We don’t inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children.
– Native American proverb
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We, the kids in the ulu (remote hinterland) of the late 50s through to the 60s had to be contented with our surroundings as playground and sources of entertainments.
In the absence of toys, gadgets, cinemas and other entertainments rural kids then needed to be constructive and creative to fully optimise their environmental attributes for entertainment, fun and most of all 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 play centre stage.
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 at times 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 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 they stay in everlasting peace.
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.
Once in 1964, I was accompanied by a nephew Endawi Anggun where only one rod was used at the pool. It was around two in the afternoon when we took to my favourite spot at Lubuk Muney. This was when a giant Ikan Tunggal carp appeared with its head about the size of the 14kg gas tank directed towards me and Endawi as if paying homage to us.
Accompanying their ace were myriads 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. Oh such a memorable moment.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune.
