Marlow may have gone nearly mad, and Kurtz completely mad, travelling upriver and seeing the horrors in the Congo in Joseph Conrad's
Heart of Darkness, but I found nothing but beauty and wonder traveling upriver in Kalimantan, Borneo Island, Indonesia these past couple weeks.
Less than a month ago, another exchange student, Romane from Belgium, told me that a Rotarian, bu Elly, from her club was going to one of the most remote areas of Indonesia and that I could come along as well. I signed up immediately before knowing the itinerary, final destination, and even how much a plane ticket cost, but I'm very glad that I did.
We departed a Saturday morning and had a direct flight from Yogyakarta to Pontianak, which is pretty much the only sizeable city in Kalimantan Barat, or West Kalimantan. The city has a huge Chinese population, and as such foods, architecture, and even language have primarily been adopted from China. James, an exchange student from Taiwan, said the the streets of the more urban area looked identical to that of cities in Taiwan, and he was delighted that virtually every store and business had their signs in Indonesian and Mandarin. He couldn't actually read all of it because Taiwanese Chinese is written differently than Mandarin, but the vast majority are the same. Similarly, the local language of Pontianak is a Chinese dialect with a seleciton of Malyu words thrown in for good measure. James could understand a decent amount but with the Malayu and the differences in dialect from Taiwan to the original region of China this language was derived from, it was definitely a language all its own.
The first day we tried some of the local cuisine which consists mostly of fish, pork, catfish, noodles, fish meatballs, rice, and fish. Here was the first meal we had in town:
Here we have a thicker, flat noodle with (from top going clockwise) crab, plain white fish, fish meatballs, seasoned white fish, and shredded pork in a marinade.
We also got to experience something quite by accident. You see, Pontianak is on the equator, as in the middle of Earth runs directly through this city, making it an oven. Since such an important line runs through the city, a monument has been erected call Tugu Khatulistiwa, or simply the Equator Monument, complete with a little museum on the inside.
The top of the tower can be found almost everywhere throughout the city and has become a symbol of Pontianak much like banners with a universities logo are scattered throughout its campus.
What we didn't know, however, is that we were there on 23 March, the second day of the Spring Equinox. In other words, we were at the equator at only one of two times a year where the sun is directly overhead. I have been as closer to the sun than pretty much anyone I know, so I think it's safe to say I'm basically an astronaut. But more importantly, that meant that this was one of the hottest times of the year in an already hot location. One of the days there it was 36 degrees celsius (97F) and the locals were still wearing jeans! There was literally no escaping the heat.
That wasn't to last for too long though, as we only stayed one night there with bu Elly's brother who lives in Pontianak before meeting up with another brother of bu Elly along with two younger fellows: mas Hermanto who is originally from West Kalimantan, and mas Bebek (which means duck, this was a nickname but honestly I've forgotten his true name as we all only called him mas Bebek or mas Bek) how is Javanese and lives in Solo but often goes to West Kalimantan and helped to organize this trip. With everyone there, we departed by car on an epic nine hour marathon drive.
The first few hours weren't so bad, the roads were standard Indonesian roads with standard Indonesian traffic. Around five hours in, however, we hit the edge of civilization. The road quickly became a pothole minefield to the point where it was sometimes better to be driving half off the road. The going was tough and slow and there was no way you could even try to sleep with the car constantly shaking. To get an idea of what I mean go take a seat in a chair, then ask a 195cm (6'6"), 100Kg (220lb) wall of muscle to moderately shake your chair around for four hours. To really imitate reality, have him periodically stop the shaking to get your hopes up, only to crush them mere moments later with a violent jostle. That is the closest you can, and hopefully ever have to, get to the drive we had.
After nine hours we arrived at a homestay in Sintang, West Kalimantan where we spent the night only to be awoken early the next morning to spend another five hours on bone rattling roads to finally reach Suhaid, a fishing village along Sungai Kapuas, or the Kapuas River (I may actually be wrong about that as the town straddles a fork in the river and so there might be a different name at that point, but further downriver I know that's what it is called). There we met the boat that would take us upriver and eventually to Danau Sentarum, or Sentarum Lake.
Most of the village of Suhaid is on platforms above the ground for a number of reasons including avoiding the water when it rises, protection from wild animals, and carrying on the traditions of the indigenous peoples from Kalimantan, the Dayak.
James and Romane making their way down to the river and our boat by sketchy wooden stairs, a huge log, and then a wooden ladder.
Along the water there are places such as this which act as docks for longboats, a place to wash clothes and bathe, as a well as the toilet. Each of those little shacks is actually a toilet which is just a closed off hole in the dock.
This photo and the one below show off the backside of the homes in Suhaid. We were there when it is fairly dry, but during the wettest times of the year the water can, and does, reach up to where the houses' stilts are.
People on longboats cruise the river constantly at all times of day. It is the primary means of transportation in Suhaid and most of the region.
We spent the night on our boat, called a motor bangong, and left early the next morning. We had about a five and a half hour ride so we just ate breakfast, relaxed, played cards, and took pictures until reaching Danau Sentarum. We saw a lot of small villages along the way which really weren't villages so much as collections of a dozen or so families and the home's.
A view of the river from the front of the boat.
Looking back at our wake long the left side of the blue.
Interior of the boat which became our sleeping, living, and eating quarters while aboard. It was just appropriately sized for ten passengers.
James (left) getting ready to eat breakfast while Romane (right, under the brownish sarong which she used as a blanket) still sleeps.
Upon arrival at Danau Sentarum, we would be docked at one of five national park locations scattered around the lake. Ours was a small mountain of an island in the southwestern portion of the park. On land there was a main building, a boardwalk going around about half the island, and a half kilometer long stairway that takes you to the top of the mountain.
View of the park upon arrival. It should be noted that the weird looking house on huge logs is known as the park's "floating house" because the water is usually up past where the house is now it is, well, floating.
One of those small gatherings of houses I mentioned previously, this time right in front of the park. Some were like this where all of the houses were floating, others would be like Suhaid where they were all permanently on stilts, however it was always one or the other, a single community didn't seem to mix and match the style of home present.
Good view of the boat with mas Bebek on top.
The three exchange students ready to explore the island's forest. Yes, I am wearing what looks like a skirt but it is called a sarong. They are traditional garb in many parts of Indonesian where it was introduced by Arab traders in the 7th century. It is the same garment muslim men wear when praying although theirs usually look more like the one Romane was sleeping in in the picture a few above this.
Our lovely, albeit slightly run-down, boardwalk that took us through the jungle.
This is pretty much the summary of the entire lower portion of the island. Green everywhere, ferns on the bottom level with a wide variety of trees fighting for light up top.
Kalimantan is famous for its production of rubber, most of which is still harvested using traditional methods such as this. The bark is cut in a V-shape so the the sap runs down to the bottom where it can be collected in a can similar to the collection of maple sap for the production of maple syrup.
The island was beautiful, words definitely can't do it justice, however this wasn't to be our final destination. The next day we would depart for a location even further northeast of the lake where we would spend three days with a group of the indigenous people, the Dayak Iban. So the next day we set out, but this time by longboat. It turns out that further upriver the water would be too shallow for our larger boat, the motor bandong. So ten people plus three days of supplies for each along with our driver were all packed into the longboat which would be a two and a half hour ride.
About and hour and a half in, however, we stopped at a village where mas Hermanto and mas Bebek at friends. We unloaded and were welcomed into the home of one of these friends where we were all offered natural forest honey which is eaten plain with a spoon. Now, there are a few important things to know about this honey. First, it is the best honey in the world. No, literally the best. It has been voted the finest in the world for a number of years at some fancy world honey conference in France. Second, it is as natural as it comes. The bees are all wild, the gather nectar from a number of trees which makes it more nutritious and sweet as opposed to farm raised honey bees which typically gather from a single plant source. Once gathered by these wild bees it is collected by natives who drain the honeycombs by hand. The honey we ate had not been cleaned of the honeycomb remnants so you got the added bonus of chewing on the beeswax that remained in the honey and sucking out all the delicious golden treasure contained within. Last, presenting visitors with honey or very, very sweet tea is a regional custom. Sweetness is equivalent to welcome people into your home, so honey is a very warm welcome, extremely sweet tea is similar, while lightly sweetened tea or unsweetened tea implies you are not welcome and should finish your drink and leave promptly. This wouldn't be the only time we got a taste of forest honey but I already crave more, it was phenomenal.
Ten people and a longboat. As you can see things were a bit tight for a two and a half hour trip. In the background you can see our boat to the right and on the left a slope of the park's mountain.
View of the docks with homes visible in the background at the village we sampled honey in.
Romane cautiously traversing the docks to climb the wooden stairs up to the boardwalk where the homes were located.
Inside mas Bebek and Hermanto's friend's house trying the honey. The friend is in the black shirt. We were each given a glass and a spoon but the honey was poured directly onto the spoon, the glass was just to catch any that might drop. Honey is a pretty precious commodity after all.
Additionally, this village had an elementary school which we would be visiting and teaching some arts and crafts to on our way back, but I'll get to that when we get there. So from the village we had an additional hour ride picking up this guy along the way:
Riding a small motor piloted by this guy we met just after the previous village. Our longboat can be seen in the background.
See, when this guy first met up with us we thought he was a local who would be guiding us through the small, amazon-like tributaries due to the amount of unsafe routes. Well, turns out he is essentially the leader of the Dayak Iban house we would be staying with. I say essentially because although he handles a lot of affairs, especially with the nearby villages, there is also a house elder who is more of the spiritual leader. I will explain in a minute.
As I've mentioned several times, the water levels were a bit low when we were there so we couldn't take a boat all the way up to the Dayak longhouse, but rather had to unload at one of those collections of a half-dozen houses and would walk about two kilometers.
While waiting for a couple or Dayak men to help us carry our luggage, we played a game something like horseshoes with the stick seen in the center and some small wicker circles. In the back is the path that went for about one kilometer until meeting a boardwalk that also goes for about a kilometer.
While I wore long clothes and the kefiyah seen in the picture further above, I forgot to lotion up my hands and feet leaving them a healthy shade of bright red. However I had a nice, pasty-white line where my bracelet was, so at least I have that going for me.
The aforementioned boardwalk. As indicated by the idle longboat, this area can be flooded during the wetter season.
Before reaching the Dayak longhouse, we waited here as the Dayak elder and various others came to greet us and perform a welcoming ceremony.
As we waited, we could hear drums, gongs, and singing slowly approaching. The elder members of the house wore traditional clothes to greet us and danced their way along the boardwalk like so:
Upon arrival, a couple of mats were laid out for us to sit on and a traditional Dayak cloth laid in front of us. On the cloth, the wife of the house elder placed three different traditional rice dishes to be used in the welcoming ritual. Besides the food, which was presented on seven plates each, seven leaves each of two different types, seven sticks, seven eggs, and some arak (a strong rice wine common to many regions of southeast asia, however the name is Indonesian) were used. In case you didn't notice, seven is an important number to the Dayak. The ritual consisted of our elder, bu Elly's older brother, pak Joni, taking the leaves and sticks one by one and arranging them on a plate. Next, one food item was taken from each plate which included sticky rice steamed inside bamboo, a type of rice patty (not as in a flooded rice field, but something like a hamburger patty except made from rice), and poprice which was the same in every way to popcorn except that it was made from rice. After that, seven eggs were arranged in a circle and in the middle of that was placed a small bowl of arak. When the arak was poured for the small bowl, each of us was given a small glass which wasn't drunk, but rather swirled around seven times and then dumped outside. Once the plate was all ready, pak Joni was given a live, and remarkably cooperative, chicken which he moved around the plate seven times while silently praying. Once he finished with the chicken, the house elder took the chicken and did something similar but a great number of times and reciting a prayer in the local language. The chicken was then passed over all of our heads and taken outside to be sacrificed. After being beheaded, two feathers were plucked, dipped in its blood, and placed on the plate as well. At the point, the ritual was finished, the plate prepared, and it was put aloft on a bamboo basket.
Mats are all laid out as the elder finishes his dance.
The elder's wife preparing the dishes and foods while the elder explains to pak Joni about the process and what he all needs to do.
The rice foods all laid out. The right one is the bamboo encased sticky rice, center are the rice patties, left is the poprice (which is a word of our own creating, I don't actually know the name for it. Although given a little salt and butter, it would make a delicious snack). All of this was eaten while the chicken was being sacrificed.
The chicken taking its trips around the bowl while everything was being blessed by the elder.
Beheading of the chicken.
The plate in its final place aloft a bamboo shaft crafted to hold the plate.
This ritual is used to keep any and all bad spirits which might be following us foreigners from the outside at bay. We repeated the same ritual again upon reaching the longhouse which is more of a welcoming ceremony and welcomes the visitors in the home and souls of the Dayak living there. These two rituals are always performed when visitors come to the longhouse. Occasionally, however, the ritual is performed a third time. When done a third time, it is meant to encourage the good spirits from the longhouse to follow the visitors home after leaving. We were lucky enough to perform the ceremony a third time later that night, and I was honored to be the member from our group to conduct that particular ceremony.
First we had to actually walk to the house however, which looks like this:
The longhouse in all its glory. From this picture, two of the five main areas of the house can be seen: the deck which is used for washing and drying laundry as well as a play area for kids, and the terrace which is under a roof but still open and is mostly just a walking area and is where the dogs all sleep.
Before entering the house, we all took off our sandals, tapped our feet in a bowl of the poprice, and a chicken was passed over our heads. This was done one by one.
There terrace with one of about a dozen dogs. They aren't owned by the Dayak per se, however they do get fed from time to time and as such always come back. The chickens are similar as most are allowed to freely roam beneath the deck.
Pak Joni blowing bubbles with the kids on a bridge connecting the deck (left) with the terrace.
Just inside is the common area which is where all meals are eaten and people generally just hang out.
Another view of the common area. Rooms can be seen along the left. While just relaxing here, it is common for people to do handicrafts such as weaving and fish net making.
The next day we accompanied the Dayak Iban men on some of their daily work, which that day meant collecting fish from the traps and catching as many more as necessary with nets and fishing rods.
James and I waded into the water to untie the trap from four sticks stuck into the riverbed the prevent the trap from moving. From there we dragged the whole thing out, which is quite heavy as it is made form strips of bamboo less the net at the end. There were about a dozen and a half fish inside including two catfish and this was just one of two traps nearby.
After collecting all the fish, some of the Dayak men scaled them on the deck while we sat around a fire and played guitar. Once ready, the fish were all skewered, propped up by the fire, roasted, and promptly eaten. That is as fresh as fish can get and it was delicious. The fish is eaten alone and dipped in only salt, but with the fish being as fresh as they were the salt wasn't even necessary, they were wonderful on their own.
Fish roasting on an open fire. Few things in this world are better.
The group just enjoying ourselves, anticipating delicious fish.
In the afternoon we got to try on the traditional Dayak clothes we had seen the day previous. We may not be actual Dayak Iban, but I'll be damned if we didn't look good.
The coin-like belt/skirt Romane is wearing is actually made of old Indonesian Rupiah coins. The tinkling noise it made apparently inspired Romane to begin to dance. Meanwhile James and I sport no shirts, just vests. (Unrelated but important sidenote, while writing the last sentence I experienced yet another earthquake. There must have been at least a dozen small earthquakes here in Jogja since my arrival)
Trying on the clothes before being told that taking off my shirt would make me more of a Dayak.
That night, we all ate fish together out on the deck rather than in the common area. Bu Elly, pak Joni, and the three of us exchange students thanked the Dayak and the elder gave a sending off of sorts. While waiting for the fish to finish cooking, an arm wrestling contest ensued. It wasn't exactly the same as what I assume you are used to, in part because we are all seated on the floor, but also because you don't grasp the opponent's hand, you simply interlock wrists. It was a pretty incredible experience when you add it all up: sitting beneath the stars, in a traditional Dayak home, lit by torches, arm wrestling indigenous Dayak Iban men, all while waiting to eat freshly caught fish.
Us speaking to the group as fish is being cooked in the background.
Countless fish being cooked for our consumption.
Me arm wrestling a 50 or 60 something year old man who was as strong as his bicep in this picture indicates. I did maintain my youthful pride however and defeated him, perhaps in part to the amount of arak he had already consumed.
The next day it was time to depart. Those two days and nights had gone far too fast, I felt like there was still very much to do and see. But alas, we had a schedule to keep and a flight a few days away taking us home. We left by longboat once again and arrived at the previously mentioned elementary school. We were enthusiastically greeted by a group of only 39 students composing first through sixth grades. They were divided into two groups in (the only) two classrooms with Romane taking half and James and I taking the other. Romane taught the kids how to do the art project every kid I know has down where you fold up a square of paper into a triangle 1/8th size, cut out patterns, and when unfolded creates a symmetrical snowflake. Well, it wasn't a snowflake to these kids who have never seen snow before, but that's neither here nor there. James and I led an activity where the children collected some type of foliage from outside, laid it on their paper, then took a toothbrush dipped in ink and ran that over hair combs to make an ink mist which would create a colored silhouette of the foliage. The kids absolutely loved both activities and after presented us with small handmade tools of their own creation. I received a back scratcher made from a bit of coconut shell on a stick that works very well despite my long torso.
The school from afar. The field to the left has goals for soccer as well as a net for badminton.
One of the "classrooms" this area is on the terrace. This area is for class three while another similar area directly behind this photo but still on the terrace is for class four.
Classroom for both classes one and two. Extra desks have been piled up in the corner.
The teacher among her class five and six students. She is one of only two teachers at the school.
After working with the kids, we were truly on our way. We returned to the national park at Danau Sentarum where we spent the night. We climbed the mountain one last time to see the sunset before what we all knew would be the painful, multi-day journey home. The next morning we left for Suhaid where we were picked up by drivers and taken all the way back to Pontianak stopping once at the homestay we had previously stayed at to shower and rest an hour then once again at a gas station. Sleep was impossible due to the horrible road conditions, but that didn't stop us from trying; 14 hours is a very long time otherwise. We arrived at bu Elly's brothers house around 5am the next morning, said our goodbyes to everyone in our travel party and hightailed it off to bed.
A solid sleep and half the daylight later, we went out for lunch and to buy oleh oleh (small souvenirs you buy for family and friends anytime you go anywhere) with our hosts' son. The rest of the night was spent relaxing, playing cards, and just talking about our adventure. 5:30am came on hard and we departed for the airport and a plane taking us home. It was a wonderful nine days spent in the city, on the river, at a lake, and in the jungles of Kalimantan and a trip that I will never forget. I leave with these pictures from atop the mountain at Danau Sentarum national park and only say that they do the place absolutely no justice, and that anybody who really wants to "get out there" so to speak, should check out Danau Sentarum, West Kalimantan, Indonesia.
