The origin of the Sakais?—?Hypothesis and legend?—?Physical character?—?Thick tresses, gay flowers and troublesome guests?—?Hereditary antipathy?—?The five senses reduced to two?—?Food and drink?—?Tranquil life?—?Intolerance of authority?—?Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law?—?Logical laziness?—?A Sakai journalist?—?The story of a mattress.

Paolo Mantegazza, the scientific poet writes:

"Man is eternally tormenting himself with unanswered questions: Where did our species first come from? When did this life first begin?

"This is his real original sin, as it is also the source of his true greatness. He is but a single link in an endless chain; he is but one imperceptible moment enclosed by a Past which he does not know and a Future which he will never see. But he feels the need of looking back and asking: where did we begin? And of looking forward, asking: where shall we finish?".

I, too, have often made much the same demands, not about myself, for I have no inclination for metaphysical reflections, but about the Sakais who have unconsciously given me a difficult problem to solve: who are they? From whence did they come?

There is absolutely nothing that speaks of them, and in the absence of positive fact we can only fall back upon mere hypothesis, more or less probable, until an accurate investigation with regard to the origin of this primitive people may present us with a convincing theory.

But in order to make these studies it would be necessary to live in their midst (and not many could adapt themselves to the various inconveniences of such a life) because the live Sakai never abandons his native forest and to have a dead one for the purpose would be next to impossible, as he who attempted to carry away a corpse would expose himself to serious danger, there being no greater sacrilege, according to the idea of these bushmen, than that of touching a dead body or of digging up the ground where a skeleton lies.

Therefore there does not seem to be any near chance of arriving at a definite conclusion upon the subject.

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It is generally believed that anciently a people, called Benuas, not willing to submit themselves to the laws imposed upon them by the then flourishing and civilized India and fearing to fall into slavery, advanced through Indo-China till they reached the Malay Peninsula. Here also they found themselves pursued and surrounded by civilization, so, instead of settling round the rich and smiling shores, they turned towards the forest and encamped there. This version of their immigration would account for the Sakais not having the least idea of the sea which they never mention, not even in their legends or superstitions.Shunning-all contact with the other inhabitants of the country they had chosen as a refuge, they concealed themselves in the jungle, thus preserving their independence and the purity of their race.

Some centuries later, in an era of fanaticism, invasions were made upon them with the object of converting them to Mohammedism but the only result was fire and bloodshed and after each conflict the surviving Sakais fled further into the forest (into those parts which had never been before explored) or to the natural strongholds of the far off mountains.

If this hypothesis holds good then the Sakais must be a very ancient people. It is an accepted fact that as far back as the 8th century Arabian merchants traded with the inhabitants of the Peninsula and that a very remote intercourse existed between these and Hindostan, and although there is no substantial proof, no analogies of language, customs or creed upon which to base such a conjecture, neither, as yet, has anything been proved to the contrary whilst many primeval superstitions prevalent amongst the Sakais are still to be found in other tribes living in proximity with believers in Buddha and Brahma.

Another legend, sustained by the Kurumbus themselves, would make one suppose that the Sakais belong to that people, once grand, but now broken up and dispersed. In fact, even at the present time, there are many popular songs amongst the Malays in which the Kurumbus and Sakais are mixed up together.

Dr. Short, in his ethnological studies of India, describes certain characteristics and habits of the Kurumbus, inhabiting the forest, which perfectly coincide with those to be met with amongst the Sakais.

I refer to those regarding physiognomy, structure, and stature, the primitive mode of cultivating corn, the choice of food, and the improvidence shown in eating, with the consequence that deficiency follows upon excess.Naturally these points of similarity are no proof that the two peoples are of the same origin but they give to the question a certain argumentative value.

What seems to me sure is that the Sakais have nothing in common with the Malays or with the various other races that surround them. This may perhaps be owing to the contact the latter have with each other, the result being a modification of customs, traditions and purity of blood. I find, however, many traits which connect them with the Mongolian and Caucasian races (Indians and Semitics) and there is much in them which resembles other peoples living in Indo-China and India.

It must be understood, though, that I speak only of the Sakais of the hills and not those of the plains who have in a great measure lost the characteristics which should distinguish them through their mixing with Kampongs, Malays and Chinese Ghedes.

But let us now leave aside all the vague suppositions that for several reasons I have felt bound to mention (not the least of which being perhaps the need we all feel of investigating our neighbour's past), and let us rather examine the Sakai as he is in the 20th century.

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Evidently he has not perceived the passing away of nineteen or more centuries because they have left no inheritance for him.

The Sakai, then, is somewhat short in stature but sufficiently hardy and well-formed, except in the lower limbs which render him slightly bow-legged.

The cause of this trifling deformity is to be found in the habit they have, from their earliest childhood, of sitting upon their heels, as it were, thus leaving the knees wide apart.This posture, however, is not a particularity of the jungle inhabitants as I have frequently seen Italians in the same position, but the latter lean their shoulders against a tree or wall for support so that there is less strain upon the legs.

When they are eating or listening to something that interests them the Sakai men and women will remain for whole hours in this attitude without showing any fatigue whatever.

Their feet are rather large and properly arched. The big toe is well separated from the others and is very strong.

The muscles of their arms are not much developed and sometimes these members are too long in proportion to the rest of the body. Their hands are also very long and slender. The chest muscles, on the contrary, are very well developed owing probably to the continual habit of climbing trees, rocks, rifts and the like in search of food or for any other motive that their nomadic life may make necessary.

Altogether the figure of the Sakai does not reveal any large amount of vigour perhaps because he is usually thin and is what might be termed pot-bellied, owing to the sort of food he eats and the cold he suffers during the night, but he is much more robust and taller (the average height of an adult is a little past one metre and a half)[7] than the other tribes and races around him who are in close reports with civilization. This fact would almost make one believe that civilization is detrimental to the physical development of an individual.

These Aborigines are endowed with wonderful agility, as may be seen when they clamber up certain clefts that we should judge impossible of ascent and also when they spring from one part to another with a nimbleness that might excite the envy of our best gymnasts.They have not much muscular force, as I have said, but they are second to none in enduring fatigue, especially in the case of long marches, to which they are well accustomed as every day they walk about 20 miles, carrying upon their shoulders the by no means light product of the chase, together with the various roots and bulbs they find in the forest, as well as their inseparable blow-pipes and well-filled quivers.

They also resist very well the privations to which they are sometimes subjected by their own improvidence. All that they bring back with them they will eat at once, be it animal or vegetable food, and when they cannot finish it up by themselves they invite people from another village or tribe to come and help them devour it, laughing at every idea of domestic economy that I have vainly tried to impress upon their minds.

But are they wrong, after all? They know for certain that the forest will not leave them to starve and when there is no more rice, durian, mangosteen etc., it is never difficult to catch a pheasant, monkey, rat, serpent or even a wild boar.

Were they acquainted with Italian operas their favourite lines would certainly be:

and their choice would be appropriate, for where else could the Borgias be so well remembered as in a land famous for its poisons?

The Sakais' skin is of a colour between light and burnt ochre, the tint getting darker as they grow older (in consequence of their long exposure to the sun), at which period the whole body becomes rough and wrinkled. The children are of a much lighter colour until they begin their life in the open air.

The woman, as a type, differs very little from the man. She is rather shorter as is the case with all the pure and mixed Mongolian races.

As a girl she has a rounded form and is not without grace. As long as she is healthy and blooming she may be considered a beauty.... in the forest, but she soon gets faded because of the fatiguing life she leads and also because of her early marriage, for she is already a wife when our girls are at the beginning of their teens.

The boys are generally healthy, sturdy little fellows.

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The Sakai's head is regular in form and size like that of the Mongolian race; the cheek-bones, however, are less prominent than those of the Tartars and the eyes are wider open and less oblique.

The forehead neither retreats nor protrudes and is high and spacious enough. The nose is large and slightly flattened at the root. The facial angle measures pretty much the same as that of the Chinese.

The mouth, well-cut and not too large, with rather thick lips, would be beautified by two rows of sound regular teeth if the latter were not so blackened by the constant chewing of tobacco, betel-nut and sirih.

The chin is sharp.

All the features, in fact, are very marked and the jaws are a little projecting but the countenance is not an unpleasant one and wears an expression of frankness and goodness that soon wins sympathy.

The head is covered with a rich, crisp growth of very black hair but few hairs are to be seen on the face or body. Those rare ones, whose appearance would be rapturously hailed by our youths as the forerunners of a possible mustache or beard, are plucked out by the Sakais in their spare time!

A great many ladies would be highly contented to possess the beautiful tresses that the Sakai woman generally has, but whilst amongst us an artistic arrangement of the hair is an attraction which often makes us forget the lesser charms of the face, the raven locks of these women sometimes cause a feeling of disgust.

They do not take the least care of this splendid ornament bestowed upon them by Nature; when they do not let their hair hang dirty and dishevelled upon their shoulders they just tie it up badly with a strip of many-coloured upas bark (a remedy against migraine) stick in some roughly carved combs and hair-pins (amulets against the malignant spirit of the wind) and adorn it with fresh flowers.

But alas! under that bow of natural ribbon, under those combs and flowers there is a tiny world of restless inhabitants and the poor primitive Eve is obliged to scratch her head furiously now and then.

And not less furiously does the man also scratch his though he takes much more pains over his hair, combing and smoothing it in order to divide it well in front and display the tattoo which distinguishes the parting.

Frequently both the men and the women rub into their heads the finely pounded root of a plant to which they attribute the virtue of softening their rough, luxuriant locks and of destroying the inmates.

Even the men sometimes wear combs and hair-pins.

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Cleanliness as the reader will have understood from the example given above is not the highest quality of the Sakai any more than it is of other primitive peoples. Hygienic practices march alongside civil progress. The bath, as a pleasure or a necessity, is quite unknown to them, and those who dwell amongst the mountains have the greatest fear of water. The foaming torrents and noisy cascades that dash down the ravines have inspired them with terror and as they have no notion whatever of being able to keep afloat, they are afraid to venture near a stream, however quietly it may flow, unless it is shallow enough for them to see the bottom.

Not only have they no idea of swimming but they are equally ignorant of any other means, of remaining on the water's surface. They have no canoes of any kind and when they want to cross from one shore to the other they either throw a huge tree into the river to serve as a bridge or they walk on round the bank until they find a fordable point and can reach the opposite side by jumping from stone to stone.

I am glad to say that my lectures upon cleanliness have not been completely fruitless for many of the young people make their ablutions now from time to time, especially the females, and come to me asking for soap. Though not a great step towards progress this is always better than nothing. The old people, of course, do not regard the bathing innovation with kindly eyes. They are always filthy to a repugnant degree, begrimed with ashes and earth from lying about round the fire, day, and night; the smell that emanates from them certainly does not invite one to approach them.

But their fathers and their grandfathers never washed themselves and so it is their duty to follow their questionable example.

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The five senses with the Sakais are practically reduced to two for whilst they are very quick in hearing and seeing, the same cannot be said of smelling, feeling and tasting.

The acuteness of the two first is due to the continual need they have, in the forest, of keeping the ear and the eye open. To be on their guard against enemies they must either hear or see them.

The weakness of the smelling faculty may be explained by the bad way the Sakai men and women treat their noses, boring holes through them large enough to pass a little bamboo stick, which they wear, partly for ornament, and partly as a charm, against I do not exactly know what danger. And not only this, but they are in the habit of playing a sort of flute with their nose, stopping up the right nostril with leaves, so it is easy to comprehend what little sensibility this unfortunate appendix of the face can have.

Owing to their almost complete nudity their skin is not very susceptible to touch for it is hardened and toughened by the effects of sun, rain, cold and dew which makes it as weather-beaten as that of any old salt's; besides this they are accustomed from childhood to be stung by insects and nettles, to be pricked and scratched by thorns and brambles, and to be cut by the dry stiff blades of the long grasses of their native place. Habit is second nature.

Their deficient sense of taste results from the practices mentioned further on.

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Sakai cookery does not require much study or experience.

The vegetable food they have at their disposition consists of: sweet potatoes, yams, maize, sikoi, different bulbs and tubers that they find in the forest like we do truffles, many edible leaves and all sorts of fruit, mushrooms, nanka, guaccicous, guÀ pra,[9] etc. Rice is an imported luxury which they use when they can get it.

Here are the necessaries for a variety of dishes, but the Sakais know no variety in the culinary art and with the exception of the fruit, the yams and potatoes that are cooked under the hot ashes, the whole lot is put, with a little water, into cooking-pots made out of large bamboo canes, and boiled up together into a kind of paste with pieces of serpents, rats, toads, lizards, beetles and other similar delicacies to give it flavour.

The monkey, deer, wild-boar, wild-sheep and any other big game caught in traps they just burn at the fire without taking the trouble to skin the animal, and then they eat it nearly raw.

They season the meat with salt, when they have any, which is not often, and with a capsicum that sets your mouth on fire. The use of this capsicum, and the continual chewing of tobacco, and betel has ruined the palate of the Sakais, and left them with little power of relishing.

Fish is rarely seen at the board (I use the word in a figurative sense as the thing it signifies does not exist for them) of the mountain tribes for the double motive that they have no fishing tackle and their fear of the water makes them avoid it as much as possible. Nevertheless when there is a dearth of other food they will throw in some beaten ple-pra and the fish, of a fair size, that rise to the surface to bite it are deftly hit by a knife, the Sakai seldom failing in his mark.

To the simplicity of their cooking corresponds the still greater simplicity of their drinks which are—of the singular number.The inhabitants of the forest drink nothing but water but this they require clear and fresh. Should it not be perfectly pure in colour and taste they will not drink it. They always seek a spring to satisfy their thirst and supply their families with the necessary liquid.

Sometimes, when I was first living amongst them, I happened to stoop over a torrent or stream to drink some water but my companions protested vehemently declaring that it might do me a great deal of harm.

They are afraid of poisons in every shape and form as they are also of contagion and would even be frightened if in drinking they were to touch their bamboo bottles and glasses with their lips. They are very clever in pouring the contents down their throats without letting the receptacle come in contact with their mouths, an accomplishment which we should not be able to achieve until after many damp trials.

It might almost be desired that our civilization would imitate this hygienic custom of the savages. How many infections the less! How much fewer the microbes that poison the blood of our poor people!

The Sakais do not drink milk, not only from the difficulty in obtaining it but also from a strange prejudice which I have never succeeded well in understanding.

Once they are weaned they never swallow a single drop of milk.

Neither do they drink alcoholic beverages for the simple reason that they have not got them and do not know what they are.

If they should ever come to taste them and procure them easily will they not crave for them like all other savages?

As soon as the Sakai's frugal meal is finished he fills his mouth with tobacco, or if he has none, with sirih.

This is composed of a leaf or two of betel—a plant that possesses a certain narcotic virtue—smeared with lime and rolled up round a little tobacco and a piece of areca nut. Both men and women chew these quids with great relish, spitting out the juice from time to time.

The old people, whose want of teeth makes mastication next to impossible, put the ingredients into a bamboo and pound them until they are reduced to, what they consider, a delicious paste.

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The young Sakai reaches the height of his vigour at about eighteen years old, after which he has a brief stationary period, followed by a rapid falling off that I think must be caused by his being continually exposed to the inclemency of the weather.

The woman begins to decline soon after her first confinement. From the age of 13 to 15 she becomes a wife and in two years from that date she is but the ghost of her former self. Thin, and with a wrinkled skin, not even a shadow remains of her youthful freshness and the attractive points she had as a girl.

But what does this matter to her? Her husband is faithful to her, with a fidelity that knows no hypocrisy; she is happy and is proud of her maternity; she can still dance and strike chords upon her krob, modulate a plaintive ditty on her ciniloi and sing whilst she beats on her bamboo sticks an accompaniment that tortures well-tuned ears. For the rest, if her beauty soon fades, her ugliness does not create the least feeling of disgust amongst the Sakais of the masculine gender, who have aesthetic ideas peculiarly their own.

It is enough to say that the ugliest of the female sex are the prettiest and the most admired.

I am speaking in earnest.

They, as well as the men, are in the habit of painting themselves in grotesque stripes and hieroglyphics, in imitation of medicinal plants, the principal colours used being red and black. Sometimes they add a little white but very rarely yellow.

When I tell you that these strange designs are not only the manifestation of coquetry or vanity but that they are also made to frighten away the Evil Spirit you may well imagine how they each try to arabesque their skin in a more horrible way than the other, in order to look uglier and be more admired.

How many, even in civilized places, would like to adopt such a mode of winning the admiration which their forbidding features cannot command!

One of these artistic creations cannot last more than a day. It is carefully scraped off and replaced.

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The Sakai's life is tranquil and serene. He does not pass much of his time in the hut because every morning he goes off into the forest in search of game and vegetable food. He is accompanied by his boys who either practise with their blow-pipe or with a pointed stick dig in the ground for roots and bulbs, or they catch insects and reptiles to fill the baskets they carry on their backs.

When the Sakai is not out hunting, or visiting friends and relations in other villages, he remains quietly in his hut sleeping, smoking, chewing a nice quid or in preparing poisons and poisoned arrows.

He is good-tempered and good-hearted, and never quarrels with his wife. I have never heard of one of these savages beating his wife or children, or of ill-treating them in any way and neither of using violence with any one else unless with a declared foe or one who has offended his sentiments and superstitions.

One day I ordered a child to do something, I don't remember what, and he answered me impertinently with a curt neay (no). I turned to his mother who was present and told her that the boy ought to have his ears boxed.

The woman gave me a look of mingled wonder and irritation, then said: "You are a bad man if you would hurt my son when he did not mean any harm!".

Yet in spite of this kind of reasoning and the clemency shown towards children (which would make a pedagogue of the educational rod system commit suicide) the Sakais are honest and respectful to their parents and the old; they are affectionate in their family and, poor savages! are still a long way off from such a degree of civilization as to cut up a cross wife or a troublesome lover into pieces and send them in a mysterious valise to take a sea-bath or in a butcher's sack to take a fresh water one in a convenient river.

But the answer given me by the boy and his mother's implicit approval were only the decisive affirmation of that indomitable spirit of freedom that animates the Sakai and makes him do what he likes but never what others command.

In fact, even taking him as a guide or travelling companion it is always wise to let him have his own way without interfering at all. He will rest, eat, smoke, and walk on just as he chooses and if you contradict him in his desire he will turn his back upon you and abandon you in the midst of the forest.

Every act of his life reveals and marks this mania of independence. I will quote a rare case. Should a mother-in-law and a daughter-in-law not be able to agree in consequence of the difference in their characters no tragic scenes or petty quarrels occur; the young couple merely take up their scanty belongings, destroy their own hut and march off to build another at a sufficient distance to avoid troublesome contact or the possibility of further misunderstandings and discord.It is so: nobody will submit to the will of another and even when settling some particular question unless they are all of the same identical opinion the matter has to be abandoned.

Sons-in-law and daughters-in-law love their fathers-in-law and mothers-in-law well enough and viceversa, and they all respect each other and can live peaceably together, but no one can impose his own will without determining a strike.

They put into practice the same simple remedy when there is not very good harmony in the conjugal state. A man and woman cannot exactly agree as husband and wife? They cheerfully divorce themselves instead of poisoning their existence by continual altercations and the reluctance they both feel at doing what the other wishes.

How much regarding the human spirit civilized people have yet to learn from savages! Do you not think so, kind reader?

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The Sakai is commonly believed to be lazy by nature. This is an error, for their so-called laziness is nothing but the result of the circumstances amidst which they live.

Once their daily food is provided and they have prepared a good supply of poisons and darts what remains for them to do in the depth of the forest, where there is no thirst for riches (because unknown to them), for honours (of which they have no idea at all), or for power (which their individual independence repudiates)?

There is no race for wealth, position or fame in their parts, no struggle for life which amongst us is the inexhaustible source of progress as well as the incentive to crime and corruption.The desire expressed by Henry IV that each one of his subjects might boil his own fowl in his own pot is more than realized amongst the Sakais.

They do not cook their fowls because they are only reared as a means of barter, but it seldom happens that they cannot enjoy a choice bit of monkey, snake, deer or wild boar, which they like much better. If (a very strange case) somebody should be without, he goes to the nearest hut, enters without speaking, and sits down without being greeted. Some food is placed before him that he devours without being invited to do so and then departs as he came without any one saying a word beyond perhaps (in an excess of courtesy) a muttered "abor" (meaning "very good" and used as "good-bye" by the Sakais), from the visitor as he leaves.

The Sakai does not understand the reason of working when there seems to be no need, but what he finds strictly necessary he does with alacrity and good will. Whatever they have to do they all work together, the head of the family, the elder, the young men, the boys, everyone gives a hand to the best of his capacity. When they have finished, the oldest of the company lie down to doze and chew tobacco or sirih, the other men squat themselves about to chat and prepare poisons or make blow-pipes and arrows, whilst the children play and the women busy themselves over the cooking.

The terms of indolent and lazy as erroneously applied to these savages might be used with the same force in speaking of many who live in the vortex of civilized society.

We frequently see, amongst us, inexhaustible treasures of energy displayed when ambition or pure need demands it but when one or the other has been satisfied, or the necessity for such continual effort no longer seems imperative, or either the desired point has been attained or the future has been fully assured, then little by little energy gives place to a longing for repose.

As I have before said, the Sakai never provides for the morrow. His work begins and finishes with the day. Give him some tobacco and in his happiness he will stay awake all the night to smoke or chew it.

He works only in proportion to the urgency of the moment and then throws himself down to rest upon the ground, because beds and chairs are unknown to him, and it is not always that dried leaves and grasses are used as a substitute for the former.

The evolution of our society has brought us on the contrary to this curious condition: he who does not work at all and consequently has no honest fatigue to rest from, lies upon a soft feather bed, there to restore his strength wasted in fast living and dissipation, whilst.... But I had better stop or I may be mistaken for a dangerous class agitator!

I will only say this: that could the Sakai look into some of our houses and palaces he would make haste to return to his own forest and if he were obliged or knew how to write his impressions he would certainly commence: "The men of the West are effeminate, lazy and indolent".

But he would do wrong to generalize for they are Western men who have conquered his forest.

I will conclude this chapter by confessing a remorse. Out of pity for these poor creatures sleeping on the cold ground, huddled together to keep each other warm, I, one day, gave a hair mattress to a Sakai family.

All of them took their places on it and slept soundly, but in the morning their bones ached so much that they gave me back my mattress in a hurry and without a single word of thanks.

And I could not blame them for this.