Borneo: Iban Longhouse Visit in Sarawak, Malaysia

Borneo... Borneo, Borneo, Borneo...

It's the third largest island in the world. And it is NOT a country. It is administratively shared by Indonesia (Kalimantan province), Malaysia (Sarawak province to the west, and Sabah province to the east), and the Sultanate of Brunei, wedged into the north coast between Sarawak and Sabah. Many travellers we have met... a surprising number, actually, even as they planned their trip to Borneo, did so thinking it was its own country. Here's a link for more information, to save YOU the embarrassment, one day. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borneo

We spent three weeks on this island of incredibly rich ethnic and biodiversity. When we got to peninsular Malaysia, we knew little more than we "had to stay in an Iban longhouse, see probiscus monkeys, and watch out for leeches!" six days before departure, we had no plane tickets, no itinerary, and no accommodation reservations. A whirlwind of on-the-road logistics ensued. We saw and did so much in Borneo, that we will have to split it up into several different entries.

Kuching Waterfront

We began our travels by flying from KL to Kuching, a vibrant, charming city on the western end of Sarawak. Through an anonymous tip in a travel suggestions book in the Cameron Highlands, we had made plans to visit an Iban longhouse through this random guy named Harry, who occasionally takes travellers to his family's longhouse. Here's a blip on the Iban people of Borneo:

The Ibans are a branch of the Dayak peoples of Borneo. They were formerly known during the colonial period by the British as Sea Dayaks. Ibans were renowned for practising headhunting and tribal/territorial expansion. A long time ago, being a very strong and successful warring tribe, the Ibans were a very feared tribe in Borneo. They speak the Iban language.

Today, with the modern era of globalization and technology, the days of headhunting and piracy are long gone for the Ibans. The Iban population is concentrated in Sarawak, Brunei, in the West Kalimantan region of Indonesia. They live in longhouses called rumah panjai or rumah panjang. Most of the Iban longhouses are equipped with modern facilities such as electricity and proper water supply and lots of other facilities such as (tar sealed) roads, telephone line and the internet. Younger Ibans are mostly found in urban areas, and visit their hometowns during the holidays. The Ibans today are generally becoming increasingly heavily urbanised while (surprisingly) retaining most of it's traditional heritage and culture.

Upon arrival in Kuching, though, it turned out that Harry would be unable to take us to his longhouse. The morning we were set to depart, we were informed that "Stewart" would be taking us, instead. This turned out to be a truly wonderful turn of events. Stewart's longhouse operation is as close to authentic, and as "un-touristy" as you can get. We were to visit the longhouse where his mother still lives, and then an older longhouse with no electricity, and until two years ago, no road access, further upriver. We grabbed our things for the next three days, and jumped into his van. It was just the two of us, bouncing along the main road east (for five hours), with two of his sons in the backseat. They were on school break, and anxious to always "ride along" to the family's longhouse whenever they get the chance.

En route, we stopped at two of the major sights in this region of Sarawak- the Semenggoh Orang Utan Facility, and Jong's Crocodile Farm, a center for some of Borneo's most notorious residents, the river crocs. We arrived at feeding time, when dozens of the creatures are summoned by a clanging bell to a feeding platform, where they snap at bloody chunks of raw meat dangled above them from a line strung over their pond:

We continued on to the longhouse, and discovered that we were extremely lucky-- a girl from Stewart's family's longhouse was getting married to a man in a neighboring longhouse that night, and we would be able to attend the wedding reception. Our luck was double, though, as there was also an engagement party taking place at the longhouse where we were staying. Stewart said that he had never before taken travellers to an Iban wedding. We were thrilled.

As soon as we arrived at the longhouse, we were summoned into Stewart's mother's dorm (hereafter known simply as "Grandma"). The longhouses are built elevated off the ground on stilts and are divided into a quasi-public area along one side and a row of private living quarters flanking the other side. The porch/veranda area ("ruai") is common space, onto which all front doors to the private "dorms" (or perhaps apartments), open. Though not necessarily blood related, all inhabitants of a longhouse are like family and tend to have a shared history and loyalty for one another. Here is a more in-depth description of the longhouse design, thanks to Wikipedia:

The layout of a traditional longhouse could be described thus:

Along the whole length of the building runs a wall placed near the middle. The one side would seem like a corridor or hall from one end to the other, while the other side is blocked from public view by the wall.

Behind this wall lay the private units, bilik, each with a single door for each family. These are usually divided from each other by walls of their own and contain the living and sleeping spaces. The kitchens, dapor, sometimes reside within this space but are quite often situated in rooms of their own, added to the back of a bilik or even in a building standing a little away from the longhouse and accessed by a small bridge due to the fear of fire, as well as reducing smoke and insects attracted to cooking from gathering in living quarters..

The corridor itself is divided into three parts. The space in front of the door, the tempuan, belongs to each bilik unit and is used privately. This is where rice can be pounded or other domestic work can be done. A public corridor, a ruai, basically used like a village road, runs the whole length in the middle of the open hall. Along the outer wall is the space where guests can sleep, the pantai. On this side a large veranda, a tanju, is built in front of the building where the rice (padi) is dried and other outdoor activities can take place. Under the roof is a sort of attic, the sadau, that runs along the middle of the house under the peak of the roof. Here the padi, other food, and other things can be stored. Sometimes the sadau has a sort of gallery from which the life in the ruai can be observed. The pigs and chicken live underneath the house between the stilts.

Grandma's longhouse was quite modern, with electricity, and even television. The toilets were out back (also elevated), under either a corrugated metal, or wooden thatch roof. There is never really a feeling of privacy at the longhouse- it is truly communal living, with children's footsteps always audible, echoing outside the dorms on the ruai, and many generations of families sharing the same floor space with their mats inside the dorms at night (meaning no one has their own room.) The skulls, highly prized trophies from the headhunting days (a practice which pretty much ended for good in the last fifty years) are hung from the rafters on the ruai in front of the headman's dorm, decorated with Christmas lights and hot pink and silver garland. "Just go with it," I thought to myself.

the skulls...

Grandma

Grandma's living room, chatting with Kani

Grandma is about seventy ("seventy-plus," she claims) and has very kind eyes and smile, and progressive views on education for women and politics. She used to be a teacher at a boarding school up the road in Sri Aman. She was the only woman educated in her family and credits her education with any personal success she has had in life. She lives in her dorm with her son, and his wife, Agnes, also a teacher and just as sharp and progressive as Grandma. She took us around from dorm to dorm to meet everyone, and then we sat on the ruai in front of her dorm in a circle with some men from the longhouse who happily offered us to partake in the tuak drink they were passing around (too-wak), which is home-made Iban rice wine. Grandma is prized for her tuak, and it was actually delicious- sweet, light yellow color, with just a little kick. Most friendly and generous of all was Kani, Grandma's belated husband's brother. He sat cross-legged next to us the whole evening, and we had a great time hearing his stories and sharing with him about the US. The longhouse people were exceptionally generous and really made Catt and I feel like part of the family. Beers were passed around, too, and then a guitar came out, and we must have sat like that on the floor, talking, laughing, drinking, and playing music for three hours. Finally Grandma summoned us for dinner ("too much alcohol with no food, very bad") and we partook in a delicious Iban meal with Agnes- rice cooked in hollowed out bamboo, curry chicken, and jungle greens.

After dinner, we headed, drunken longhouse men in tow, to another longhouse up the dirt road for the wedding celebration. It must have been after 10:00 PM, but things were just really getting started at that point. I'm not sure what we were expecting, but it was not what we found. The ruai of this longhouse was packed with about 500-600 people, young and old, sitting on the floor. The bride and groom, flanked by bestman and maid of honor, sat in chairs in the center. A giant, blown up glamor-shot of them hung behind. The bride wore a gaudy white Western-style wedding dress (as did the maid of honor, interestingly enough), and the guys wore tuxes. All the Iban longhouse guests wore sort of festive batik shirts and slacks, or jeans and tees. The skulls hung overhead with the flashy Christmas lights, and a table was set out in front of the couple with champagne, a Western wedding cake, and fake flowers. Instead of the USA-style "pre-designated toasts" where certain individuals plan a speech in advance and deliver it, it was sort of an open mic night wedding. Anyone who wanted to could say something, and as a result, the speeches must have gone on for over an hour (everyone was falling asleep). Around 11:30, the entertainment portion of the evening started. Instead of a DJ with dancing, there was a live band, and everyone "sponsored" each other by paying money for friends to sing karaoke songs. The sober sat on the floor and quietly watched, while the performers (usually a bit inebriated), danced and sung their hearts out with the band. The bride and groom quietly watched from their armchair thrones.

During all of this, the bridesmaid and bestman circulated the room with bottles of whiskey, scotch, langkai (really strong Iban rice liquor) and shot glasses, pouring out shots for guests to take. Because we were the only visitors, Catt and I were included on the express shot circuit- meaning more people came around to us than the other guests. After a while, Stewart had to start deflecting the alcohol for us to other people. Some wedding pictures:

After we'd had enough fun at the wedding, we returned to Grandma's longhouse around 1:30 AM, another party in full swing on the ruai. Though many less people, this party was even wilder, as everyone had set up a TV-karaoke set on the floor and were dancing like crazy, singing Iban songs and having a great time. The engaged couple whom they were celebrating was nowhere to be found. We were immediately absorbed into this celebre, and must have sang four Iban songs with our new friends (though I haven't any idea what we were singing about). Finally around 3:30, exhausted, we snuck into our dorm and slept in the floor next to Stewart's family. Or tried to sleep. The karaoke, guitar playing, and merriment went on until almost 9:00 AM!

The next day we spent some more time at Grandma's longhouse before saying goodbye to everyone, and travelling to the longhouse of her youth, further down the road. Before we left, Kani took us to the canteen and bought us sodas, which was very sweet.

with Kani

with Grandma, Stewart and family

We then piled into the car again to drive over to the longhouse where Grandma had grown up. Until two years ago, it was only accessible by a two-day walk, or multiple-day boat trip. There is no electricity, so it gets quite stiflingly hot. We were introduced to Grandma's sisters, as well as some more extended family members who live there. It was too hot to do much in the afternoon, so we caught up on last week's world affairs in old issues of the Borneo Post, and the boys took us to see the family's pepper and rubber plantations, a 10 minute walk into the jungle from the house. We got back and assisted with cooking- we were having a huge BBQ outside, with bamboo rice, salted and dried strips of wild boar (delicious, delicious), and chicken, pork and beef cooked in different curries. After dinner, the guys played for us on traditional instruments. As the sun set, we were told to get on long pants and good shoes, as we would be going for a jungle hut.

Pictures of the old longhouse:

cooking rice in bamboo

The jungle hunt was something to never be forgotten. Two experienced hunters (who conveniently, spoke no English), took us deep into the jungle after dark. It was hot, pitch-black, and difficult to navigate. It was all we could do to try to keep up with them on foot, dehydrated, and still fuzzy from the wedding festivities the night before. I have never been hunting before (and I'm not really sure how I feel about it), but we couldn't really say no to this cultural experience. One of the guys had a hunting rifle, and every time he shot with it, I'd almost jump out of my skin. In a few hours that night, we caught two animals- a mousedeer, and a fox. The poor things never knew what hit them, as our guide was such a talented shot. The other hunter had a basket-type backpack strapped to his back, and threw the dead animals in there. The blood trickled down his back and onto his calves. It was a sobering image.

When we got back to the longhouse, the hunters butchered the animals in the shower and Stewart (who, we learned, was traditionally trained as a chef) cooked up the meat straight away, and offered it to us. I've never had miniature deer before... it was... chewy.

The next day we said our farewells to everyone and headed back to Kuching. Stewart, the consummate host, took us to his house, first, to meet his family and use the internet. When we got back to the guesthouse in Kuching, we spent the next two days hanging out with Nora and Adrian, who own and operate the place (it's a family thing). We felt like we lived there, too, and spent some great evenings over local hamburgers, beers, 100plus and bread and peanut butter watching bad Hong Kong movies and chatting about everything. Nora says that the longhouses give her the creeps- she said that when she was little she was especially afraid of the witch doctors, who would speak to the "bewitched" in strange, indiscernible incantations. She also told us about some of the animist beliefs of the Iban, one of which is that a cat or dog can never step over a dead body, because it will come alive as a zombie. Adrian explained that everything in the afterlife is "opposite"- meaning that to give a gift to someone in the afterlife such as, say, a dish, means that instead of carefully preserving it, you should shatter it. We got onto the topic of ghosts (as every Iban person we have met is extremely superstitious), and he told us a story about a hunting trip in the jungle he took with his friends one night. Sitting around a fire late one night, they heard a loud, shrieking, terrible woman's laugh, from far away (which means, going on the opposite rule, that she was actually quite close to them). Adrian explained that the female ghosts are especially dangerous to men, because they want to steal their... manhood... so they themselves can become men. (Naturally, right?) The only antidote is for men who hear the she-ghost's terrible laugh to cover themselves with a special leaf. Which he did. Adrian still can't tell the story without shivering... but I found it to be a bit funny.

Pics with Adrian and Nora at the guesthouse in Kuching:

with Nora

Later that week, Stewart had us and two girls from Spain who were staying at Nora's place, Olga and Coral, over to his house for a great BBQ and karaoke at his friend's karaoke bar, "The Bats." Stewart and his wife and sons cooked us a delicious meal, and we had a wonderful evening with his family. Thanks, Stewart, for showing us an amazing time in Kuching. We will never forget your hospitality and kindness!

Catt and Stewart

with Grandma, Stewart's wife, and Coral at the BBQ

Stewart and Fam singing it up at "The Bats"

Megan, Coral and Olga

Later that week, we also had a chance to take a side trip to beautiful Bako National Park, famed for having probiscus monkeys. They only live in Borneo, and are known for the funky appearance of the males, who have a very long nose. More info:

The most distinctive trait of this monkey is the male's large protruding nose. The purpose of the large nose is unclear, but it has been suggested that it is a result of sexual selection. The female Proboscis Monkey prefers big-nosed male, thus propagating the trait.

Males are much larger than females, reaching 72 cm (28 inches) in length, with an up to 75 cm tail, and weighing up to 24 kg (53 pounds). Females are up to 60 cm long, weighing up to 12 kg (26 lb).

The Proboscis Monkey also has a large belly, as a result of its diet. Its digestive system is divided into several parts, with distinctive gut flora, which help in digesting leaves. This digestive process releases a lot of gas, resulting in the monkey's "bloated" bellies. A side-effect of this unique digestive system is that it is unable to digest ripe fruit, unlike most other simians. The diet consists mainly of fruits, seeds and leaves.

Bako was a special place. We had a chance to do the Lintang trail, and see the different ecosystems that exist within the park. We also hiked to a completely secluded and refreshing beach, where we were able to take a dip after all of our trekking. Bako:

signs like this one are plentiful in Borneo

probiscus monkey

We'll write more later about the rest of our time in Sarawak... it was an incredible trip!