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July 29, 2004Into the rainforest - part one
Cayce’s car took the two of us through the four hours drive out of Kuching, towards the rainforest at Batang Ai. Small, bleary coloured towns, long haul diners, eyes turn and stare at me. Lush trees along the sides of the road, but no birds fluttered across the sky, nothing moved inside this green. 90% of Sarawak is under forest cover, says its government – but an increasing amount of this official ‘forest’ is made up of commercial plantations or recently felled plots, and hunters have wiped out what wildlife remains. It was hard to remain neutral as Cayce, heartfelt conservation NGO employee, pointed out the ongoing fall of nature in Borneo. The opposite lane of the road had been repeatedly repaired, fresh black sections, while ours looked fine in its original state. Why? Because lorries fully laden with illegal logging, coming up from the border with Indonesian Borneo, had worn the road down with their weight. Faces stare at me in these small towns, faces of the indigenous people of Borneo, Ibans that have left the wooden longhouses for the modern world. People believing they could continue an ancient living off the land, but today’s vehicles and shotguns making their hunting too powerful for nature to regulate. Cars ahead of us threw today’s non degrading waste, cans and cigarette stubs, from windows, making Cayce fume out loud each time we saw it. We crossed a police checkpoint that invariably stopped her (but not the loggers or the poachers) whenever she used this road; this time they waved her on, possibly not interested in pulling her over now a hairy white guy was sharing the car. The hydroelectric dam built twenty years ago outside Batang Ai created a great lake on the edge of the rainforest, and made the rivers through it deeper and more navigable. At the edge, we met the first of Cayce’s Iban field assistants, Steward; we packed our possessions and food supplies onto his thin longboat, and he took us humming along the still water. The sun was bright, white or moss green trunks of the forest rising around us, the ride smooth. Cayce and I sat in red plastic chairs in the middle of the boat and I was immensely happy – I kept turning round to grin at her. It sounds cheesy perhaps, but in sometimes too comfortable South East Asia, I have rarely felt the edge of adventure, of not knowing what will come – I was feeling ithere; sensing it liven up my face, quicken my alertness, my urge to write. I felt, and still feel, immensely grateful to her for bringing me along for this field research trip. We arrived at the ranger station in the late afternoon, and had dinner in Steward’s house. Pictures of Jesus on the walls, little children watched a glowing TV in the bedroom. Iban longhouses are very long. Imagine a simple wood cabin, but about fifteen or twenty strung together. The back holds families’ rooms, thin separating wood walls offering a false promise of a little privacy; the front, an immensely long unbroken hall where the social activity of the house takes place. Only about two dozen people were sitting about this area, leaving it looking very empty. There are an incredible number of things in a longhouse’s hall area, (called a “ruai”) – woven brown mats for people to sit on, machetes hanging in scabbards, clothes drying on lines, a Native American chief staring out of a venerable “Nail Pouch Tobacco” poster. We all sat cross legged with the brother of the longhouse headman, on a mat laid over the clean strong boards. His shirt and trousers were deeply worn and tatty, he was almost completely blind, one eye closed and one milky, open only a crack. The headman came out of his room, very old like a headmaster, wearing glasses, bare-chested, on the front of each shoulder a circular flower tattooed. He looked a proud man, but one who had nevertheless become used to apologising. His wife, with a kind smile, brought out tea; Nyanggau and Cayce talked with him. Another group of old and a few younger Ibans nattered near us; an ancient man whittled a handle for a knife. I smiled sweetly at two of the aunties sitting near me, this set off a round of cackling inuendo in obvious Iban. That night I slept badly. Cayce and I had the visitor’s house in the ranger station; I couldn’t sleep for the sounds of people moving about the-should-be-empty building. I heard steps on the outside wooden walkway, steps coming up to the front door, then periodically people creaking the boards inside. I deliberated whether to shine my torch around, or to call out, but didn’t. I think I had settled on the idea that the intruders would probably come into Cayce’s room first, so if I heard her screaming I would get up. I slept, and dreamt... The room was bathed in sunshine, I was sitting on one of beds, my old friend from England, Gari, was sitting on the other. There was a gentle knocking at the door; let the guy in, said Gari, he’s the fifth, come to watch over the people in the house. I got up, went to the door, five names were written on a lined piece of paper pinned to the wall, the first four had red ticks against them, this man must have the last shift. I went to open the door for him, and I woke up. The room was in complete blackness, and the knock-knock-knock continued into the real world. “Let me out of this freaky house and too human creaking floorboards!” I cried out mentally. The knocking stopped, I convinced myself it had been someone in one of the other houses of the station knocking somewhere else, and slept again. After a dawn breakfast, we pushed the longboat off towards the park proper – this station was still on the outskirts, and far from the officially protected area. Cayce and I the passengers in our red plastic chairs, four Ibans, led by Nyanggau, eased the pack laded thin boat upstream. Kingfishers and butterflies were our companions between the thick foliage. I began to see why Cayce loved this job, loved returning here, despite the difficulties of trying to combine a normal life with being a field researcher. The trees here were tall but few were thick – years of Iban longhouses farming the trees had left this perhaps not as grand as primary (i.e. untouched) forest, but for city boy me, it was still a singular experience to be here. We reached the final ranger’s station, at the edge of the official boundaries of the park, in the late morning – the ranger was a lazy looking man with a pig’s protruding lower canines. Had I been here independently, I would never get far beyond this point – but our group would be heading deep along the rivers of Batang Ai, to Cayce’s research site, to continue her surveys of Orangutan activity in one of their last wild habitats in Sarawak. Daniel, July 29, 2004, Kuching Comments
Good dream. No invisible hands choking you in the middle of the night - always a good sign. Posted by: Marita Paige on July 29, 2004 07:12 PMLooking forward to part 2 - you've gone further than I ever have in Sarawak! :) Posted by: Bertha on July 29, 2004 11:49 PMLooking forward for part 2 myself. Posted by: Dee on July 30, 2004 10:24 AMInteresting experience. Forgot to tell you to look out for Anacondas. Posted by: Raquel on July 30, 2004 12:47 PMBut if he saw anacondas, that would shoot down the entire super snarky movie review I'll be writing! Posted by: Gette on July 30, 2004 01:24 PMWe could always say that he dreamt about the anacondas, that he didn't really see them. Our word against his. What are the odds? ;) Posted by: Bertha on July 30, 2004 05:25 PMhi daniel, Hi daniel, Im an African female student going to china for a year in the next few days, I love your website and Id like to ask some questions about china, your views and straightforward approach really helped but i cant say they soothed my frayed nerves, as everyone seems to not be telling me something about my impending travels in asia I live in Europe and I have travelled around, but I wanted to ask could the silence Ive been experiencing have something to do with the casual rascist attitude you mentioned, Im a very open minded person,downtoearth and not a pretty good backpacker though so please do give it to me straight nothing is ever too bitter, any tips, advice or warnings ill be going ot the jiangxi province in the north of china . Posted by: tinu on July 31, 2004 04:17 AMHi Tinu, I've been to china and I dare suggest you will definitely get some looks, just because Africans are just unusual travellers on those parts. Nevertheless, the locals I've talked to (mostly the kids when I was teaching english there) all admired the African American basketball players(i.e. Kobe), so I don't think you'll be too stigmatized. Looked at as someone unusual, yes. Good luck with your travels! Posted by: Rogerio on July 31, 2004 06:25 AMThanks a lot rogerio for answering ,Ill be going with my highest reserve of pure ol' joy and smiles hoping it'll get replenished one more question though, if I may use this space to ask, how does one network for the teaching jobs is it better to get my tefl certificate before I arrive in China, does it depreciate its worth if i get it within china, and is there exactly a forum for getting such jobs on a low profile though.:) Posted by: tinu on August 1, 2004 02:10 AMHi Tinu, I've been thinking about what to say for a couple of days now... I think Rogerio's right, expect a lot of stares and people asking to take their photo with you. Beyond that, I don't think you will have many things to worry about. And if you're going there to teach, most Chinese are very respectful towards their teachers - your biggest problem may be stopping them buying all your drinks for you. But it's very hard to give specifics about how Chinese people will act towards you - China is just another world, and one that I still understand very imperfectly, especially one of the provinces that I haven't been to. China can be a trying place at times - when people were rude to me they made no effort to conceal it. Equally, it is wonderful, fascinating, without doubt the country that had the biggest impact on me during this whole trip. I think with a high reserve of pure joy and smiles, you'll be fine. I'll send you an email with some more tips. About TEFL, 1) I don't think you really need it to get a teaching job in China, but, it may make things easier. 2) I don't know if where you do the TEFL devalues it, I haven't met very many people with one. When are you going there? Daniel Posted by: Daniel on August 1, 2004 10:09 AMThanks Daniel for answering, Ill be leaving before the end of august and actually Ill be spending a year there,Im going on an exchange programme but ill be hoping to learn the language and travel through asia during the period. How is the leech spot :) Posted by: tinu on August 1, 2004 09:17 PMlike i said, you are very brave! you have experienced a whole part of my country that i never had the guts to do myself! i like the idea of seeing the jungle from your unjaded point of view. Posted by: 'The Dee' on August 2, 2004 12:20 AMInteresting. Haunted places. Best to ignore them, and put it down to "encounters with the other side". I can identify with what you felt, however it isn't as bad as some of the stories I've heard from surveyors, who were working in Lubok Antu 20 years ago. Am keen on revisiting Batang Ai, but that would wave to wait for sometime in the future. Delightful blog, and keep us posted with your latest experiences. Have fun, Godspeed, safe journey. Posted by: SP on August 2, 2004 04:28 AM |
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