It was a reality check.
It hit me as hard as a ballooned up foreskin.
'They pay us to be quiet.'
And if you open your mouth?
'We are silenced with a bullet.'
It was just that plain and simple.
I had waited about a month for this meeting.
The Iban and Dyak seem so passive on the exterior.
They are the hard-working hotel clerks, cleaners, waitresses, and cashiers.
They usually work for the evil exploiting Chinese.
I just like the sound of that.
Considering it was their land, they seem to have a raw deal.
I question the wisdom of James Brooke, bringing the headhunters to the civilized flock.
'Our longhouses are made from concrete now.'
I'm not saying who the name was on the other end of that statement nor his position. It would blow you away if I did.
And most likely blow away our brains, if they found out.
Logging mafia pay off the government who grant logging concessions.
It's an unholy union that has made some people very rich, including the late governor.
'And the temperature has got hotter.'
How?
'The Chinese contractors are cutting down our trees.'
No trees for longhouses, makes sense.
And who would be giving out those contracts?
'The big boss of Sarawak.'
Oh, him. He's lauded as a savior by some and a crook by others.
Bruno Manser has not been forgotten by the Iban.
He says he just disappeared after paragliding in the Chief Minister’s backyard, protesting illegal logging and the demise of the nomadic Penan tribe.
He supposely disappeared in Sarawak jungle in 2000.
My source says he's still living with the Penan.
And the crocodiles of the Sarawak River are saying he was a tasty Swiss treat.
That's one folklore that's being kept alive.
The Swiss government declared him officially dead in 2005.
Sounds like a 'be quiet' bullet to the head to me, I say to my source.
Most likely, he says.
They are trying to get their hands on some pristine forest up north.
'They tell the locals to let us log and we'll let you grow more coffee. Money will exchange hands until we are building longhouses from concrete.'
Even the forest tribes were relocated to the towns and cities.
'Fewer witnesses that way.'
And carte blanche for illegal logging.
It's an old and familiar story.
'But we do have a wooden longhouse at the culture village in Kuching,' says my source.
A zoo for near-extinct cultures, wonderful, I say.
The National Parks are off bounds but anywhere else where there's forest, the trees get logged and processed and floated down the rivers where it eventually makes it way to Kuching to be sold as perfumed wood to the Chinese tourists and raw material for IKEA.
I've seen a few Lamborgini's in town.
You can't afford to buy those from selling chicken for four Ringgit and fifty cents.
I did eventually find that stall. They piled the rice up.
They didn't charge me any extra.
Raji, the guard at the bank, gave me glowing reviews.
'Ask for more rice, no problems, ask for the chicken head in soup, no problems.'
He meant they didn't charge you for the extras.
He has no teeth but to see him rave about this joint just make me curious.
I can imagine him sucking the chicken off the bone and breaking it down with his gums.
He's the only Indian in Sarawak and spends more time at the food court than at the bank.
I saw him at the intersection, while on a chicken shop hunt and he said jump on the back of his bike and he'll take me there.
I can say, it was the cheapest and yummiest chicken around. I even had change to buy a drink.
Six Ringgit chicken and rice dish must be avoided at all costs. It's a crime to shortchange yourself like that when you can go for the cheaper version with larger portions.
I was trying to tell that to the chicken seller near my place. She wasn't going to budge. Well, I'm budging over to this place every day for the one reason it's better value.
'Does it make you happy eating our chicken?' asked the bubbly Chinese waitress.
It sure does. It makes me feel on top of the fucking world.
He's still alive.
Who is still alive?
Bruno.
It's a belief the Iban cherish.
He could be the new James Brooke to believe in.
'And he could be still living happily in the jungle with the Penan.'
Making babies and hunting wild boar.
Sounds idyllic.
It hit me as hard as a ballooned up foreskin.
'They pay us to be quiet.'
And if you open your mouth?
'We are silenced with a bullet.'
It was just that plain and simple.
I had waited about a month for this meeting.
The Iban and Dyak seem so passive on the exterior.
They are the hard-working hotel clerks, cleaners, waitresses, and cashiers.
They usually work for the evil exploiting Chinese.
I just like the sound of that.
Considering it was their land, they seem to have a raw deal.
I question the wisdom of James Brooke, bringing the headhunters to the civilized flock.
'Our longhouses are made from concrete now.'
I'm not saying who the name was on the other end of that statement nor his position. It would blow you away if I did.
And most likely blow away our brains, if they found out.
Logging mafia pay off the government who grant logging concessions.
It's an unholy union that has made some people very rich, including the late governor.
'And the temperature has got hotter.'
How?
'The Chinese contractors are cutting down our trees.'
No trees for longhouses, makes sense.
And who would be giving out those contracts?
'The big boss of Sarawak.'
Oh, him. He's lauded as a savior by some and a crook by others.
Bruno Manser has not been forgotten by the Iban.
He says he just disappeared after paragliding in the Chief Minister’s backyard, protesting illegal logging and the demise of the nomadic Penan tribe.
He supposely disappeared in Sarawak jungle in 2000.
My source says he's still living with the Penan.
And the crocodiles of the Sarawak River are saying he was a tasty Swiss treat.
That's one folklore that's being kept alive.
The Swiss government declared him officially dead in 2005.
Sounds like a 'be quiet' bullet to the head to me, I say to my source.
Most likely, he says.
They are trying to get their hands on some pristine forest up north.
'They tell the locals to let us log and we'll let you grow more coffee. Money will exchange hands until we are building longhouses from concrete.'
Even the forest tribes were relocated to the towns and cities.
'Fewer witnesses that way.'
And carte blanche for illegal logging.
It's an old and familiar story.
'But we do have a wooden longhouse at the culture village in Kuching,' says my source.
A zoo for near-extinct cultures, wonderful, I say.
The National Parks are off bounds but anywhere else where there's forest, the trees get logged and processed and floated down the rivers where it eventually makes it way to Kuching to be sold as perfumed wood to the Chinese tourists and raw material for IKEA.
I've seen a few Lamborgini's in town.
You can't afford to buy those from selling chicken for four Ringgit and fifty cents.
I did eventually find that stall. They piled the rice up.
They didn't charge me any extra.
Raji, the guard at the bank, gave me glowing reviews.
'Ask for more rice, no problems, ask for the chicken head in soup, no problems.'
He meant they didn't charge you for the extras.
He has no teeth but to see him rave about this joint just make me curious.
I can imagine him sucking the chicken off the bone and breaking it down with his gums.
He's the only Indian in Sarawak and spends more time at the food court than at the bank.
I saw him at the intersection, while on a chicken shop hunt and he said jump on the back of his bike and he'll take me there.
I can say, it was the cheapest and yummiest chicken around. I even had change to buy a drink.
Six Ringgit chicken and rice dish must be avoided at all costs. It's a crime to shortchange yourself like that when you can go for the cheaper version with larger portions.
I was trying to tell that to the chicken seller near my place. She wasn't going to budge. Well, I'm budging over to this place every day for the one reason it's better value.
'Does it make you happy eating our chicken?' asked the bubbly Chinese waitress.
It sure does. It makes me feel on top of the fucking world.
He's still alive.
Who is still alive?
Bruno.
It's a belief the Iban cherish.
He could be the new James Brooke to believe in.
'And he could be still living happily in the jungle with the Penan.'
Making babies and hunting wild boar.
Sounds idyllic.
