everything of this sort in vessels of bamboo which she hangs high up on the bough of a tree.

There the torrid sun quickly dries it all up and the smell emanating from it being diffused in the upper air the spirit cannot find out the sick woman or her child.

* * * * *

As soon as the period of gestation commences neither the woman nor her husband must eat the flesh of monkey or serpent in order not to transfer to the unborn child the tendencies of a quadruped or reptile.

They must also abstain from eating fish and meat on the same day and are obliged to be very careful not to enter a hut whilst it rains, this being always a very bad omen but especially so when an increase is expected in the family.

Another very bad sign is when the cep plui sings near the encampment. The Sakais consider it quite as unlucky as the grating screech of the night owl (birds kept in awe by the Sakais as being in familiarity with the Evil Spirit) on the roof of a house, or the spilling of salt is believed to be in many countries we know.

A few days before her confinement the woman picks up some leaves of the bakau which have fallen to the ground and makes a decoction with them. She drinks a little every day, continuing the cure even after child-birth. I do not know the wherefore of this but the women seem to think it exercises a particular effect upon them at this period.

Immediately the child is born its mother takes the fruit of the bua kaluna and squeezes out a few drops into the little thing's mouth.

I have never been able to understand the reason of such a practice but believe that it is inspired by some superstition or hygienic rule of the natives.

The fruit of the bua kaluna is sweet but has also a rather tart flavour.

After seven days have passed the newly made mother leaves the hut and makes abundant ablutions that have the same character and scope as the religious duty imposed upon the Israelite women; that of respect for elementary hygiene.

From this moment the wife may return to her husband but she is not allowed to go into the forest and is obliged to wear upon her stomach a hot stone, which serves her as a cure and exorcism.

She returns to her faithful mate but she does not abandon her child whose separation from all other human beings, including its own father, cannot last for less than six months.

The birth and death of a Sakai, as here seen, is devoid of every rite or ceremony, as in the case of matrimony or divorce and do not require even the intervention of the Ala.

* * * * *

The fact of their being strictly forbidden, when kindling a fire, to lift their eyes from it until the wood has been well ignited and smoke proceeds from it would suggest the idea that there is either a superstition attached to this operation or that fire is also an object of veneration with them. But this concentration of the gaze may be simply a precaution (become a habit) not to retard the act of combustion by distraction of thought.

The only thing in connection with this custom I have succeeded in ascertaining is that the Sakais have no particular cult for the Sacred Fire like the priests of Baal the Brahmins in India and the Vestals of Rome but appreciate it as a means of cooking their food, preparing their poisons, of warming them during the night and of keeping wild beasts far from their huts. And I was convinced of this the first time I gave them matches and taught them their use.

Their wonder was mixed with satisfaction but had there been any pronounced religious sentiment they would have rejected the modern innovation and continued the old method of making fire.

* * * * *

I have here given a rough idea of the superstitions and beliefs of the Sakais as best I have been able to understand them from close observation and words inadvertently let fall now and then. They may be briefly summed up thus: a supreme terror of Evil spirits; a vague principle of the soul's transmigration (a strange degeneration from the primitive conception of the Pythagorean theory).

The people of the jungle are still under the thick shade of cerebral inertia. They have not yet seen the swift, bright light of a first doubt flash across the darkness of their brain giving to it a shock of unsuspected vibrations. As yet no glorious Prometheus has arisen amongst those primitive creatures far whom the discouraging counsel of the Italian poet might seem to have been in part written:

Meglio oprando obliar, senza indagarlo, Quest'enorme mister dell' universo![18]

The Sakais have no real religion; they only have fear for everything they do not understand or cannot. And yet in the practice of morality they are much more forward than other uncivilized and even civilized peoples.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 16: Pronounced tay nak and chintok.—Translator's Note.]

[Footnote 17: A custom in Italy when a little child is buried. Translator's Note.]

[Footnote 18: Better by work to forget, without studying it, This tremendous mystery of the Universe.]



CHAPTER XV.

Sakai arms—Shooting—Serpent catchers—The Sakai and his poisons—TOALANG, RENGAS AND SAGOL—SLA DOL, SLA PLEK and SLA CLOB—AKAR TOKA—Ipok[19]—An antidote—The LEGOP—The Nai Bretaks—The preparation of LEGOP—Curious and superfluous ingredients—The effects of LEGOP—Strange contradictions— Experiments—Poisons and antidotes—The settler and science.

The Sakai possesses only one weapon: the "blau" (pr. blahoo) called "sumpitam" by the Malays.

This reveals the peaceful character of these forest inhabitants who never seek adventures or commit aggressions.



The strong ugly knives which he procures from his brethren of the plain or manufactures for himself, and the little hatchets I have already described, are not for him arms in the exact meaning of the word but are simply instruments necessary for those living in the jungle. He employs them for cutting down bamboos, creepers and trees and for preparing food, but very likely he would not know how to use them for an assault or in defence.

His weapon in this case is always the blau (blow-pipe) which he carries about with him constantly even if he only goes just outside his hut.

It is a cane of bamboo from two metres and a half to three in length not very large in diameter but perfectly round, especially inside. At one end there is applied a mouth-piece similar to that of a trumpet.

Having introduced a dart the Sakai puts the cane to his lips and first drawing a very long breath he then blows into it with all his might. The little arrow flies out with the greatest velocity reaching to the distance of 40, 50, or 60 metres.

It is a pea-shooter but with the difference that the projectiles shot out are deadly in their effect, particularly so when in the hands of persons who, like the Sakais, seldom or never fail to hit the mark.

This dangerous weapon, which at first might be mistaken for a toy, is ornamented with designs lightly incised in the cane. It is kept with great care and when not in immediate use it is slipped into a bamboo of a larger size (this too decorated with incisions) which serves it as sheath.

The arrow is a little stick made of very hard wood of about 12 or 14 inches long and not much bigger than a big knitting needle. At one extremity is fixed a tiny cone made of palm-pith that stopping up the tube, receives the impulsion of the air blown into it so violently.

The other extremity finishes in an exceedingly sharp point (sometimes of bone or metal well inserted into the wood) contrived in such a mode that when the dart strikes an object the point breaks off and remains there. The force of penetration is however so great that the body of a man standing 30 metres off may be pierced through without its being broken.

No animal, except pachyderms, can challenge with impunity the Sakai's arrow. It is always, and for all, a terrible messenger of Death, either in the precision of aim, the violence with which it hits, or the poison it inoculates.

In the same way as the aborigenes of Australia throw their boomerang with inimitable dexterity and security, the Sakai manages his blowpipe with a cleverness it is impossible to imitate or learn. The Malays, who have studied to make themselves masters of this weapon, are but poor shooters compared to their forest neighbours.

Together with the blau the Sakai always carries with him his lok (quiver) suspended from a girdle of bark, called bo gnan (pr. bo nean).

This quiver is also composed of bamboo measuring from 3 to 7 inches round and 13 or 14 long. It is very rare that the darts are placed in it without being first enclosed in thin reeds, known by the name of dama which preserve the points and prevent the poison from being rubbed off as well as saving it from getting damp, when it would lose its force. In its turn the quiver is enclosed in the tchenkop, a covering of ratan or palm-fibres woven so intricately as to render it water-tight.

* * * * *

With his blowpipe ready the Sakai penetrates into the forest, creeping softly among the tall grasses and bushes. No rustling, no crackling of dry leaves denounces the presence of the man who advances cautiously under the broad green roof, casting keen and restless glances towards the branches of the trees. His ear catches the faintest flapping of wings. From time to time he utters a cry like that of a bird or a monkey, and quickly a feathered biped, moved by curiosity descends from a higher to a lower bough; a monkey swings itself down in answer to the call, or a pretty little head with a sharp nose and bright eyes peeps out of a hollow in the tree.



Very slowly and quietly the Sakai crouches down, lifts his blowpipe and fixing his eyes upon the black mark he has made at the end of the cane, he takes a long and steady aim.

The bird and the monkey 30 metres above him are trying to provocate another cry from the voice they heard before; the squirrel looks puzzled and uncertain but neither of the three suspects the mortal danger that awaits them from below.

The Sakai blows into his blau, the dart flies out with a slight whiz and perforates the victim's flesh. There is a cry and a fall, then the sportsman runs to pick up his prey.

Sometimes a wounded bird will fly away from the spot where it has been hit, but the savage knows perfectly well the infallibility of his poisons which will bring it to the ground in a few minutes, so he follows the way it has taken.

Something of the same sort may also happen with a monkey. Although it is usually cowardly enough to let itself fall a dead weight as soon as it is touched (so breaking all its bones) it may by chance cling to the bough upon which the Sakai shot it, but if the arrow itself does not succeed in killing it, the poison never fails to do so and nothing can save it from the fatal effect. The monkey holds on convulsively but the legop's influence cannot be resisted, there is a brief struggle against death and then the animal is precipitated heavily to the ground.

The Sakai runs to pick it up but perhaps is arrested by seeing an enormous boa constrictor twisting itself round the crushed body of the little beast.

But at this sight the hunter does not despair. He observes the surrounding trees with great attention and discovers that the one upon which he had found the monkey has a large hole beneath, where the huge reptile has taken up its abode.

He hurries away to let his comrades know, for a boa constrictor excites the spirit of gluttony amongst the Sakais.

They instantly and unanimously resolve upon its capture and accompany him to the scene.

Guessing nearabouts the length of the serpent they cut down a very strong bamboo cane that if not longer is not shorter than the reptile and at the end they fasten a stout piece of rattan ably folded into a noose.

Terminated his repast the boa retires to his den and settles down for a little nap that will help his digestion.

This is the right moment: two men, with great caution approach the hollow, keeping in their hands the knot made of the Indian cane. Very gently but with a rapid movement they lift up the snake's head and slip it through the noose. The snake gives a shake but it is too late. At a sign from the two who have disturbed its slumber, the others pull hard the bamboos that they are holding in their hands. The noose is pulled tighter and the boa constrictor fights furiously to get free. But the more it resists the closer the knot becomes. The struggle between captor and captured is not soon finished. The monster pulls, jumps, writhes, sometimes giving such sudden springs as to make the tenacious Sakais run here and there to keep their equilibrium and to stay out of its reach.



Often they strive so for more than an hour but at last the serpent is suffocated and is reduced to a lifeless mass. Then its victors carry it triumphantly to their village where it makes a banquet for almost all the inhabitants.

* * * * *

The Sakais would find but a scanty result from their hunting and shooting-, and their own lives would not be sufficiently protected if the forest did not provide them with an inexhaustible and infallible means of dealing death with their blowpipes and darts.

There is such a rich and varied quantity of plants growing in the jungle which produce poison, that Man has the choice of using the one he deems more adapted for this or that particular need.

The Sakai is enthusiastic over his poisons, so much is he engrossed in the science that it takes with him the post of a besetting. Like a maniac which always speaks of his strange fancies, so this poor savage speaks all day long of his poisons, and studies their qualities.

And they provide him with all the necessaries for his primitive existence for he utilizes them in shooting, fishing, and in setting traps for big and small animals, they are a defence for himself and the whole village where he lives, besides furnishing him with the means (by barter) of obtaining tobacco, rice or any other article that cannot be found in the forest.

All his best intellectual faculty is consecrated to the research and preparation of poisons because it must not be thought that he uses one instead of the other indifferently. Those with which he is most familiar are each used as the occasion may require.

Just as a gun is not loaded with the same sized shot when shooting small birds and partridges, the Sakai does not waste his strong poisons when a weaker one would be equally effectual.

His selection of one rather than the other is frequently regulated by the state of the atmosphere (damp being pernicious to venomous productions) and sometimes by the phases of the moon.

These plants are herbaceous, arboreous and often creepers, but not all those that grow in the forest, nor even those known to the savage for their efficacy, are yet in the knowledge of Science.

This is a very great pity as I fear that these medicinal treasures, which may contain miraculous properties, will be inevitably lost if a scientific study of this wild jungle produce is not quickly initiated.

The fever of colonization has attacked the forest and here and there it rages; for certain it will not be a long time before that vast extension of tropical vegetation with the extraordinary fertility of its soil will give place to plantations of Parah-rubber, gutta-percha, coffee, sugar, rice, tobacco, etc.

For this reason I shall be very pleased to give what aid I can to the cause of Science by means of notes, collections and specimens of paints and animals not yet thoroughly known or studied, should anyone feel inclined to respond to the offer before it is too late. Such help would seem to me a sweet chain of thought, linking the mind of the colonist in the remote depths of the Malay Forest, to the Mother Country and that civilization from which he has withdrawn himself.

* * * * *

The "giu u toalang" is one of the colossal trees of the Jungle for it reaches from 40 to 46 yards in height. It may be said that its whole organism is poisonous because its deadly properties have the same force in the juice under the bark as in the leaves, when they are rubbed or broken. If this sap finds its way under the skin, in contact with the flesh or blood-vessels it has a quick and mortal effect. It seems to me that even the smell might produce fatal consequences but of this I am not sure, although it is a certain fact that it makes one feel very ill and the indisposition can only be cured by keeping the patient in a high temperature.

Almost the same poisonous power has the "giu u rangas", a tree of more modest dimensions, and the "giu u sagol" smaller still. It is dangerous to touch the leaves of these two plants because they bring about a severe irritation of the skin, covering it with pimples and little bladders, that itch intolerably, whilst the body becomes swollen. And yet the temptation to scratch must be resisted or ulceration follows with the probability of gangrene. When one is able to renounce the momentary relief procured by rubbing or scratching the inconvenience passes in a couple of days.

The toalang, rengas, and sagol are to be found scattered profusely over the forest but the Sakai does not interest himself in their venomous properties because he finds that those of which he already knows the secret fully satisfy his wants in promptness and effect. On the contrary he wages a continual war against these noxious plants beating them down and destroying them wherever he comes across them. He is very careful, however not to touch them with his hatchet but chops down one of the giants growing near which bears them to the ground in its ponderous fall.

As soon as the dangerous trees are down the trunk and branches of their involuntary assassin are pulled away and they are left on the spot for one or two months to dry, and when completely withered they are burnt.

* * * * *

There is also a large and varied number of plants in the forest whose leaves are very dangerous. I will mention for an example the sla dol, sla plek and the sla clob the leaves of which, if eaten, may engender fatal consequences according to the Sakais.

In some the poisonous qualities are located only in the roots. Of the legop, which belongs to this class I will speak further on, for now I will only name the akar toba.

This root is first well pounded and then left to soak in some water for a few days after which the venomous liquid is thrown into a pond and a perfect massacre of big and little fish follows, all of which may be eaten without doing any harm to the persons.

What sort of poison this is I cannot say for it has never been made the object of special study. I have proved its utility in destroying insects and particularly the larva of mosquitoes and the little worms that ruin fruit and vegetables.

* * * * *

The ipok called "upas" by the Malays and "antiaris toxicaria" by botanists is a tree which supplies a poisonous juice to the Sakais of the plain. It is a colossus of the forest, and belongs to the nettle family.

It has broad, shiny leaves something like those of the magnolia, and numerous species are to be found in the Malay Jungle.

When the season is not too damp and there is a full moon the Sakais make some deep cuts in the bark of this tree and place some bamboo tubes around it in order to catch the sap which flows out abundantly. This juice has a gluey, resinous appearance and is white or yellow according to whether it is extracted from the trunk or from a young bough.



Then, whilst still in the thick of the forest, they light up a fire and boil the liquid during which process the Ala, who presides over the work, mutters the magical words without which the poison would not have the desired force.

It is not taken from the fire until it presents the aspect of tar, in thickness and colour. Finished to boil, some lemons are squeezed over it and after throwing in red arsenic and other drugs it is all stirred up together and the mixture is ready for use.

The substances added to the ipok—with the exception of the arsenic—are not toxical but are only the expression of Sakai prejudices.

The flesh of animals killed with arrows dipped in ipok are perfectly eatable after being cooked a little, but the precaution must be taken of cutting away for about an inch round the wound which turns purple immediately from the action of the poison.

An antidote against ipok poisoning is found in the juice of a climber called lemmak kapiting. By energetically rubbing the wound with this juice all baneful effects of the ipok are checked.

* * * * *

I believe that it is amongst creepers that the most powerful poisons must be sought.

The Sakai is on confidential terms with the giu u legop, giu u labor, giu u lampat, giu u mase and the giu u loo, but the lampon and broial are not forgotten either.[20]

The roots of these two plants yield poisons that are amongst the most terrible of those which abound in the forest.

It seems to me that the only difference passing between these creepers is in the intensity of virulence, but not in the nature of the venomous substances, and it is just for this that the Sakais favour the legop and make it the centre of their primitive chemical studies because it furnishes them with the strongest and most fatal of poisons.

This parasite, as soon as it is long enough, clings to one of the superb vegetable kings of the forest, twining round it with a tenacious hold.

Its trunk is from 2 to 4 inches in diameter and gives vigorous life to about 5000 feet of its offspring.

The legop leaves are green, smooth and glossy, similar in form to those of the lemon, but they are larger. They are covered longitudinally by prominent nervures.

The fruit borne by this dangerous plant is of the size and form of a small orange, slightly depressed at the stalk and the opposite part. It is very black and hard to break, a hammer or its substitute being necessary to disclose its contents which consist in a great number of little seeds embedded in a scanty pulp.

All the Sakais extract and prepare poison from the legop but there is a tribe living in the most remote parts of the forest, severed from all intercourse with civilized beings, and in consequence pure barbarians, who are renowned for their ability in the preparation of the same, and whose products are considered much superior in strength.



It is the Mai Bretak tribe to whom all the other Sakais have recourse, carrying with them a large tribute of the goods usual in exchange. This speciality mixed with ipok is the Essence of Death in drops. The minutest particle that enters the blood means imminent extinction of life. The sentence is irrevocable for no remedy is known with which to avert it. The utter impossibility of saving a creature that has fallen a victim to this terrible poison has given rise to a superstition among the Sakais that an evil spirit hovers over, or goes into the mixture when it is being prepared and for this they do not set themselves to the work without taking numerous precautions.

Ipok is extracted and condensed (under the exorcism of Ala) in the presence of, perhaps, all the village but no women or girls may assist at the preparation of legop lest the invisible enemy should do them some injury. (The spirit is evidently a woman hater!).

The man who prepares it may not eat fish or meat on the day fixed for the important operation and once he has begun it he must remain fasting until he has finished. He is scrupulously attentive not to expose himself to the steam escaping from the bubbling liquid and often (here superstition comes to the aid of cleanliness and hygiene) has to wash his face and hands. But even all this caution is not sufficient and he is considered as a sick person for some days.

The earthenware pot or bamboo used for the purpose must be new, nothing must have been cooked in it before, and nothing after. Directly the legop has been poured out it is thrown away because contaminated.

The perfect newness of these vessels serves to increase the power of the poison.

* * * * *

A couple of days before the Sakai wishes to prepare the deadly mixture he goes in search of the creeper, which having found he uncovers its roots and to assure himself that he has not made a mistake, he tries if it has the bitter taste natural to it. Secure upon this point he digs up a nice lot and then fills up his dosser with two sorts of bulbous plants which secrete a glutinous substance but whose name and quality I have never found out. This done he rambles about the forest until he is able to find two kinds of wasps or bees (whichever they are); one is very big and black the sting of which causes a high fever, and which generally has its nest on the ground; the other is little and red, stings like a nettle and has its nest under the leaves of a tree.

If he has in store some teeth of the sendok snake, or of any other equally venomous, he now returns to the village, otherwise he looks for one, kills it and possesses himself of its fangs.

Having thus all the necessary ingredients, the Sakai begins to pound the roots into a paste. This mass he then puts into a tube stopped up by leaves which lets pass a liquid but not a substance. Keeping this primitive filter suspended over the receptacle to be used for boiling, he slowly empties some water into it which soaking through the paste becomes of a brown colour before it reaches the vessel beneath.

Terminated the filtering process he takes the two bulbous plants and squeezing them in his hand he sprinkles as much of their juice as he thinks fit, into the same vessel. The serpent's teeth and the bees are then pounded, they too, and cast in with all the rest which is at once placed on a slow fire. When the mixture begins to boil the Sakai skims off the impurities floating on the surface and adds a little more legop if it seems to him necessary, taking great care, meanwhile, not to breath or to be enveloped by the fumes rising from the pot.



The poison is lifted off the fire as soon as it has got to the consistency of a syrup and is of a dark reddish colour, the darts are dipped into it and its virulence is put to the test without waste of time. If the proof is satisfactory the thick fluid is poured into bamboo receptacles, covered with leaves, and a piece of deer-skin fastened over them with a band of scudiscio and finally the vases are collocated in the driest corner of the hut, from whence from time to time, they are carried near the fire to prevent that their contents should lose force through humidity.

* * * * *

Now the question is this: do the ingredients which the Bretak Sakai believes indispensable in this concoction augment the virulence of the legop?

I am inclined to doubt it a great deal as I do not think those two plants containing the glutinous juice are poisonous, or at least very little so, but that they are added merely to give denseness to the mixture or else from a false supposition of the indigenes.

And less still can serpents' teeth or crushed wasps have any influence in increasing the power of this poison, which is in itself intense.

Evidently the Sakais, well aware of the lethal effect of a bite from a serpent, think that by introducing into the wound, by means of their dart, a tiny portion of the organ which determines this effect, an equal result will follow.

He neither knows nor imagines that the tooth exercises a simple mechanical action in consequence of which the little reservoir of poison, being compressed, lets a drop fall into the wound produced by the bite.

But there is nothing to be surprised at in this because in history we learn that the superstitions and sorceries practised by more advanced races than the Sakais offer the most curious documents in proof of such odd reasoning.

It is enough to remember that in the time of Augustus the jaw bone of a female dog, which had been kept fasting, and a quill plucked from a screech-owl were required for the enchantments of Canidia, ossa ab ore rapta jejunae canis, plumanque nocturna strigis. And yet it was just at that period Rome had inherited from Greece the Philosophy of the Epicureans and that of the Sceptics and was maturing the poem of Lucretius Carus!

And quite recently has it not been narrated by Parson Evans, of Wales, how he had been badly treated by a spirit because he had forgotten a fumigation during one of his enchantments?

If there has been so much imposture or hallucination amongst advanced peoples (or supposed to be such) we cannot reproach the poor Sakai for his ignorance if in all good faith he thinks that a pinch of pounded bees and serpents' teeth increases the virulence of the legop poison. Does he not also believe that the mysterious words muttered by the Ala give greater force to his murderous preparations?

* * * * *

As to the effects of the legop strange and contradictory versions are given.

Some affirm that the smallest possible quantity brought into contact with the blood, causes instantaneous death; others declare that it is not sufficiently powerful to kill a man or a beast if the quantity inoculated is not in proportion to the size or if they are strong enough to resist it.

It is my opinion that both these assertions are exaggerated.

One day I asked a Sakai if he thought it possible to kill a man with legop.

He replied that nearly every day animals of double the bulk and strength of a man were killed in the forest, and that the poison supplied by this creeper speedily fulfils its mission. As a proof of this he related that once he was standing near a Javanese who had been guilty of violating a woman. This man was hit by a poisoned dart and died almost immediately.

Without appearing in the least to doubt the fact I begged him to show me the exact spot where the dart entered the poor fellow, and where it came out, and from his indications I could convince myself that the dart having penetrated under the shoulder blade had passed through the heart from part to part and had been arrested in its course by the muscles of the thorax.

It was therefore clear to me that death was due to the passage of the dart through the victim's body and had nothing to do with the poison in which the missile had been previously steeped. To my knowledge no recognized studies have ever been made to ascertain the true force of legop, so one is free to calculate it at its maximum or minimum, especially when its susceptibility to atmospheric changes is considered.

When the weather is dry it carries death on the wing of the arrow, but if it should be wet, or damp, the poison becomes moist and remains on the surface of the wound (where it can be easily rubbed off) instead of penetrating with the dart into the object aimed at.

And this was the disillusion of one who wanted to try its effects on a dog. The poor beast howled with the pain but did not present any symptom of poisoning.

* * * * *

Science alone can pronounce accurately upon the toxical qualities of the legop and I am always ready to assist it with my modest experience.

Wishing to solve every doubt and also to find out an antidote to this poison I sacrificed many innocent creatures, but I will relate the pitiful end of only two.

I selected a fine fowl full of healthy vigour and taking one of these poisoned darts I made a wound of not more than a half an inch long upon the upper part of its leg.

For a minute after it moved about slowly without even noticing the wound, then it stopped as if overcome by a strange sense of stupor, but soon began to peck the ground.

Two minutes and a half later it opened and shut its beak and let its tail and wings fall limply on the ground. Another half a minute and with its legs bent under, as though sitting, it sought to raise and shake its drooping head. For an-instant it succeeded but the poor member wagged without energy (as happens to us when in travelling we get sleepy but have no place to repose ourselves) whilst its eyes now shut, and now wide open wore an expression of unconsciousness.

About the fourth minute the animal was seized with violent convulsions and at the fifth it was quite dead.

I made the same trial upon a middle-sized dog, wounding this also upon a leg in order not to touch a vital part.

At first it seemed quite insensible to what I had done but after three or four minutes had passed it got very inquiet and sniffed the ground and everything that was around as if to find out what was the matter, turning round its head from time to time towards its thigh which it evidently felt was the seat of its uneasiness. It gave a jump, a prolonged shudder and then lay down.

Once it feebly barked but when it made a second attempt it entirely failed. The cry was not one of pain but seemed to be a sound emitted under the impulse of profound bewilderment.



Its head rested for a moment upon its fore-legs but was soon lifted up as the animal rolled over on one side of its body which had the appearance of being paralyzed. Its eyes became fixed, expressionless. The body shivered and gave little starts but the head remained motionless, lying heavily on the ground, and the eyes in their glassy stare revealed the absence of all perception of the senses rather than pain or mortal anguish.

At this point I turned my attention to its heart which was beating quickly and violently. It stopped an instant, then continued but very, very weakly whilst the whole body began to take a rigid form.

A quarter of an hour after the inoculation of legop, the dog was dead.

* * * * *

If I do not mistake, the first and almost immediate effect of this poison is upon the nerve centres. For certain the blood remains unaltered, or at least no change is visible and the flesh of animals killed with legop does not lose any of its flavour nor is there any danger in eating it.

But I dare not speak with any precision about the nature of certain venomous products because where the vast field for scientific research begins, the unpretending labour of the colonist, who collects, refers and describes, finishes, leaving to the chemical student and the physiologist the task of drawing from the information given, those results which may be for the good of humanity in general.

The poisonous flora of the forest is not limited to trees and climbing plants; it extends also to countless herbs, to an infinite variety of fungi, berries, flowers and tempting fruits.

The realm of poison is known but very little. It still reserves the greatest surprises for the scientist who wishes to explore it. And because provident Nature in every manifestation of its fecundity has the habit of putting different qualities in contrast I think that amongst such an abundant vegetation of dangerous plants there may be another, perhaps less plentiful but which would serve to oppose the deadly effects of the first.

The Sakai knows no antidote except those I have mentioned: the lemmah kapiting and the one empirically prepared with quicklime and urine. Neither of them, however, can be warranted as genuine articles, so in this field Science would have everything to discover.

The great Sorceress, the great and incomparable Malayan Forest, offers wonderful treasures to the world, some of which give charms to Life and others conceal the snares of Death.

It is for the homo sapiens to distinguish this from that and to make himself the master of their secrets as he has done with Electricity, thereby making it the means of illumination, motive power, and the alleviation of many physical sufferings.

This forest, which would have answered to all the criminal exigencies of the Borgias as regards poisons, is still a waste land, notwithstanding its extraordinary riches.

Let Science tell us of the immense treasures there produced for the welfare of Mankind.



FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 19: The i is almost an e and the a in all these words are pronounced as ha. Translator's Note.]

[Footnote 20: The professors, A. Benedicenti and G. B. De Toni, of the Camerino University have published the result of their studies upon the roots and some juice extracted from the broial which I sent them for the purpose in 1902. I think, however, that the conclusions of these two scientists would have been in favour of a greater and quicker effect of this poison if, in spite of all my care, the samples had not suffered from the change of climate and, very likely, been exposed to dampness.]



CHAPTER XVI.

Past and future geography—Mountains and plateaus—An attempt at a census—Temperature—Maladies and remedies—ALA a quack.

Thirty years ago, even in our best geographies, very little mention was made of the Malay Peninsula.

Something was said about its coasts and a scanty product of tin, antimony and coal but there was not a single word about the wide stretch of land far from the shores, partly unexplored and partly inhabited by savages, beyond stating that a chain of mountains ran the whole length, beginning at Kedak and Kelantan and terminating at the extreme end of the peninsula, so dividing it almost in the middle.

But a geographer in our days would have to write a great deal more, for the interior of this country is no longer a deep inviolated mystery, and its aspect has proved very different from what studies, made at a prudent distance, had led us to imagine.

The high mountains (the Berumbun reaches 6530 feet in height) present to the gaze scenery which would satisfy an artist. Some of the tops are covered with a rich, wild vegetation, some are rugged or have sharp peaks from which torrents of sparkling white foam dash down the narrow dark crevices with roaring fury.

From those superb masses extend a series of plateaus like so many terraces which the more they descend the more they unfold the fruitfulness of the soil, irrigated by smooth rivers and rills.

There, where mountainous fertility ceases, one to the east and the other to the west, lie the plains of Pahang and Perak whose industrious hands guided by civilized ideas are carrying on a work of redemption from abandonment and malaria by the extension of cultivation and sanitary principles.

* * * * *

The forest—the territory of the Sakais—covers the central part of the Peninsula. On the outskirts live those less savage because of their contact and dealings with the Malays, Siamese, Chinese and Indians, by whom they are surrounded. The others press always closer on towards the mountains at the same rate that civilization approaches them, fixing their abode at an elevation of not more than from 1500 to 2000 feet. I have found some, but a very rare case, at a height of 4000 feet.

It is true that up there, there are not so many dangers to be met with, for wild beasts (with the exception of an occasional bear) and serpents do not frequent the heights but the cold is too intense to be well supported by individuals who do not wear clothes and who do not build houses to protect themselves from the inclemency of the weather.



The tract of land inhabited by the Sakais is, at a rough guess, comprised between 3 deg. 50' and 5 deg. 50' North latitude and 101 deg. and 102 deg. East longitude (Greenwich). But for such an extension they are very few in numbers because in the year 1903, passing from one village to another in 25 days, I could not count more than 6800 persons camping round the durians at the ingathering season.

Reckoning the women left behind because of a recent confinement, the old and infirm and the little children I do not think that altogether they can be many more than 10,000 souls. It is truly the case to say: "rari nantes in gurgite vasto!".

It would be impossible to take a real census of the Sakais owing to their distrust of everything they do not understand and the difficulty their nomadic life presents.

The climate where they live, although damp, is good, for the thick foliage of the forest and the breezes that often hail from the mountains mitigate the heat of the sun's rays.

There are no alternations of seasons as in temperate zones but only the distinction of dry and rainy ones, the former being determined by the monsoon blowing from the east, and the latter from that coming from the west.

It is not unusual for the heat at noon to surpass 40 deg. (centigrade) but to the torrid temperature of the day follows a cold night and the hotter the day is, the colder the night. From 40 deg. it easily falls under 20 deg.. The Sakais who possess no garments, or rugs and whose huts are very open and airy, sleep all huddled together (to keep each other warm) round a large fire but they frequently suffer from these variations of temperature.

* * * * *

As I have before mentioned severe colds are very prevalent among the Sakais against which they have no efficacious remedy so that it often happens for a simple attack of influenza to turn into a serious bronchial or lung affection and finally result in consumption.

Neither the tenak or cintok is of any use then; the evil spirit never leaves hold of his prey.

Cases of fever are very rare and these few must be attributed to the wind which ascends from the plain bringing with it germs of infection. It is extremely seldom that a woman dies in child-birth, but a great many succumb to senile decay at about 60 years of age.

Both men and women are very subject to a cutaneous disease which covers the body with large blotches of a lighter colour than their skin, giving a repugnant appearance to the poor wretch so afflicted. But it is neither a serious nor a contagious illness, nor does it excite amongst the jungle-dwellers that loathing which it would with us because this discoloration does not prevent them from getting married and having children as healthy as other peoples'.