Various methods of computing the time for planting among the races of Borneo
Charles Hose, a colonial-era ethnographer and former British Resident in Sarawak, published this concise ethnographic note in 1905, describing how the indigenous farming communities of Borneo—lacking written calendars or reliable seasonal markers—developed distinct astronomical and solar-observation methods to determine the optimal time for slash-and-burn rice cultivation. The article argues that agriculture, even in its rudimentary form, is the primary driver of systematic observational knowledge among tropical peoples, and that the specific problem of identifying the dry season in a near-equatorial climate with minimal temperature variation forced these communities to turn to the stars or the sun for temporal orientation.
Summary
Hose frames the central problem as one unique to tropical agriculture: near the equator, temperature and moisture offer almost no reliable signal for the passage of months, and the lunar calendar accumulates an error of roughly eleven days per year—enough to throw planting schedules badly out of alignment within a few seasons. The farmer’s real concern is not the crop itself but the ground, which must be felled, dried, and burnt during the driest period to ensure a successful harvest. The article then surveys three distinct solutions developed by different groups.
The Dayaks and several smaller tribes rely on stellar observation, specifically the pre-dawn rising of the Pleiades (called “bintang banyak” or “Apai andau,” the father of the day) and Orion’s belt (“bintang tiga”). A designated observer watches before dawn; when the Pleiades rise in darkness, the community sends scouts into the jungle to seek omens, and once favourable signs appear, felling begins. A second stellar cue—the Pleiades reaching the zenith before dawn—signals the time to burn and sow. Hose describes the felling technique in some detail, noting the cooperative village labour and the V-shaped cascade of felled trunks on hill slopes.
The Kenyahs and Kayans, by contrast, employ solar measurement. The Kenyahs erect a gnomon—a pole of more than a fathom in height, kept vertical by a weighted string—near the village, protected by a fence. The midday shadow is measured with a notched stick (“asu do”) whose graduations represent three-day intervals in shadow length, calibrated from prior years’ experience. The Kayans use a variant method: a beam of light admitted through a hole in the roof is projected onto a levelled plank, and the distance from the point beneath the hole to the light spot is measured. Both groups understand that the noon shadow is shortest and always falls along the same north-south line. Hose notes that the Kenyahs’ designated shadow-reader is excused from farming and supplied with necessities in return for his service, and that the community assembles to make the planting decision by mutual consent once the shadow reaches the length of the forearm.
Key Findings
- The Dayaks use the pre-dawn rising of the Pleiades as the signal to begin felling, and the Pleiades at zenith before dawn as the signal to burn and sow (p. 2).
- The Kenyah gnomon is “more than a fathom by the span of the thumb and first finger” in height, kept vertical by a weighted string over the top (p. 4).
- The Kenyah measuring stick (“asu do”) is notched at intervals representing three-day changes in shadow length, with notches gradually approaching one another further from the pole (p. 4).
- The optimal planting time for the Kenyahs is when the noon shadow equals the length of the forearm (fingertip to inside of the elbow); if the shadow is shorter than the hand, sowing is unlikely to be productive (p. 5).
- The Kayan method uses a light beam through a roof hole projected onto a levelled plank fixed by chocks, measuring the distance to the light spot on the floor (p. 4).
- Hose explains that a conventional sundial would be useless in the tropics near the equinoxes, when the sun passes from north to south of the zenith and the shadow points due west in the morning and due east in the afternoon (p. 5).
Conclusion
Hose’s definitive takeaway is that the Kenyah and Kayan solar instruments represent a genuine accumulation of empirical knowledge—“no point essential to accuracy has been neglected”—yet he insists on balancing this admiration by noting that the measurements are accompanied by “meaningless mummery” of superstition, which he considers an inevitable overlay on any operation of such communal importance. The article thus presents a dual portrait: these peoples possess a sophisticated, experience-based understanding of solar geometry, while simultaneously embedding that knowledge within a ritual framework that a European observer would dismiss.
Context
- Hose served as a British colonial administrator and ethnographer in Sarawak (1887–1902) and was a prolific contributor to the JSBRAS; this article reflects the contemporary colonial-scientific interest in documenting “primitive” knowledge systems as evidence of human intellectual capacity.
- The piece draws on Hose’s own field observation rather than on a named archival collection; it is a short ethnographic note typical of the JSBRAS’s early period, in which colonial officials and residents contributed first-hand accounts of indigenous practices.