I think we have to go through a lot of rituals in order to fill the gap of meaning in our lives.
— Zal Batmanglij, American-Iranian film producer
One of my closest Indonesian associates was a powerful Memaloh aristocrat from remote Putussibau in West Kalimantan.
The late “Semagat” Jacobus E Frans’ original home was Merakai in the Ulu Kapuas region which borders Lubok Antu district in Sarawak.
Since my encounter with Jacobus 30 years ago, I have endeared myself to Indonesian Kalimantan and still relish the dozens of cross-border trips.
I have travelled by air to major towns and cities such as Pontianak, Balikpapan, Samarinda Long Ampung, Tarakan and Tanjung Selor in shorts; nothing excites me more than trekking with slippers or barefoot or riding pillion by Indonesian ojek motorcycle taxi.
My first jungle jaunt to remote West Kalimantan — Indonesia’s second largest province at 147.31K km² which is larger than Sarawak — was by ojek or motorcycle taxi, accompanied by a gentleman politician Nicholas Bawin.
Our journey was at the invitation of Pak Jacobus who invited me to attend the last of the ancient rites and rituals of his headhunting ancestors called the Gawai Madu Buling or “Great Mourning Festival”.
An Embaloh Dayak nobleman, Jacobus’ destination is Balimbis, home and origin of the Banuaka or Memaloh of Kalimantan Barat.
For Jacobus, this was a special occasion as he had been handpicked by his community to perform the last of the ancient rites and rituals.
It would also be the last of the grand headhunting ritual of the people from the Embaloh river whose last grand festival was held in 1929.
Jacobus had spent three days in July 1993 travelling from Pontianak, the administrative centre of Kalimantan Barat along the trunk road to the towns Ngabang and Sintang and then up the Kapuas River to Semitau, Lanjak, Ukit Ukit and finally Balimbis — 1,200km away.
As the shortest route to Balimbis was about 200km from the border district of Lubok Antu (LA) by a jungle track, the only mode of transport was by ojek.
Early that morning, we took two motorcycle taxis from LA through an oil-palm estate before using a jalan tikus or illegal route at Nanga Badau — now the official Indonesian CIQ checkpoint.
We continued our journey by kijang (rural minibus) and before we stopped at Lanak, Nicholas and I were stopped by the town’s polisi or policemen.
Initially, we were not allowed to go to Ukit Ukit and Balimbis, until I convinced a Christian Lun Bawang policeman, I was not an “Orang Bulek” or European.
On his advice, he recommended a reliable ojek motorcyclist who was the only one willing to take us to our destination through the jungle for a lofty price.
Later I discovered why; his motorcycle did not have a registration number plate, no handbrakes and no foot stands for the pillion rider.
But it was exciting to travel threesome over rugged country on a motorcycle, racing along a muddy and slippery jungle path.
I sat in the middle clinging on to the ojek rider while Nicholas sat behind me spreadeagled because he had no pillion leg stands, while the ojek rider appeared to be racing against time.
Then I realised that our motorcycle also did not have a headlamp, we were stuck in the jungle.
In which case we would have to spend the night with the denizens of the forests, including the hoard of mosquitoes, some carrying the deadly plasmodium falciparum parasite.
By evening, we had been ferried across two rivers together with our motorcycle before arriving at Balimbis where we took a dip in the freezing cold Batang Kanyau.
After watching a group of young men with a jala casting net securing several large ikan semah for our dinner, we checked into the 200-year-old Balimbis longhouse.
During the long night of gong beating and drinking baram (white rice toddy) and tuak (rice wine), Maloh cultural head Temenggong Onyang addressed the gathering of 600 guests.
Just before midnight, our Memaloh guide Sawang Miut almost ran over a black cobra with his motorcycle near the village.
Early next morning Nicholas and I nearly stepped on a second snake — an inch thick black cobra curled behind a fallen tree.
On returning to the longhouse, we spoke of our encounter with another snake and was told the two cobras represented the spirits of Nandung and Tali — two of their ancestors.
At about 8am, the ceremony started with “feeding” the spirits by throwing rice out into the village court yard.
After that he led an entourage comprising “aristocrats” adorned in their culturally best to the nearby river bank of Sungei Embaloh where a gaily-decorated boat awaited them.
But before the rituals could start, we heard a loud bang from the longhouse — a man firing a 150-year-old brass cannon almost lost his arm when the gun exploded in his hands.
After Jacobus rushed the man to the nearby clinic by speedboat, he returned to continue with the ceremony.
But it was a day of splendour, with the semagat all dressed in their traditional finery.
For the community, it was a special homecoming for Jacobus, whose last visit to the region was three years earlier.
Jacobus had been specially selected to perform the last rites “to appease the spirits of two ancestors — Temenggongs Nandung (1904-1919) and Tali (1919-1929).
In the old days, the candidate selected to perform the rites of pulling out the statues of ancestral leaders (called Cabut Tambang) had to fulfil several conditions.
Among other requirements, the selected men had to be an accomplished headhunter and descended from a leader of the community.
Even though Jacobus was not a headhunter, he was an accomplished warrior who had served Indonesia during the Confrontation and now held a high position in the Governor’s office in Kalimantan Barat.
Jacobus, then 49, a lawyer, was not only the “mentor” of his community but is also actively involved in recording the dying cultures of the Dayak people in Kalimantan.
Descended from the leaders of the Indu Banua community, the Memaloh had occupied the Sungei Embaloh region for at least 300 years ago.
Jacobus explained that in 1886, Semagat Maling was installed as the first Temenggong from the Embaloh river system.
After Maling died in 1904, Semagat Nandung took over for 15 years until his demise in 1919, when Semagat Tali became the third Temenggong.
He said: “Our last Gawai Madu Buling was held in 1929 after Maling died. All the earlier leaders were accorded this grand send-off to the spiritual world.
“After becoming Christians our people ceased this ritual as it was associated with the headhunting practices of our ancestors.”
As the rituals continued, Jacobus proceeded to the riverbank and tied a rope across the 400m wide Embaloh and then boarded a boat which took him down river.
Jacobus then cut the rope linking the two banks of the river symbolising the final link between the human and spiritual world.
Temenggong Onyang performed the final prayer rituals before pulling out the two wooden tambang statues representing Nandung and Tali.
The statues were taken to the final burial ground, the kulambu (royal mausoleum), located less than a kilometre away from the village.
After the last of the traditional rites, the community held Christian prayers, led by a Catholic pastor.
With the ceremony ending at a about 11am, it was time to head home using a shorter route on a gravel road.
Bur for poor Nicholas, he was once again relegated to the tail end of our motorcycle.
As for me, it was a comfortable ride all the way, a happy man with my mission accomplished.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune.
