January 29th 1984

One of the girls sitting around us last night spoke good English – she had worked in Marudi as a waitress.  She was some relation to the Headman, + had access to a boat, + had promised to take us to a Punan village, called Long Buang, the next one along, provided we paid for the petrol.  So we spent much of the day waiting for her, in the meantime savouring the delights of longhouse life.  I should explain, for the benefit of the less knowledgeable, just what a longhouse is.  In some ways, the name is self-explanatory, but it is a social as well as architectural description.  Basically it is the mode of life for those Sarawakians not integrated into towns.  The building is long, either on stilts or in 2 storeys.  In either case, the living is done on the second floor, this being a protection against both flood +, in earlier times, enemies, when the ladders would be drawn up at night – nowadays, the stairways are rather more permanent.  Depending upon the modernity of the building, there is a veranda or corridor running the length of the building, in which people socialise, + make handicrafts etc.  Behind these are the separate living quarters, used only for sleeping.  At least, that is the classic description of the longhouse, + the ones we have seen so far have not conformed to that, but it is difficult to judge, for we have always been housed in the Headman’s quarters, which doesn’t really seem to fit the pattern.

A village, or kampong, may consist of one longhouse or several, + the longhouses themselves vary enormously in length, measured by the no. of doors, from just 4 or 5 to over a hundred.  Long Bomang, where we were staying, was in the latter category, about 105, I was told, tho’ I think that was the total of the 5 longhouses that comprised it.  And altho’ the social structure of the longhouses has not changed, they are by no means primitive.  Generator electricity, glass windows, television, are all part of village life.  One thing that has not changed, in our experience so far at any rate, is the hospitality to visitors.  Guests are put up without question, + tho’ presents are accepted, they are not demanded.  And tho’ the food is not lavish, it is provided, + is as good as is available to offer.  Our breakfast was Spartan, dry cream crackers + Milo, but I’m sure no-one else fared better. 

Val went for a stroll around the kampong during the morning, while I took advantage of the unexpected privacy offered to me, + sat + wrote.  The Headman’s quarters in which we were staying had a large room outside the bedrooms.  During the evening it was used for social purposes – it was the room in which our breakfasts + evening meals were served – but by day it was more or less deserted, so I found it something of a haven.  I value my privacy a great deal, + in this situation, having, for me, few of the benefits of communal living + most of its disadvantages, I was grateful to be left alone.  Val returned in due course, + we were given lunch – a similar meal to last night’s, with our processed peas substituting for our sweetcorn.  Afterwards, we were left to our own devices again.

The afternoon was slipping by, + just as we were reaching the stage when it looked as tho’ no excursion would be possible today, Caroline, the English speaker, floated past the doorway in a longboat – the river has risen so much it now laps gently against the doorstep.  It seemed our trip to Long Buang, the Punan village, was on.  So once Val + I had paid for a gallon of petrol ($7 – no wonder things are dear) we were off, zooming up river at high speed.  There were 4 of us, Caroline’s younger brother making up the foursome.  It was about 20 mins to the village – it’s the next settlement up-river – + I’ll confess, when we climbed out of the boat, I didn’t know what to expect.

A short word about the tribal system in Sarawak.  As with Papua New Guinea, which is similar to Borneo in many respects, but chiefly for this purpose in its inaccessibility internally, leading to the formation of many different tribes.  At one stage they would have been frequently at war with each other, but such activities have largely ceased now… or so I understand.  Nowadays, the different peoples seem to try to do each other down in a less violent manner, by doing each other down verbally, + casting aspersions as to the morals, conduct, + personal habits of the tribe in question.  Since they do much the same between the different states in Australia, this is hardly unique.  There is, moreover, a good deal of contact between the tribes, including inter-marriage.

I think the largest tribe is the Iban, followed by the Dayaks, but up in the north of Sarawak, where we are, they are mostly Kayan + Kenyah – at Long Beman, they are Kayan.  At one time, most of the tribal people would have been largely nomadic, but now only one tribe sticks to it s nomadic ways – the Punan.  And even they are gradually being settled in one place, building longhouses, + farming.  It is official + admitted government policy that they become “settled”, or, if you like, the same as everyone else.  Traditionally, the trial group would be very small, + constantly on the move, building very rude shelters, + taking their food from the abundant storehouse of the jungle: fruit, vegetables + mushrooms growing wild, fish from the rivers, animals hunted with spear + blow-pipe (I know nothing, so won’t speculate, about head-hunting + cannibalism).  But now, with the jungle being cut down at an alarming rate, there is no place for nomads.

The Punans of Long Buang have been settled for some time, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that the Punans we met looked very similar to the Kayans.  They had taken to the permanent way of life so well, in fact, that I wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart, had I not known.  Their clothes were shabbier, certainly, + their longhouse system was not the same, but at first glance they were not fierce, almost naked warriors, but gentle + civilised hosts.  We were taken to the Headman’s house, of course, + given tea + biscuits, but after that it was difficult to know what to say.  What does one say when encountering another culture?  Take me to your leader?  We were already there.  We come in peace?  A bit fatuous.  Fortunately, Val had thought to bring our small photo album along – that has proved invaluable many times now – as a starting point for conversation.  It was also good for us that Caroline was there, for these Punans also spoke Kayan, so that was the medium used, neither side’s Malay being up to much.  But working thro’ an interpreter was not entirely satisfactory, especially if one feels the interpreter has her own slant to put upon things.

I gave the kids some sweets, we gave the Headman a photo of us, + then all trooped out – our arrival had brought quite a crowd to the Headman’s place – to take some photos.  The Headman + his wife had been asked, + had agreed, to wear their traditional costume.  The wife had compromised, I think, + just had a sarong, but the man had the traditional loin-cloth, necklaces, + ear decorations, + looked very good indeed.  We took a few photos, + then went on a short walk around the kampong – it was particularly interesting to see rice being pounded by 2 people standing on a flattened log, alternately pistoning down with special heavy pounders.  I had a go myself –as they also kick the rice into a special indentation with their bare feet, it’s a wonder they don’t get their toes crushed.

Afterwards we retired to the Headman’s private living quarters + chatted for a while.  Or rather the Headman (or his brother, equally sharp + impressive) delivered long sentences in Kayan which Caroline precised into short sentences in English.  Rendered in this way, we couldn’t really obtain more than the vague gist of what they were saying, but it seemed to be some sort of plea for greater understanding of the Punan people, I think. 

We returned by way of a small tributary where Caroline or her family have 3 fishing nets, which we checked.  I don’t know much about fishing, but I would have thought any fish stupid enough to get caught in those nets deserved to be eaten.  So far as I could tell, they were laid out much like a net on a tennis court, only underwater of course, + with quite big holes.  So the smaller fish could swim straight thro’, + the bigger ones, once they encountered the net, would simply turn around + swim away.  It would only be those fish unlucky enough to fit into the net without being able to go thro’ who would have any trouble.  I wasn’t at all surprised to discover we hadn’t caught anything, tho’ Caroline thought we were dreadfully unlucky.  It was an interesting trip nonetheless.

I was exhausted when we returned, + as soon as we had eaten I collapsed in our room on the bed.  The only reason I was able to rouse myself was that there was tuak out in the living-room – should she make some excuse for me?  Booze? I thought.  I’d make it somehow.  And was pleased I did, since it turned out to be a splendid evening.  The tuak was very strong, so both Val + I got rather drunk.  As, I imagine, did the other ladies present, unless they have very strong stomachs.  Val played her penny whistle, I sang some songs, they brought out a sort of bamboo bass, + one lady danced for us, while another sang the most beautiful song.  For some reason, the generator had been switched off early, so the whole thing was by lantern light.  Quite, quite magic.

A fascinating day, even if it did only come to life in the afternoon. Our Punan expedition was fascinating, and the evening concert, especially when giventhe extra sauce of some alcoholic accompaniment, was, indeed, thoroughly magical.