CHAPTER VIII

MY SCHOOL IN THE JUNGLE

Up-country mission schools—Education—The Saribas Dyaks eager to learn—School programme—What the boys were taught—Some schoolboy reminiscences—A youthful Dyak _manang_—The story of Buda—The opening of the Krian Mission and the Saribas Mission.

In this chapter I want to say something about the little school of Dyak boys I had in the up-country mission station in my charge. My school was a very small one. The largest number of boarders I ever had was sixteen. It would seem hardly necessary to devote a whole chapter to it, but the up-country school is an important factor for good, and deserves encouragement. I should like to see more of these schools in different parts of the country. I feel sure that it does a Dyak boy a great deal of good to be a few years in one of these small schools under the personal supervision of the missionary in charge. Here he would do much manual work, just as he would do in his own home, and he would at the same time be taught moral truths as well as general knowledge. When he returns to his Dyak home, he is sure to influence his people for good. The object of education is to build up character. The way to improve the Dyaks is not to educate a certain number of them to earn their living elsewhere, but to take some young people from the Dyak village, improve them by implanting in their minds right ideas, and then send them back to live with their own people the ordinary work-a-day life of the Dyak. I agree with those who say that to place Dyak boys in one of the larger schools in Kuching for any length of time will make a return to their old surroundings distasteful to them, and unfit them for the ordinary life and occupations of their people. And therefore I think that only those who show a special aptitude to become teachers should be sent on to the school at the capital to be taught to read and write English. A certain number of clerks are needed, but that number is very limited, and to produce a large number of Dyak clerks for whom there is not sufficient work is surely a mistake. There are some who advocate technical education for the Dyak. No doubt he would with training make an excellent carpenter or smith, but again he would find difficulty in getting work. He would never be able to compete with the Chinese artisan into whose hands all the skilled labour has fallen.

The main object of my school in the jungle was to teach Dyak boys for a few years, and then send them back to their own people. Unfortunately, I had not the means to carry this out to any great extent.

A few of my schoolboys, after being with me for some time, were sent on to the larger school at Kuching to be taught English. These were the boys who one hoped would in after years become teachers and catechists. There is so little Dyak literature that it is necessary that a person learn English so as to be able to educate himself by reading English books. But the majority of my boys stayed with me for two, three, or four years, and then returned to their Dyak homes. In my school there was manual work as well as lessons to do. They lived plainly, cooking their own food and doing most of their own work. They were cut away from all the superstitious customs of their people, and received a certain amount of moral and religious training. After three or four years of such school life they were ready to return to their old surroundings, taking with them the lessons they had learnt.

For the present, at any rate, there is no need for the Dyak to take up new industries. What he wants is to be taught to do the work he has to do more thoroughly, and to be released from the bondage of superstition and the constant fear of evil spirits in which he lives. The problem of his future will work itself out by a natural process. When the present sources of supply fail him, necessity will force him to take up new industries.

My schoolboys came from different Dyak villages, but the majority of them were boys from Saribas. The Dyaks of that district are more anxious to improve themselves than other Dyak races. The following incident will show how keen they are to learn to read. A party of Saribas Dyaks going on a gutta-hunting expedition asked for a copy of the first Dyak reading-book, because one of them could read, and thought he would teach the others in the evenings when they were not at work. And this is indeed what did happen, and when the party returned most of them were able to read. The Saribas women are just as keen as the men, and many of them have been taught to read by some Dyak friend. I have myself noticed, when holding services for the Christians in some villages in Saribas, how many of those present were able to use the Dyak Prayer-Book and follow the service and read the responses.

A Dyak schoolmaster, who had taught in Banting for many years, afterwards worked as the Government clerk at Betong in Saribas. He told me that he was struck by the number of Dyak men and women in Saribas who could write, and how they often wrote letters to their friends who were away, and received letters from them.

The school programme for the day was as follows:

5.45 _a.m._—The two boys whose turn it was to cook, and the two boys whose turn it was to sweep out the school-room and the lower room of the Mission House, would get up and begin their duties.

6.30 _a.m._—A gong would be struck telling the boys to come to breakfast. They would all go to the kitchen and have their meal, consisting of rice with a little salt fish or vegetables.

7 _a.m._—The boys would be told what manual work they had to do: either they would weed the paths, or cut the grass, or work at their different vegetable gardens. Sometimes they would go out into the jungle to get firewood. At Temudok, where the soil was good, the schoolboys had excellent vegetable gardens.

8.30 _a.m._—A gong would be struck to let them know they were to stop working and have a bath, after which, at 8.45 _a.m._, there would be a short service.

9-11 _a.m._—Morning school.

12 _noon_.—Midday meal.

2-4 _p.m._—Afternoon school.

5 _p.m._—Evensong, to which some of the Dyaks from the village would come.

6 _p.m._—Evening meal.

7-8 _p.m._—Preparation for next day’s lessons.

9 _p.m._—Two or three short prayers and one verse of a children’s evening hymn, after which the boys would go to bed.

On Saturdays there was no school. The boys did their washing on that day, and often went into the jungle for firewood, but they had most of the day for play.

The children were taught to read and write Dyak, and a little arithmetic. They were also taught the elements of the Christian religion. They were always encouraged to ask the schoolmaster or myself any questions they liked. I have learned from conversations I had with my boys what were the special points in Christianity that needed explanation to Dyaks. Living with me as they did, I got to know my boys very well, and through them I learnt to know their parents and friends. They did not have many lessons to learn; there was plenty of time for play and work. It was not so much what they learnt from books that did the boys good, as their being separated for a time from the customs and superstitions of the Dyaks. We have had many instances of families becoming Christian through some children of theirs coming to school.

Most of the boys in the school were Christians, but all, whether Christians or not, attended the services and were taught about God. Some of the bigger heathen boys, after being in the school some time, have asked to be baptized.

The following schoolboy reminiscences may be of interest to my readers:—

When I was visiting the different villages in the Saribas River and teaching the people in the evening in the public hall of the Dyak house, very often some boys would say they would like to join my school. Then I would speak to their parents, and if they agreed to it these boys would go back with me on my return to the Mission House and attend my school.

I must relate an incident which occurred when I was stationed at Temudok on the Krian River. I paid my usual quarterly visit to Saribas, and when I was at Stambak a boy named Usat, about twelve years old, said he would like to attend my school. In the evening, when we were seated on mats in the public part of the house, the headman, who was a great warrior, and had a very gruff manner, said to me:—

“I hear you are thinking of taking Usat to your school. His brother is here, but he is a fool and cannot speak, so I will speak for him. I should not advise you to take Usat. He is a bad boy, and never obeys his elders. Why, one day he took a knife and wanted to attack me! Of course, if you wish to take a boy of that kind with you, you can, but I have warned you.”

Usat was himself present and heard all this, but said nothing. I said to him: “If you come with me to school you must do what you are told; I don’t want disobedient boys.” He made no reply.

Later on in the evening, when I was returning to my boat, I heard a pattering of feet behind me on the log which formed the path. Turning round, I saw it was Usat, who had followed me, and wanted to say something to me.

“If you take me with you,” he said, “I will do as I am told.”

I liked his looks, as he seemed bright and intelligent, so I told him I would call for him in about ten days’ time, when I had visited the other Saribas villages, and was on my way back to Temudok, and if his parents consented to his going to school, he could accompany me.

He was waiting for me on my return from up-river, and I took him in my boat to Temudok, where he soon made friends with the other boys. He was full of fun and mischief, but very frank and open, and we all liked him very much.

After he had been with me about three weeks, four Dyaks came overland from Stambak. They said they had been sent by Usat’s parents and friends, who felt certain that the boy must have given a great deal of trouble, and that I was anxious to get rid of him, and so they had come to fetch him home. I told them the boy was happy enough, and that I did not want to send him back, so they returned without him. I do not know what they said about the boy, but, anyhow, he was allowed to stay at my school for over two years, when his parents wished him to return to help them in their work.

A little boy from Seblak, a branch of the Krian River, came to me at Temudok, and asked to be admitted into my school. There were no Christians in the village where he lived, but his brother, who was in the Government employ at Kabong as a fortman, had heard of my school. Belawan was not a particularly sharp boy, but he was very strong for his age and a very good wrestler. Nothing gave him greater pleasure than to wrestle and beat a boy older than himself. He stayed at my school a little over two years. I have never done any missionary work on the Seblak River, but I am glad Belawan came to my school, because I learnt from him what absurd ideas the people at Seblak had of the missionary and the Mission House. One thing he said was that there was a general idea among some of the people that I had a roomful of _antu_ (evil spirits) in the Mission House, and he said that was one reason why for a long time he hesitated about joining the school at Temudok! Seblak is rather out of the usual beat, and the Dyaks there do not come into contact with missionaries, and I was not at all surprised that the people of that district should have absurd ideas. I hope later on, when missionary work is begun in Seblak, the fact that Belawan stayed for two years in my house will have helped to pave the way for a kind reception of the missionary.

I was once returning to Temudok from a visit to the Saribas River, and as usual had in my boat a few Dyak schoolboys who had been on a visit to their friends at Saribas. We had had a tiring day, and my boat got to Kabong—the mouth of the Krian River—at about 7 p.m. The boatmen had not had their evening meal, and everybody was tired and hungry. I was going to spend the night at the Fort, so the men and boys carried from the boat such things as I might require. When everything I needed had been brought to the Fort, one of the schoolboys, Saran, said to me:—

“There is a Malay boy on the beach who says he would like to fight me. If you give me leave, I should be glad to fight him.”

“What do you want to fight for at this hour?” I said. “You are all tired and hungry. The best thing for you to do is to have your dinner.”

“The Malay boy was very cheeky,” Saran went on to say; “he shook his fist at me, and said I was afraid of him. I should like to give him a thrashing.”

“Very well,” I said; “go and fight him if you like, but don’t come back whining to me and say you are hurt.”

About half an hour afterwards Saran returned very pleased with himself. It seems that when the Malay boy saw Saran meant business, he took to his heels, and my schoolboy had the pleasure of chasing him to the Malay village. Though he did not have his fight, he had the pleasure of feeling he had defeated the enemy. I mention this little incident to show how very much like other boys the Dyaks are, and how my schoolboy was ready for a fight even though he was tired and hungry.

When stationed at Temudok, I used to visit the Christians on the Budu River—a branch of the Krian River—and I had there a little native-built hut, where I used to live for a week or so. The boys and girls there were very anxious to learn, so I got some slates for them. In the evenings there used to be about a dozen boys and girls in my room learning to read and write. It was amusing to see what they did when they wanted a slate pencil. They would go to the shingly bed of the river a few yards away, and pick up a long thin bit of slate, and rub it against some other stone till it was the right shape to be used as a pencil.

One day I went with my Catechist, Tujoh, and two schoolboys, who had accompanied me from my Mission School at Temudok, overland to a long Dyak house higher up the Budu River. A boy about fourteen years old was pointed out to me there, and I was told that he was a _manang_, or witch-doctor. I had never seen anybody as young as that acting as a _manang_, and knowing what a great deal of deceit is practised by the Dyak witch-doctor, there was to me something very sad in the thought of this young boy doing such work. I was also curious to know what led him to become a _manang_, so I spoke to him, and told him that if he cared to pay a visit to Temudok, or to come to school there, he would be welcome. After some little discussion, his parents allowed him to come with me on a visit, and later on the boy, whose name was Ambu, was allowed to attend my school. I found out from him that he understood very little of the doings of the witch-doctors. There were very few _manangs_ near his village, and there was a difficulty in getting more than two or three to take part in their ceremonies over the sick, so Ambu was persuaded to join them and walk round when incantations were made. While the other Dyak doctors were well paid, Ambu received some trifle for his part in the proceedings. Ambu stayed with me nearly a year, and then returned to his people. I had a long talk with him before he went back about the work of the _manangs_. I said that my advice to him was not to have anything to do with their ceremonies for the next few years. If, when he was old enough to judge for himself, he still wished to be a _manang_, he could do so, but in the meantime he had better follow the advice of one who was older than himself, and knew something of the deceit of the _manangs_. I lost sight of Ambu soon after his return to his people, because the house was broken up, and the inmates moved to some distant part.

I conclude this rambling chapter with the romantic but true story of how one of the most influential native Catechists became a Christian through seeing the missionary teaching some boys in an up-country Mission School.

Buda was the youngest of the warrior sons of the old Orang Kaya Pemancha, the famous pirate and war-leader of the Saribas Dyaks in the old lawless days. One of his brothers, Haji, was killed fighting against the Government forces sent to punish the rebels and restore order in the Saribas. Loiyo and Nanang, two other brothers, were at one time followers of Rentap, who held out so long against the Sarawak Government, and made Sadok Mountain, between the Saribas and the Skrang Rivers, his headquarters. The Dyaks often relate with keen interest the story of those ancient days when Rentap’s stronghold, high up on Sadok Mountain, with precipitous approaches on every side, was considered impregnable. Many an expedition did the Government lead against Rentap, but to no purpose. Rentap, who was called by his followers the “Inland Rajah,” and was the leader of the opposition to the rule of the Rajah of Sarawak, was supported by a large force of disaffected Saribas and Skrang Dyaks, and was not to be easily beaten.

In 1861, however, Rentap was losing his popularity, and a great many of his followers had deserted him. They could not endure the violence and wilfulness of their leader, and they saw that the Dyaks who had submitted to Rajah Brooke’s Government were happy and flourishing. Moreover, Rentap had offended their Dyak prejudices. He had discarded his old wife, and married one of the girls he had taken captive, and called her “the Ranee of Sadok.” This was contrary to all Dyak custom, and was greatly resented by his followers. In that year Loiyo and Nanang, two of Rentap’s leading warriors, and their adherents, made their submission to Rajah Brooke. They had to give security to the amount of forty valuable jars (worth about £500), which were to be retained for three years, and then returned to their owners should they remain loyal.

The next expedition led by the Government succeeded in defeating Rentap. When he found that his stronghold was no longer tenable, he fled with such of his followers as were able, down the opposite side of the mountain. Deserted by most of his followers, he retired to the Entabai branch of the Kanowit River, and died there some years after.

Buda and his brother Unting, the two other sons of the Orang Kaya Pemancha, did their share of fighting during these troubled times, and took part in many a bold deed, to the annoyance of the Government. Unting married and settled at Saribas, and I knew him well. Buda married into a family at Sebetan, and made his home there.

I have told the history of Buda and his brothers in order to give some idea of the kind of reputation his family had among the Dyaks. At the time of Buda’s visit to Banting, the Rev. W. R. Mesney (afterwards Archdeacon of Sarawak) was living at Banting with the Rev. Walter Chambers, who became afterwards Bishop of Labuan and Sarawak. Let me give the account of what happened in Mr. Mesney’s own words:—

“Buda had started from his home to visit different places—_belelang_, as the Dyaks call it. He had with him a couple of favourite fighting-cocks, and these he matched against the cocks of the houses he came to in his wanderings. In this way he came down the Batang Lupar, and reached Banting, where he knew that a distant connection of his family lived, and for that house he shaped his course. He made himself known to these friends, who welcomed him, and were proud of a visit from the son of the Orang Kaya Pemancha. He put his fighting-cocks into one of the _kurongs_ (baskets) under the _lantai_ (flooring) of the house, and made his pets safe, and then, as it was just the time for the women to begin their rice-pounding, he dressed himself up, and marched off, and found his way up the hill to the Mission House.

“I was just then there alone. Mr. Chambers was gone to visit some of the out-stations on the Batang Lupar. I was teaching half a dozen small fry at the table, which stood in what corresponded to the veranda in the old Mission House at Banting. I was not paying any attention to the door, nor troubling about who came in, as at that time of the day many young fellows, who were on the hill for any purpose, were in the habit of coming in and watching the boys learning. I was busy with a couple of the youngsters, when I noticed the others all press up close together, and begin whispering and signalling as Dyaks can, and showing unmistakable signs of uneasiness. When I saw this, I looked up to see the cause of it, and there, standing by one of the posts of the house, was a strange man, very unlike a Balau in dress and appearance, with his hand on the handle of his _ilang_ (sword); in fact, behaving in quite a different way to the ordinary Dyak visitor. The boys did not like his manner at all, I could see, and I heard them whisper “_munsoh_” (enemy) to each other.

“I asked the man to sit down, but this he declined to do, for he continued standing there with his eyes fixed on us and his hand on the handle of his sword, from the sheath of which a large bunch of charms was suspended. I kept my eye on the man, and at the same time went on teaching. He continued to watch us for some minutes, and the boys got more and more uncomfortable. When at last the man actually came up to the table and picked up a piece of paper, I thought the boys would have all bolted. However, after looking at the paper for a few minutes, he made some remark, and I again asked him to sit down. This time he did what I asked him to do, and sat down on the floor just where he had been standing. I asked him the usual questions, “_Ari ni nuan?_” (“From where have you come?”) and so on. He soon made some remark about the paper he had picked up, and we talked to each other. In the midst of our conversation, he suddenly got up and went to the door, where he proceeded to take off his sword and the great bunch of charms that he was wearing at his waist, and placed them very carefully down on the floor just outside the door, as he could not find anything to hang them up to. He came back, and this time took his seat on the form at the table. I went on for a short time longer teaching the boys, and then began talking to my visitor. He was very much interested, and said that he should like to hear more; might he come again when the boys were being taught? After he had gone, I heard who he was, and what he had come to Banting for.

“The next day he made his appearance again, and sat and listened while the boys had their lesson. The reading was the attraction to him, and he said that he would like to be able to read; might he stay at Banting, and come up to the Mission House for lessons? And so it came about that when Mr. Chambers returned, he walked into the Mission House, and found me with the redoubtable Buda, seated and quietly learning his A B C! Mr. Chambers, of course, knew the man well by reputation, and he took me aside, and asked me if I knew his character, and what he had done in the past. I could only say that I had gathered from the behaviour of other people that he was well-known, but that I had had no cause to complain of his behaviour during the few days he had been at Banting and coming to the Mission House. When Mr. Chambers found the man was amenable, he was glad to have him at Banting, and Buda devoted himself to learning, and was quite a pattern scholar.”

From this account it will be seen that Buda was first induced to take lessons by seeing Dyak boys being taught at an up-country Mission School. After a short stay in Banting he went back to his home, but returned to Banting again for more instruction. He was baptized, and afterwards worked as Catechist. He accompanied Mr. Chambers to his home in Sebetan, where he had already taught many of the Dyaks, and thus the Krian and Sebetan Mission was started. For many years Buda worked as Catechist at Sebetan under Mr. Perham, afterwards Archdeacon of Singapore.

When returning from one of his visits to Sebetan, Mr. Chambers persuaded Buda to come back to Banting and bring his wife and child with him, so that she might get more instruction. While at Banting on that occasion, Buda proposed to Mr. Mesney that he should go with him to the Saribas, and see whether they could not influence some of his relatives there in the Gospel message. Mr. Chambers hesitated for some time, because the Balaus of Banting distrusted the Saribas Dyaks, who used to be their enemies. But at last he said that, if Mr. Mesney was bold enough to visit the Saribas Dyaks, and could get men to accompany him, he might do so. There was some difficulty in getting the men, but this was overcome, and Mr. Mesney, accompanied by Buda and some Banting Dyaks, paid a visit to Saribas. That was the beginning of the Saribas Mission, which at the present time is the most successful and encouraging of all the missions in Sarawak.