My earliest memory dates back to late 1957 or early 1958 when being carried by Saban Imong a.k.a Apai Badey on his shoulder, a statement that I was a tiny and light toddler.
Saban, who died at an old age some years ago, was among many interesting characters that I came across since that moment of him carrying me along the open gallery ‘ruai’ of our longhouse at Kedap, now known as Tembawai Libas, just a few metres away, from our present Kedap longhouse site. Tembawas Libas was the first of my only three longhouse dwellings since birth.
Born and bred at nearby Mendas longhouse, the father of six was a kind individual and a keen follower and member of my late father‘s team of about seven bards in Kedap. He later recorded the ‘renung’, Iban traditional equivalent of love songs in RTM in the 70s. What made him a remarkable character was not his talent as a bard but his usually hilarious reactions to happenings around him. He was a very likable individual but was never sober during Gawai Dayak and other celebrations. Neverthelss he was harmless and funny under the influence of alcohol that made him stood out from his peers.
A first cousin of my maternal grandma, Ngelambai Rembuyan who also died of old age in the 70s was another interesting character. It was my granduncle Ngelambai who became my poker ‘ala longhouse’ sifu. A few of us cousins aged between 9 and 11 years old became his poker protégés, using rubber bands as bets. Later others joined in the game too, including a few adults. But it was Ngelambai who played the pivotal role in introducing poker game to us longhouse kids.
He was also good in story telling. Despite the sweaty and foul smell of his ‘tajung’ waist cloth, kids did not mind sitting next to him to enjoy his tales about Iban folklore.
Above all, Ngelambai was told by a deity in his dream that he was capable of ‘makai burung and mimpi’ (neutralising bad omen and bad dreams) by means of a ritual. In fact it was this skill that made him a public figure as far as residents of Melupa River basin were concerned.
Among the cockfighting enthusiasts, he also cut a formidable figure with high bets due to his considerable resources. We kids would be too happy to gather around him in the evening after a good cockfight outing as he was too eager to count his winning at the open gallery ‘ruai’ with the oil lamp readily available to provide light. But anyone expecting tip would be disappointed. However, if he were to remain in his room and no sign of counting any winning in the post cockfight evening that was a telling sign that the day’s outing had been futile.
Uncle Ujih ak Untan, a first cousin of my father was another interesting character. Stout and tough, he was a lead bard of ‘timang jalung’ performed during Gawai Antu (feast of commemorating the dead), a role that was later taken over by my late dad. Ujih was also told by a deity in his dream that he was given the power to heal ‘kayap’ ( a kind of skin disease). Also a keen poker – ala longhouse – player, Ujih was always featured in such games at festivals and cockfights, but more often as ‘dealer’ whereby he would take a little ‘tax’ for every game, thereby forever a winner.
In his earlier days, Ujih was accused of a murder by shooting. This happened in the 40s before I was born but as a unique incident, the story was told again and again from generation to generation, but probably stopped with ours. After winning big in a game of poker in Munggu Embawang longhouse, the remotest settlement in the Melupa Basin, two travelling vendors Moon Neh and Toh Ah from Saratok town happily left the longhouse to return home using a longboat. Upon reaching Nanga Sungai Tapang stream, Moon Neh was fatally hit by a bullet and fell from the boat as he was sitting at its stern. Toh Ah on the boat’s front was shocked to see his friend falling to his death and jumped to the river to escape and subsequently ran and swam down river till he reached Kedap and told the folks there about the shooting that killed Moon Neh.
Days later, a team of policemen from Saratok went upriver and arrested Ujih. He was remanded in the police cell in Saratok but was told by his brother Limbing Untan and by my father not to plead guilty. In fact there was no evidence that he committed the shooting as no weapon was found, and that he himself had no gun. So the British government had not enough evidence to convict him. Decades after the shooting and with the change of government, there were of course whishpers here and there. Ujih graduated from a timang jalung bard to one who ‘drinks the jalung’ (ngirup jalung), a role only reserved for those with ‘dengah’ (head trophies). When intoxicated he would tell part by part of the Nanga Sungai Tapang stream episode that took the life of Moon Neh. If one knows well about that part of the river, the steep gradient of the river bank after Sungai Tapang stream estuary is a very strategic point to lay an ambush of any sort. This was where the shooting took place about more than seventy years ago. Later the remains of the deceased vendor were found floating at a deep pool just about 50 metres down river. The pool was renamed Lubuk Moon Neh. This was where I saw the biggest ‘ikan tunggal’ carp about the size of the 17kg Shell gas tank in 1965. My nephew Hilary Datu ak Anggun was also there.
Ujih who died of old age in the 90s took the nick name ‘ensumbar’ of Kelambu Kumang Begitang Nengan Hari, Baya Mangah Betegah Panggau Kemudi (Kumang’s Lace Hanging at Midday, Fierce Crocodile That Bites at the Boat’s Stern), a poetic description of his shooting deed. He had a special liking for me and fondly called me ‘anak’ (son) as I used to tip him generously during good poker games, especially in the 80s.
Among others, one non-relative stood out from the rest. He was Narong from Pelaie Ulu in Assam, a tributary of Melupa. Narong, an ardent cockfighting enthusiast, was tall and muscular though at old age, he slumped a bit though it was not attributed to the small rotan container of betel nuts and other related ‘accessories’ that seemed to be part of his daily ‘attire’. Most people talking or listening to Narung would stay at least a few feet away for fear of being ‘sprayed’ by the reddish ‘betel’ liquid courtesy of his mouth. I used to see him during cockfights and festivals as well as funerals. Such persona now reminds me of two American actors, namely Lee Van Cleef and Nick Nolte.
Narong took the nickname ‘Labang Lebus Tengah Hari’ (White Coloured Cockerel Kicking at Midday). He won a few head trophies during
battles and was thereby capable of performing ‘Ngirup Buluh’ (the highest grade of ritual in Gawai Antu).
A shy, timid but kind person who later won the post of Penghulu through an election in 1966, Kandau anak Sagoh (1933-1987) was a unique individual. He was my late sister Dinggu Salok’s husband. He won the election in 1966 – I was then in Primary Five at Nanga Assam Primary School, the venue of the election. Kandau, a classmate of former Sarawak State Secretary Datuk Abang Yusuf Puteh at Betong’s St Augustine Secondary School in the late 40s, rejected an offer to become Sarawak Administrative Officer right after finishing three years of secondary school. At a young age he dreamt of a spirit telling him that his hands were capable of designing, sculpturing and making household and decorative items. Many of his rotan furnitures, wooden and bamboo designs still remain as testaments to his skills.
Just a week or so before he died in 1987, Penghulu Kandau received a letter to appoint him as Pemanca but his untimely demise stopped him from being sworn in.
There were many others who deserve to be recorded as interesting individuals but space doesn’t permit me to include them all here. They will be featured later.
