Having a baby is painful in order to show how serious a thing life is.
— Lisa See, American writer
In ancient times, the Ibans had a very crude knowledge of managing childbirth.
Those were the days when they still lived in caves and were very close to nature, to its flora and fauna and demons as well as spirits. They could even communicate with all these things.
During childbirths, they would perform crude operations (by cesarean, now also known as
C-section surgery) on the mothers, taking out the newborns at the expense of the moms’ lives.
This means no mother could survive such childbirth. Most of the newborns were delivered and lived. The children were looked after by the widowed fathers, according to folklores.
This was narrated by my late maternal grandma Kejuang Meling and her cousin Ngelambai Rembuyan, our granduncle.
Both cousins were storytelling favourites among us, longhouse kids of the late 1950s and early 1960s.
We did not mind being seated near to Ngelambai despite his very smelly ‘tajung’ (sarung ) that perhaps could kill the small carp fish ‘enseluang’ if washed in the river.
It was Ngelambai’s narration that was central to the earliest ever known solution to this serious problem among the Ibans at that time.
Among the cave dwellers, there was a couple who was about to welcome their newborn.
Angap and his young wife Unga had been married for a few years. They did not plan to have children because childbirth would kill Unga. Nevertheless, Unga found herself craving for wild fruits and ferns – symptoms that she was conceiving.
Her pregnancy was a real cause of worry for her loving husband.
Angap tried his best to look for the wild fruits and ferns to fulfil his wife’s cravings. Due to his worries, he refused the company of others and was always alone on his jungle trips that sometimes would last a day or two.
During one of his trips, he heard a strange noise from among the canopies of trees deep in the forest, a great distance from their cave dwelling. He went nearer towards it.
What he saw shocked him. A male orang utan (Pongo pygmaeus), also known as mayas in the Iban language, was busily pressing the tummy of its female companion and Angap saw the female mayas giving birth to its newborn. The incident occurred on a wide branch of the tree but easily noticeable from where Angap was watching.
“Pound the ginger at the tree branch,” said another voice from among the few mayas at the scene.
Then Angap noticed that the pounded ginger was rubbed all over the body of the female ape after it gave birth. Soon, it was able to sit up and hold its newborn.
“Oh, that is how the mayas manage their females after delivery; no wonder the new mother is able to survive childbirth,” Angap talked to himself.
He was lucky some pieces of ginger fell from the tree branch and he quickly collected them.
When he went home to his wife, Angap took her away from the cave and started planting the ginger pieces.
Both were happy to see the ginger growing well and ready for use. Both were hoping that Unga would be the first to survive childbirth among the Ibans.
When it was time for Unga to give birth, Angap brought her back to the cave to shelter her from bad weather including storms.
He did his best to manage the wife’s childbirth based on what he learnt from the mayas earlier.
Out of Angap’s love and intensive care, his wife survived the natural childbirth.
She bore him a daughter who became a strong bond for the couple. Their wish was truly fulfilled as Unga became the first Iban woman to survive childbirth then.
Apart from the ginger, Angap made sure his wife and daughter were both well taken of. He started the practice of ‘bekindu’ (getting heated by sitting next to burning firewood) for his wife.
Besides rearing fowls, he also went hunting and brought back deer and wild boars, thereby providing good food for his wife and other family members.
Perhaps, it was because of Angap’s love that Unga survived the childbirth.
