It is the goings-on between bites that excite the traditional angler as much as when the float goes under.
– Fennel Hudson, rural lifestyle author and outdoorsman
When passing by 498 Pet Shop just next door to our office recently, I was reminded of catching using the pemansai (woven basket out of fibre) a few of the upriver turtle lelabi by the sight of miniature turtles at the shop’s aquarium. There must be scores of them ready for sale.
It dated back my mansai (using the pemansai) experience to circa 1965 done in Sebirung, furthest upriver of the Assam basin, a tributary of the Melupa in Saratok. The stream was ankle deep but the water was fast-running since it was near to its source which was just about 100 metres further up. I was amazed by my catch of the small turtles that numbered no less than 20. There were certainly bigger than the ones kept at the pet shop aquarium.
It was certainly an awesome experience when getting three or four small turtles in a haul of the basket. So, by the time my catch exceeded 20, I called it quits for the day and happily returned to our farm hut with the catch and kept them inside a storage tank. But the bigger ones landed in my grandma’s cooking pot that we all enjoyed for dinner.
On another day, I was trying my luck with the fishing rod, further downriver by myself. At the bigger stream, about knee deep and some pools deeper, I enjoyed catching fish after fish of the white carp enseluai and tebalang, one of the hungriest fish around. Within ten minutes, I was catching the fish non-stop numbering at least 20. Angling was very interesting as in no time my raga (basket) was almost half-full.
The fine weather added to the soothing airy surrounding plus the beautiful sounds of kingfishers and other birds. In fact there was this myriad of sounds – of birds and bees and the bushes but gave me no fear at all. Alone and away from other human beings, I was an entity of my own survival but I suffered no intimidation of sorts. Since the age of eight I had learnt to be in oneness with nature and Sebirung was similar to Bukit Tinggi, up the upper Melupa basin, an environment where I started to learn about jungle survival.
Back to the scene where I held the rod – no waiting was involved as every minute my bait was hit and I had to add to my collection – I felt tired and decided to rest and landed into a dreamless slumber among the woods, by the riverbank. Perhaps, it took me about ten to fifteen minutes in dreamless slumber and upon waking up, I noticed it was about 10.30 am based on the hot sun whose ray penetrated the canopies of leaves. I continued my angling but moved further down where the water was deeper. Upon arrival at the intended spot, I noticed bigger tebalang fish were aplenty. Within minutes I managed to catch some of the hungriest fish on the planet and almost filled up my raga to two-thirds full.
It was then close to noon based on the position of the sun. I decided to stay longer by the riverbank but stopped angling. Instead, I went to fetch bigger leaves nearby to do the wrapping of the fish over a small fire (ngelempis), a backwoods cooking, which was equivalent to carbon coiling the fish over flames. This is an alternative of cooking them in bamboo. It took about half an hour for the fish to get fully cooked over the slow flames.
Two of the bigger fish were roasted over small fire, taking about 10 minutes to get cooked. I smiled to myself and nowadays it would be an awesome moment to record in video. But then without such video, I could still imagine a flicker of satisfaction over my face.
I was not that hungry yet but I couldn’t resist the strong smell of the cooked fish and decided to enjoy them on the spot – with salt but without rice as I was adhering to dad’s golden rule of making it a necessity to bring salt on one’s jungle excursion. Yes, I enjoyed the moment, burping a few times.
On my way back to the farm – there was a big group of farmers partaking in the Sebirung community reserved farmland – I stopped at a durian valley and got a few good fruits which I opened on the spot. There was no way I would burden myself with more than required as we had a good stock of the king of fruits in our collection at our hut. By the time I was done with the two or three durians, it was about time to be home as it was about two in the afternoon.
Grandma and my parents were happy with my catch and dad had to look for appropriate bamboos to prepare the fish for dinner. My rendezvous in the jungle is still fresh in my memory despite happening more than half a century ago.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune.
