‘Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.’
– Nelson Mandela (1918-2013); a prominent South African political leader and anti-apartheid activist. In 1994, he became his country’s first black president.
In my recent dream about my dad, Apai, memories of the special man who was my earliest idol came flooding back. Apai, who passed away in June 2002 at the age of 92, never had the opportunity to attend school and could only write the numbers 0, 1, 10, and 11.
Despite his lack of formal education, Apai possessed a unique skill – he taught himself how to scribble an ‘X’ to cast his vote during elections. I often wondered whether his votes, accumulated over years of unwavering loyalty to the nation, were ever counted or if he unknowingly became part of the spoiled votes’ statistics.
It still astonishes me to this day that an illiterate man like Apai was appointed as the inaugural treasurer of the Nanga Assam Primary School Committee in Saratok back in 1962. How he managed to handle accounting tasks and fulfil the responsibilities of a treasurer for a new school committee remains a mystery.
In the realm of Iban rituals and oral literature, Apai achieved remarkable recognition as a skilled ‘pengap’ and ‘timang jalung’ bard during his 40s. He became a lead bard, known as ‘tuai lemambang’,” for both the ‘pengap’ and ‘timang jalung’ ceremonies.
Curiosity led me to ask him how he acquired such extensive knowledge and mastery of the various domains and chapters within the ‘pengap’ and ‘timang jalung’. Apai revealed that he learned from a renowned ‘lemambang’ named Belayung, and the process spanned several years of dedicated study and practice.
For the ‘timang jalung’, a sing-song performance integral to the Gawai Antu rituals honouring the deceased, the bards had to study the different realms inhabited by animals, birds, spirits, and departed individuals, categorised based on the causes of their deaths. These realms were depicted on the ‘papan turai’ tablet, which illustrated the sequence of these diverse entities’ abodes.
Apai’s talents extended beyond the realm of bardic performances. He excelled in other forms of oral literature, such as the ‘sampi’ and ‘bebiau’ chants. ‘Sampi’ involved prayers and appeals to the gods and deities for blessings, bountiful harvests, and good health. These chants were typically performed during festivals and ceremonies and encompassed various aspects of life, including farming, warfare, marriage, and other worldly endeavours. ‘Bebiau’, on the other hand, entailed the presiding bard bestowing blessings upon guests during ceremonies while seeking further favour and blessings from the revered folklore heroes, gods, and deities. Notably, Apai recorded the ‘sampi’ on Radio Sarawak’s Iban Section in 1955, thanks to his cousin Gerunsin Lembat, who later became Tan Sri Datuk and State Secretary.
As a prominent ‘timang jalung’ bard, Apai received numerous invitations to perform alongside his group of four to five bards at various Gawai Antu ceremonies between 1961 and 1973. However, during one of these events held at Ulu Rimbas longhouse in Debak, Betong, Apai’s cherished amulet known as ‘batu tekuyung’ was stolen. This amulet derived its name from its resemblance to the resilient river snail (tekuyung), which clings steadfastly to stones or logs despite the strong river currents. Ownership of such an amulet symbolized unwavering strength and guaranteed victory, regardless of the intensity of competition or rivalry. Nevertheless, Apai retired from active participation in ‘timang jalung’ when he reached his early seventies in the 1980s. However, in 1985, he recorded the chant ‘timang jalung’ at RTM Sibu, as my father-in-law was then the head of the Iban section there.
Being the youngest in the family, I shared an incredibly close bond with Apai. I, too, developed a deep love for Iban oral literature and could have potentially become a skilled bard, as he believed. Regarding my education, Apai maintained a laissez-faire approach. Although the realm of education was foreign to him, he and my mom worked tirelessly to provide for my elder brother Jon and me. We also assisted them with rubber tapping and farming during school holidays.
Apai was perhaps one of the earliest, if not the first, Iban man to sell farm produce in town. In the early 1960s, he would paddle across the crocodile-infested Krian River from our settlement on the opposite riverbank to Saratok town, selling our produce. Rainy seasons posed a significant challenge for my parents as rubber tapping was hindered. However, Apai devised a clever solution. He would bring thick, used clothing later in the morning to mop the bark of our rubber trees in order to continue tapping as usual. On one occasion, Apai’s cousin passed by and made some disparaging comments, but Apai simply brushed them off. Years later, he had the last laugh when I became the first university graduate from the Melupa basin, earning him a measure of respect. He was elated and proudly declared that he was never ashamed of his illiteracy.
Apai’s love for us was unwavering, and despite our misbehaviour now and then, he remained forgiving. However, one thing he never tolerated was theft or any form of crime.
I cherished my close bond with Apai. In addition to our shared passion for Iban oral literature and rituals, we also enjoyed fishing together, conquering rivers and streams day and night. I have a vivid memory of one particular evening when we caught more than thirty bullfrogs, including seven frogs stacked on top of each other while mating. Apai skillfully dispatched them all with one swift strike.
In 1989, when Apai was 79 years old and mourning the loss of my mom, he joined me, my spouse, and our little princess on a trip to Kuala Lumpur. It was an opportunity to console him, and we had a wonderful time, especially during our visit to Genting Highlands. Apai sat beside me as I played roulette, but I playfully told him to keep quiet. To his delight, I ended up winning a significant amount and used the winnings to buy him an 18k gold-plated Gucci watch. He cherished that watch and carried it with him until his final resting place in 2002. May God bless his soul!
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the New Sarawak Tribune.
