Scary, funny rubber-tapping encounters

Most rubber tappers in yesteryear and today might consider rendezvouses with rubber trees as some kind of picnic.

This is for the simple fact that one would need to bring packed food for breakfast and lunch or just for brunch. Many would be out and among the trees by 4am or even earlier.

For me, I did the same too and was ‘picnicking’ alone most of the time since 1971, except for the romancing episode mentioned in my last week’s column. That was a moment to savour but there were other unforgettable moments too.

Having tapped rubber at different locations between 1962 and 1974, there were other incidents, including ones that would and could certainly merit interesting video footages if done during this present era of advanced technologies.

In my schooling days, my parents would not mind if I chose to stay for a few days with eldest sister Dinggu’s family at Kawit longhouse. Her husband Penghulu Kandau was too happy to accommodate me as I would be handy in accompanying my eldest niece Delin, especially in tapping rubber near their longhouse. Kandau and wife would go to another location further away. I made a few Kawit trips between 1968 and 1971. Only one interesting moment remained in my memory — this pertained to a visitor who passed us during our break. In all honesty, he asked, “Your children must be still small, if you have any, as both of you look very young.”

I jokingly told him Delin was my daughter and that I got married very early. He seemed puzzled but left without asking for details. Until this very day when we meet, Delin usually calls me apai instead of apai biak.

Apart from Kawit, I also visited Auntie Santih (mum’s younger sister) in Wong Limat, Kabo of upper Krian, reachable after at least a three-hour journey on foot through jungle trek — plus ascending a notorious mountain range.

At Wong Limat, I usually accompanied my older first cousin Geraman Inyang for rubber tapping trips to a nearby lot.

We would go angling for fish while waiting for the latex to be ready for collection.

One fine day, I caught a big tebalang carp, perhaps the biggest I ever encountered. However, the next day, that joy was overshadowed by a nearly failed deed of carrying cut firewood using the selabit (rattan container) from a location far from the longhouse. It must have weighed over 130 katis. I managed but bled due to cuts on my waist.

Back to the Nanga Burui trees, there were times when monkeys on the trees canopying the scary graves across river would make fun of me by showing their backsides — especially when I pretended to point a gun (using a stick) at them.

There were also scary, albeit hilarious moments when the little bird known as kuchey (in Iban and said to be the K-9 messenger of antu gerasi or giants/demons) made “barking” chirps. This was when I would wield the machete that I always carried without fail while being among the rubber trees, bushes or in jungles.

To me that act would help to lessen my fear — this was when I would remember and took courage from my namesake and great-granduncle Tawi Bungin (nicknamed Lanang Kasih Sayang Bedindang Madang Rutan meaning a warrior who sings of conquests among the rattan plants) who was a celebrated fighter during the Delok Expedition, also known as Cholera Expedition, against Bantin in 1902.

All throughout such acts of brandishing machete (at least five times between 1972 and 1974 and confined to Nanga Burui — opposite the cemetery only), the bird that made the scary chirps was never seen. 

Many are unaware that the typical rubber grounds in the 60s and 70s were very bushy as if one was in the woods. These were not the typical rubber estates as seen in P Ramlee movies. Of course, ours at Nanga Burui was worsened by the fact across river was home to the departed souls, the biggest settlement in Melupa basin, housing not only the deceased but hundreds of monkeys and other wild animals.

I was more scared of the monkeys and animals, not the unseen spirits.