In the land of the head hunters

Our association with the United Methodist Church has made possible many interesting travel adventures for us. Once, David was asked to speak and dedicate a new Methodist Womens Building in Sarawak, Malaysia. It was the 1980s and Sarawak was in a period of transition.

We flew into the capitol, Kuching, and then traveled by boat several hours up river. Jungles were on each side and we caught glimpses of villages tucked in among the dense foliage.

When we arrived at our Iban village we scrambled up a muddy bank to the Longhouse where the people lived. Climbing a flimsy rope ladder we came to a wooden veranda longer than a football field. Behind and opening onto the veranda were separate apartments in which the villagers lived. Though the veranda was public each apartment housed a private family. The heat, so near the Equator, was intense but the Longhouse was surprisingly cool. There were huts surrounding the Longhouse. They were also on flimsy stilts and were used mainly for storage. The space underneath these huts gave access to a variety of activities including cock-fighting. Strutting, aggressive roosters wandered freely about the grounds.

We were received graciously. For breakfast we were given rice wrapped in a tasty dark green leaf and as a special treat—a hard boiled egg.

At this point in time the Iban were just one step beyond the savagery that was their history. I saw shrunken heads swinging from the ceiling in macreme holders. The heads were blackened, about the size of a grapefruit, and often arranged in clusters of three or more. There were old men whose legs were covered with tattoos. Each tattoo represented an enemy they had killed. The children were beautiful, agile enough to scamper up the palm trees that surrounded the Longhouse. Descended from the vicious Sea Dayaks, the children boasted of swimming alongside crocodiles in the streams nearby.

David gave his address through an interpreter. The language of the Iban people seemed very strange to me –jumpy and disjointed. The interpreter seemed to be saying silly words like “BeeBop” and “PingPong” and I knew that was not in David’s address.

By contrast to the Longhouse the new Womens building back in Kuching was moden, two story and concrete. The ribbon cutting and ground breaking for more buildings signaled a new era coming to Sarawak. I felt I had straddled two worlds.