The Famine

Father’s words cut through the room like a knife. “No rice? Seriously?” His disbelief mirrored the worry etched on all our faces.

“Go check it out for yourself!” Mother’s response was a mix of resignation and determination.

Father flung open our rice jar, the last hope in the grim situation, only to find it empty. A long, heavy sigh escaped him, which was an acknowledgement of our dire circumstances.

This was circa the early 1960s and was not the first time such a thing happened, but that year was worse than the previous ones because famine was upon us. Insects ravaged our crops, and floods lingered longer than usual, leaving our fields barren.

Asking for assistance from our neighbours was futile since the entire community faced the same challenges. Similarly, trekking for nearly half a day to reach the nearest shops along the old Kuching-Serian Road (now Pan Borneo Highway) would not have made a difference. The soaring prices of rice would have made the journey not worthwhile. Even the shopkeepers struggled to procure sufficient supplies.

Amidst those facing severe hardships were parents with infants. While adults and older children could adapt to alternative food options, toddlers and babies presented a unique challenge due to their inability to be reasoned with.

For instance, my hungry infant sister cried incessantly but adamantly refused anything besides breast milk.

Out of desperation, Father concocted a savoury liquid resembling thin soup from boiled ripe pumpkin, potatoes, and corn. After straining out the solids and bottling the liquid, he was relieved when the baby readily accepted it.

The older children, including me, enjoyed the solid components so much that Mother prepared more, and it became our sustenance for several days until we grew weary and sought variety in our meals.

About two weeks later, Father and several neighbouring farmers concluded that the moment had arrived to fell a sago tree and extract its starch. At dawn, they brought down the biggest tree, chopping it into manageable logs and splitting them into smaller sections for processing. Despite the strenuous labour, each person had a share of roughly ten gallons of moist starch flour by nightfall.

Once dried, sago flour proves convenient for storage and can be readily prepared as a standalone dish or combined with other foods such as maize, cassava, taro, or yam.

As the weeks and months passed, discomfort and sometimes pain due to hunger became familiar companions. Our primary goal was to endure for at least six months, the time required for the new paddy crop to mature for harvesting. During this period, everyone had to make do with whatever their gardens produced and what they could collect from the surrounding jungles, along with fishing and hunting.

Having learned from past experiences and being uncertain about the upcoming harvest’s yield, the farmers diversified their crops, planting cassava, yam, taro, potatoes, sweet potatoes, maize, bananas, and beans.

The famine was extremely challenging, yet no lives were lost to starvation because while the various forms of food weren’t always readily available at home, they could be found in the jungles and elsewhere. The community demonstrated resilience and determination in seeking out sustenance.

Surprisingly, we swiftly adjusted to and embraced various food types and sources. Neighbours generously shared provisions and showed genuine concern for one another’s welfare.

As the famine persisted, rice became a distant topic amid the struggles of finding and collecting other foods. It was considered a waste of time to dwell on it and so it was mentioned only when people talked about agricultural tasks for the new farming season. This experience underscored the community’s remarkable adaptability, resilience, and determination to persevere through adversity.

Having gone without rice for months, many people began to wonder if it was possible for them and everybody else to live without it.

“I don’t miss rice anymore,” said Uncle Dus whose farm was half a mile downriver from ours.

“Me too!” said his wife, Aunt Dori.

The idea that people could live well without rice brought mixed reactions from the community.

“I think I’ve forgotten the taste of rice,” Mother said about three months into the famine. That evening, we were eating corn on the cob with smoked fish, beans, and pumpkin soup, and no one seemed to miss rice anymore.

As the famine progressed, it turned out that corn and cassava (tapioca) were the most preferred alternatives to rice, followed by potatoes (sweet or otherwise), taro/yam, bananas, and others.

The time it takes to grow corn from planting to harvest typically ranges from 60 to 90 days. Sweet corn, however, is harvested after about 70 to 80 days when the kernels are tender, milky, and at their peak sweetness (known as the “milk stage”). If left on the stalks (unharvested), the corn can remain milky for up to 10 days.

Of course, no one we knew could eat sweet corn for ten consecutive days no matter how hungry they were. What the people did was exchange them for other things with their neighbours. Today you trade corn for some smoked fish and another day you exchange it for some eggs, and so on.

After ten days, the sweet corn will mature, solidify, and become less sweet. These mature ones can be kept as seeds for the next planting cycle or used to feed poultry and livestock. People still eat them if they feel like it, but they are more troublesome to process than rice.

In terms of utility, cassava becomes useful much quicker than corn because in only a few weeks after the cuttings are planted the young leaves can be eaten. The leaves can be plucked at intervals until the tubers are harvested.

The tubers are quite easy to process. After being taken from the ground, they can be debarked immediately and eaten raw, even on the spot. The tubers don’t have to be harvested all at once. The growers take what they need as early as the eighth month, leaving the rest unharvested for up to 24 months. Thus, for 16 months, they have the food stored in the ground.

The tubers are more commonly cooked as is, grated, sliced thinly, or chopped into fine strips for frying, much like making French fries. Also, a few tubers can be roasted on a slow fire or live embers, and the whole family would have a satisfying meal.

Producing tapioca (flour or starch) from cassava is simple. Just debark the tubers, cut them into thin slices, dehydrate them by drying them in the sun, and then pound them into flour. Another way to do it is by crushing the tubers while washing with water to make slurry which is then filtered, leaving the starch behind. What to do with the flour or starch after that is only limited by the creativity of the chef, cook, or baker.

Growing up, I experienced two famines. Over the years, with some formal education and reading, I found that whether people can live without rice depends on cultural traditions, dietary habits, and personal beliefs.

More than fifty years have passed since those famines, and I still don’t miss rice much when I don’t have it. I think those hard times left a lasting impact.

While some, like me, might be open to alternative foods, others resist change.

Rice holds deep cultural and traditional significance in the community. It’s part of our identity, festivals, rituals, and social gatherings. Letting go of rice is difficult because of its emotional and historical ties.

Rice is a comforting staple for many, with its flavour and texture deeply ingrained in their culinary preferences. Giving it up is hard, especially if they haven’t developed a taste for other foods.

People might not be aware of the potential health risks of a rice-heavy diet. Misinformation about nutrition can make it tough for them to accept dietary advice.

Rice is affordable and accessible in many regions, so if alternatives are more expensive or are harder to get, people would stick with rice.

Community norms also shape dietary habits. If rice consumption is widely accepted, individuals may face resistance or criticism for deviating from tradition.

If alternative foods aren’t available or culturally accepted, people may feel limited in their choices. Finding suitable replacements with similar nutritional benefits can be challenging.

Whenever I think about those famines, they always remind me of our community’s resilience and determination to persevere, showcasing the strength and resourcefulness of individuals when faced with challenging circumstances.

The community adapted to and embraced various food sources, highlighting the importance of exploring and accepting alternative food options during times of crisis or scarcity.

The neighbours were amazing, generously sharing provisions and showing genuine concern for each other’s welfare, thus emphasising the significance of community support during difficult times. It underlines the importance of coming together and helping one another.

All in all, no matter how they are written, famines are somber subjects to write about. Be that as it may, I write this story to encourage you the reader to reflect on the importance of resilience, adaptability, community support, cultural considerations, health awareness, accessibility, and gradual changes in dietary habits and food choices.

Charles Darwin

‘It is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change.’

— Charles Darwin (1809 – 1882). He was an English naturalist, geologist, and biologist best known for his contributions to the science of evolution.

The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the New Sarawak Tribune.