Sungai Utik - May 2016

Check out photos and video from this trip here.

Landing in Putussibau after flying over rain forests and rivers for over an hour feels surreal. The small airport surrounded by jungle brush reminds me of something out of a movie, even more so after sitting next to a young biologist from Indonesia going to study fish in the lakes and rivers of the area. Having set up a ride through a couch surfer I met in Pontianak the day before, a young man (who works for the boarder patrol) in his militantly brown uniform meets me in the one room baggage claim and we jump on the back of his motorbike.

Text messages come streaming in and the couch surfer I had stayed with the night before tells me her friend is heading to Sungai Utik, the Iban longhouse I wanted to find. Putussibau is a small enough city and we easily find my next ride, another small motorbike that will take me the two hours to the longhouse. Briefly stopping to exchange money and get a fish to bring, Santo and I are off.  The road is curvy but new and mostly smooth. Small simple houses and an occasional village or longhouse fly by while we zoom along.  Santo, doesn’t speak much English but I like him. He seems excited to be going to this longhouse and happy to have me along. We talk little, as it would be hard to hear anyway while we drive quickly through the beautiful landscape.  Hilly and dense, small mountain-like formations come steeply out of the jungle and the road curves around them. 

Finally after my numb butt and tired legs feel like they can’t take much more we make a left turn and I see a wooden sign overhead, Sungai Utik. Around a corner on a small gravel road a massive wooden longhouse comes into view.  Will anyone speak English? How do I go about asking if I can stay for a few days?  Feelings of apprehension increase as we approach and I see faces staring at me, some smiles and curiosity, some cold and blank.  We stop about half way down the long house and I see a short strong man walking towards us with a warm smile. Santo seems to know him and we walk up the stairs of the longhouse onto the massive open deck-like section that is lined with doors and windows into the covered community area.  There the man that initially greeted us has me sit on a bamboo mat and put by backpacks down.  Still uncertain about what to do I offer him the bag with the large fish (this was recommended to me) and somehow figure out a way to communicate that I would like to stay in the longhouse if possible.  Evidently it worked!  More people seem to have heard about our arrival and small groups of young people come have a look.  Smiling a lot I try to focus on the man I gave the fish too since it looks as if I will be staying with him. His name is Inam.  The rest of the evening feels like a blur. Toured through Inam’s part of the house I meet more of his family and friends.  Feeling lucky after meeting an Indonesian woman who is visiting and can speak English very well, Eny begins to help me with some translation.

After traveling since early this morning I am tired and sweaty in the humid climate. I find the river and go for a swim.  Soon four young boys join me and show me a good root to jump off into the clean feeling river.  It is amazing how rejuvenating swimming in fresh cool water can be.  Refreshed, I return to Inam’s house and find a group of people around my age just sitting down on some mats to drink forest beer (tuak).  Eny and her co-worker Simon can both speak English well and begin to explain that they are visiting this village with a program to help teach the youth about the importance of their indigenous culture, language, and community.  Talking and drinking everyone compares tattoos and language.  Lots of laughter and while I do not understand much of what is being said it feels light and happy to be surrounded by these happy people.  Sounds of the night grow louder and the jungle outside darkens.  I find out that tomorrow I will most likely be able to accompany a group of about 25 into the jungle to stay for a couple nights.  Thrilled and exhausted I go to sleep on a thin rolled out mat with a mosquito net over my head.

Day 1

Six am arrives almost as soon as my eyes close.  Loud thumping of the long house boards wake me as children run across them outside of the connected house I am sleeping in.  Birds are also awake and most vocal of them are the chickens.  I guess everyone is on the same time because everyone seems to be each other’s alarm clock.  Up and ready I find out we wont be leaving for a few hours so its time to have a couple more small cups of tuak, the tree beer from last night. Home made by the fermentation of bark in rice milk (I think this is correct), tuak is actually very unique and delicious.  The youth that will be joining us gather and Eny goes over things with them. Mostly speaking Indonesian Eny is also trying to learn and speak the indigenous Iban language as well, neither of which I can understand, but it is time to go. 

A small paved path turn into a small mud path.  The jungle around us closes in and the large leafy trees tower overhead.  Even after spending time in Kuching and the national parks around that area of Borneo the jungle is still fascinating for me.  The sounds and vines and butterflies are beautiful and mysterious.  At times slightly ominous as the tree covers almost all direct sunlight and view of anything other than the immediate jungle.  The path has become a small rooted trail leading across streams and up and over small steep hills.  After about two hours we arrive at an open-air jungle lodge.  A raised deck covered by a shingled roof with a railing along side the Sungai Utik river, this will be our accommodation for the next two nights.

Other then a couple bags of rice that were carried in, everything we eat will be caught or foraged from the jungle.  Within thirty minutes after arriving I follow Tiar and his net into the river and watch him search for deep sections to caste. An hour later we have lunch and while the fish are small and boney they taste exceptional after being burnt over an open flame with some fresh rice.  Later that evening as everyone arrives we have a feast of fish, rice, and numerous jungle plants.  I began to get to know some words and some of my companions through broken English and hand gestures. 

Until recently I would have thought it difficult to get to know someone that you cant fluently speak with.  But after ten days of silent meditation I felt different. I knew the people I was with everyday but had never spoken to.  I had unintentionally observed them coming and going, eating and sitting.  Feeling a better connection with some and less with others.  Talking could almost seem like an arbitrary form of distraction or entertainment at times.

Night settles and the jungle feels deeper and darker.  There are fewer lights and less people then at the longhouse, but there are enough of us and I feel safe, exhausted and relaxed.  More tuak I quickly fall asleep.  But shortly wake up feeling groggy and itchy.  Mosquitoes are out.  The hungry little bugs can somehow bight right through my blanket and I add layers of clothing, but that leaves me much too hot.  An older man who is the elder of the group lays without a pad on the hard wood floor and seems uncomfortable as well.  Building a small smokey fire under the deck to keep the bugs away.  Less bugs but more smoke it is a tough battle to choose.  I lie down and toss and turn myself to sleep.

Day 2

            Everyone is up early. Maybe 630. I feel like I haven’t slept and notice that the mosquitoes had an exceptional taste for my left hand, which is now uncomfortably swollen. Today is cloudy and it looks like it might rain. And it does. But that seems like a great excuse to be very lazy so I lounge in the jungle lodge and listen to the rain. The youngsters do activities with Eny and Simon while some of the other Iban relax and we compare more language. We eat rice with every meal and usually some fish from the river, and plants from the jungle.

            The rain slows down and the sun warms things quickly.  Soon, hot and sweaty, I go for some river explorations.  Walking up the jungly Sungai Utik River it’s quiet except for an occasional bird sound and a fairly steady bug buzzing.  Still feeling slightly eerie the jungle is dense and sometimes steep around the river so I am mostly walking barefoot up the current.  Sometimes deeper then me I swim, sometimes only up to my shins.  A massive tree has fallen over the river some time ago, I climb up on its jungly roots and out over the water.  This seems to be a pathway for ants and some bees are also quite interested so I don’t stay on my perch too long.

            Something about the quietness and separateness I feel in the jungle has made me feel uneasy.  I feel like something is there.  Like there are eyes on the back of my head.  This is not my jungle and I feel more foreign and alone at this moment then I usually do.  I think about the superstitions I have heard about and the idea of everything in nature having a spirit.  Looking at the large trees and tiny ants, the dark color of the water flowing around me. 

            It is time to go back to the laughter and lightness at the lodge.  As the evening approaches some of the young men around my age go hunting in the river.  We eat fish and frogs tonight.  The kids have gotten more comfortable with me there and start asking questions with their collective English, my few words of Iban, lots of hand jesters, and occasionally a complete translation from Eny when it seems really important.  Fun but also slightly intense as a group of about ten have circled me and want to know about my family, what I do, where I’m from, and why I look like Jesus with my long hair and untrimmed beard. 

            Tonight I plan for bugs and make sure there is smoke coming up around me.  Adding my long sleeve clothing and covering my hands I sleep better than the night before. 

More Days

            I have forgotten the order of things over time and there are exciting experiences that pop out in my mind.  Feeling genuine friendship and acceptance from the people I’ve been around has kept me at Sungai Utik days longer then I planned. 

            Back at the longhouse from the jungle I explore around the area a bit more.  Eny and Simon continue to offer their assistance to help me communicate and translate.  Most of the community doesn’t speak much English but I have started to learn a few Iban words.  Trying out hellos and thank yous is a good start, followed by bathroom, hungry, and bathe.  In the evenings we sit in a circle on the floor in the large community area of the longhouse drinking tuak and learning from each other.  Remang, who is the head of Batu Lintang Village (the village where Sungai Utik is registered administratively (*thanks again Eny for that info)) is very friendly and speaks some English.  Interested in discussing ideas about culture, the changing world, and indigenous people I find myself in very deep discussions leaving me inspired and occasionally a little intoxicated from the insistence to keep a full cup of tuak at all times.  Curious about religion and my recent days in Vipassana meditation I feel very comfortable and open when talking with the locals about my thoughts and experiences.

            Having already gotten a traditional Iban tattoo in Kuching, Sarawak (the Malaysian side of Borneo) the tattooist in the group of young men are eager to leave their mark as well.  Interested by the unusual designs and feeling more comfortable as nearly all the males at the long house have a variety of tattoos I finally agree to have a hand tapped Iban tattoo on my arm.  If you have gotten a tattoo before you know what the experience is like.  The pain and long hours in an uncomfortable position are similar.  Lying on a rattan mat in the middle of a 600-foot longhouse is different.  The constant tapping of the beater sticks on the wooden needle stick draws a crowd.  Looking up there are seven, eight, maybe nine people standing around watching.  Some of the Iban come and sit for a while and watch as the tattoo is outlined.  Filling it in seems to be going slow so they offer to try two tattooers at a time.  I agree and a strange sensation results from it.  Normally while being tattooed there is sharpness to the needle that can ache, burn, or even feel pleasant.  As two needles began to tap on my arm I feel uncertain as to where the pain is coming from.  I can’t focus on a single spot and moments of an overwhelming deep pain subside into a relaxed soothing sensation.  The beating sticks close to my head feels trance like as the pain sensations come and go as if in cycles.  For hours this continues back and forth, pain, no pain. It is dark out and they use headlamps to finish the tattoo.  Exhausted I sleep deeply that night with strange vivid dreams.

            Experience in time with life have their moment of vividness and this is an exceptionally strong one.  Experiences of things happening, reaching a mountaintop, diving with thousands of tropical fish, getting a hand tapped tattoo, anything, and everything.  The first time always seems so substantial.  And it is.  It is a first time.  We continue through life having first times over and over and they can be truly exceptional moments.  But the companionship and friendship that is built over many times of meeting, interacting, playing, laughing, experiencing the presence of another person has a different and in my thoughts more substantial meaning and depth to it.  No matter what the experience, it is the people that make it.  The people I met and experienced in Sungai Utik were so happy and gracious I am eternally grateful for the friendships I have made during my brief time there.