MY uncle, Ngauh Narang, was my mother’s eldest sibling. He was unmarried when he resigned as a medical assistant with Shell Berhad Lutong, Miri, around 1960.
During that time, he stayed with my family, and his mother, my grandma Kejuang Meling, played a significant role in our lives.
After some time away from town life, he was arranged to marry his second cousin, Dungkong, who then moved in with him and our family.
However, since they were both in their 40s, they were unable to have children, and unfortunately, my aunt Dungkong passed away due to illness about five or six years into their marriage.
When Uncle Ngauh resigned from Shell Bhd, he received some money and decided to purchase a shotgun, specifically a Steven Single Barrel. I’m not sure about the exact cost.
The shotgun became his most prized possession, leading him to spend days and nights hunting and waiting for game in the woods. He often shared stories about his experiences in the jungle.
His preferred waiting spot for hunting was a platform called “empara” in Iban, which was built on a tree canopy.
One evening, he shared an interesting story with us. He thought he saw some movement on a treetop about 50 or 60 metres away.
The movement seemed peculiar as if someone was keeping watch over something. He aimed his shotgun at it but didn’t fire because the figure wasn’t clear and stood out.
It was dusk but he eventually realised that it was his second cousin waiting on another ‘empara’ without seeing him (Ngauh).
It was a relief that he didn’t act impulsively as it could have endangered his cousin’s life. He never mentioned this incident to anyone besides our family.
On another occasion, he successfully shot a wild boar, which appeared motionless and presumably dead about 30 metres away from the base of the tree where his ‘empara’ was located.
He took the opportunity to smoke his favourite Embassy brand cigarette. After a few puffs, he approached the boar but was startled when it suddenly got up and ran.
However, he noticed a trail of blood indicating a severe injury. Since it was still daylight, he easily tracked the wounded boar.
Before nightfall, he found it lying down but still alive. He swiftly used his sharp knife to deliver a deep cut to the throat, ensuring its demise.
He severed the head and left the body behind while returning to our longhouse to seek assistance with the butchering. As children, we enjoyed accompanying the adults to locate the shot boar.
It was a large one, and the five men in our group divided the weight by cutting it into five sections for the journey back home, which took around two hours.
By the time we returned, it was approximately 8.30 pm. The entire longhouse had a satisfying meal of the slaughtered wild boar, cooked by some women from our community.
This was still a time when game meat from hunting trips was shared among longhouse residents, with the largest portion reserved for the hunter.
Around 1965, when I was in Primary Four, my family was farming in the Kedap area, and we temporarily returned to the longhouse from our home in Bukit Tinggi in the upper Melupa basin.
It was late afternoon when my elder brother Jon and I returned from school on a weekend break. We couldn’t find anything to eat except for plain white rice.
I hurriedly went to the backyard and gathered some green chili, while Jon fried the chili mixed with dried anchovy heads. We had a satisfying meal, and I even finished two plates of rice combined with the fried green chilli.
However, as the evening approached, there was still no sign of anyone returning from the farm. We were informed that none of them resided there, and signs indicated that my family, including my dad, mom, grandma, Uncle Ngauh and Aunt Dungkong, were staying in our room at the Kedap longhouse.
Around 7.30 pm, I decided to take the challenge of searching for them on the farm, which was approximately a 40-minute walk from the longhouse.
I carried a powerful torchlight to guide my way. After about 15 minutes into the journey, using a battery torch and a special lamp called ‘pigo’, I spotted a group of people approaching me.
I felt relieved as they were my family, led by Uncle Ngauh, carrying a dead honey bear that he had shot earlier that day.
Meeting them halfway was a joyous moment, and I eagerly anticipated having honey bear meat for dinner since I was hungry again after the rice and fried chilli meal.
We continued our journey back, and I assisted Uncle Ngauh by sharing the burden of carrying the bear. It was an incredible experience to find them on the way back and have the honey bear as an additional reward.
Upon reaching the longhouse, Jon was delighted that we would have a change from our earlier meal of rice with fried chilli.
He was skilled at preparing bear meat, especially through BBQ. However, my mother divided the meat into three portions: one for drying (“salai”), one for soup, and one for immediate consumption.
We managed to invite some friends to join us for the soup in the evening around 9.30 pm. Such gatherings were always cherished by the longhouse community after a successful hunting trip.
There were times when Uncle Ngauh returned at night with two shot mouse deer. I remember one evening when he came back with two animals — a fox and a mouse deer. We truly savoured those meals, especially when he brought back larger animals such as wild boar and deer.
In 1973, while I was attending Lower Six at Methodist Secondary School in Sibu, our Uncle Ngauh passed away. Unfortunately, I couldn’t attend his funeral because it coincided with my school examinations.
Around 1971, when Uncle Ngauh’s health was deteriorating, he handed over ownership of the shotgun to Jon since he had no children of his own.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the New Sarawak Tribune.
