Crocodiles are easy. They try to kill and eat you. People are harder. Sometimes they pretend to be your friend first.
— Steve Irwin, Australian conservationist
Long before I became a journalist, there was Fort Margherita, named after Sir Charles Brooke’s English wife and cousin Margaret Lili Alice de Winte!
Fort Margherita and its surroundings were the front yard of my home, and my first love.
But over time, the Margherita and its surroundings had a facelift, so to speak, making the grand old Lady unrecognisable.
I was in my late teens when the fort, perched on a hilly green meadow over-looking the Sarawak River, posed a magnificent view of Chinatown comprising Main Bazaar, Carpenter Street to Padungan.
Before Independence, Fort Margherita was the headquarters of the Sarawak Rangers established in 1862.
Soon after he married Margaret, Charles built the fort in her name and established the first Sarawak constabulary band under Filipino bandmaster Polycarpo.
After Vyner “sold” Sarawak to Great Britain, the colonial regime built a police training school and commandant’s residence.
Sadly, 40 years ago, the Police Training School — historic home of all Sarawak’s patriots who fought and died in the 1963 Confrontation — was bulldozed to the ground.
Next to go was the Commandant’s residence, where I stayed, which was also flattened!
Today, these historical relics are gone; the Fort Margherita, complex and its periphery, are now abandoned.
Looking back, I would say that my second love is still the quaint Sarawak river — peaceful for some where many famous battles were fought and where victims of war provided fresh meat for rapacious crocodiles.
I remember the halcyon days in 1968 and 1969 when together with my Form Six classmates from St Thomas — Ahmad Shamsuddin from Batang Lupar; retired Police Force Inspector Edward “Diamond Eddy” Chai, now a Taiwanese multi-millionaire; and former deputy mayor of Kuching City South Abang Affendi Anuar — swam across the river, once the lair of maneaters.
Which brings me to Charles Brooke’s story in “Ten Years in Sarawak — Volume 1”, the era of Kuching’s crocodile terror.
He wrote: “A Malay woman of a village in Sarawak, while bathing her child in the landing place … before the eyes of her husband, who was standing on the bank within a few yards of her, was seized by an alligator and carried away into the river.
“The poor man jumped after his wife and actually touched the alligator but it was hopeless attempting to rescue the victim.
“A few moments afterwards, the monster rose to the surface and swinging his prey over his head above the water, he in this manner exultingly swam in front of all the houses in the village … the woman was still alive and her cries were piercingly audible.”
Ranee Margaret also kept a record of crocodile attacks in her book “My life in Sarawak”.
I wrote in my NST article entitled Legends of Fierce Crocodiles: “After Charles’ quartermaster was taken by a large reptile, it patrolled the river on a daily basis.
“It became very bold following the boat ferrying the state executioner (named Subu) and 20 paddlers.
“After its capture, the reptile’s stomach was opened when human remains together with rings and clothes of our unfortunate quartermaster were found.”
My fascination with these Salties or Crocodylus porosus started in June 1982 when I received a call from the Simanggang police chief Abang Idris Abang Suhai following the killing of a renowned Iban chief along the Batang Lupar.
It was four days after my 32nd birthday on June 26, 1982 that I came face-to-face with my first crocodile victim Penghulu Bangan Pali.
Bangan’s older brother Kebir gave me graphic details of the attack and his desperate attempt to save Bangan.
Kebir said: “It was the shrimp season and we left in a small sampan hoping to reap a good catch.
“Bangan walked along the bank and scooped up his catch which was kept in a container while I manned the 20-foot boat.
“When we started it was all peace and quiet until Bangan stepped on what he thought was a large log.”
Then all hell broke loose and within a split second, Bangan was swept into the water by a crocodile’s powerful tail.
In a brave and desperate attempt to save Bangan, Kebir added: “Looking down from the boat I could see a dark shadow of the monster that was in the shallow waters. I followed the shadow; it slowly began to move with Bangan in its jaws.
“As it slowly began to inch forward towards the deeper end of the Batang Lupar, I was desperate to sacrifice myself to save my brother who was recently appointed a Penghulu.
“I dived in and began groping in the mud and seconds later I managed to grapple with the crocodile’s spiky tail.”
Bare-bodied, Kebir wrapped himself around the mid-section of the tail hoping to distract the reptile so that it would release its grip on his brother.
But the reptile continued to slither away until Kebir ran out of breath and had to let go.
After swimming back to his boat he continued to paddle after the reptile but by then it vanished without a trace.
Soon the natives began to have dreams of the killer crocodile, which was an albino reptile named Bujang Senang.
For the next 10 years, there were sightings of a massive crocodile with a white patch on his back that disappeared when approached.
Later, I joined “Operasi Buaya Ganas” with Johnson who tape-recorded squealing crocodile babies “crying in distress” to lure Bujang Senang into a trap.
At 8pm, when the crocodiles were most active, Johnson and I joined six PFF personnel armed with M16s and boarded a small canvas marine boat life-raft.
We played our tape over and over again and when the police finally switched on the spotlight, we discovered we were surrounded by dozens of crocodiles, some massive.
As we were aware that even one large reptile could overturn the boat and make a meal of a few of us, we called off the operation.
During this time, all the prayers and incantations by village shamans or pangalir crocodile hunters failed to bear fruit.
On May 21, 1992, Bujang Senang apparently broke an ancient taboo or mali when it killed its 20th and last victim.
She was Dayang Bayang, the sister-in-law of Penghulu Bangan.
Dayang, 20, was wading across a chest-high stream near her longhouse Rumah Kiang opposite Pulau Seduku when the crocodile struck.
On informing her father Bayang Sapit of the attack, he rallied at least two dozen “warriors” armed with shotguns and spears and declared “war” on the reptile.
On arrival at the scene, the men cornered the reptile at a small tributary near their longhouse.
Co-writer of my first book Johnson Jong said that in the four-hour long epic battle, Bayang and his group speared the white-back crocodile and chased it upstream into the shallows.
Bayang told him; “When we got near, one of the men speared the reptile a second time but the spear head just bounced off its back.
“Finally, when the angry reptile was cornered, it reared its head and roared while three men fired simultaneously into its gaping mouth.”
In its death throes, Bujang Senang thrashed about for another 15 minutes attacking debris and tree stumps before it died.
I went on to write a second story of Sarawak’s crocodile menace with Johnson and the help of Dr Rob Stuebing and Professor Indraneil Das of UNIMAS in 2002.
Dr Das provided a six-page bibliography of Crocodilians in Borneo with almost 100 book titles.
My book “Man-eating crocodiles of Sarawak” was sold at Jong’s Crocodile farm in Siburan, which serves crocodile meat and food.
A third book in Bahasa Melayu entitled “Bujang Senang-Raja Buaya” was co-written with famous laureate Jong Chian Lai.
The original skull of Bujang Senang is displayed at Jong’s crocodile farm in a private room with pictures of the victims of attacks.
A cement replica of the white back Bujang Senang is also displayed at the entrance of the property.
Johnson later estimated that Bujang Senang was the largest crocodile in Malaysia measuring 19ft 4in (5.9m) and was at least 50 years old.
According to the Guinness World Records, the world’s largest crocodile in Southeast Asia was a 20.3ft long reptile nicknamed Lolong which was captured in the Philippines on September 3, 2011.
Lolong, which was also about 50 years old, died in captivity two years later on February 10, 2013.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune.
