What difference is there, do you think, between those in Plato’s cave who can only marvel at the shadows and images of various objects, provided they are content and don’t know what they miss, and the philosopher who has emerged from the cave and sees the real things?
– Desiderius Erasmus, Dutch philosopher
Thirty years ago in August 1993, I flew 3,000km half way around Borneo hoping to discover a tribe, reportedly the first “cave-dwellers” of Kalimantan.
A year earlier, journalists had reported meeting a group of cave dwellers in the forests of remote East Kalimantan.
So, off I flew to the famous Indonesian oil town of Tarakan for an unforgettable adventure.
Accompanying me was the venerable Pak Yohanis Sakai, a Lun Dayeh from the Kerayan highlands, bordering Ba’Kelalan in Lawas.
We had chartered a Mission Aviation Fellowship (MAF) Cessna for the 300km hour-long flight across the scenic Sulawesi Sea piloted by a trainee American evangelist.
Our destination was one of the furthermost villages on the eastern tip of East Kalimantan.
In 1992, an Indonesian film crew from Pusat Produksi Film Negara had visited Teluk Sumbang to write their sensational story.
One newspaper headline read: “Bertemu dengan suku Basap Punan di Teluk Sumbang, saya olah olah benarbenar berada di Zaman Batu. (Meeting with the Basap Punan at Teluk Sumbang, was to me like going back to the Stone Age).”
It added: “Adoh repotnya, Mereka Jarang Mandi. (Oh so disturbing, to meet a community that rarely bathed.”
The writer said they had met bare-breasted Basap women who reminded him of Kuta beach, the famous European “playground” for topless sun-bathers.
Soon after the media reports, the Indonesian authorities refused to allow “outsiders” into the vicinity because it was unwanted publicity.
But I decided to take a chance with the influential Pak Yohanis from a Bible College who was the first evangelist to preach in the district.
Our hour-long flight entailed flying across the deep blue sea over Pulau Derawan which has 31 islands, including Kakaban, Maratua, Sangalaki and submerged reefs and islets, now a playground for sunbathers and divers.
Landing at the soccer field of the primary school at Batu Putih, we hired three “ojek” motor-cycle taxis for the first leg of the journey to meet these so-called cavemen — six hours away by the sandy coastal road.
Riding partly on land and sand, we finally arrived at our first stop — Biduk Biduk — in the evening and reported to Pak Lurah Andachong, the village chief.
Opting to stay in Andachong’s “Losmen” hostel, I learnt that the “cavemen” were pagans until they converted to Christianity in 1988.
Said Yohanis: “At first, the Basap were wary of outsiders and we were told they could become hostile if they felt threatened.
“But we convinced the community living in caves we had come in peace.”
Their leader named Findusan was the first to lead the Basap out of the jungle to the civilised world.
By 1990, change began to take place when the Indonesian government built proper homes for the community comprising some 130 people at Teluk Sumbang.
At dusk, I was ready to go on the second leg of the journey to Teluk Sumbang to meet the Basap.
But I first had to report to the Biduk Biduk’s “Camat” district officer Syamsul Abidin.
Looking through my Malaysian passport, he noticed the word wartawan (journalist) in the section under “profession”, and said: “I’m sorry because this is as far as you can go.”
When I pleaded, explaining that I had spent a fortune to journey half-way around Borneo to write the story, he relented.
I had used an old trick saying the police chief at Tarakan had given me permission to visit Teluk Sumbang, on condition that we did not take pictures.
I suspect Pak Syamsul knew I was lying, but closed one eye because I promised to write the story of how he had played a major role in transforming the lives of one of the poorest native communities in Kalimantan.
I left with Yohanis by motorcycle to our next destination to meet my first nomadic Basap tribespeople.
In the old days, the Basap lived in caves but like the nomadic Penan of Sarawak, living on wild pigs and wild game.
But they soon learnt how to plant hill padi and build small huts.
A young Basap leader named Manuel Suriman, 23, said their ancestors were once very poor folk and had no choice but make the caves in Biduk Biduk their home.
After they were resettled by the government at Teluk Sumbang, their lives changed for the better.
He said that the media reports in 1992 were grossly exaggerated. “I recall that a film crew brought our people to a cave, about 45 minutes away from Teluk Sumbang, and did a documentary sometime last year. We were asked to dress up half naked and to pose for a documentary.”
“They also paid us to become actors,” he added.
So was it all an exaggerated tale?
It reminded me of two stories — one on the Tasaday, the so-called “lost tribe” of the Philippines which was discovered in the early 1970s and the 1983 story of Sarawak’s “lost tribe of Batu Lulau” in Ulu Baram led by Penan chief Moyong Usai.
Manuel said that his ancestors still practised a form of fire worship called arghama.
“The fire ceremony is conducted at night after someone has a dream. The shaman burns up wood chips and other materials in a wooden bowl while the others then perform a ceremony called kami balian. They circle round the bowl of fire and chant. I witnessed this rite only once when I was small,” he added.
Manuel’s ancestors once wore bark loincloth called bilat but soon began wearing western clothes which were donated to his community.
“We don’t live in old caves any more. We spent much time in three massive caves in the area at Lobang (cave) Gunung Machan, Labu and Kelinsapan where the older folk would tell stories of how life was as cave dwellers.
“During this gathering we would go out and hunt and forage for jungle vegetables. We also cultivated around the area, even growing hill padi so that outsiders don’t make claims on our ancestral land.”
He said that each cave could accommodate five to 10 people or a relatively large family.
At that time, only five Christian Basap families still preferred the jungle and continued to live in jungle huts called “bak” made from thatched roofs of large salak leaves.
He said that only a few members such as his uncle Linkanyar, 60, his wife Sumbalik who is in her 50s, and their son Yunus preferred the old style of living.
The Basap are actually a coastal people and met with nomadic Bajau sea-gypsies and other sea traders in the early days.
Bernard Sellato in his book Hornbill and Dragons states that the Basap have for centuries collected birds’ nests for the Sultans of Berau.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune.
