Kids in the ulu (remote hinterland) of the late 50s through to the 60s had to be contented with their surroundings as their playground and sources of entertainments.
In the absence of toys,
gadgets, cinemas and other entertainments the urban centres could offer to their counterparts then, rural kids then needed to be constructive and creative to fully optimise their environmental attributes for entertainment, fun and most of education. After all play is a very important aspect in education – this is extensively covered in Psychology of Education, a subject taught to trainee teachers in colleges and universities where theories by the likes of Sigmund Freud, B.F. Skinner, Jean Piaget, Ivan Pavlov, Abraham Maslow and many more.
I was born and bred in the carefree ulu environment and befriended trees, plants, rivers, streams, hills and mountains from early childhood. They were part of me, I them. Shrieks of monkeys, howls of civets, deer and bears as well as different singing tunes of birds, croaks of frogs and many more jungle sounds were music to my ears. Only the whining of mosquitoes caused nuisance. From early childhood ulu kids are trained to distinguish edible plants, creepers, mushrooms and others. We are taught about the necessary knowledge and secrets of the flora and fauna. We learn to live and move around in oneness with them.
We are familiar with the sometimes unfriendly weather, scary environment. We would see slowly grey clouds in the sky spreading their skirts open, wider and wider, and soft rain begins to fall. It starts quietly and gently caressing the warm air, kissing all the dark corners of the day or night, slowly and later increases its tempo, changing into a driving, pounding storm, fierce and demanding, a fanatic beat in a steady savage rhythm, plunging down harder and harder, until it finally explodes in a burst of thunder. There are times when it would suddenly be over as quickly as it has started. These are phenomena of the ulu.
Streams and the upper reaches of Melupa River were my childhood’s favourite hunting ground. From the age of eight I was brought by my parents away from the longhouse and enjoyed the freedom of living at the edge of the jungle. Lazy as I was apart from being the pet of my parents, I was excused from rubber tapping duties and was left alone to traverse over the fast following upper Melupa and its tributaries, especially that of Sungai Tapang stream and few other smaller streams nearby our Bukit Tinggi abode. I had little interest in using the blowpipe though we had two long ones which were left to the use and care of my elder brother Jon, six years my senior.
Fishing was my passion, especially using the fishing rod and ‘mansai’ (using a special woven basket to trap fish, crabs and prawns) which is essentially a feminine pastime. Play makes the child adjust faster to his environment, reinforcing his id and libido pertaining to the adrenalins of fright and fight, Freud points out in one of his many books. One of his quotes reads: “Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways.”
As young adults and living in the jungle, ulu boys are free to roam and run, even indulging in a game ‘teruan’ (hide and seek) in the width and depth of the jungles among trees and wild animals and sometimes unfriendly streams. This play is vital in shaping our sharpness in jungle tracking and looking for clues of directions. That is why ulu boys are natural scouts and trackers and I think Freud scores highly in his aforesaid quote pertaining to the Iban boys, especially my Melupa contemporaries of whom one or two have been called home by the Lord. May their souls be blessed.
One of them, my late cousin Kimbui Bungin was a constant fishing companion at the nearby Sungai Tapang. Over a period of four years we tried the tuba (tubai in Iban) fishing. In fact nearby our Bukit Tinggi home my father planted in abundance the poisoning tuba creepers. Kimbui and I would pick a few and tried hitting the creepers at a certain stretch of the Sungai Tapang stream and made good harvest of the fish and prawns. The effect of tuba only lasts for one or two hours. After this one can see the river creatures are back to live again.
When it came to fishing using the rod, I aimed big and tried my luck with the main river, the Melupa rather than going for the streams, apart from Sungai Tapang. There was this special pool Lubuk Muney down the Melupa just a short distance from our Bukit Tinggi home. It was earlier named Lubuk Raran but changed to Muney after a Chinese trader named Muney who died of a gunshot was found floating and got entangled at the side of the pool. This happened before I was born but the tale continues – the suspect, a cousin of my father (may both their souls rest in peace) was detained by the British rule but set free due to insufficient evidence.
I had two memorable moments at Lubuk Muney. It was where I caught more than ten of a fish species called ‘Ikan Pait’, a kind of carp with black and white scales which is rarely caught using a fishing rod.
“You are really something Tawi. I have been fishing all my life but I have never caught ‘Ikan Pait’ using a rod. They usually avoid taking the bait,” my father (Apai) said to me upon finding out that I caught more than 10 of the fish that evening. He was aged around 55 then.
On another occasion at Lubuk Muney I was accompanied by a nephew Endawi Anggun who joined me for the weekend leave from our primary boarding school just a short distance away. It was around two in the afternoon when we took to my favourite spot where the Ikan Tebalang used to be abundant. Endawi was a spectator as we only brought one rod. A few big Ikan Tebalang, forever the hungry fish, were already caught when a giant Ikan Tunggal carp appeared with its head about the size of the 14kg gas tank directed towards us as if paying homage to me and Endawi. Accompanying their king or queen were myriad of smaller Ikan Tunggal, most of which were about the size of our limbs. The giant fish stayed immobile for at least five to seven minutes, seemingly waiting to be fed. I just watched – immobile too. I knew Ikan Tunggal took no bait so upon the giant’s appearance I reserved my bait for my string and hook was too small for them. When they finally moved away, the Tebalang came back and we caught a few more.
I am wondering whether anyone else besides the two of us have ever encountered that giant of a fish in the Melupa. My father said such unique creature would only reveal itself to only one person and that person was me. He had never heard others encountering such a big fish in the Melupa. But I told him about Endawi being in my company during that time.
“Endawi is the witness to the event and as insurance you are not lying about it,” Apai said adding that I was the main target of such spectacle.
The 60s and early 70s were filled with many more episodes of fishing, hunting, farming, rubber tapping, seeking, hiding and living in the ulu but allow me to end this one here. We will meet again next week.
