The danger of adventure is worth a thousand days of ease and comfort.
– Paulo Coelho, Brazilian lyricist and novelist
Kapit is a not only a wonderland of green but also the playground of 4-wheel drive vehicles in Sarawak’s vast network of logging tracks.
It is the “gateway” to East Kalimantan’s new capital of Nusantara which will be an ultra-modern city of 30 million within the next decade.
In reality, Belaga which is the size of Pahang, was my first love – thanks to three Kapit politicians from prominent families of Iban aristocrats – the late Tan Sri James Masing, the new Baleh Assemblyman Datuk Wilson Uggak Kumbong and former MP Datuk Justine Temenggong Jnggut.
All three enabled me to explore the 560-km Rajang River and its tributaries and I, like a modern-day Rajah, was given VIP treatment.
Masing introduced me to the longboat medical health clinic and Wilson took me 125km up the Baleh to Long Singut, the furthest longhouse river where Sarawak’s third largest dam is being built.
But without a doubt, the politician who opened my eyes to this tropical wonderland is the flamboyant Justine.
A real life “Indiana Jones”, the lanky and swashbuckling pistol-carrying Justine put the fear of God in me in some of my harrowing experiences.
It was this no-nonsense USA graduate who introduced me to the rough and tumble life of the tough native community of Belaga, comprising a colourful history of love, blood and gore.
It was the hard-drinking Justine who took me on my first helicopter ride to the hinterland, enabling me to be the first local journalist to visit remote Uma Badeng at the height of the anti-Bakun crusade.
At 32 and a national level rugby wing three quarter from the federal capital, I was a tenderfoot when compared to Justine and his native compatriots, mainly Iban, Kayan and Kenyah!
My baptism of fire was initiated when invited to write on the complicated issue pertaining to the pride of Sarawak – the world tallest Bakun hydroelectric dam.
I did research on the Bakun dam, collected reports, books and pamphlets and wrote a “Who Gives a Dam” – a pun of the word ‘DAM’ instead of DAMN!
I discovered that in 1962 as the colonial government was determined to “cede” an apparently impoverished independent Sarawak to form Malaysia, they approached the Snowy Mountains Corporation of Australia to look into the potential of developing the state’s hydro-electric power.
Initial studies found that Sarawak had 87,000 GW (20,000 MW) of electricity and half the state’s energy resources in the Belaga district in Upper Rajang.
In 1977 Sesco caried out a second study and found that the state Sarawak had the hydro-electric potential to produce 70 per cent of Malaysia’s power.
However, the state’s first dam was the 100 MW Batang Lupar in the Iban enclave of Lubok Antu district which I attended when it was launched by Prime Minister Datuk Seri (now Tun) Dr Mahathir Mohamad in 1985.
After my Batang Ai experience, I found I was on my way to Belaga to a political “hornet’s nest” to interview the 1,200 Kenyah Badeng who were fervently opposed the damned dam!
Spearheaded by Sahabat Alam Malaysia (SAM), they launched a campaign among the 15 longhouse communities such as the Kayan, Kenyah, Lahanan and Ukit to reject Bakun in 1983.
It was the last colonial district officer of Marudi Capt. Dudley Morgan who came up with the catchy book title because we knew the urban majority of Sarawakian, couldn’t care a DAMN!
In early December 1985, Justine, his political secretary Haji Idris Bilong Bit and I took a rollercoaster ride to the volatile Badeng longhouse led by 68-year-old aristocrat Uloi Lian.
Sitting next to former RMAF helicopter pilot Captain Greg Lim was a boon for me as the six-footer former Malaysian rugby prop skimmed over the green canopy manoeuvred the iron bird over the green canopy and snaked through the Gang valley, landing on the lallang-covered field next to the longhouse.
We had brought along several cartons of refreshments, including Guinness Stout, for the proposed night-long meeting with Chief Uloi and his people.
If the dark brown ale was sent to appease the community, it failed to win the hearts of the reluctant and angry “pelaboh” foot-stomping dissidents.
But not so for Greg and I who chose to stay out of trouble and sleep in the helicopter.
At midnight, as the mosquitoes squeezed into our Bell 4-seater and began to feed on us, we had no choice but guzzle a box of 12 large bottles of the dark beer – six bottles per piece.
Many years later I continued to foster my relationship with three of the leading Badeng “rebels” John Bampa, Okang Lepun and the late James Lawai.
My closest friend was Okang, who was married to Sioh, the daughter of Pemanca Uloi whose son Robson Lian, had a congenital heart defect.
A decade later in April 1994, I returned to Belaga for the umpteenth time and was confronted by Sioh, the daughter of Pemanca Uloi.
Sioh wept as she approached me and said the local doctor told her that her eldest Robson Lian had septicaemia and the local doctor said it was a “life and death” situation and he needed see a specialist.
As I was not financially sound as some members of the political bourgeoisie, I approached the deputy chief minister Tan Sri Dr George Chan for assistance and we chartered a helicopter to fly Robson to the Normah Medical Specialist Centre in Petra Jaya.
Apparently, the philanthropic Dr George footed the bill of RM15,000 for the rental of a helicopter for Sibu where the six-year-old boy was placed on a stretcher, taking up a row of seats.
I chaperoned the parents to the hospital in my old dilapidated Toyota Corolla station wagon while Robson was rushed to Normah by ambulance.
After treatment, I arranged for a special meeting of VIP guests, including the Chief Minister’s wife Datuk Amar Laila Taib and Robson’s “hero” Australian striker John Hunter, Sarawak’s top scorer in the Malaysian league.
For me, the Robson story was part of my contribution to a poor family with financial needs and to encourage Lian to get well and adopt the Hunter instinct.
Many years later I learnt Lian and his younger brother became police commandos and at one time were bodyguards for VIPs, including a former Prime Minister.
Back in Belaga, I cultivated a friendship with former Uma Nyaving Lahanan headman Taman Bulan, who married Kayan paramount chief Datuk Tajang Laing, now into his 90s.
It was the venerable Taman Bulan or “Lake Pulo”, a hereditary Kejaman leader and brother-in-law of Tajang, who offered to show me the Bakun hinterland.
It entailed an adventurous 125-km three-day return journey from Balaga to the Keyah village of Long Jawe – scene of an infamous massacre of a dozen Border Scouts by Indonesian troops, 11 days after the formation of Malaysia in 1963.
Sometime in the early1990s, I joined 83-year-old Pulo on his last journey in upper Rajang as within a few years his homeland would be inundated before he passed on.
“Lake Pulo” said that when Sarawak was a British colony in the 1950s, he helped change the lifestyle of Belaga’s nomadic to adopt a settled life.
Indeed, one of the descendants of Belaga Penan is now a university graduate working in the Premier’s Department.
Despite being illiterate, the late “Lake Pulo” was not only a breadwinner but a proponent of development.
His graduate grandson Pele Billy Tinggom is now the secretary of the Sarawak State Legislative Assembly.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune.
