The hills are alive with visitors such as myself, seeking a respite from the concrete jungle and tropical heat of the lowlands of Malaysia. The district of Cameron Highlands in Pahang is renowned for its cool weather, tea plantations, orchards, scenic views, quaint cottages and my favourite scones with homemade strawberry jam. The oldest tourist development since the 1930s however, has more to offer than what we typically expect of it.
After tea and scones one afternoon, I came across a souvenir shop in Tanah Rata which sold local crafts. Speaking to a shop assistant at Yung Seng who recognised my interest in wood carvings, I was told that the upper floors house a private museum dedicated to the wooden crafts of the Orang Asli, the oldest indigenous minorities of Malaya. Making an arrangement to meet the owner of the museum, I was led pass the grilled gate and towards what at first glance seemed to be a compact, discreet gallery.
Wong Tet Seng welcomed me in Cantonese and being of Hong Kongese heritage myself, my interview with him in the popular dialect was of no issue. However, before I could utter any words of self-introduction I was literally stunned by the number and variety of sculptures and masks before my eyes.
“My goodness, so large and so much”, was my first expression of words to which Wong replied, ‘There are a lot more’ as he guided me through his impressively organised and well-maintained gallery spread out over 2 shoplots. For the next hour, I was able to learn from him about the wooden carvers of the Orang Asli community on Carey Island, from where the pieces in his collections had originated.
Cameron Highlands, despite being home to its own Orang Asli community, does not produce carvings such as those on display by Wong. Before I get anyone confused, allow me to explain. The particular tribe known as the Mah Meri numbers under 4000 in population and are based in the coastal settlement of Carey Island (Pulau Carey) in Selangor. They are traditionally animists who believe that everything is alive and has a soul — regardless of whether animal, plant or even everyday objects — and feelings. As such, rituals are still performed to this day to seek protection and gain favour with spirits responsible for matters such as shelter, food sources, fertility, health and safety.
It is through the medium of their wood carvings that the Mah Meri strive to maintain a relationship with and appease such forces. Described as ‘spirit carvers’, they are capable of producing extremely refined carvings using just a chisel and other homemade tools. Living in coastal areas populated by mangrove trees, nearly all carvings are made from nyireh batu — a red, rare mangrove hardwood from the mahogany family. Pursuant to their beliefs, before a particular tree is felled for carving, they must first determine if it is the residence of a spirit and if so, to seek permission to harvest it. The wooden blocks extracted from the mangrove swamps are then transported back to their village by boat.
There are only a handful of great sculptors left today and Wong claims that he is perhaps the largest private collector of Mah Meri sculptures in the country. With that, he indulges me in detail of the perfect craftsmanship of the pieces that he has meticulously chosen over the years. To the untrained and naive eye, some are bound to seem a tinge comedic and others on the verge of disturbing. Hard-pressed to pick out his favourite, Wong finally presents a piece bearing a design known as Tenong Jerat Harimau by Atan bin Seman, a reputable artisan. Depicting a tiger spirit with fantastically long nails, it clearly shows the high esteem of the Mah Meri for nature.
Wong himself was highly attuned with nature from a young age, starting as a butterfly catcher at the age of ten with a father who sold specimens to the Japanese. But how was his interest in such wooden carvings sparked?
“One day, an Orang Asli male came to the Cameron Highlands for work and told me of the Mah Meri carvings back in his own village. Out of curiosity, I went to Carey Island and bought my very first piece. Ever since that day and over 30 years later, I have never ceased collecting”.
His family and friends initially struggled to comprehend his obsession and the amounts of money that were being spent on his passion, up till the establishment of Wong’s private gallery for public viewing.
To date, he has received visitors from far and wide who wish to discover and admire the intriguing works of the Mah Meri.
“The forests are disappearing and so will our culture if we do not try to preserve it”, expressed Wong in a sombre manner and making me feel rather guilty that I, like many others, have yet to do my part in preserving a dying native art.
