KUCHING TO KAPIT, SARAWAK, MALAYSIA BORNEO (June 25, 2010)
Sharon and I checked out of Singgahsana Lodge and headed to the ferry terminal a few kilometers out of town to catch the 8:30 a.m. express boat to Sibu, about 100 kilometers northeast of Kuching. The boat was one of those small hydrofoils used to cross bays or connect islands.
The first half of the four-and-a half-hour cruise was across an open stretch of the South China Sea and felt rather rough for a small hydrofoil. More than once I thought the captain was going to roll the boat. The boat would roll from side to side always favoring the starboard side. If it rolled 20 degrees to port, it would then roll 30 degrees to starboard. I was more relaxed once we entered the wide canal at the mouth of the Rejang River for the second half of the ride, which proved much smoother.
We arrived in Sibu at 1:30, grabbed a quick lunch, and then caught the 2:30 “Good Success” express boat to Kapit, another four hours southeast and inland up Borneo’s largest waterway, the Rejang River. This time the boat was a long narrow cigar-shaped thing reminiscent of Buck Roger’s spaceship. We passed several lumber mills on our way upriver. Many of the logs find their way into the turbid Rejang, adding an element of fun to the ride. The captain continuously adjusted course to avoid the floating logs, and sometimes he just couldn’t avoid them. On those occasions, the boat just took a pounding.
We made quick stops at a number of small settlements where I caught my first glimpses of Borneo’s unique longhouses. Longhouses are the traditional tribal homes of the indigenous peoples of Borneo. Some longhouses appeared quite old, while others looked like your typical modern suburban home, but really, really, really long with dozens of separate entrances. I had read that one highlight of visiting Borneo was staying in a longhouse, so Sharon and I resolved to try this the next day.
We arrived in Kapit and were amused and amazed to watch the men removing large pieces of furniture from the boat and carrying them, one man per furniture, on their heads up the ramp into town. A block from the boat terminal, we found a clean room with two beds at the New Rejang Inn for MYR 60 (about $18) and settled into watching TV. I was getting quite into an Al Pacino movie when suddenly the channel changed and I was watching the World Cup. I told Sharon about this, and she seemed surprised that I hadn’t yet encountered “centralized TV viewing” in Malaysia. Apparently the smaller hotels are set up so that all the TVs throughout the hotel are linked to the TV in the lobby. Everyone in the hotel is stuck watching whatever the guy at the front desk watched. I could imagine this becoming problematic if the guy working the lobby had an interest, say, in porn.
We walked around town looking for food about 8 p.m. Nearly everything was shut. What do people do in Kapit on a Friday night? Apparently nothing. A church choir was belting out some manifestation of religious rock and roll in the distance. Otherwise, the town was absolutely dead. At last we landed in one of the few cafes still open – Hock Bing Seafood Café – and ordered four plates plus rice and beer to share for a grand total of MYR 30 (about $9). Sharon observed that these towns with nothing to do and little to purchase were great places to preserve funds.
BUNDONG LONGHOUSE NEAR KAPIT, SARAWAK, MALAYSIAN BORNEO (June 26, 2010)
The next day, we set out to visit a longhouse. Although no one had invited us to visit one (which is the recommended way of visiting them), Sharon had heard that the Iban tribe’s Bundong longhouse was friendly and inviting. Sharon worked out that we could hire a minivan from the town square to take us there for MYR 35. When Sharon reported this to me, I asked if she tried to negotiate the price down. (She was eager to pick up pointers from a relatively seasoned traveler.) As I shopped for food to bring to the longhouse (a customary courtesy), she went back to get a better price on the minivan. She reported back, “30 ringgits.” I grinned.
We reached the Iban’s Bundong longhouse in about 30 minutes, during which time the road turned from paved to gravel to dirt while the landscape changed from small town to countryside homes and farms to jungle and then, appearing after a long stretch of just jungle, the Bundong longhouse. Our driver dropped us off in a clearing near some parked cars and minivans across the river from the longhouse itself. Thusly abandoned and unsure what to do next, we approached the first person we saw and Sharon spoke to him in Iban. He in turn introduced us to the Chief’s wife. The Chief was out for the day.
The Chief’s wife walked us across the hanging wooden bridge to the other side of the river where the 130-year-old Iban longhouse stretched along a hill sloping up from the river. She took us to their home, number 10 on a stretch of 65 homes that made up the longhouse, and left us with an attractive woman in her twenties, her daughter-in-law Agnes. Agnes spoke no English, a fact made apparent by her lime green t-shirt, which read in symbols and English, “♀ ♥ middle finger.” Oblivious to her attire, she served us drinks and looked every bit as innocent as her t-shirt was not.
The Chief’s living room was decorated with a mix of old and new. Above his tiny television and massive 1970s-style stereo speakers hung old knives in sheaths. A rattan mat topped with pillows for sitting covered most of the floor, but incongruously large leather chairs also lined one wall. The walls were adorned with various antlers and the skin from a pangolin, a creature resembling an ant-eater, plus an assortment of certificates and family photos. Children and other family members roamed in and out.
After some time waiting for the Chief to return, we decided to explore the outside of the longhouse. The longhouse was made entirely of old wooden planks held together in an architectural style I can only describe as “slapdash.” These wooden planks also made up the long central corridor that separated the two halves of the longhouse. Each half contained a long, parallel covered common area, behind which were the separate entrances to individual homes. Stairs led down to the river, where we headed next.
The children playing at the river were like children anywhere. At one point, they were burying each other with sand. Each male so buried had a huge oblong rock placed upright in the sand above his midsection, clearly representing a giant phallus. Everyone giggled and then the buried child would pop up from the sand and jump into the river. The males also had a slingshot war across the two sides of the river. When one boy got hit with a rock and started crying, the girls tended him.
At length, an American and Australian showed up and joined us at the river. “Harley (like the motorcycle) and April (like the month)” had been the only foreigners we ran into in Kapit. With four of us now gathered around the river, I was feeling the pressure to jump in. The only quick-drying article of clothing not left in Kapit was my shirt, which I buttoned around my waste as a swimsuit. I looked absolutely ridiculous with my sleeves flapping around my waist like some demented ballerina’s dress. The children laughed as I pirouetted into the water.
Back on the porch in front of the Chief’s home, we passed out candies to the children and shots of red wine to the adults and ourselves. April and Harley had brought these treats and Sharon and I had brought some candies too. We felt a little guilty on two fronts, however, as the candy wrappers all went to the floor and through the cracks between the ancient planks and to the ground below, and the candies were not quite in tune with the Chief’s anti-sugar poster hanging with the other public notices just outside his door. The wine, on the other hand, was not at all problematic.
The Chief returned at last, but he seemed quite indifferent to our presence. We sat up and drank with him and some other men and women, including a heavily tattooed centenarian of very slight build. Then the Chief’s neighbor invited us (and collected donations) to his porch area where he unwrapped a canvas bundle hanging from the rafters. There he revealed several skulls hanging as they had in the Sarawak Museum longhouse exhibit. He informed us that the skulls were over 100 years old and belonged to former enemies of the tribe back when they were headhunters. My jaw dropped. I’d found headhunters!
The Chief’s wife cooked the food we brought, in some cases combining it quite literally. For example, we had brought a pineapple as a gift, but we had also brought a large fish, a bag of dried mushrooms, and fern tips. For whatever reason, the mushroom ended up cooked with the pineapples, probably because they were in the same bag, and to my surprise the combination worked. We ate seated on the floor and using only our fingers, which is the traditional manner of eating among the tribes of Borneo. At the end of the meal, you simply sweep up.
The Chief had a meeting after dinner – some fancy Chief business – and we had a minivan to catch back to Kapit. Although we were invited to spend the night at the longhouse for a mere MYR 75 each (about $22), we had a comfy hotel room awaiting us in Kapit for less than half that amount as well as a boat to catch the following morning. We returned to Kapit where we shared a few beers and rounds of karaoke with April and Harley before retiring.
ADDITIONAL PHOTOS BELOW:
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