Brooke, Margaret, Lady, 1849-1936; Queens -- Malaysia -- Sarawak -- Biography; Sarawak (Malaysia) -- Description and travel
We reached Busu, the landing-place for Paku, at six in the evening.
At this point the stream is about twenty yards wide. Malay houses,
devoid of orchards or gardens, stood on poles amongst the weeds on the
banks. On platforms of crazy planks, where Malays husk their paddy,
jutting out from these houses, dilapidated coxcombs planted in old
kerosene tins struggled to live in their uncongenial surroundings. A
path made of single bamboos, dovetailing into each other, led from
the cottages to the river. A man on the bank, shouldering a bamboo,
came out of one of these houses to fetch water from the river. He was
met with a storm of scornful remarks from our crew, as Malay men are
supposed to leave water-carrying to the women of their household. A
little farther on was the Borneo Company Ltd.’s wharf, whence the
antimony and quicksilver is shipped to Kuching and thence to Singapore
and Europe. A tramway starts from the landing-place, leading to the
mines some miles inland.
We found Mr. Awdry, one of the Rajah’s officers and a great friend
of ours, awaiting us at the Wharf. We then got into a horse-truck
kindly put at our disposal by the Manager of the Mines, furnished with
mattresses and pillows, and comfortably travelled over the four miles
separating us from the bungalow. Mrs. Awdry met us at the bottom of
the hill leading to her house. As we clambered down from the truck,
which was pretty high, a concourse of Chinamen, who had come to meet
us, started beating their gongs, blowing into instruments sounding
like bagpipes, and waving banners, whilst others set fire to piles
of crackers, hanging from iron tripods, all along the road. The
hill was steep and, as we headed the procession, the orchestra and
banner-bearers, in the exuberance of their welcome, followed closely at
our heels, so that we were pushed forward by our noisy welcomers, until
I found myself racing up the incline like a panting hare, with a crowd
of pursuers immediately behind me. The din was fearful, but the people
meant well, and, although short of breath from my exertions, I managed
to thank them for their kind reception as soon as I reached the top.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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