CHAPTER 7
The Daily Life of a Kayan Long House

A little before dawn the cocks roosting beneath the house awaken the household by their crowing and the flapping of their wings. The pigs begin to grunt and squeal, and the dogs begin to trot to and fro in the gallery. Before the first streaks of daylight appear, the women light the fires in the private rooms or blow up the smouldering embers; then most of them descend from the house, each carrying in a basket slung on her back several bamboo water-vessels to be filled from the river. Many of them bathe at this time in the shallow water beside the bank, while the toilet of others consists in dashing water over their faces, washing their mouths with water, and rubbing their teeth with the forefinger. Returning to the house with their loads of water (Pl. 63), they boil rice for the household breakfasts and for the dinner of those who are to spend the day in the PADI field or the jungle. The boiled rice intended for the latter use is made up in packets wrapped in green leaves, each containing sufficient for a meal for one person. About half-past six, when the daylight is fully come, the pigs expectant of their meal are clamouring loudly for it. The women descend to them by ladders leading from the private rooms, and each gives to the pigs of her household the leavings of the meals of the previous day. About the same time the men begin to bestir themselves sluggishly; some descend to bathe, while others smoke the fag ends of the cigarettes that were unfinished when they fell asleep. Then the men breakfast in their rooms, and not until they are satisfied do the women and children sit down to their meal. During all this time the chronically hungry dogs, attracted by the odours of food, make persistent efforts to get into their owner’s rooms. Success in this manoeuvre is almostly always followed by their sudden and noisy reappearance in the gallery, caused by a smart blow with a stick. In the busy farming season parties of men, women, and children will set off in boats for the PADI fields taking their breakfasts with them.

After breakfast the men disperse to their various tasks. During some three or four months of the year all able-bodied persons repair daily to the PADI fields, but during the rest of the year their employments are more varied. The old women and invalids remain all day long in the rooms; the old men lounge all day in the gallery, smoking many home-made cigarettes, and perhaps doing a bit of carving or other light work and keeping an eye on the children. The young children play in and out and about the house, chasing the animals, and dabbling among the boats moored at the bank.

A few of the able-bodied men employ themselves in or about the house, making boats, forging swords, spear-heads, iron hoes, and axes, repairing weapons or implements. Others go in small parties to the jungle to hunt deer and pig, or to gather jungle produce — fruits, rubber, rattans, or bamboos — or spend the day in fishing in the river. During the months of December and January the jungle fruits — the durian, rambutan, mangosteen, lansat, mango, and numerous small sour fruits (Pl. 65) — are much more abundant than at other times; and during these months all other work is neglected, while the people devote themselves to gathering the fruit which forms for a time almost their only food.

Except during the busy PADI season the work of the women is wholly within the house. The heaviest part of their household labour is the preparation of the rice. After breakfast they proceed to spread out PADI on mats on the open platforms adjoining the gallery. While the PADI is being dried by the exposure to sun and wind on these platforms, it must be protected from the domestic fowls by a guardian who, sitting in the gallery, drives them away by means of a long bamboo slung by a cord above the platform. Others fill the time between breakfast and the noonday dinner by bathing themselves and the children in the river, making and repairing clothing, mats, and baskets, fetching more water, cleaning the rooms and preparing dinner. This meal consists of boiled rice with perhaps a piece of fish, pork, or fowl, and, like breakfast and supper, is eaten in the private rooms.

As soon as dinner is over the pounding of the PADI begins (Frontispiece, Vol. II.). Each mortar usually consists of a massive log of timber roughly shaped, and having sunk in its upper surface, which is a little hollowed, a pit about five inches in diameter and nine inches in depth. Into this pit about a quarter of a bushel of PADI is put. Two women stand on the mortar facing one another on either side of the pit, each holding by the middle a large wooden pestle. This is a solid bar of hardwood about seven feet long, about two inches in diameter in the middle third, and some three or four inches in diameter in the rest of its length. The two ends are rounded and polished by use. Each woman raises her pestle to the full height of her reach, and brings it smartly down upon the grain in the pit, the two women striking alternately with a regular rhythm. As each one lifts her pestle, she deftly sweeps back into the pit with her foot the grain scattered by her stroke.

After pounding the PADI for some minutes without interruption, one woman takes a winnowing pan, a mat made in the shape of an English housemaid’s dustpan, but rather larger than this article, and receives in it the pounded grain which the other throws out of the pit with her foot.

Both women then kneel upon a large mat laid beside the mortar; the one holding the winnowing pan keeps throwing the grain into the air with a movement which causes the heavier grain to fall to the back of the pan, while the chaff and dust is thrown forward on to the mat. Her companion separates the rice dust from the chaff by sifting it through a sieve. A considerable quantity of the dust or finely broken rice is formed by the pounding in the mortar, and this is the principal food given to the pigs. The winnowed grain is usually returned to the mortar to be put through the whole process a second time. The clean rice thus prepared is ready for the cooking-pot.

The winnowing and sifting is often done by old women, while the younger women continue the severer task of plying the pestle. In the Kayan houses the mortars are in many cases double, that is to say, there are two pits in the one block of timber, and two pairs of women work simultaneously. In the middle of the afternoon the whole house resounds with the vigorous blows of the pestles, for throughout the length of the gallery two or more women are at work beside each room, husking the day’s supply of rice for each family.

For the women of all the peoples, except the Punans, the husking of the PADI is a principal feature of the day’s work, and is performed in much the same fashion by all. The Kenyahs alone do their work out of doors beside the PADI barns, sometimes under rude lean-to shelters.

When this task is completed the women are covered with dust; they descend again to the river, and bathe themselves and the children once more. They may gather some of the scanty vegetables grown in small enclosures near most of the houses, and then proceed to prepare supper with their rice and whatever food the men may have brought home from the jungle. For now, about an hour before sundown, the men return from expeditions in the jungle, often bringing a wild pig, a monkey, a porcupine, or some jungle fruit, or young shoots of bamboo, as their contribution to the supper table; others return from fishing or from the PADI fields, and during the sunset hour at a large village a constant stream of boats arrives at the landing-place before the house. Most of the home-comers bathe in the river before ascending to the house. This evening bath is taken in more leisurely fashion than the morning dip. A man will strip off his waist-cloth and rush into the water, falling flat on his chest with a great splash. Then standing with the water up to his waist he will souse his head and face, then perhaps swim a few double overhand strokes, his head going under at each stroke. After rubbing himself down with a smooth pebble, he returns to the bank, and having resumed his waist-cloth, he squeezes the water from his hair, picks up his paddle, spear, hat, and other belongings, and ascends to the gallery. There he hangs up his spear by jabbing its point into a roof-beam beside the door of his chamber, and sits down to smoke a cigarette and to relate the events of his day while supper is preparing. As darkness falls, he goes to his room to sup. By the time the women also have supped, the tropical night has fallen, and the house is lit by the fires and by resin torches, and nowadays by a few kerosene lamps. The men gather round the fireplaces in the gallery and discuss politics, the events of the day, the state of the crops and weather, the news obtained by meetings with the people of neighbouring houses, and relate myths and legends, folk-tales and animal stories. The women, having put the children to bed, visit one another’s rooms for friendly gossip; and young men drop in to join their parties, accept the proffered cigarette, and discourse the sweet music of the KELURI,[49] the noseflute, and the Jew’s harp (Figs. 17, 18, 19). Or Romeo first strikes up his plaintive tune outside the room in which Juliet sits with the women folk. Juliet may respond with a few notes of her guitar[50] (Fig. 20), thus encouraging Romeo to enter and to take his place in the group beside her, where he joins in the conversation or renews his musical efforts. About nine o’clock all retire to bed, save a few old men who sit smoking over the fires far into the night. The dogs, after some final skirmishes and yelpings, subside among the warm ashes of the fireplaces; the pigs emit a final squeal and grunt; and within the house quietness reigns. Now the rushing of the river makes itself heard in the house, mingled with the chirping of innumerable insects and the croaking of a myriad frogs borne in from the surrounding forest. The villagers sleep soundly till cock-crow; but the European guest, lying in the place of honour almost beneath the row of human heads which adorns the gallery, is, if unused to sleeping in a Bornean long house, apt to be wakened from time to time throughout the night by an outburst of dreadful yelpings from the dogs squabbling for the best places among the ashes, by the prolonged fit of coughing of an old man, by an old crone making up the fire, by the goats squealing and scampering over the boats beneath the house, or by some weird cry from the depths of the jungle.

In the old days the peace of the night was occasionally broken an hour before the dawn by the yells of an attacking force, and by the flames roaring up from bundles of shavings thrown beneath the house. But happily attacks of this kind are no longer made, save in some few remoter parts of the interior where the European governments have not yet fully established their authority.

The even tenor of the life of a village is interrupted from time to time by certain festivals or other incidents — the harvest festival; the marriage or the naming of a chiefs son or daughter; the arrival of important guests (one or more chiefs with bands of followers coming to make peace, or nowadays the resident magistrate of the district); the funeral of a chief; the preparations for war or for a long journey to the distant bazaar of Chinese traders in the lower part of the river; the necessity of removing to a new site; an epidemic of disease; the rites of formally consulting the omens, or otherwise communicating with and propitiating the gods; the operations of the soul-catcher. The more important of these incidents will be described in later chapters. Here we need only give a brief account of the way in which some of them affect the daily round of life in the long house.

A visiting chief will remain seated in his boat, while a follower announces his arrival and ascertains that there is no MALAN (TABU) upon the house which would make the presence of visitors unwelcome. Such MALAN affecting the whole house or village obtains during the storing of the PADI for ten consecutive days, during epidemics of sickness in neighbouring villages, and at the time when the preparation of the farm land begins. If a favourable answer is returned, the visitor remains seated in his boat some few minutes longer, and then makes his way into the gallery, followed by most of his men, who leave their spears and shields in the boats. If the visitor is an intimate friend, the chief of the house will send a son or brother to welcome him, or will even go himself. Arrived in the gallery, the visitor advances to the central platform where the chief of the house awaits him, unstrings his sword from his waist, hangs it upon any convenient hook, and sits down beside his host; while his men, following his example, seat themselves with the men of the house in a semicircle facing the two chiefs. The followers may greet, and even embrace, or grasp by the forearm, their personal friends; but the demeanour of the chief’s is more formal. Neither one utters a word or glances at the other for some few minutes; the host remains seated, fidgeting with a cigarette and gazing upon the floor; the visitor sitting beside him looks stolidly over the heads of his followers, and perhaps clears his throat or coughs. Presently a woman thrusts into the semicircle a tray of freshly made cigarettes. One of the men of the house pushes it forward towards the principal visitor, who makes a sign of acceptance by lightly touching the tray; the other, crouching on his heels, lights a cigarette with an ember from the fire, blowing it into a glow as he waddles up to present it to the visiting chief. The latter takes it, but usually allows it to go out. By this time the chief of the house is ready to open the conversation, and, after clearing his throat, suddenly throws out a question, usually, "Where did you start from to-day?" The embarrassing silence thus broken, question and answer are freely exchanged, the cigarette of the visitor is again lighted at the fire by a member of the household, and conversation becomes general. Not infrequently the host, becoming more and more friendly, throws an arm across his guest’s shoulders or strokes him endearingly with the palm of his hand.

In the meantime the women are busy preparing a meal, a pig having been killed and hastily cut up. When it is ready, the visitors, if old friends, are invited to partake of it in the chief’s room. But if they are not familiar acquaintances, the meal is spread for them in the gallery on platters placed in a long row, one for each guest; each platter containing many cubes of hot boiled pork and two packets of hot boiled rice wrapped in leaves. The space is surrounded with a slight bamboo fence to keep away the dogs. In either case the visitors eat alone, their hosts retiring until the meal is finished. As the chief’s wife retires, she says, "Eat slowly, my children, our food is poor stuff. There is no pork, no fish, nothing that is good." Before withdrawing, one of the people of the house pours a little water from a bamboo vessel on the right hand of the visiting chief, who then passes on the vessel to his followers. With the hand thus cleansed each guest conveys the food to his mouth, dipping his pieces of pork in coarse salt placed in a leaf beside his platter; and when he has finished eating, he drinks water from a bamboo vessel. The chief, and perhaps also one or more of his upper-class companions, leaves a little of the pork and a little rice on the platter to show that he is not greedy or ravenous; and his good breeding prompts him to prove his satisfaction with the meal by belching up a quantity of wind with a loud and prolonged noise, which is echoed by his followers to the best of their ability. After thus publicly expressing his appreciation of his host’s hospitality, he rinses out his mouth, squirting out the water towards the nearest gap between the floor boards, rubs his teeth with his forefinger, again rinses his mouth, and washes his hand. Then relighting his cigarette, which he has kept behind his ear or thrust through the hole in its shell, he rejoins his host, who awaits him on the dais.

On such an occasion, and in fact on any other occasion suggestive of festivity, the evening is enlivened with oratory, song, and drink. After supper the men gather together about the chiefs, sitting in close-set ranks on and before the dais. At a hint from the chief a jar of BURAK (rice-spirit) is brought into the circle. This may be the property of the chief or of any one of the principal men, who, by voluntarily contributing in this way towards the entertainment of the guests, maintains the honour of the house and of its chief. A little is poured into a cup and handed to the house-chief, who first makes a libation to the omen-birds and to all the other friendly spiritual powers, by pouring a little on to the ground through some crevice of the floor, or by throwing a few drops out under the eaves, saying, as he does so, "Ho, all you friendly spirits." Then he drinks a little and hands back the cup to the young man who has taken charge of the jar of spirit. The latter, remaining crouched upon his heels, ladles out another cupful of spirit and offers it in both hands to the principal guest, who drinks it off, and expresses by a grunt and a smack of the lips, and perhaps a shiver, his appreciation of its quality. The cup is handed in similar formal fashion to each of the principal guests in turn; and then more cups are brought into use, and the circulation of the drink becomes more rapid and informal. As soon as each man has had a drink, the house-chief rises to his feet and, addressing himself to his guest, expatiates upon his admirable qualities, and expresses eloquently the pleasure felt by himself and his people at this visit. Then speaking in parables and in indirect fashion, claiming perhaps indulgence on the ground that he is merely talking in his sleep, he touches upon local politics at first delicately; then warming up he speaks more directly and plainly. He may become much excited and gesticulate freely, even leaping into the air and twirling round on one foot with outstretched right arm in a fashion that directs his remarks to each and all of the listening circle; but, even though he may find occasion to admonish or reproach, or even hint at a threat, his speech never transgresses the strictest bounds of courtesy. Having thus unburdened himself of whatever thoughts and emotions are evoked by the occasion, he takes from the attendant Ganymede a bumper cup of spirit and breaks into song. Standing before his guest and swinging the cup repeatedly almost to his (the guest’s) lips, he exhorts him in complimentary and rhyming phrases to accept his remarks in a friendly spirit, and reminds him of the age and strength of their family and tribal relations, referring to their ancestral glories and the proud position in the world of their common race. At the end of each sentence all the men of both parties break out into a loud chorus, repeating the last word or two in deep long-drawn-out musical cadence. Then, with the last words of his extemporised song, the chief yields up the cup to the expectant guest, who, having sat rigidly and with fixed gaze throughout the address, takes it in one long draught, while the chorus swells to a deep, musical roar. At this moment the circle of auditors, if much excited, will spring to their feet and swell the noise by stamping and jumping on the resounding planks. The house-chief smilingly strokes his guest from the shoulder downwards and resumes his seat. The chorus and commotion die away, and are followed by a moment of silence, during which the guest prepares to make his reply in similar fashion. He rises and begins by naming and lightly touching or pointing to his host and other of the principal men present. Then he makes acknowledgment of the kind and flattering reception accorded him, and his pleasure at finding this opportunity of improving the understanding between himself and his hosts. "The views so eloquently expressed by my friend (naming him and using some complimentary title, E.G. brother or father) are no doubt correct. Indeed, how could it be otherwise? But I have been told so and so, and perhaps it may be, ..." and so he goes on to state his own views, taking care to shift the responsibility for any remaining dissension on to the shoulders of some distant third party. He congratulates all parties on this free discussion of matters of common interest, and with free gesticulation exhorts them to turn a deaf ear to vague rumours and to maintain friendly relations. Then, dropping down beside his host, he says "Take no notice of what I have said, I am drunk." Ganymede again approaches him with a bumper cup, and then rising to his feet and calling on his men, he addresses his host in complimentary song and chorus, using the gestures and expressions peculiar to his own people. The song culminates as before in a general chorus, long drawn out, while the house-chief drains the cup.

The cups then circulate freely, and the smoking of cigarettes is general; other shorter speeches may be made, perhaps by the sons or brothers of the chiefs. As the evening wears away, both guests and hosts become increasingly boisterous and affectionate; but few or none on an occasion of this sort become intoxicated or quarrelsome. If a man becomes a little too boisterous, he is led away to one of the sleeping platforms in the gallery, and kept there until he falls asleep.

During an evening of this sort the women congregate in the adjacent rooms, where they can overhear the proceedings; and if they find these exceptionally interesting, they will congregate about the doors, but will strictly abstain from interfering with, them in any way. The flow of speech and song and conversation goes on uninterruptedly, except when the occasional intrusion into the circle of some irrepressible dog necessitates its violent expulsion; until, as midnight approaches, the men drop away from the circle by twos and threes, the circle being finally broken up when the visiting chief expresses a desire to sleep. Each guest spreads his own mat on the platform assigned to the party, and the men of the house retire to their rooms.

We will not conclude this chapter without stating that among the Kayans, Kenyahs, and most of the Klemantans, alcoholic intoxication is by no means common. At great feasts, such as are made at the close of the harvest or on the return of a successful war-party, much BORAK is drunk, the women joining in, and a few of the men will usually become quite drunk; but most of them will hardly go further than a state of boisterous jollity.

Although in a year of good PADI harvest each family constantly renews its supply of BORAK, yet the spirit is never drunk in private, but only on festive occasions of the kind described above, or when a man entertains a small party of friends in his own chamber.

The account given above of the reception and entertainment of guests would apply with but little modification to the houses of the Kenyahs and Klemantans. In the Sea Dayak house the reception and entertainment of guests is less ceremonious, and is carried out by the unorganised efforts of individuals, rather than by the household as a whole with the chief at its head. On the arrival of a party of visitors, the people of each room clamorously invite the guests to sit down before their chamber. The guests thus become scattered through the house. First they are offered betel nut and sirih leaf smeared with lime to chew, for among the Sea Dayaks this chewing takes the place of the smoking of cigarettes which is common to all the others; and they are then fed and entertained individually, or by twos and threes, in various rooms. No pig is killed or rice-spirit offered, though possibly a toasted bat or bit of salted wild pig will be served as a relish.

At great feasts the Sea Dayaks drink more freely than the other peoples, except the Muruts. Men and women alike drink deeply, and many become intoxicated. The men take pride in drinking the largest possible quantity; and when the stomach is filled, will vomit up large quantities, and then at once drink more, the women pressing it upon them. The Dayaks and Muruts alone thus sink in the matter of drink to the level of those highly cultured Europeans among whom a similar habit obtains: while among all the other tribes strong drink is seldom or never abused, but rather is put only to its proper use, the promotion of good fellowship and social gaiety.