94 



THE NATIONAL, GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



WOMEN OE CERTAIN SUMATRAN TRIBES ARE NOTED THROUGHOUT THE DUTCH 



INDIES FOR THEIR BEAUTY 



On "Passar," or market days, wonderful arrays of strange fruits and vegetables are 

 displayed for sale, and on special occasions children's toys, ornaments for head-dresses, 

 cooking utensils, and cloth of gay colors may be purchased. Among the tempting edibles 

 are peanut cheese and pineapple sauces. The palm wine of Sumatra is most refreshing on 

 a hot day — and all days are hot in the lowlands. 



Through the dusk I could see a little 

 bamboo lookout, such as is erected in 

 every grain field, and, squatting on its 

 platform, two blue - clad figures, who 

 stopped their shouting as I approached. 

 But to my weak efforts in Malay they 

 merely stared in silence and continued to 

 jerk on the strings which, tied with flut- 

 tering bits of cloth, intersected the field 

 to frighten away feathered marauders. 



From the hill, however, I discovered 

 in the twilight two solitary little white 

 houses about a mile away and struck off 

 to investigate. Soon a tiny light sprang 

 out of the darkness, and when I arrived 

 in its cheery glow I found the Dutch 

 Controleur just returning from inspect- 

 ing a jail which was in course of con- 

 struction, and I accosted him with my 

 tale of disaster and appeal for help. 



"Certainly," he promptly said, as if 

 foreign motorists mired in the interior 

 of Sumatra came to him everv day with 

 requests to be dug out, "I will lend you 

 my prisoners." 



Although his jail was not vet built, he 



had a fine collection — thirty-eight Bataks 

 and Achinese in whom respect for Dutch 

 control had not been sufficiently evident. 

 This was my wrecking crew, and joined 

 by a Dutch planter, who was recuperat- 

 ing in the higher altitude of the Batak 

 lands from an assault made on him by 

 two coolies, we marched as if on a night 

 attack back to the buried motor, with two 

 armed native soldiers as a guard. 



A "SHIVERY" EXPERIENCE FOR A WOMAN 



I had been absent several hours before 

 the lanterns picked out ahead of us the 

 dark outline of the sunken car blocking 

 the road. As we approached I saw the 

 figure of my mother apparently seated 

 in the clay mire of the roadside, with a 

 dozen motionless forms standing in a 

 shadowy row on the bank behind her. 

 She struggled stiffly to her feet, reveal- 

 ing one of the mud-soaked seat cushions 

 that she had succeeded in dragging from 

 the car, and the silent row melted back 

 into the darkness. 



"Who are your friends?" I asked, 



