Logo
Prev
Bookmark
Rotate
Print
Next
Contents
All Pages
Related Articles
Browse Issues
Help
Search
Home
'
National Geographic : 1977 May
Contents
the central government will not die easily. Sharing the north of the island of Borneo with Sabah is Sarawak (the tiny self-governing Sultanate of Brunei is sandwiched between Sarawak and the South China Sea*), and it too is oil-rich. But, knowing of its character ful past, it is difficult to think of Sarawak solely in economic terms. White Rajas Ruled for a Century Until as recently as 1946, Sarawak was the private domain of a family dynasty, as it had been since 1841, when an Englishman named James Brooke was named raja by the Sultan of Brunei as a reward for having put down a local insurrection. The raj was passed on to other members of the family before ending in favor of rule by Britain. Piracy and head hunting were abolished, and, all in all, the White Rajas served Sarawak well. The Brookes are gone now, and for the most part forgotten. Still, there are encoun ters with the past to be had in Sarawak. On a Wednesday in late March, I set out in a long boat on the Skrang River. Less than thirty minutes after getting under way, the rains fell, and the rock-heavy drops plunged into the river until the surface was like marzipan. They beat too against the leathery elephant ear leaves of the jungle growth that crowded the banks, setting off music with the timbre of kettledrums. It was a long four hours be fore we reached our destination: a longhouse settlement of Ibans, or Sea Dayaks, onetime headhunters of northern Borneo. We docked at the foot of a steep hill on which the exposed roots of a litchi tree served as steps. Nearby was an aged woman stand ing in the river and bending down until her arms were fully submerged. I asked what she was doing, and the reply was that she might be probing the bottom in search of a rock suitable for filing teeth. This part of Malay sia, clearly, seemed more sheltered from the storms of clashing ideologies and the moneyed fallout of a vibrant economy. Tebat longhouse stood over the hill and several hundred yards back in the jungle. We approached it along a path freighted with muddy pigs and bilious roosters. A bird in a distant tree was calling to its mate in a voice not unlike the skirl of bagpipes. There were only a few men about, for it was shortly after five o'clock in the afternoon when we arrived, and the day's work in the rice fields would not end for another hour. But the headman was there. His name was Chaong, and he was mending a fishnet in the soft light that spilled through an opening be tween the longhouse veranda and the inner communal area. Longhouses are measured by the number of doors. This one, Chaong said through an interpreter, was 17 doors, which means it contains private quarters for that number of families, all under a single roof. A total of about a hundred persons live in Tebat. Out side their rooms, they shared a veranda run ning the length of the house, half of which was elevated and reserved solely for the men of the community. It was here that they gath ered after the evening meal to smoke and drink and, in general, partake of the pleasures of salon sociability. I dined that evening in Chaong's quarters, with his wife and children and also his mother. As we ate, a parade of dogs passed through the room, all of them small, with bones straining against the skin. This angered Chaong. He opened a trapdoor in the floor and hurled them through, one by one, to the ground five feet below. Visit Is a Heady Experience Later we sat on the raised platform and drank rice wine. On the ceiling, almost di rectly above me, hung a net filled with black ened skulls. The last head to be taken in what is now Sarawak, as far as can be determined, was during World War II. I looked around and wondered if any of the Dayaks in the house had participated in a successful hunt. Had he done so, the hunter would probably have tattoos decorating his hands, for that was how head-hunting success was recorded in the old days. I saw none. Still, there was an old man who would look at me and then at the skulls, and, getting my attention, he would smile as I once saw an ornithologist smile when he showed me his collection of stuffed wrens. Tebat is not completely isolated from the workings of the central government. There is a small school in the area that many of the children attend. The Malaria Eradication Program officer pays periodic calls. And there *See "Brunei, Borneo's Abode of Peace," by Joseph Judge, NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC, February 1974. National Geographic,May 1977 652
Links
Archive
1977 Jun
1977 Apr
Navigation
Previous Page
Next Page