Iban longhouse

The longhouse faces the river. Each family unit in the longhouse has its own section, consisting of a room (bilik) with a solid door, an equal-width section of the common area onto which all rooms open, and an equal-width section of the porch (tanju) -- which, as you can see, is a rickety affair made of split bamboo laid (not fastened) across supporting logs. We tourists were warned not to go out on the porch because it likely would not hold our weight, and believe me, we were not tempted. In addition to hanging laundry, the porch is used for doing work. An old man spent the morning out there building a door from fresh-looking boards.

Below, you can see some chicken coops on the left side, beneath the living quarters. The people kept a large number of chickens, which strut all around but are chased out if they come into the house. Several dogs and one very small, friendly, flea-infested cat shared the house. The people raise fish to eat in their own fish farm on the river; big bags of tilapia feed are stacked inside the longhouse.

First thing in the morning, most women went out to gather some food. They raise padi rice, vegetables and pepper on the hills above the house. (Black pepper is a major export of Sarawak; we saw pepper plants trained to climb poles in long rows everywhere as we traveled the roads.) The women strap a giant cylindrical basket on their back, put a conical hat on their head, and wearing long sleeves and usually pants, climb up a narrow path to the cultivated fields. When they return, the basket is filled with greenery. They make the baskets from grasses and rattan; the straps are made from tree bark.

One of the two women who cooked for us came in with what appeared to be some kind of tree leaves brimming from her huge basket. Later I realized I had heard a dull pounding coming from the kitchen for a very long time, so I went to investigate. In a small stone mortar she was mashing all the leaves to pulp. She already had a big blue plastic basin full of it. I signaled that I would like to try it and she gestured permission. But she had meant touch and not taste, because as I moved to put a clump into my mouth, both women urgently warned me not to do it. Pointing to the wok on the double-burner gas cooker (same as what most city Malaysians also use), they explained that the pulp had to be cooked. We ate it at lunch that day, and like everything we ate in the longhouse, it was delicious. The texture was heavier than chopped spinach but equally smooth. I don't know if they cooked it in chicken stock or just a combination of flavorings such as soy sauce, but the unique taste of the leaf remained, neither sweet nor bitter, a cross between mustard greens and collards.

Iban - Religion and Expressive Culture

Religious Beliefs. Religious beliefs and behavior pervade every part of Iban life. In their interpretations of their world, nature, and society, they refer to remote creator gods, who brought the elements and a structured order into existence; the bird-god Sengalang Burong, who directs their lives through messages borne by his seven sons-in-law; and the popular gods, who provide models for living. Iban religion is a product of a holistic approach to life, in which attention is paid to all events in the waking and sleeping states. The religion involves an all-embracing causality, born of the Iban conviction that "nothing happens without cause." The pervasiveness of their religion has sensitized them to every part of their world and created an elaborate otherworld (Sebayan), in which everything is vested with the potential for sensate thought and action. In Iban beliefs and narratives trees talk, crotons walk, macaques become incubi, jars moan for lack of attention, and the sex of the human fetus is determined by a cricket, the metamorphized form of a god.

Though the gods live in Panggau Libau, a remote and godly realm, they are unseen, ubiquitous presences. In contrast to the exclusive categories of Judaism and Christianity, "supernaturals" and "mortals" interact in all activities of importance. In contrast to the gods who are more benevolently inclined towards mortals, Iban believe in and fear a host of malevolent spirits. These spirits are patent projections onto a cosmic screen of anxieties and stresses suffered by Iban: the menacing father figure, the vengeful mother, the freeloader, and becoming lost in the forest. Iban strive to maintain good life and health by adherence to customary laws, avoidance of taboos, and the presentation of offerings and animal sacrifices.

Religious Practitioners. There are three religious practitioners: the bard ( lemambang ), the augur ( tuai burong ), and the shaman ( manang ). Individually or in teams, bards are invited to chant at all major rituals. They are highly respected men, capable of recalling and adapting, as appropriate, chants that go on for hours. The augur is employed for critical activities such as farming or traveling. The shaman is a psychotherapist who is consulted for unusual or persistent ailments.

Ceremonies. Iban rituals ( gawa, gawai ) may be grouped into four major categories: (1) one dozen major and three dozen minor agricultural festivals; (2) healing rituals, performed by the shaman, commencing in the bilik and progressing to the outer veranda; (3) ceremonies for the courageous, commemorating warfare and headhunting; and (4) rituals for the dead. Iban of all divisions perform rituals of the first two categories. Ceremonies to honor warriors have assumed greater importance in the upper Rejang, and rituals for the dead have been much more elaborated in the First and Second divisions of Sarawak.

Arts. The Iban have created one of the most extensive bodies of folklore in human history, including more than one dozen types of epic, myth, and chant. Women weave intricate fabrics and men produce a variety of wood-carvings.

Medicine. Though they have a limited ethnopharmacology, Iban have developed an elaborate series of psychotherapeutic rituals.

Death and Afterlife. Life and health are dependent upon the condition of the soul ( samengat ). Some illnesses are attributed to the wandering of one of an Iban's seven souls, and the shaman undertakes a magical flight to retrieve and return the patient's soul. Boundaries between life and death are vague, and at death the soul must be informed by a shaman that it must move on to Sebayan. Crossing "The Bridge of Anxiety," the soul is treated to all imaginable pleasures, many of which are proscribed for the living. After an undetermined period of revelry, the soul is transformed into spirit, then into dew, in which form it reenters the realm of the living by nourishing the growing rice. As rice is ingested, the cycle of the soul is completed by its return to human form. Gawai Antu, the Festival of the Dead, may be held from a few years to 50 years after the death of a member of the community. The main part of the festival occurs over a three-day period, but takes months or even years to plan. The primary purpose of the festival is to honor all the community's dead, who are invited to join in the ritual acts. The festival dramatizes the dependence of the living and dead upon each other.

Orang utan under threat

In Central Kalimantan, the hunters and poachers have the blood of orang utan on their hands. The forests that are home to these animals are also being cleared at an alarming rate in the name of development. A rehabilitation centre offers some measure of hope, writes AMY CHEW.

NODDY, an orphaned baby orang utan, climbs up a tree and stares into the distance at the Nyaru Menteng Orang Utan Rehabilitation Centre, his future as uncertain as the existence of the forests which used to be his home.

His mother was killed in the wilds, under what circumstances, his carers do not really know.

But what is sure is that she met with a cruel and violent end -- hacked to pieces, burnt or shot to death -- like so many others before her.

In a forest in Sampit, an animal poacher fires a shot at a female orang utan with a baby in her arms. As the orang utan falls, she clings tightly to her baby.

When the hunter comes over to the dying creature, he is stunned -- he sees tears flowing from its eyes.

Orang utan have emotions just like humans. They can cry, worry and experience sorrow and joy.

"The mother held on to her baby until she breathed her last," recounts Eko Haryuwono, founder of the Nyaru Menteng orang utan rescue unit.

"The hunter was moved by the orang utan's tears and has since stopped killing them."

The hunter now helps the rescue team by informing the unit of orang utan in danger of being killed or poached.

The orang utan, or people of the forest, is our closest relative. Orang utan and humans share 98 per cent of the same DNA.

"They have emotions just like humans. They can cry, worry and experience sorrow and joy just like us," says Eko.

Saving the orang utan will be a demonstration of our humanity, that we are indeed worthy to be called humans, and not beasts.

Headhunters, not pirates

Headhunting for the Ibans is history. But many a question still lingers in the minds of many as to why headhunting was rampant or to some extent ‘cultural’ among them. Part of this article explains why.

“Heads are very important because they are needed for many occasions. If your loved ones die, only the coming of freshly cut heads will stop the mourning period. You know that when we are in mourning, nothing we do will be blessed. Heads are also required to bless our longhouse. The more heads we have, the more plentiful our harvests will be. They will also guard our longhouse from evil spirits. During our many festivals, our women carry the heads up and down the verandahs or galleries to show of the bravery of their fathers and their brothers. No maiden will give you even a glance if you have not obtained a single head.”… Jimmy Donald, Keling of the Raised World pg. 5

Dato Sri Empiang Jabu in her article ‘Historical Perspective of the Iban’ in The Sarawak Museum Journal (December 1989 issue) writes on pg. 25 in support of the above notion. “… The practice of headhunting being the most talked honoured tradition of the Iban of those days was the crowning proof of manhood. Marriage for young Iban then would come easily with the proof that a man has taken heads in war. Coupled with a war-like spirit was a belief in the magical powers of the human heads. Heads were believed to bring strength, virtue and prosperity to the longhouse and it was the object of every young warrior to bring back a head to adorn his longhouse…”

However, the Iban first started headhunting not because they loved to do it or for the sake of treasuring the heads as trophies back home. It was because from time immemorial with the absence of proper law and order with regards to other tribes, people killed one another. Such thing was common elsewhere, in every part of the world when no proper government existed. Fine examples of this were the Jahiliah Arabs (Period of the Dark Ages) before the coming of Islam to the Middle East and the periods of the Warring States in China both during and after Confucius time.

The Ibans, like other brave ordinary people, had to defend themselves. Long-long time ago Ibans were always victims of attacks by another Borneo tribe known then as Kantu but later learned to defend themselves and turned the table against the attackers. Being born brave (or taught to be brave) the Ibans not only killed their enemies in war but took the heads to appease the spirits of those fellow Ibans killed by the enemies.

Even before the Brookes showed up, the Ibans had already engaged in headhunting simply because during the migratory period they met with a lot of hostility. Iban early immigrants from the Kapuas basin in Kalimantan to Batang Ai and subsequently to other parts of Sarawak came into contact with other people who attacked them and fled. Many Ibans were killed in this nature. Prominent among their attackers were the Bukitans or locally known as Baketan, now an extinct tribe.

Empiang Jabu uses the story of Beti nicknamed Brauh Ngumbang (Loud Yell) and a girl named Remampak to cite one example of the Baketan attack. Beti avenged the mourning Remampak for her slain father by killing and taking the head of the killer who happened to be the leader of the Baketans.

This shows Iban deeds were always based on logical and practical reasons. As such this background has given birth to an important, albeit a notorious part of Iban culture. In order to survive, Ibans of old had to continue the headhunting and found in the practice the usefulness of the heads both in their spiritual and their socio-political world.

In another word, headhunting to the Iban was an integral part of survival in the anarchic scenario of ‘kill or be killed’. If they (the Ibans) did not practise the headhunting their enemies (always those who came into contact with them in new territories), then they would be attacked first by the other tribes. Demonstrating their pragmatism, the Ibans preferred to attack first rather than bear the consequences of being unprepared.

For adventurer James Brooke who landed on Sarawak soil on 15 August 1839, it was really a bad timing and unfortunate. Coming to the scene at this particular time – he came uninvited – served him right.

Sir James Brooke, Sarawak’s first Rajah (1841-1868) was the first to use the term pirates upon rebelling Ibans. Though the Dutch rulers of Sambas in Indonesian Borneo and the Brunei Sultanate never referred to the Ibans as pirates, Brooke’s use of the term was to serve his own purpose. Foreign authors such as Pringle, Runciman and others who wrote on the famous Battle of Beting Maru in 1849 termed the Iban war party under Linggir ‘Mali Lebu’(Never without conquest) as pirates, basing their information on records made available to them by the Brookes Government.

Iban side of the story were never told for public consumption. Were they in any sense pirates? Definitely not. There were plenty of pirates in the area then such as the Sulus, Illanuns, Natunans and others but not Iban. To describe Iban practice of headhunting as piratical is an insult to the language.

Some Saribas Ibans did go on headhunting activities searching for their enemies along the coast, sometimes paddling beyond Beting Maru, even as far as Sambas in Indonesian Borneo but it did not merit them to be converted into buccaneers. History supports the fact that Iban boats were too meek for any piratical activities. Linggir and his men were not ignorant of the fact that their boats were nothing compared to those used by the real pirates. And they were not even comfortable with the seas.

*source- mySarawak.org