LVII[1]
I MUST thank you once more for your advice. Your talk did us a tremendous amount of good. Why should I not acknowledge to you that we had never looked at things in that light before, and had never dreamed that if we went to Holland we might endanger our own cause. Our "Friends" would be only too glad to spread abroad the report that we had grown to be wholly "blanda,"[2] and many parents would shudder at the mere thought of entrusting their children to us. You have opened our eyes; we are grateful from our hearts.
This morning we were taking a drive and we witnessed a naive example of native faith. It was out in the fields. Men and animals were uniting in prayer to the All-Highest to bathe the thirsty earth with blessed rain.
In the foreground sat the priest and santries,[3] behind the priestesses in white garments and around them hundreds of men, women and children. Sheep, goats, horses and buffaloes were bound to stakes. A priest stood before them and led the service, praying in a loud voice. Most of the people fell in with "Amin-amin," in which chorus the bleeting of the sheep was blended.
This ceremony is called "sembajang istira." They prayed for three
—260—
