My land, my country, tanah ai menua aku

We cleared another 22 acres of land in October to expand our smallholding of oil palm. Land clearing took two weeks and now planting is on-going. Dadi came back from Selangau this afternoon and told me it will take another 2 days to complete planting. Perfect timing, we can now go in peace to the land of the Pharaohs and Nefertiti.

I had the opportunity to view the land prior to clearing and took pictures of big, tall trees, some of good timber quality - nyatoh, keruing, selangan batu. Our headman gave me an education, he told me the names of the species. Dadi's brothers and relatives asked to be given some of the timber for their own use. Well if you stay in the countryside and in Iban territory, there are many uses for which the timber could be put to. Dad engaged an expert saw man to saw the remaining logs for our own stock. There's plenty of timber for extending our back side store and another langkau at the new site. We gave names to our plots: there's Luau (dadi's birth place), there's Danau, cos there's a big, about 4-acre fish pond by the slopes; there's Subis, named after the limestone hills of my birth place where the world-famous Niah Caves are located and the new plot is Peninjau - named after a place near Niah - we named it so as the terrain is rather hilly, as you can see from the pictures below.

Another plot we plan to cultivate is Dadi's ancestral land, about 40 acres and its located at Sg Sawa. The name Sawa is phython in Iban - the name does not hold any appeal, after all phythons are creepy, slimy creatures and my greatest fear when trudging along country lanes is snakes. I really hate and fear snakes. Two months ago when our durians had ripened, Dadi took Igat and I to our piece of land along Miri-Bintulu Road to harvest the fruit. I walked gingerly on the leaves-strewn footpath, remembering the big, black cobra I saw near the bamboo bushes about 22 years ago when we first cultivated the land. Begedi. Aku. Ka. Ular. Ukai. Bula.Bula.Takut. Ee. Cha.

Regal, majestic, tall and proud

There's a small valley in the middle of the land, always filled with life-giving water.

I couldn't helped myself, I took a parang and cut away climbers at the bases of the trees. What do you know, some 30 minutes later I managed to clear the bases of about 20 trees. And I felt good. Dadi tched ... tched .. tched with annoyance "you'll hurt yourself", "you'll get headache" - its a known fact among my family that I am very susceptible to heat stroke, almost always ending up with blinding headaches after an hour or two under the sun. Ga ia ngumba ka diri isi, kelia ni panas ke enda ulih dilaban. I told Dadi not to worry, there's plenty of shade from the dense foliage. And I told him it was calorie-burning, sweat-breaking exercise, with the parang in lieu of my dumb bells.

As I hacked at climbers, I thought of Dadi's deceased relatives who first cultivated the land years and years ago. There were no chainsaws then and they used axes to fell the trees. Big, tall trees you can't wrap your arms around. I marveled that they could clear such big plots with almost primitive equipment. Such passion. Such tenacity. Such vision. As I thought of their feat, as I saw the fruits of their labour, I was both awed and humbled. I am very certain that none of their descendants in this generation and the next will equal them in feat and valour. I said a prayer, asking God to give them a well earned rest in His blessed sanctuary. Let perpetual light shine upon them O Lord, and may they rest in peace.

When Dadi took the contractor to inspect the plot, he came home and told me his heart was heavy. "The trees are so beautiful and alive and green, we will not have such trees any more. All we have is sawit" so said Dadi. I understood his feelings when I saw the land myself. To paraphrase Shakespear, to do or not to do, that was the question. We decided then as many others in our circumstances would to proceed with our plan. We had invested quite a substantial sum in acquiring the land, we need to expand our acreage and most importantly, we need to cultivate it so our children and grandchildren will know the location of the land and its boundaries.

Land disputes frequently occur among the Iban community as our ancestral lands are not titled. Thus when the elders passed away and the successors do not know the land and boundaries well, it is quite common for others to claim the land as theirs or if they own an adjacent land, to encroach on their neighbours'. Land disputes always happen when the land has been identified for development. Dadi lost several acres to such encroachment. We confronted them and sought the assistance of the long house elders to mediate, in accordance with our custom. Sufficed to say that the only hope for a fair recourse would be to turn to the native courts. However they are relatives and suing them would be painful for us. To comfort ourselves we told each other that they need the land more than we do. I hope that their apparent shame and discomfort each time they meet us, each time we continue to lend a helping hand to them will teach them not to do to others what they would not want others to do to them.

As it happened, their grab has been to nought. 11 years had passed since the land was developed by a timber conglomerate and the land owners, including us (we placed 2 plots under the scheme) had not received any dividend. The sawit is growing well. Yield is plentiful. But no dividend. Perplexing, don't you think so? I guess may be the conglomerate should have stuck to their timber business, they sure made money from timber.

One passionate land owner. He talk sawit, think sawit, eat sawit, sleep sawit. Last weekend Pi, Igat and I were groggily, literally dragged from bed as he wanted us to leave for Selangau at 5 am. The plan was to leave at 6 am, there's no hurry as my brother in law had been commissioned to send the workers to the site first thing in the morning. But my sawit-crazed husband conveniently abandoned the plan and woke up at 4.30 am, woke me up and asked me to dress up, ready to go. I wailed, "Dadi you promised we leave at 6 am". Hm baik tak payah. I grumbled.

Except for a sawit-crazed husband, nobody wake up at such an unearthly hour unless somebody died or there's an emergency. So I continued sleeping. Nama utai diperumban. Ukai bangat enda makai ku aku mutap. About 20 minutes later the phone extension in my bedroom rang. I knew it had to be my husband ringing from downstairs, to wake me up. I ignored the phone and the ringing stopped. Another 20 minutes later he stomped to the bedroom, turned the lights on and woke me up. Defeated, I got up, not a word passed through my mouth but I let you guess what was in my heart. After showering I woke Daphne and Gavin and the troop left for Selangau at 6am. It has been our routine for me to lead the prayers while he drove but that morning, sensing he had three sullen, sleepy passengers, Dadi led the prayers. The children and I, how could we stay annoyed when praying? I must say with God's grace we have the ability to instantly put our hearts right with God. You would too if you say the Lord's Prayer, like this:-

Our Father in heaven, holy be Your name,
Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as in heaven
Give us today our daily bread, forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us
do not bring us to the test, but deliver us from evil, Amen.

A section of the cleared land.

We told the children not to sell the land when we are gone. We told them they should also acquire land when they are financially capable in the future. Gavin chipped in, "do not sell at all dad?" Well, you can sell if you need the proceed to acquire another landed property, said Dadi. To sell the land would be a great dishonour to our ancestors. They toiled long and hard. They lived hard lives. For the Iban, when the land is gone, what do we have to depend on? As Pi and I sat underneath the palm trees last Saturday, waiting for the workers to break for lunch, we had this conversation:-

Pi: If our economy becomes so bad like in the US, we will not have to starve isn't it mum,? Remember what we saw on TV, there are many people who are living in tents in the US because they lost their homes.

Mami: No, we will not starve. As long as we have our land, we will not starve, we will grow our own food. Our ancestors lived on the land, they planted, they harvested, a large part of our community is still doing that now. We are descendants of hard working people, their determination runs in our blood.

Pi: Mami, none of my colleagues and my friends have this kind of experience, actually going to the farm and to help out (read this - we cooked, we only went to the site to bring and serve lunch).

Mami: I don't think any of my colleagues are doing what dad and I are doing now. They most probably stay at home, watch TV or at the golf course, golfing.