During the Brooke era in Sarawak, every time the three white rajahs – James, Charles and Vyner – acquired a territory from the Sultan of Brunei, they built forts, most of which were named after themselves and their family members as well as close friends.
As a result, forts mostly made of belian or ironwood can be found in almost every town. Some of these forts were well kept and turned into museums and some still function as district offices.
Some had been unfortunately abandoned, losing all trace of their former glory whereas some were either destroyed completely, bombed or burnt down, therefore leaving no physical evidence of their very existence.
I have been lucky to be able to visit some of these. My earliest encounter was with Fort Ranee, also known as Fort James, in Saratok (1888) built on top of the Sagatok hill – the name Saratok must have been derived from this hill – and presently still functions as a district office.
At the mouth of Krian river in Kabong, there stands another fort called Fort Charles (1878).
It also serves as the sub-district office. My last trip there was more than 30 years ago. According to records, it was rebuilt further inland in 1895 due to soil erosion.
Forts that I have visited included Fort Emma (1859) – named after Charles’ sister Emma; Fort Brooke (1862) in Sibu; Fort Alice (1864) in Sri Aman, now known as Heritage Sri Aman Museum; Fort Margherita (1879) in Kuching, named after Ranee Margaret, Charles’ wife and now home to the Brooke Gallery, displaying documents and artifacts.
In Kapit, there’s Fort Sylvia (1880), named after Ranee Sylvia Vyner’s wife; Fort Lily (1885) in Betong; Fort Leonora (1924) in Engkilili, a fort built, unlike the others, not to defend the kingdom from any attack but purposely built as an administrative centre in Engkilili, named after Vyner’s eldest daughter Dayang Leonora Margaret – I stayed there while leading an entourage from the Rejang Teachers College on a concert tour in 1981; and finally Fort Brooke in Nanga Meluan, Julau, built in 1935.
Other forts are Fort Keppel (1868) in Bintulu, named after Sir Henry Keppel, a close friend of James and Charles; Fort Vyner (1884) in Belaga; Fort Florence (1887) in Trusan; Fort Limbang (1897); Fort Hose (1901) in Marudi; Fort Burdett in Mukah (named after 19th century philanthropist Angela Burdett-Courts, a good friend of the first Rajah) and Fort Arundell (1912) in Lubok Antu.
Special mention is hereby given to Fort Brooke which I visited and where I spent a night in 1989, prior to its renovation later.
Fort Brooke is one of the forts under the custody of the Sarawak Museum Department to be conserved and upgraded through the conservation and upgrading project of historical forts in Sarawak under the 11th Malaysia Plan (11MP).
It was given a facelift in 2012. The design of this fort is almost similar to Fort Lily in Betong, Fort Emma in Kanowit and Fort Sylvia in Kapit. Initially, it housed the police force to secure the safety of government activities in the area.
Among others, it was also used to halt a rebellion headed by the late Asun Paing from the Kanowit river. Asun, nicknamed “Bah Tunggal” (Rushing Flood) and born in the 1880s, was a former penghulu from the Entabai area in Julau.
The fort was also used as a sub-district office and a police station. From 1954 to March 1981, it was used to accommodate the Julau District Council and an education office that housed several classrooms.
Back to my rendezvous at the fort 30 years ago, it was due to an invitation by a long-time friend, Abang Balia, who was then Sarawak Rela director.
I was also invited to join the trip there by another friend, Julau District Rela officer Jana Sawing, now Matop longhouse chief.
I attended the camp organised by the Rela Julau District as a friend of the two aforesaid Rela figures, and as a dutiful obligation for being newly appointed as the inaugural Julau District Scout Commissioner.
“If you sleep in Fort Brooke, please avoid sleeping near to the tiang tengah (central or middle post),” reminded a female friend who was from Batu Matop longhouse, the birth place of the late Datuk Seri Temenggong Banyang Janting.
She, however, did not tell me why. So upon reaching the all-belian fort – its roofing was also belian – that had seen better days, I purposely chose to place next to the middle post all my belongings and camping gear, which included a special folding bed that I immediately laid out though it was only 11am, just five minutes upon our arrival by boat.
It was only around 2.30am that all entertainment, dining and drinking activities ended. I took my place at the chosen spot with my head almost touching the middle post.
Truly as thought, I had a special dream. People in the odd-looking longhouse mostly looked weird. Such a sombre atmosphere seemingly made me gulp for air but despite my predicament, people in the verandah were doing their chores unperturbed and none of them acknowledged my presence.
Strangely nobody even looked at me. There were quite a number of them, including children, who were busily doing their own thing but none of them even bothered to look my way.
This wasn’t a typical Iban longhouse, I said in my mind, but the words did not come out from my mouth. The Iban hospitality is well known and typified by their generous greetings and pleasantries, even with strangers.
On my own part I just let go. I went along the tempuan, the walkway part of the longhouse gallery and greeted no one in return for the same “favour” accorded by the occupants.
The last person that I saw on the other end of the longhouse was an old lady who surreptitiously wove mats on the open verandah ruai.
She was seemingly pre-occupied in her own world and couldn’t be bothered by my presence. Upon reaching the other end of the community dwelling, I was thinking and pondering, these occupants seemed faceless.
They were really faceless as I couldn’t remember looking close at any face at all as none of them looked at me. Somehow I felt no fear or pity.
There was a little anxiety but before exiting, I saw sunlight and was in a daze to be able to distinguish between night and day.
But of course it was daylight as the golden morning sunlight crept into the upper floor of Fort Brooke patterned by the broken belian roof.
So in my mind, the story about Fort Brooke being haunted was true. Souls of the dead have invaded this place, I wanted to say out loud but nothing came out from my mouth.
Abang Balia, who was already up and seated on the floor a metre away, tried to say something to me but I heard nothing and both of us were unable to find anything remotely suitable to the occasion to say. Sleepiness actually had the better of us both.
Months later when I related to my father about the dream, he said it was a good thing that none of these longhouse folk looked or greeted me. He said these were people from another world, the world of the dead.
“You still have a long time to wait, my boy,” he told me, adding that by them not looking at me or greeting me, it meant I was still far separated from their world.
Sadly by now, dad is part of their world. I wish him well and everlasting rest in peace.
