Building the Iban Longhouse

A longhouse in Sarawak; source:www.enicholl.com

"When the longhouse becomes too dilapidated, it is the responsibility of the tuai rumah (leader of the longhouse) to hold a gathering with his people to discuss about a new longhouse. If the head of each family agrees, all males and every family is asked to collect ramu (construction materials) for posts, beams, studs, planks, etc. When all the families report that they have enough ramu, the tuai rumah with the help of the tuai burung (the sage) will fix the auspicious date for the ngerembang, the clearing of the site of the longhouse."


The Tanju, the outdoor communal terrace

"A few days before that date, the tuai rumah goes into the jungle to seek the signs that will reveal the best location of the future longhouse. If the new longhouse is to be built downstream from the old house, the tuai rumah will look for the Nendak bird, to the right of his direction of travel. When he hears the call of this bird, he will uproot a small tree in that area to mark the occasion, , and he will bring home the small tree, known as the tambak burung."

"The next day, the tuai rumah enters the jungle again on a similar mission. When he hears the call of the nendak bird from his right hand side, he will again uproot a young tree to mark the spot and return with the tambak burung. Early on the third day, he again enters the jungle, this time looking for the bird on his left hand side. When he hears the call, he will again uproot a young tree and return with his last tambak burung."


The Panggau and the Ruai, communal living areas in the longhouse

"On the morning of the ngerembang, the tuai rumah will burn the tambak burung in the middle of the new site, before leading the members of the longhouse in the clearing works. When the ngerembang is finished, the families are asked to bring all the ramu that had been collected to the respective houses."


The bilik is the private realm of the family

"After the prayer, the tiang permun (the main post of the house) is placed in the ground, buried together with salt, a small piece of gold, the skin of the langgir fruit and a mumban twig (a small tree commonly found along the river banks). As soon as the longhouse is completed, the tuai rumah and the tuai burung will lead the the families into the new building. But before they finally move to their bilik (rooms), each family must build their own dapur (kitchen)."

Reference: Translated from Malay text reproduced in the Cyber Penom website, including all the photos except the first one.

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.