‘The church bell tolls not just for time, but for the unity and strength of a community.’
– Helen Keller (1880 – 1968); a deaf and blind American author, lecturer, and political activist
During my formative years, spanning the late 1950s to the first half of the 1960s, one memory stands out vividly — the resonant tolling of our church bell in Kampung Ta-ee, a remote rural enclave in the Serian District, approximately twelve miles from Serian town and 39 miles from Kuching City. This bell served as a temporal anchor for the community, marking the beginning of my journey through duty, devotion, and discovery as a young pupil attending the village’s Christian mission school.
Every morning, well before the sun rose, I undertook a significant responsibility. Starting at the age of eleven, I was one of four boys assigned to ring the church bell from Monday to Friday. On weekends, public holidays, and school holidays, the priest and other church elders took over the responsibility.
Fortunately, our house was not far from the church, making it convenient for me to fulfil my duty. I would visit the priest’s house, where the church key was kept, open the church, ring the bell, and promptly return the key.
I carried out this duty, which imprinted a consistent rhythm in my life until I turned twelve and left the village to pursue a high school education in Serian Town.
In those bygone days, clocks were a luxury few possessed in the village. Therefore, reliance on the church bell for timekeeping became commonplace. It announced the beginning of the day at 6 am, marked the midpoint at noon, and bid farewell to the setting sun at 6 pm.
One might wonder: How did we know the time of day without clocks or wristwatches? In other words, how did I know when to wake up and ring the bell on time?
The answer is simple — roosters! For those unfamiliar with roosters, they are adult male chickens with colourful plumage, a prominent comb on their heads, and long, flowing tail feathers. Roosters crow loudly, serving as territorial signals and often marking the beginning of the day. In many cultures, they symbolize virility, and pride, and sometimes act as mascots for dawn or the sun.
Roosters commonly crow during the early morning hours, including around midnight, 3 am, and 6 am. They have a natural internal clock, known as a circadian rhythm, which influences their behaviour, including crows. They are often more active and vocal during the early morning hours, corresponding to their instinctual wake-up time.
Ringing the bell was not just a repetitive cycle of work and duty. From the beginning, there was an additional benefit in the form of reading materials available in the priest’s quarters, including books, magazines, pamphlets, and leaflets. In a time when such materials, particularly books, were scarce, this collection captivated my inquisitive young mind, opening a window to a world of knowledge.
On certain mornings, the allure of a few more minutes of sleep tempted me to neglect my bell-ringing duty. Yet, my mother consistently reminded me of the virtues of duty and discipline, cautioning against the slippery slope of laziness.
“A little laziness leads to more laziness,” she would say. I would argue, “Just five more minutes,” but she insisted, “No, it will turn into ten, and then you won’t want to get up at all.”
With a reluctant groan, I would extricate myself from bed, a ritual that often followed any strenuous physical activity, such as a football match, the previous day. There were instances when half-dazed, I ambled towards the church. What always surprised me was that the tolling of the bell had an immediate impact on me. Its ringing sound had a tone that never failed to dispel the fog in my mind instantly. The phenomenon was truly remarkable.
Ours was a traditional church bell. To ring it, a rope attached to the clapper (the hammer-like part inside) was pulled from below. The clapper then struck the inside surface, specifically known as the sound bow or lip. The sound bow is the curved area around the bottom where the bell’s profile starts to flare out. When the clapper swung back and forth, it struck the sound bow, creating vibrations that resonated throughout the bell and produced the characteristic ringing sound.
I quickly learned that ringing the bell was not simply a matter of pulling the rope. It required a bit of skill and common sense. The bell was hung from a wooden beam just far enough away from the wall under the extended roof over the rear end of the rectangular church building. This roof provided shelter from the sun and rain.
The bell rope did not hang straight down from the clapper to the ground. To make it easy to swing the clapper and the bell for the first time, the rope was threaded at an angle through a hole in the gable wall and allowed to trail down to the church floor.
Imagine yourself as the bell ringer — an eleven-year-old with a bell almost as tall as you. The first pull on the rope starts the process. The clapper swings back and strikes the inside surface of the bell, producing a loud, resonant sound that reverberates through the air. The sound echoes across the village, signalling the start of a new day.
To create a steady rhythm, you need to pull the rope with a rhythmic motion, allowing the clapper to strike the bell with a regular beat. It required a bit of strength and coordination to keep the motion smooth and consistent. You must be careful not to pull too hard, as that would cause the bell to swing too forcefully and potentially hit the wall.
And there’s a caveat. If you forget or fail to hold on to the rope, the swing will snatch the rope from your hands. If you’re lucky, it would drop down on the return swing and you’d have a chance to correct your mistake. If you’re unlucky, the rope could get pulled into the hole and get entangled there. That would instantly stop the bell from ringing. You’d not be reprimanded for it but it’d still be embarrassing.
Having rung the bell many times, I soon found a trick for controlling the upward pull of the rope. I discovered that when the bell swung the other way, it was powerful enough to bear my weight, so I would hold on tightly and allow it to pull me up. On the way down, I would use the momentum to tug the rope to get the clapper to strike again.
As the bell tolled, the villagers would wake up and begin their daily routines. The sound served as a call to prayer for those who attended the early morning church service. It also acted as a reminder for farmers to start their work in the fields, for students to get ready for school, and for everyone else to begin their day’s activities.
The tolling of the bell continued for several minutes, ensuring that the message reached far and wide. It was a tradition passed down through generations, a symbol of community and unity.
While I rang the bell, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility and pride. I knew that my actions were essential to the functioning of the village and the well-being of its inhabitants. It was a small but meaningful contribution to the community—a duty that taught me the value of discipline, punctuality, and the importance of fulfilling responsibilities.
Over time, the tolling of the bell became ingrained in my consciousness. Even after I left the village and moved on to different stages of life, the memory of that sound remained with me. Whenever I hear the chimes of a church bell, it transports me back to those early mornings, reminding me of the simple yet profound impact of a single task.
The church bell was more than just a timekeeper. It was a symbol of connection, a unifying force for a close-knit community. Its tolling brought people together, setting the rhythm of their lives and fostering a sense of belonging.
As I reflect on those formative years and the role I played as a young bell ringer, I realise the significance of that experience. It taught me the value of service, the power of tradition, and the importance of being an active participant in the community.
During my last visit to the village, I felt again a sense of regret and disappointment that the church is no more on its old ground. It was torn down and replaced with a modern building on a nearby hill slope overlooking the mission graveyard. I like the new church because it is bigger and built with more modern materials. It even has airconditioning, a far cry from the hot steamy atmosphere in the old church which was always suffocatingly hot even during the rainy season.
As I gazed upon the new church, I was reminded of the role and influence of its predecessor. The church bell, once a mere timekeeper, symbolised shared experiences that bound us together. Despite the evolution of the world and the relentless march of time, the memories of those early mornings, the tales discovered in the priest’s house, and the joy of fulfilling a communal duty still accompany me.
Today, whenever I hear the distant peal of a church bell, I am reminded of the lessons I learned in that small village. And though time may have moved on and technology may have brought new ways of timekeeping, the resonance of the church bell still echoes within me, a gentle reminder of the enduring bonds we forge through shared experiences and the responsibilities we carry as members of a community.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the New Sarawak Tribune.
