I knew that looking back on the tears would make me laugh but I never knew that looking back on the laughs would bring tears.
– graciousquotes.com
Since my young days, I have been enjoying jungle trips using blowpipes – my brother Jon and I were lucky to have one each. Though the trips were rare as compared to my fishing excursions, some were remarkable and remain intact in my memories.
For example, one trip topped the others for two reasons. Firstly, it was done in 1969 (when I was in Form Two) during the first day of Gawai Dayak. That was the moment when my parents officially adopted James Buang Sekam, then 22, as their son and thus becoming our brother.
James was then serving in Sarikei, in the Public Works Department. It was my dad (now deceased) who was instrumental in arranging his marriage to a girl from Ulu Sarikei. Now at 75 he is fully retired and residing in Kuching but at times would go to his hometown Sebuyau, now that the area is easily accessible by road.
Secondly, my ‘nyumpit’ trip on that day tops the rest in my memory as it was the only outing that I managed to down one small eagle, thanks to a very sharp ‘lajak’ (dart) that had its tip soaked in ipuh (poisonous liquid). The eagle was killed immediately by the poison. Prior to this, while using ball of clay instead of dart, I only managed to kill smaller birds.
I remember when arriving back at our Kedap longhouse, about 22 km from Saratok town, after two-hour excursion, our humble room was full of celebrants who welcomed James as our family member. He was presented with a ‘setawak’ gong as token of kinship. Nobody cared about the eagle that I caught as most were highly intoxicated. But as a fifteen-year-old I kept to myself and took a small dose of tuak and brought a book to our loft and read it there – until evening.
I can recall that James was very close to my eldest brother Edward, five years his senior, who was attached to SESCO in Sibu. They had known each other for some years and treated each other like a brother. So it was high time to do such adoption.
There was another adoption – of a daughter – circa 1964. Perhaps it was already planned, but I was only aware of such aim when I joined my parents for a visit to my aunty Santih Narang, my mom’s younger sister, then a mother of four, who stayed in Tekurap longhouse in Kabo, an upper tributary of Krian.
During the visit we were introduced to a family with three daughters whose age range was between eight and twelve. It was the youngest who seemed to interest my mom and who anxiously agreed to be adopted. I noted that after some agreements, her parents willingly let my parents adopt her. After a few days of the visit – done during school break – we left Tekurap with the eight-year-old girl who was to become my younger sister.
It was interesting to note that the girl was just named Long which was not registered with the National Registration Department. So upon arrival at Kedap, my mom and grandma decided to name her Jati, after an old lady who was our great-grand aunty. She was registered as Jati Salok at Nanga Assam School, entering Primary One and joined the other girls to stay in the boarding house just next to us, the boys, including my elder brother Jon. We were in Primary Three.
Jati seemed to be able to adapt well to her new environment. We happily went home to our abode in Bukit Tinggi, in upper Melupa, for weekends. She showed no sign of discomfort and we bonded well together. For the end of the year school holidays, my parents brought her for a visit to her family in Tekurap.
It was a big mistake as after two days, Jati refused to follow mom and dad back to Bukit Tinggi, thereby marking the end of the adoption. But when I got to meet her during a cockfight in 1982, she happily shook my hands and told me that she was a mother of two and retained her name Jati. Her husband was our relative via aunty Santih’s marriage. I handed some cash to her and the kids that she received with teary eyes.
She was my sister for about half a year when I was 10 and she eight. Now she is in her early 60s but that 1982 chance meeting was the last time we met.
When I last set foot in Kedap in 2019, my blowpipe was still intact but I didn’t go out for any ‘nyumpit’ trip. It has become a family heirloom and kept well by my brother Jon together with his, a longer version.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune.
