Saturday, July 24, 2004
A Trip to Sarawak
I was in Sarawak, one of two Malaysian states on Borneo, from July 5-15th. See the map below to get an idea of the geography of it all. I was mostly in Kuching (southwest part along the coast) and the surrounding areas.
Kuching was great. In ten days, two rainbows. Best sunsets I've seen in a long time (gives the Iowa sunsets a run for the money). River through town and not far from the coast, mountains, and jungle. Flowered trees (remember from Laos, automatic bonus). Also, in flying into the airport, I realized what a warm welcome blue skies and palm trees offer--though I had just left the same, I was reminded of that typical picture of paradise. So, Kuching seems to have it all! Friendly locals, too (not sketchy). A kid doing the call to prayer. Interesting architecture. What more is there to ask for?
Longhouse
Harith, the British-Malay guy I met in Perhentian Island who will be studying Sufism at Oxford this fall, was in Kuching the same time I was, so we traveled together. He arrived a few days before me, so I just found my way to the hostel (Borneo B&B, Jalan Green Hill, 15 Rm/dorm bed) where he was and we left the next day for a longhouse tour organized by the hostel owners (their son took us to their parents' house, near a town called Sarikei). We took a boat for about three hours, then drove an hour to their longhouse. When we boarded the ferry, crates upon crates of baby chicks were loaded in the rain onto the deck.
Along for the ride were 3 Brits. Junaidy and Andy were traveling partners (perhaps more than just traveling partners?) and Darrin was on his own. All three were in their 30s and had quit their jobs to travel the world for about a year (respectively a model agent, a banker, and a chemist). I’m so glad they were along because, really, the trip could have sucked otherwise.
We’d been told that when we arrived we would be able to see a traditional wooden longhouse, go hunting, fishing, to see a witchdoctor and to a jungle produce/animal market. None of that happened (we found out later that the guide that had been hired to show us around was in jail, on suspicion of theft…perhaps it’s better, since we also heard that another man who’d been on a previous trip with him said they’d been taken to a national reserve park and were capturing rare birds).
Instead of doing all we’d been promised, we arrived and basically just sat and ate. We were given tuak, traditional homebrewed rice wine, as is the custom in Iban culture. First, the host takes a shot (it’s about 15% alcohol), then each guest must (several rounds).
The longhouse is basically what it sounds like: a very long building. Off the shared corridor are individual living areas divided by walls and doors. Almost like an apartment complex, really. I had been imagining lack of privacy, thin walls, etc., but these were sturdy and made of concrete. We also visited a brick longhouse. But no wooden ones, so I’m not sure if my idea of what it would be like in old times would hold or not (doubt it). The government has built these new longhouses for the tribes (ahem, bribery for votes!?) and the inhabitants seem to be mostly old people. In 20 years when they all die, I’m not sure there will be anyone living in the longhouses anymore! During holidays and festivals, families go back to their parents’ homes, but otherwise, ghost-town. (Also, in more remote areas in other parts of the state, the old ways of living continue. These areas mostly belong to other tribes, though. They have similar lifestyles, but differences in architecture, language, etc.)
The Iban are one of the larger tribes in Sarawak and were among the infamous headhunters of Borneo. In each longhouse, there are skulls hanging in the hallway. In the longhouse where we stayed, the skulls were hanging outside our hosts’ door. The area directly in front of each door is the responsibility of that house (like a porch almost) and ours was apparently the most well-to-do household—there was linoleum, a table, and a fan.
The headhunting came to a stop maybe a 100 years ago and today most Iban have become Christian (including the witchdoctor we were supposed to see—so he’d sort of shunned his previous practices). Our longhouse had 19 houses and the community elects a leader every few years to deal with problems and sort of manage the longhouse.
Since there was really nothing for us to do, in the evening, we resorted to card playing and drinking in the communal hallway (I didn’t really like the taste of it, so wasn’t drinking). A few people ventured out to converse with us, but for the most part, the longhouse was quiet and felt eerily empty. We played the game where you have to say famous people’s names based on the first letter of the last name of the preceding person mentioned…Junaidy kept using models names, but in reality I think he was just making stuff up! Lots of fun. At one point, we set up our three digital cameras on self-timer at one end of the table and then ran around to the other side to have our pix snapped.
A lot of Iban work on pepper farms and our host owned one (I think). Out back there were some animals, including a few pigs. The pigs were held in wooden pens near a little pond. To make black pepper white, you have to soak it in water for a few days before drying it. Well, the family was using this pond to soak the pepper they produced for personal use (not commercial, so they say). BUT IT WAS RIGHT BELOW WHERE THE PIG STY WAS…so when it rained, all the pig shit would get washed down into the pond. EWWWW.
We went to visit a few other longhouses, where relatives of our host lived (walkable distance). There seemed to be more people living in these homes, though mostly I saw old people and kids. Our host (was who about 78 years old, if I remember correctly) took us to where his elder brother (who was 90ish, but in failing health) lived. His wife wasn’t really wearing a shirt when we got there and just sort of draped a scarf over her front. Many of the other women just wore sarongs (tubes of cloth), almost as if they’d just stepped out of a bath and were wrapped in a towel. The people were in the hallway when we came, but didn’t really seem to interact with us except to look at us. But I guess that’s sort of all we did as well.
All in all, we were disappointed that we didn’t get what we were expecting and in the end we got a partial refund (cost was 350 RM and we got 100 RM back). I don’t regret going, though I wish I could have had a more ‘authentic’ experience. But really, what does that mean?! This is how the Iban are living their lives these days, so that makes it authentic. The alternative would be going to a longhouse geared for tourists, but that would be a fabricated replica mainly for making money. Is that to be considered more authentic? And it’s a pretty silly and unfair notion to think that these people should retain their old ways just so us tourists can go have a look at ‘em.
Rainforest World Music Festival
Three days of workshops on music and culture, three nights of bands from around the world. Among my favorites were Fawzy Al-Aiedy (Iraqi oud player) and Sidi Goma (a group of African Sufis who have lived in India for over 700 years). First, Sidi Goma did sort of a spiritual part, starting with the call to prayer and supposedly ecstatic intoxicated dancing. Some of it was really weird--like doing the alligator, and acting like chickens pecking each other with kisses--and I wasn't sure if it was traditional or they were hamming it up for the audience. In the second half of their performance, they came out in tribal warrior gear.
But my all time favorite: Samba Sunda!
An Indonesian 17-member percussion, flute, gamelan assemble. They had so much fun playing that it made it a lot of fun to watch them. They were all pretty tiny in stature, which made them even cuter. My favorites are the two on the left in the front row (flutist and drummer. The drummer reminded me of Animal from the Muppets!). You can hear some short samples of their music here.
During the festival I hung out with Lusean (friend from KL) and her friends, ran into my housemate who was there and had an actual conversation with her (first time in a long time—we get along, I just never see her!), and some people from the hostel. It was the first time I’ve hung out with travelers really. I guess I did a bit in Laos, but otherwise, haven’t. I talked to two or three Americans—also a bit unusual as you don’t find many around here. But I tended to break away and wander by myself quite a bit, hoping to meet people. I was adopted by a Malay-Chinese (inter-racial marriage) family that was seated next to me the first night.
On the last evening, I went with Lusean et al to the nearby Holiday Inn Resort where they were staying to kill some time between the afternoon sessions and the concert. A group of Malay guys I’d met the day before were playing beach volleyball, so I joined in. They shrieked each time the ball came at them and really, were quite terrible. I’m not saying I was doing a grand job. But they were really amusing. The next night I also saw them on the boardwalk (scoping out men).
I went to dinner with Lusean, Stephan, and Lusean’s Chinese family from the area. We had a private room in a Chinese restaurant and the food was really good—including jungle fern. (Katrina and I both have the problem of our left eye being closed in digital pictures; here I’m caught blinking).
I’d had many conversations recently about 9/11 and had heard lots of conspiracy theories (even that SARS had been started by the US to damage a growing Chinese economy). Lusean’s uncle was one of the first Chinese that I spoke with about it. He said that though he didn’t think the Jews had been responsible for the attack, the Israeli intelligence agency must have known about it beforehand.
After dinner, Lusean and Stephan accompanied me on a stalking mission. I had seen a band perform at Planet Hollywood several months ago (Superfriends) and when I saw they were playing at a hotel in Kuching while we were there, I wanted to go see them. Mainly because I thought the drummer was hot. He is, but also determined that he is only as tall as about my shoulder!
Bako National Park
I was scheduled to go back to KL on Monday the 12th, but extended my stay till the 15th so that I could go hiking in a nearby national park. I’m so glad I did! To get to the park you have to take an hour long local bus to a small fishing village, then a half hour boat in the South China Sea. The park is on the coast, so you get jungle, beach and mountains all in one go. The hostel was very nice, though the canteen didn’t have a great selection of food. We were lucky that it didn’t rain during our two days there (or during the three days of the music festival). I was surprised with the great variation of vegetation in the park (mangroves, open areas with rock, deep jungle, etc.)
Harith and I did a short hike together when we arrived, squeezed in before lunch, but after that I did most hikes by myself. Funny how your imagination can get the best of you when you’re on your own. Sticks look like snakes, tree roots look like they could come alive and squeeze you to death. I’m sure that Harry Potter, The Life of Pi, and other movies and books helped to fill my head with such silly notions.
Mano, the Fulbright actor guy, happened to be there at the same time. Also the author of the book Malaysian Flavours (went to the book opening several months ago). Enjoyed the company of a French couple and two park rangers. They let us watch Fahrenheit 9/11 secretly after the public screening of an educational movie about proboscis monkeys that inhabit the park.
During my hikes I was lucky enough to get to see some of the proboscis on several occasions; they only live in Borneo, near mangroves, and are endangered.
According to the movie, they have “faces like masks, noses like cucumbers, and voices like trumpets.” I’ve heard the rumor that these monkeys are unpopular choices for zoos because of their phallic noses. Besides the monkeys, I saw a brown toad, some normal monkeys (forget what kind, starts with an ‘m’), wild bearded boar, some birds, squirrels, and I think that’s about it.
I also was hoping that Harith would get possessed, since spirits tend to lurk in jungles, but no such luck (wanted to witness it, but not have it happen to me!). I asked one of the park rangers about it and he told this story: their was a woman named Helen from Holland who had worked as a guide at the park for a couple of years. She was leading a tour, when suddenly she got lost. Her group tried to look for her, but headed back when they couldn’t find her. For three days the police, rangers, and boat drivers combed the hills for her and finally found her. She had seen ‘invisible people,’ meaning spirits. The spirits sometimes make themselves visible to certain people. She had seen a typical Malay village in the jungle, with everyone wearing green. She had been mesmerized it seems, not trying to find her way out and not even having eaten.
I had been told that when in the jungle, to be careful to ask permission of the spirits if you wanted to pee or pick a flower or something, otherwise you might regret it! The ranger said that their were some signs of these invisible villages, like when an area in the jungle is really clean and orderly, or when you feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.
We’d thought about doing a nighttime hike to try to see some more animals, but I’m glad we didn’t! I was freaking myself out during the day—I can only imagine what I would have done at night, with all the sounds and creepiness.
NEWSFLASH: Andi, college roommate extraordinaire, will be coming to visit in mid-September for a week!
I was in Sarawak, one of two Malaysian states on Borneo, from July 5-15th. See the map below to get an idea of the geography of it all. I was mostly in Kuching (southwest part along the coast) and the surrounding areas.
Kuching was great. In ten days, two rainbows. Best sunsets I've seen in a long time (gives the Iowa sunsets a run for the money). River through town and not far from the coast, mountains, and jungle. Flowered trees (remember from Laos, automatic bonus). Also, in flying into the airport, I realized what a warm welcome blue skies and palm trees offer--though I had just left the same, I was reminded of that typical picture of paradise. So, Kuching seems to have it all! Friendly locals, too (not sketchy). A kid doing the call to prayer. Interesting architecture. What more is there to ask for?
Longhouse
Harith, the British-Malay guy I met in Perhentian Island who will be studying Sufism at Oxford this fall, was in Kuching the same time I was, so we traveled together. He arrived a few days before me, so I just found my way to the hostel (Borneo B&B, Jalan Green Hill, 15 Rm/dorm bed) where he was and we left the next day for a longhouse tour organized by the hostel owners (their son took us to their parents' house, near a town called Sarikei). We took a boat for about three hours, then drove an hour to their longhouse. When we boarded the ferry, crates upon crates of baby chicks were loaded in the rain onto the deck.
Along for the ride were 3 Brits. Junaidy and Andy were traveling partners (perhaps more than just traveling partners?) and Darrin was on his own. All three were in their 30s and had quit their jobs to travel the world for about a year (respectively a model agent, a banker, and a chemist). I’m so glad they were along because, really, the trip could have sucked otherwise.
We’d been told that when we arrived we would be able to see a traditional wooden longhouse, go hunting, fishing, to see a witchdoctor and to a jungle produce/animal market. None of that happened (we found out later that the guide that had been hired to show us around was in jail, on suspicion of theft…perhaps it’s better, since we also heard that another man who’d been on a previous trip with him said they’d been taken to a national reserve park and were capturing rare birds).
Instead of doing all we’d been promised, we arrived and basically just sat and ate. We were given tuak, traditional homebrewed rice wine, as is the custom in Iban culture. First, the host takes a shot (it’s about 15% alcohol), then each guest must (several rounds).
The longhouse is basically what it sounds like: a very long building. Off the shared corridor are individual living areas divided by walls and doors. Almost like an apartment complex, really. I had been imagining lack of privacy, thin walls, etc., but these were sturdy and made of concrete. We also visited a brick longhouse. But no wooden ones, so I’m not sure if my idea of what it would be like in old times would hold or not (doubt it). The government has built these new longhouses for the tribes (ahem, bribery for votes!?) and the inhabitants seem to be mostly old people. In 20 years when they all die, I’m not sure there will be anyone living in the longhouses anymore! During holidays and festivals, families go back to their parents’ homes, but otherwise, ghost-town. (Also, in more remote areas in other parts of the state, the old ways of living continue. These areas mostly belong to other tribes, though. They have similar lifestyles, but differences in architecture, language, etc.)
The Iban are one of the larger tribes in Sarawak and were among the infamous headhunters of Borneo. In each longhouse, there are skulls hanging in the hallway. In the longhouse where we stayed, the skulls were hanging outside our hosts’ door. The area directly in front of each door is the responsibility of that house (like a porch almost) and ours was apparently the most well-to-do household—there was linoleum, a table, and a fan.
The headhunting came to a stop maybe a 100 years ago and today most Iban have become Christian (including the witchdoctor we were supposed to see—so he’d sort of shunned his previous practices). Our longhouse had 19 houses and the community elects a leader every few years to deal with problems and sort of manage the longhouse.
Since there was really nothing for us to do, in the evening, we resorted to card playing and drinking in the communal hallway (I didn’t really like the taste of it, so wasn’t drinking). A few people ventured out to converse with us, but for the most part, the longhouse was quiet and felt eerily empty. We played the game where you have to say famous people’s names based on the first letter of the last name of the preceding person mentioned…Junaidy kept using models names, but in reality I think he was just making stuff up! Lots of fun. At one point, we set up our three digital cameras on self-timer at one end of the table and then ran around to the other side to have our pix snapped.
A lot of Iban work on pepper farms and our host owned one (I think). Out back there were some animals, including a few pigs. The pigs were held in wooden pens near a little pond. To make black pepper white, you have to soak it in water for a few days before drying it. Well, the family was using this pond to soak the pepper they produced for personal use (not commercial, so they say). BUT IT WAS RIGHT BELOW WHERE THE PIG STY WAS…so when it rained, all the pig shit would get washed down into the pond. EWWWW.
We went to visit a few other longhouses, where relatives of our host lived (walkable distance). There seemed to be more people living in these homes, though mostly I saw old people and kids. Our host (was who about 78 years old, if I remember correctly) took us to where his elder brother (who was 90ish, but in failing health) lived. His wife wasn’t really wearing a shirt when we got there and just sort of draped a scarf over her front. Many of the other women just wore sarongs (tubes of cloth), almost as if they’d just stepped out of a bath and were wrapped in a towel. The people were in the hallway when we came, but didn’t really seem to interact with us except to look at us. But I guess that’s sort of all we did as well.
All in all, we were disappointed that we didn’t get what we were expecting and in the end we got a partial refund (cost was 350 RM and we got 100 RM back). I don’t regret going, though I wish I could have had a more ‘authentic’ experience. But really, what does that mean?! This is how the Iban are living their lives these days, so that makes it authentic. The alternative would be going to a longhouse geared for tourists, but that would be a fabricated replica mainly for making money. Is that to be considered more authentic? And it’s a pretty silly and unfair notion to think that these people should retain their old ways just so us tourists can go have a look at ‘em.
Rainforest World Music Festival
Three days of workshops on music and culture, three nights of bands from around the world. Among my favorites were Fawzy Al-Aiedy (Iraqi oud player) and Sidi Goma (a group of African Sufis who have lived in India for over 700 years). First, Sidi Goma did sort of a spiritual part, starting with the call to prayer and supposedly ecstatic intoxicated dancing. Some of it was really weird--like doing the alligator, and acting like chickens pecking each other with kisses--and I wasn't sure if it was traditional or they were hamming it up for the audience. In the second half of their performance, they came out in tribal warrior gear.
But my all time favorite: Samba Sunda!
An Indonesian 17-member percussion, flute, gamelan assemble. They had so much fun playing that it made it a lot of fun to watch them. They were all pretty tiny in stature, which made them even cuter. My favorites are the two on the left in the front row (flutist and drummer. The drummer reminded me of Animal from the Muppets!). You can hear some short samples of their music here.
During the festival I hung out with Lusean (friend from KL) and her friends, ran into my housemate who was there and had an actual conversation with her (first time in a long time—we get along, I just never see her!), and some people from the hostel. It was the first time I’ve hung out with travelers really. I guess I did a bit in Laos, but otherwise, haven’t. I talked to two or three Americans—also a bit unusual as you don’t find many around here. But I tended to break away and wander by myself quite a bit, hoping to meet people. I was adopted by a Malay-Chinese (inter-racial marriage) family that was seated next to me the first night.
On the last evening, I went with Lusean et al to the nearby Holiday Inn Resort where they were staying to kill some time between the afternoon sessions and the concert. A group of Malay guys I’d met the day before were playing beach volleyball, so I joined in. They shrieked each time the ball came at them and really, were quite terrible. I’m not saying I was doing a grand job. But they were really amusing. The next night I also saw them on the boardwalk (scoping out men).
I went to dinner with Lusean, Stephan, and Lusean’s Chinese family from the area. We had a private room in a Chinese restaurant and the food was really good—including jungle fern. (Katrina and I both have the problem of our left eye being closed in digital pictures; here I’m caught blinking).
I’d had many conversations recently about 9/11 and had heard lots of conspiracy theories (even that SARS had been started by the US to damage a growing Chinese economy). Lusean’s uncle was one of the first Chinese that I spoke with about it. He said that though he didn’t think the Jews had been responsible for the attack, the Israeli intelligence agency must have known about it beforehand.
After dinner, Lusean and Stephan accompanied me on a stalking mission. I had seen a band perform at Planet Hollywood several months ago (Superfriends) and when I saw they were playing at a hotel in Kuching while we were there, I wanted to go see them. Mainly because I thought the drummer was hot. He is, but also determined that he is only as tall as about my shoulder!
Bako National Park
I was scheduled to go back to KL on Monday the 12th, but extended my stay till the 15th so that I could go hiking in a nearby national park. I’m so glad I did! To get to the park you have to take an hour long local bus to a small fishing village, then a half hour boat in the South China Sea. The park is on the coast, so you get jungle, beach and mountains all in one go. The hostel was very nice, though the canteen didn’t have a great selection of food. We were lucky that it didn’t rain during our two days there (or during the three days of the music festival). I was surprised with the great variation of vegetation in the park (mangroves, open areas with rock, deep jungle, etc.)
Harith and I did a short hike together when we arrived, squeezed in before lunch, but after that I did most hikes by myself. Funny how your imagination can get the best of you when you’re on your own. Sticks look like snakes, tree roots look like they could come alive and squeeze you to death. I’m sure that Harry Potter, The Life of Pi, and other movies and books helped to fill my head with such silly notions.
Mano, the Fulbright actor guy, happened to be there at the same time. Also the author of the book Malaysian Flavours (went to the book opening several months ago). Enjoyed the company of a French couple and two park rangers. They let us watch Fahrenheit 9/11 secretly after the public screening of an educational movie about proboscis monkeys that inhabit the park.
During my hikes I was lucky enough to get to see some of the proboscis on several occasions; they only live in Borneo, near mangroves, and are endangered.
According to the movie, they have “faces like masks, noses like cucumbers, and voices like trumpets.” I’ve heard the rumor that these monkeys are unpopular choices for zoos because of their phallic noses. Besides the monkeys, I saw a brown toad, some normal monkeys (forget what kind, starts with an ‘m’), wild bearded boar, some birds, squirrels, and I think that’s about it.
I also was hoping that Harith would get possessed, since spirits tend to lurk in jungles, but no such luck (wanted to witness it, but not have it happen to me!). I asked one of the park rangers about it and he told this story: their was a woman named Helen from Holland who had worked as a guide at the park for a couple of years. She was leading a tour, when suddenly she got lost. Her group tried to look for her, but headed back when they couldn’t find her. For three days the police, rangers, and boat drivers combed the hills for her and finally found her. She had seen ‘invisible people,’ meaning spirits. The spirits sometimes make themselves visible to certain people. She had seen a typical Malay village in the jungle, with everyone wearing green. She had been mesmerized it seems, not trying to find her way out and not even having eaten.
I had been told that when in the jungle, to be careful to ask permission of the spirits if you wanted to pee or pick a flower or something, otherwise you might regret it! The ranger said that their were some signs of these invisible villages, like when an area in the jungle is really clean and orderly, or when you feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.
We’d thought about doing a nighttime hike to try to see some more animals, but I’m glad we didn’t! I was freaking myself out during the day—I can only imagine what I would have done at night, with all the sounds and creepiness.
NEWSFLASH: Andi, college roommate extraordinaire, will be coming to visit in mid-September for a week!
