The life of one we love is never lost. Its influence goes on through all the lives it ever touched.
– Katie Ashley, author
The article that paid tribute to my late friend, Benedict Sandin Attat in this tabloid on his 102nd birthday was certainly enthralling.
Nevertheless, entitled ‘Late Iban historian immortalised’, it missed some vital points and accolades that elevated Sandin into an arguably unparalleled figure, not only among the Ibans but among Malaysians and others in the world.
I was privileged to have known Sandin (1918-1982) in 1975 while I was a First-Year undergraduate at USM, Penang. We bonded immediately due to our common interest in Iban traditions, folklores, culture and anthropology.
Then a retired former curator of Sarawak Museum, the amiable Iban from Kerangan Pinggai, Paku, was in his first year as a Senior Fellow of USM’s Centre of Policy Research (CPR), whose members were mostly PhD holders. His name signage put on his office door was written as Dr Benedict Sandin.
The revered ethnohistorian and folklorist always had a wide smile when he looked at the signage. When I befriended his illustrious son, Edmund Stanley Jugol in 1986, then SNAP Youth chief, we had a good laugh about it.
Stacks of some 20 A4 thick-covered note books were placed at the corner of his office. These contained his research notes of over 15 years.
Every time when I came to his office, Sandin would ask me to recite in sing-song fashion the Gawai Antu chant of Timang Jalung, usually before I got seated. He would then follow up with another verse.
Later in 1976, sometimes our common friend and my anthropology lecturer Professor Dr Clifford Sather would join us for the session. Sandin told Sather that my father Salok was a lead Timang Jalung bard but I had told Sather about this earlier.
Sandin (I called him ‘Aya’ meaning Uncle) needed me to translate some Iban texts to English. These were not simple texts but full of idioms and poetic verses, thus making translation a very challenging task. But we managed to overcome the difficulties.
This led to the production of his book entitled ‘Iban Adat and Augury’ in 1980. He acknowledged me in the 151-page book. I bought it the following year in Kuching but it was totally destroyed by termites — together with many other books — in 1989.
In 1975, there were only three Iban undergraduates in USM. One was Linda Nichols (now deceased), who was one year my senior while the other was my good friend from Kapit, Thomas Chang Abang, a Pre-Science student.
Thomas and I were constant guests for lunch or dinner at Sandin’s home in Minden Height. He would fetch us with his white Volkswagen bearing the plate number PH4841. At every meal, uncle Sandin’s favourite ikan masin was a compulsory part of the menu. His wife Gindu always prepared authentic Iban dishes.
One Saturday morning, he and wife invited us to go to Batu Ferringhi, a popular beach resort on the other side of Penang. I was happy to drive his German Beetle although I only had an ‘L’ licence.
The most interesting moment was when we entered a seaside restaurant employing a few Thai girls. What astonished me and company was when the girls started greeting Sandin in their traditional Thai custom.
Sandin responded well because I quickly whispered to him the girls certainly mistook him for their then prime minister Kukrit Pramoj who shared an uncanny resemblance with our lead guest. They only realised he was not their PM when we spoke Iban among ourselves. I even, in jest, called him Uncle Kukrit.
During the 1975 Christmas Eve in Penang, I finally met Aussie Professor Derek Freeman, whose books on the Ibans I had read extensively. We (Sandin included) spent the evening as guests of Dr Sather.
It was also the first time I took durian, turkey with rice, beer and brandy (Hennessy) in that order, thanks to a challenge by Freeman.
By March 1979, Sandin had already left for Sarawak. But we met again in April when his niece married my cousin. The event was held at our Kedap longhouse in Saratok and it was the first time Sandin and my dad met.
My last meeting with him was in 1981 when I visited him at Saratok Hospital where his younger brother Lionel Frederick Mawar was Senior Hospital Assistant. My dear friend, who deserved a Datukship, died a year later, leaving his legacy, namely his many books in English and Iban intact with me — and elsewhere.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune.
