“Every river has its stories, and every story has its river.”
Michael Ondaatje (1943 – Present); a renowned Sri Lankan-born Canadian author and poet. He is known for his distinctive writing style that blends poetry and prose, often blurring the boundaries between genres.
IN my previous stories, I shared tales about the cemeteries in the Melupa Basin, a tributary of the Krian River in the Saratok District.
This time, I want to take the readers on a journey through the river basin, starting from a landmark downstream and on to the interior.
I’ve covered all the significant terrains and landmarks that hold significance for my family and relatives.
Let’s begin our boat journey from the estuary, located approximately 500 metres below the upgraded Krian Bridge along the Pan Borneo Highway, almost 192 kilometres from Kuching.
About one kilometre from the river mouth, on the left side, there is a small stream called Sungai Entili.
This is the present location of the Salcra Palm Oil Mill (SAPOM), which was previously owned by my family.
However, in the early 19th century, before Salcra, there was a longhouse owned by the renowned Temenggong Tanduk situated at the river mouth.
Tanduk was known for his wealth and arrogance. Unfortunately, his longhouse was attacked by a Simanggang war chief, catching Tanduk off guard despite the warning given by Entinggi, a resident of the same longhouse.
As a result, Tanduk was ill-prepared for the attack and lost his life. Entinggi, who suffered from the skin disease ringworm, managed to escape with Tanduk’s wife, his wife, and some children.
The site was subsequently named Senuan Alah, meaning “grave of the defeated,” a name that persists to this day.
In a later attempt by the late Saratok MP Datuk Seri Peter Tingom, there was a plan to build chalets at the site to attract picnickers.
However, these completed chalets have now become abandoned structures. I recall visiting the empty chalets over a decade ago when we went fishing in the Salcra ponds.
As we leave this site, we will come across the Kedap tributary on the left side. Shortly after, we will encounter a small tributary on the right side.
This is where my granduncle Jerampang Saat, nicknamed Pintu Batu Nanga Igan (Nanga Igan Rock Door), Indu Ditemu Balu Tengah Malam (Woman Widowed at Midnight), shot and killed a crocodile.
The crocodile was found feeding on his chickens while he and his wife (my father’s first cousin) lived in a hovel nearby.
It was believed that two large crocodiles were searching the Melupa River for the killer, but he managed to evade capture and lived to old age.
Continuing our journey, we will pass by Lubuk Kerukuh (Kerukuh Pool), a pool famous for its large carp fish, which may now be infested with crocodiles. In 1973, during a major flood in July, a boat sank in this pool, fortunately without any casualties.
This pool used to be a popular spot for net fishing (jala fishing), but it has lost its popularity in recent times due to divers sighting red eyes, possibly belonging to crocodiles, while hunting for fish.
Around 600 metres further up from this pool, there is a suspension bridge that connects my longhouse community to their farms and orchards.
The bridge has recently been upgraded. Not far from the bridge, there is a bathing site used by the residents of my longhouse in Kedap.
However, it is rarely used nowadays since we have individual water supply from the Public Works Department (JKR) to our households.
In 2012, there was an incident where a crocodile crawled towards the site while my two elder brothers were entertaining two visitors during a Sunday afternoon chicken barbecue.
They quickly noticed the unwelcome visitor and moved away from the site, leaving the crawling crocodile empty-handed.
Moving on from the Kedap waterfront, we will come across Lubuk Tedung (Cobra Pool), a pool with a dark and eerie appearance. I have never dared to put my hands into the water whenever passing by this pool.
However, my second brother Jon, who fears nothing, considers this his favourite fishing spot.
In the past, he used to catch big white single-stripe carp fish, known as Ikan Tunggal, from this pool.
Shortly above Lubuk Tedung, on the left side, we find the Burui Cemetery. This cemetery is the largest native burial ground for both non-Christians and Christians.
However, in recent times, most Christians have chosen to bury their deceased at the Nanga Assam Cemetery further up the river.
Opposite this burial ground, by the roadside of the Pan Borneo Highway, is our rubber plantation where I last tapped rubber in November 1974, accompanied by a wealthy lady from Sibu.
Continuing our journey upstream, we reach a pool called Lubuk Jelapa. My partially handicapped cousin Buma, who was an excellent swimmer, once saved the life of a schoolmate who fell into this pool.
The incident occurred during a school picnic when the students were playing near the water’s edge.
Buma noticed his friend struggling in the deep section of the pool and immediately dived in to rescue him.
Both boys were brought safely to the shore, and Buma was hailed as a hero by his classmates.
Moving further up, we reach Nanga Assam, a small village located on the right side of the river. This village is known for its rubber plantations and is home to the Assam Methodist Church.
The cemetery I mentioned earlier is situated here, serving as the final resting place for many Christian residents of the Melupa Basin area.
Continuing our journey, we will pass by several more small streams and pools, each with its own stories and significance.
However, for this journey, I will conclude our boat trip at the upper reaches of the Melupa River, where the river narrows and becomes more challenging to navigate.
As we conclude our journey through the Melupa Basin, I hope you’ve enjoyed exploring the various landmarks, pools, and stories that hold significance for my family and relatives.
These tales showcase the rich history and experiences of the people who have lived along the river for generations.
The Melupa Basin is not just a geographical location; it is a tapestry of memories, traditions, and the resilience of the people who call it home.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune.
