Today I depart for Kuching. I don't have many expectations for the trip, but it is my first time going to East Malaysia and living, for an an extended period of time, in an Orang Asal village. I'll be part of an expedition called 'Impian Sarawak'. Frankly speaking, it is a politically sponsored volunteer program to visit a village and assist in the building of a gravity feed water system while having an opportunity to live amongst the villagers there. I hope to observe and learn about how they live and carry out their respective responsibilities. At the same time, this is a momentous occasion for Malaysian history, insofar as 'change' is concerned. I hope that as ambassadors of a growing movement for change and as fellow Malaysians who are committed to bring about systemic change, we can bring that care and genuine support to the villagers. As we identify with their problems and plight, I hope that I can personally find a common ground on which I can fight alongside them and advocate their cause. This is a side of Malaysia which I'm keen to explore -the diverse and rich cultures which populate the jungles are constantly being neglected and they simply deserve a lot more than what they're receiving now.
In
this account of my experience, I also hope to stay away from
romanticizing the Orang Asal. As an urbanite, the pace of life and
frame of mind may prove to be very different from what I'm accustomed
to and I hope to dispel any romantic notions of 'village life', so to
speak. So I hope to close that gap between what I perceive to be
'city-living' and what it actually means to live in a rural
'kampung'. As I absorb the various sights and sounds of village life
and as I live among them, even for a very brief period, I seek to
learn and internalize the many lessons of the Bidayuh.
The
flight to Kuching was uneventful, but the descent into Sarawak was
breathtaking - majestic rivers, lush and green vegetation,
mountainous peaks obscured by thick carpets of cloud and hints of
urban sprawl when the plane neared Kuching. The rivers and estuaries
snaked through the lands and I spotted robust development along the
river banks: ports, planned housing, warehouses and wharves. I was
traveling with a group of DAP interns, and we are arriving two days
after the initial group of volunteers, who have already entered the
village before us. We were picked up by a driver who introduced
himself as Joary, a villager from Kampung Sait. We would later learn
that he faithfully followed the PKR candidate around during GE-13,
and despite the discouraging loss, still continues to fight for
change. Joary is a man of few words, and one can sense a steely
resolve in him, that he will persist in his advocacy and efforts to
do whatever is necessary so that the needs of his Kampung can be met.
Prior
to the trip, I haven't done a geographical study on the village and
its location, but the Bengoh Dam is south of Kuching, near the
Malaysia-Indonesia border. From the dam, we alighted from our vehicle
and continued to rest of the journey into the village on foot - there
was simply no other way into the village. The Bengoh Dam is another
government project constructed to fulfill Kuching's growing demand
for water, and the catchment area of this Dam includes the village
which we will be visiting. The Dam is not fully operational or
flooded yet, and its quite evident that its environmental impact is
massive, since many Bidayuh villages were asked to vacate their
ancestral lands and move to resettlement schemes. This is the sort of
inequity which angers the villagers and their cries are often
unheeded. Is this the direction of modernity and so called
'development'? Causing injustice and dislocation to communities who
have lived for so many years?
I've
read about dams and like other educated intelligentsia from the city,
our perception of dams are framed by textbooks, newspaper reports and
perhaps the occasional activist conversation. Indeed, the existence
of dams seems quite necessary to quench our insatiable demand for
water. As I stare at Bengoh Dam and hear the thunderous waves of the
river down below, I was ashamed. Ashamed by the idea that my want has
stripped many of their needs.
I
was an overcast day and there had been a vicious tropical storm right
before we started our trek. The air was cool and calm as we strapped
up our backpacks and gear before braving the jungle. The launching
point at Bengoh Dam was elevated, and the trek was estimated to be
two hours. The path is well-trodden, since this is the only access
through which villagers interact with the outside world, when they
bring their produce to the market to exchange for goods, which they
will have to laboriously haul back to their village. The paths were
treacherously slippery with eroded soil and mossy stones, and it
doesn't help that the terrain is gradient. The flattened bamboo which
make up improvised steps glistened with moisture and one must pay
close attention to footing and balance. As I tried to make my way
along these paths, I grew to admire the dexterity and adept footwork
of a villager who walked ahead of me. He was carrying a gallon of
fuel, slung across his shoulder, and it was clear that trekking these
paths was second nature to him. We both wore a pair of versatile and
durable rubber shoes nicknamed 'Kampung Adidas' which had excellent
group and well-suited for these paths which are unforgiving to an
urbanite like me. I challenged myself to keep up with his pace. This
would later prove to be a foolish decision.
The
suspended bamboo bridges were the most formidable parts of the entire
journey. At a width of two to three bamboo poles and supported by
bamboo handrails, these bridges were suspended above the ground, as
high as 15 meters, across several rivers and they were secured by two
lengths of rope tied to trees at each end of the bridge. These
bridges were built by the Bidayuh villages and maintained by its
respective representatives each year or whenever repairs have to be
made. It has been done since their ancestors and it allows for
convenient and speedy passages across the river. Speedy, of course,
did not apply to my pace as I crossed one of these bridges for the
first time. As I clung onto the handrails for my life and inched ever
so slowly across, the villager who was ahead of me walked across the
bridge at a breakneck speed without holding on the handrails. The
bridge shook and creaked beneath the weight of my body and gear,
while the torrential currents of the river reminded me of my fate
should I slip and fall of the bridge.
My
earlier decision to keep up with the villager meant that I had
decided to pull away from the group I was part of. Now that he is
nowhere to be seen, I sat at the fork of the road and waited for the
rest of my team. However, my impatience got the better of me and
before long I met two villagers from Kampung Sait Lama and consulted
them for directions to Kg. Sait. I was motivated to complete the
journey on my own for two reasons: I wanted to experience walking
into a village in solitude and secondly I wanted to enjoy the trek
with a peace of mind. I'm glad to say that I accomplished both. I
didn't get lost though admittedly I made my teammates worried and I
was irresponsible for doing so.
The
scenery was beautiful. Along the way, the canopies of dense tropical
rainforest gradually opened up to reveal rolling green hills
blanketed by fog. Row upon row of plantation crops stood guard on the
slopes of these hills, and like specters, watched over the path. I
saluted the many trees, all tall and strong, proud guardians of the
jungle's ancestral memory. As I attempted to absorb this aesthetic
and sensory overload of colours, I started to entertain the notion
that the Creator probably spent just a little extra time and
attention on this masterpiece which lay before my eyes. Hues of green
and splashes of blue provided a stark contrast with the grey skies;
indeed, the serene and tranquil character of the hills seemed to
whisper its storied past to me, as I traversed the winding pathway
onwards to the village.
The
prospect of getting lost was always in the back of my mind as I
pressed on, but all of this dissipated when I turned a corner and saw
the village. What a sight to behold! There was smoke rising in the
air and the houses were built on hilly terrain. They were wooden
houses, some with colored roofs, each of them built in a unique
configuration with some infused creativity but all adhering to a few
principles which conformed to the architecture: sloped zinc roofs,
spacious verandahs, porches and areas to rear livestock. As I walked
into the village, I attracted curious glances from the villagers
sitting on their porches. I smiled and waved to them and they
reciprocated with a nod and smile. I was greeted by a middle-aged
lady with her children.
"
Ke mana kamu pergi?"
Her
children ran behind her, gazing at me with their big, bright eyes. I
didn't really know where I was supposed to go.
"
Saya sukarelawan. Nampak tak kawan-kawan saya?"
I
figured she would've seen my friends. She threw a few more seeds to
the chickens.
"
Ada, mereka di rumah hujung sana, naik bukit ini." A young male
villager descended the steps and she pointed at him and she told me
to follow him. I thanked her and followed him to meet the volunteers.
I encountered a group of young to middle aged males all having a
drink and some food in the porch. They looked at me intently.
"
Selamat petang!"
They
smiled and returned my greeting, before asking if I was alone and I
replied that my friends were still behind me. I could sense some
incredulity or perhaps a glimmer of respect that I chose to complete
my journey on my own, or maybe they were being cynical about my
foolish decision which could've gotten me lost in the jungle. Having
arrived at the home of Kak Keros, who hosted volunteer gatherings in
her home, I was introduced to the rest of the volunteers. Later, we
were briefed about the scope of the work which we will participate
in, which firstly to clean out certain areas of the makeshift dam
where reinforced cement bulwarks will be erected and secondly, dig
trenches to bury the pipelines which will bring water from the dam
upstream into the village. The water feed system is gravity based,
with a pressure gauge and multiple valves to control the flow into
the village. There has been a water problem in this village,
specially during the dry season, where the reservoir will dry up and
the villagers will be forced to carry water from the river or do
their washing there. Furthermore, the many cases of pipe leakages
threatens the constant supply of clean, potable water for these
villagers.
We
were also brief by a community member, Kak Kibbit, about the current
difficulties which they face on a daily basis. These villagers have
been simply cheated by the government, who promised them basic
amenities and benefits such as a road if they agree to the
construction of the Bengoh Dam. These empty promises were not the end
of it, the government then asked them to move from their village to a
new resettlement scheme, whereby up to 70% of the home's value will
be compensated by the government. The villagers had no intention to
move and even if they did, how will they even afford to pay 30% of a
RM90,000 home? They were evicted from their ancestral land and some
24 families chose to resist this intimidation and built this new
kampung: Kampung Sait Muk Ayun. To add insult to injury, they have
been ostracized by the villagers who agreed with the relocation and
labelled as pembangkang, or the opposition. I believe that
pembangkang still has a negative connotation attached to it in this
part of the world, so the villagers felt vilified and now they were
trying to make the best out of their situation here in the new
village. It's quite obvious that the government has failed to provide
basic needs, let alone the care and support for the people of
Sarawak. It dawned on me gradually that Impian Sarawak very much
needed and justified if we are to call Malaysia an equitable, just
and representative democracy.
The
villagers of Sait Muk Ayun are constantly threatened and intimidated
with the prospect of losing their lands and homes by a government
intent on clenching on to its corrupt ways here. They oppress and
cajole to win votes before disappearing after the elections, only to
return again five years later to repeat this vicious cycle. Water and
relocation are only two of the many issues which affect the
villagers. Education is another source of worry for the village
because not only is it difficult for children to travel to their
schools, the government has threatened to close down the school if
the parents don't acquiesce to the resettlement scheme. Do the
members of this Bidayuh community deserve the rule of obstinate and
inconsiderate leaders? Absolutely not.
The
first day concluded with some further sharing and we met our host
family, Pak Rusa and Mak Koloi. Their house was perched on a small
cliff at the entrance to the village, and they provided us so
graciously with mattresses and pillows in the living area. We were
moved by the kindness and warm hospitality shown by them, especially
when we are visiting the kampung as outsiders but were received with
open arms and unconditional trust.
I'm
optimistic that Impian Sarawak will succeed in a grand fashion, but
this is contingent upon the honesty and genuine attitudes exemplified
by all those who are involved.
We
are treated with honesty and genuine care, therefore I strongly
believe that we must reciprocate with exactly that.
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