I think one of the coolest things you can do is disappear for a while, because it gives you the chance to re-emerge. To sort of pounce out of the jungle.
– Josh Homme, songwriter
Some journalists, myself included, have been mollycoddled once too often because we think we are a special breed.
After years of being spoiled silly as New Straits Times’ Kuching correspondent, I got bitten by the travel bug.
In 1979 I attended the Rubicon Springs Jeep Jamboree, the event emulating the native Red Indian footpath which white men used to recreate their journey across the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
Since Sarawak was my home base I decided to begin my own exploration right in our backyard – Kalimantan Borneo.
As a privileged reporter, I travelled with politicians, criss-crossing Sarawak by helicopter, four-wheel drive and motorcycle.
But venturing into the remote hinterland, I often had to rough it out as a pillion rider on an Indonesian “ojek” or motorcycle taxi.
In the early days there was only one immigration border checkpoint at Tebedu but dozens of “jalan tikus” or illegal “rat trails”.
On my first rat trail trip I went with my long-time Lubok Antu friend, Tambat Radin, to attend a wedding just across the border.
The second time was three months later in July 1993 when I was invited by the “Resident” of Putussibau, “Semagat” (a title) Jacobus E. Frans, paramount chief of the Memaloh tribe, to attend a historic “Gawai Madu Buling” ceremony.
I first met the “Maloh” nobleman who I had met 30 years earlier in Pontianak, where he had travelled to from Putussibau, the last Indonesian outpost in Kalimantan Barat (KALBAR) which shares the Lubok Antu border.
In 1822, Dutch administrator Major George Muller became the first European to travel into the interior where he founded Putussibau.
In 1826, Muller and his men continued to explore the hinterland but were killed by Dayak headhunters after crossing the famous “Muller Range”.
It was only 70 years later in 1895 that the Dutch established Putussibau – the words coming from “putus” (to break/split) and Sibau which was the name of a nearby tributary of the 1,143km-long Kapuas River.
With the establishment of the town, Javanese soldiers were sent to the border to protect the Maloh from Iban headhunters originating from Sarawak.
To reach our destination, I travelled on a dilapidated machine with no leg brakes, for a fee of 100 Rupiah.
The designated motorcycle rider and I were joined by Nicholas Bawin, an Iban from Engkari in Sarawak, who was visiting the remote region of his ancestors for the first time.
I chose to bring him along because as an Iban cultural expert, it was a first-hand experience for the former Sarawak “Majlis Adat Istiadat” deputy chairman.
I knew it was going to be an adventure with three of us on one bike on a muddy jungle track!
Our machine did not have foot rests for the pillion rider and so Nicholas and I rode with our legs spread eagle, as we hung on to each other for dear life.
Along our jungle jaunt, we helped carry the motorcycle onto a “sampan” (small wooden boat) to be ferried to the other side of the river.
Our first stop was at Lanjak where we took a “kijang” (an Indonesian car similar to an SUV) taxi packed with 15 people on a rollercoaster ride to Ukit Ukit, another Memaloh village.
When we reached our destination at Balimbis, we met Jacobus, who had been told of our cross-country journey.
He was immaculately dressed in the tradition of his Memaloh forefathers – in plumes of the argus pheasant, flowing from the top of his headgear while his torso was decorated with a vest of silver coins.
A “sirat” (loincloth) was carefully wound around his loins expertly.
As the “Semagat” aristocrat he was tasked with performing the rites and rituals to celebrate Gawai Madu Buling.
The day would also be the last of the grand headhunting ritual of the people from the Embaloh river where the last “Great Mourning Festival” was held in 1929 after a successful headhunting expedition.
Jacobus had spent three days travelling from Pontianak, to Sintang, Semitau, Lanjak, Ukit Ukit and finally Balimbis – 1,200km away.
More than 600 people from the neighbouring villages and as far as Pontianak and Sarawak were invited to attend the “Gawai” (festival) held during the rice harvest season.
During the long night of gong-beating and drinking “tuak” (rice wine) and “baram” (a palm toddy), both of which are considered compulsory, Temenggong Onyang addressed a large gathering at the front of the longhouse.
Onyang, a Semagat aristocrat, said it was a special homecoming for Jacobus, who last visited the region three years ago.
He had been specially selected to be guest of honour at the function and would perform the last rites of the “Great Festival” to appease the spirits of two ancestors – Temenggong Nandung (reigning 1904-1919) and Temenggong Tali “Karung” (1919-1929).
In the old days, the candidate selected to perform the rites of pulling out the statues of ancestral leaders (called Merabut Tambang) had to fulfil several conditions. Among others, he had to be of the Semagat people, an accomplished headhunter and descended from a leader of the community.
Even though Jacobus was not a headhunter, he was an accomplished lawyer who had served Indonesia during Confrontation and now held a high position in the governor’s office in Kalimantan Barat.
Next week: Part 2 – An exciting cultural extravaganza
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune.
