Tag Archives: Batang Krian

Beketan Telik

Pun Kenang

Krian tauka Kerian kenu ka Kamus Dewan tu nama sebansa kayu, tang dalam jaku Iban leka jaku Krian tu nadai temu reti.  Retinya nama Sungai Krian tu ukai datai ari jaku Iban tang datai ari jaku bansa Beketan tauka jaku bansa Seru ka dulu nguan menua Krian ari nanga nyentukka ke Ulu Krian. Enti lemambang Ngerintai Tuai Dayak  Krian,

Nya baru geman-geman sengkawan ridan,
Nyaduhka tubuh ngerintai Tuai Krian.

Ni tuai ka benama Seguat,
Berumah di menyaung tuchung Tengalat (Engkalat),
Kena perepat ruap bunga pasang.

Nya baru nyebut tuai benama Abas,
Mungkal Wung Embuas deras nerajang.

Nya baru nyebut tuai benama Ilun,
Dulu mungkal aum berumpang Babang.

Nya baru nyebut tuai benama Nyawai,
Dulu mungkal tatai langgung Tebujang.

Nyadi tuai ka benama Seguat ka mungkal Bukit Tengalat enggau Nyawai (Bisi mega disebut Tangai) ka nguan langgung Tebujang nya endang bansa Seru.  Bansa Seru di Bukit Tenggalat enggau Ulu Melupa suah dikayau anak ulih Antau Linggang Nengeri seduai menyadi iya Gun Mangkubumi ari menua Rimbas tu endang orang ka beberita tau matak kayau anak lalu suah bendar beberita ulih ngalah ka bansa Seru di Bukit Engkalat, Bukit Legong, di Ulu Melupa enggau di sebelah Nanga Awik. Nyadi ketegal seduai iya ti selalu mujur ngalahka bansa Seru, nya alai seduai iya lalu diberi Imam Maulana tuai  Laut  Kabong ba nanga Batang Krian gela Rekaya.  Udah alah bansa Seru ba tiga bengkah menua nya tadi dia sida bansa Seru tu tadi lalu ngelari kediri ka menua Nanga Diso masuk batang Sungai Awik mimit enda jauh ari Bukit Tebujang di menua Ulu Awik kena pegai menua Saratok. Nyadi raban sida iya sebengkah agi lalu ngelarika diri ngagai menua Tanjung Pilin dalam Batang Sebelak ari ili Nanga Roban.

Tuai ka bukai baka Abas ka mungkal Wung Embuas aku enda nemu sekali ka iya Seru tauka Iban, tang Ilun ka mungkal Babang nya endang Iban.  Nyadi tuai ka benama Isut tu angkat ari Meroh, Paku lalu melunggang ke Kabo, tang iya ninting, enda ngilika Batang Krian laban nebing ai Krian udah diwan Iban magang. Nya alai iya terengkah lalu mungkal berimba menua Lempa di Ulu Kabo.

Di Bukit Tebalu, Ulu Budu pati Krian bisi mega Beketan ka betuaika Guling. Nyadi asal Guling tu ari Rimbas. Nyadi tuai Beketan ka benama Guling seduai Gambang tu menyadi Entinggi di Bukit Saban Tinggi di Batang Paku. Nyadi Guling tu nyerara diri ari Entinggi di menua Bukit Saban laban ka mai bala anembiak iya pindah berumah ba menua ka dikumbai Tinting Indai Tupai. Sekumbang Guling tu enggau bala iya berumah ba menua nya, dia mentua iya ka benama Kuku pan parai lalu baka nya mega bini iya ka dikumbai sida Indai Tupai pan parai dia. Nyadi ketegal laban mentua Guling ka benama Kuku tu parai ba tembawai nya laban kena taju remaong, nya alai bisi endor siti semak menua nya dia ke lalu dikumbai orang nyentuk ka sehari tu benama Taju Kuku. Udah pemarai bini enggau mentua iya nya tadi, dia Guling lalu mai bala anembiak iya pindah melunggang ngulu ai Rimbas lalu diau ditinting Tibak Sirat ba menua enda jauh ari Ulu Gerugu ke bepati ba ai Ulu Sarikei. Nyadi Ulu Gerugu tu nya alai bepuncha ari Kampung Gerugu ke lalu nyadi satup menua Ulu Sarikei, Ulu Awik, Ulu Kabo enggau Ulu Sebelak. Pindah ari menua Tibak Sirat dia Guling lalu mai bala iya pindah baru ngagai menua Bukit Tebalu di menua Ulu Budu ka bepati ba ai Krian. Ari nya baru sida iya angkat pindah baru ngagai menua Bukit Tebujang ka alai sida iya lalu segulai pendiau enggau bansa Seru di menua Ulu Awik.

Nyadi menyadi Entinggi ka benama Gambang tu mindah ari Bukit Saban Tinggi ke  Teluk Jerai. Angkat ari nya Gambang lalu mai bala anembiak iya pindah baru ngagai menua ka dikumbai Tinting Girau ba antara menua di Krian, Saratok. Udah berumah ba menua Tinting Girau, Gambang lalu mai bala iya pindah baru ngulai bansa Seru diau di menua Bukit Tengalat enda jauh ari pasar Saratok ka diatu.  Nyadi raban bala sida Guling ka diau begulai enggau bansa Seru di Bukit Tebujang nya tadi lalu pindah baru ngagai menua Sugai ka bepati ba ai Julau lalu ngidupka diri bumai betaun.

Menua Nanga Telik, Maras enggau Grenjang endang dulu diwan bansa Beketan sebedau Iban pindah melunggang ari Paku ngilika Krian lalu diau di nanga Grenjang.  Pia mega Iban ari Bayor melunggang Tinting Batu lalu ngilika Sungai Batang enggau Grenjang lalu berimba sereta bedampa betembawai di Sungai Pilai.

Beketan Galah enggau Beketan Mendit

Dulu suba di  menua Nanga Telik bisi dua raban Beketan.  Seraban Beketan tu betuaika siku tuai ka benama Galah lalu seraban agi betuaika Mendit.  Nyadi Beketan dua raban tu enda tentu temu sekali ka Beketan Temuda ka idup bumai betaun tauka Beketan Kampung ka enda bumai betaun tang idup bepanggai ba asil kampung.

Nyadi, kenu ka jerita Beketan dua raban tu kelia balat bendar ka belaya enggau pangan diri. Tang taja pia, nadai ga orang ka tuai tak nyemetak nyebut nama kabuah Beketan Galah enggau Beketan Mendit tu udu ka carut.  Nyau pemuaska belaya, nyangka nyau beserang pangan diri alai anak Mendit lalu mati kena bunuh Beketan Galah.  Nyadi bangkai anak Beketan Mendit lalu dianjung ke puak kampung enda ditumbakka tang disimpan di dalam lubang batang kayu temesu.  Ari tu tadi menua nya lalu dikumbai Pulau Taju dataika sari tu laban nitihka nama Taju anak Beketan Mendit.

Kelimpah ari tu, nama sungai ka alai Beketan tu lalu mengkang disebut sungai Mendit datai ke kemaya diatu.  Nyadi Sungai Mendit tu tunga ke kanan mudik Sungai Krian.  Sungai tu mit lalu benanga ba Batang Krian.  Ba Sungai Mendit tu menh kami di Nanga Telik enggau Sungai Galah nekat ai kena ai paip graviti.  Pia mega, nama Sungai Galah ka kemaya ari tu endang ngambi nama tuai Beketan ka benama Galah kelia. Sungai Galah tu tunga ke kiba mudik Sungai Krian lalu mega enda besai.  Reti nya Beketan Mendit enggau Galah tu kelia beentaraka ai Krian. Dalam sejarah nanga Telik bisi dua kali Sungai Galah tu udah alai berumah.  Keterubah iya, kira-kira 40 taun tu ka udah lalu lebuh kami Nanga Telik angkat ari Tembawai Rumah Atas dia seraban anembiak Laja lalu nyerara diri berumah di sungai Galah.  Niang Megong nyadi tuai rumah sida tu kelia.  Sida ka berumah di Sungai Galah tu enda lama lalu angkat mindah lalu nampung rumah panjai Nanga Telik ka diatu.  Kedua kali Sungai Galah alai berumah iyanya, kira-kira 12 taun ka udah lalu lebuh seraban kami serumah bebatak pindah berumah baru di Sungai Galah ka diatu.

Nyadi nama Telik mega dipelabaka datai ari jaku Beketan laban nadai reti dalam jaku Iban. Tang pelaba aku nyagka ukai ari nama tuai Beketan laban bisi dua iti nama Nanga Telik ngulu batang Krian.  Kelimpah ari tu, nama-nama menua baka Bukit Mabuh, Dekong, Sungai Telinsai, Sungai Gerenis enggau Sungai Babai di Ulu Telik dipelabaka endang asal iya ari nama Beketan.  Pia mega nama-nama menua bukai ka besemak enggau nanga Telik baka Dangap, Tatup, Dong enggau Ganjuk endang asal ari bansa Beketan.

Kelimpah ari Beketan Mendit enggau Beketan Galah, bisi mega Beketan Pillai ka dulu nguan menua Pilai ka diatu enggau Beketang Babang ka dulu nguan menua Babang. Pia mega di ili din bisi Beketan Kabo lalu di Julau bisi Beketan Sugai.

Nyau pulai ke pun ke baru, jerita tu ditemu aku enggau berampas sereta recau laban randau maya gawai dayak tu tadi.  Penusui jerita tu enggau aku empu pan enda tentu ingatka utai laban pala ka bisi ngelu-ngelu mimit.

Asaika meda cerita Hindustan

N34 KRIAN: Enda nyalah-nyalah baka cerita Hindustan

1980-an – maya ari Minggu, bala anembiak sekula nyau berintun ngemai beg niti jalai tanah kuning.  Sida enda bekasut tauka beselipar, enggaika kasut tauka selipar kamah datai di ujung jalai lagi.  Bala apai indai ransing ati laban enda ibuh bedarat nengah Bukit Sungkup enggau Tinting Kelalis, ke Kaki Wong sebedau meda Pasar Saratok. Maju meh menua.

1983- Rayat Krian ransing laban PBDS pechah ari SNAP lalu menang mayuh kerusi maya bepilih taun nya, tang deh enda mukai-mukai Jerita Ming Court lalu nyadi dalam taun 1987, maya nya aku Pom 5. Jalai raya Ulu Krian endang udah tembu maya.  Dalam pengawa bepilih 1987 SNAP enggau PBDS bela berebutka penuduk N34 Krian ngujungka mayuh rumah panjai pechah.  Bisi kedua iya pechah nyadi 2-3 buah rumah.

1991- PBDS alah (taja pan besai ati ngelancarka Projek Ketua Menteri Sarawak 1992), laban ka nyadi penyakal, bala rayat diemba madahka sekula ka tutup enti enda ngundi perintah.  Baka cerita Hindustan bos Orang Jai menang dulu.  Bala staring merinsa dulu, ditipu, dikemulaka dataika aBis kayu kampung Ulu Krian diambi.  Batu kerangan mega dikerumbak.  Sapa di belakang pengawa tu? Ni tunga wakil enda nagang pengawa tu.  Selama jemah udah enda kala meda tugung kayu balak, tau tak bisi sebelah-belah tisi jalai.  Sapa ka gentung perut, laban bulih lisin kayu.

1996- Penggal kedua SNAP (SPDP apin bisi-bedau pecah ari SNAP) megai Krian, nadai ubah ba pengidup rayat.  Jalai raya ka jai enggau elektrik endang seruran ka umpan kena ngenakutka rayat.  Bala staring mayuh udah mati lalu enda sempat ngasaika jalai alun ka manah sereta ngasaika bisi elektrik.  Enda ngawa staring mati, bala anak agi bisi nyadi ka ganti

2001-Penggal ketiga SPDP megai Krian, agi ga bala staring merinsa. Jalai ulu Krian agi ga bakanya, SALCRA pan nadai ga mai penyamai ngagai seluruh rayat.  Bos orang jai lalu enggai ngelepaska penuduk iya, tambah mega rayat enda nemu sapa patut nganti iya, laban nadai kala ngelatih bala penganti.

2006 – Penggal keempat SPDP agi megai Krian.  Nyau beganti nama parti, agi ga enda tebaika pemansang ngagai menua kami.

2011- Bala staring nyau enda liat agi ati laban udah lebih 20 taun tu udah ditipu Bos Orang Jai. Lapa deh tak gisai-gisai iya alah.  Duit amat mayuh, kaya iya, tang iya dikingatka bala ucu icit rakyat Ulu Krian penipu besai menua Saratok.  Taja pan rayat mengkang merinsa usah tu ila, tang sida iya senyum dalam ati din……  lalu enda ulih ditipu orang politik agi udah tu ila,… Endang baka jerita Hindustan, staring sigi menang dudi.

Selamat betemu baru ba Bepilih Besai Parlimen TU ANGAT AGI ILA, ANANG UDU NYABUNG, enggau PRU Sarawak ke-11 2016.  BADU AGI BULA KA KAMI RAYAT ULU KRIAN. ENDA NGAWA IDUP MERINSA, UDAH TELEBA MERINSA….AMAT MEH ANANG NIPU ENGGAU NGEMELIKA, NGGEMULAKA KAMI.  MINTA AMPUN LABAN ENDA ULIH ENGGAU NGUNDI KA SEKALI TU…..AMEEN

PEMUTUS PRU DUN SARAWAK KE-10 2011

Parti

Penuduk

BN

55

PKR

3

PAS

0

DAP

12

SNAP

0

BEBAS

1

PCM

0

Penyampau

71

Pemutus Bepilih Kunsil Nengeri Negeri Sarawak 2011

N.1 OPAR

1.  STEPHEN ANAK SAGIR SNAP 674 LENYAU CENGKERAM

2.  JOSEPH JINDY ANAK PETER ROSEN BEBAS 475 LENYAU CENGKERAM

3.  BONIFACE WILLY ANAK TUMEK PKR 1,354

4.  RANUM ANAK MINA BN 3360 MENANG

PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 8,099
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 68
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,931
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,950
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 19
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 73.47%
MAJORITI : 2,006

N.2 TASIK BIRU

1.  PETER NANSIAN ANAK NGUSIE BN 5829 MENANG

2.  FRANKIE JUREM ANAK NYOMBUI SNAP 825 LENYAU CENGKERAM

3.  JOHN TENEWI NUEK @ JOHN TENEWI PKR 3,757

PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 15,100
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 120
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 10,531
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 10,557
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 26
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 69.91%
MAJORITI : 2,072

N.3 TANJUNG DATU

1.  ADENAN BIN SATEM BN 4218 MENANG

2.  GILBERT ASSON ANAK KULONG BEBAS 215  LENYAU CENGKERAM

3.  NANI BT SAHARI PAS 1,002

PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 7,936
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 62
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,497
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,517
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 20
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 69.52%
MAJORITI : 3,216

N.4 PANTAI DAMAI
1 . SUHAINI BIN SELAMAT BEBAS 111 LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . ABDUL RAHMAN BIN JUNAIDI BN 7425 MENANG
3 . WAN ZAINAL ABIDIN BIN WAN SENUSI PKR 2,354
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 14,104
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 105
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 9,995
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 10,038
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 43
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 71.17%
MAJORITI : 5,071

N.5 DEMAK LAUT
1 . HAZLAND BIN ABG HIPNI BN 5522 MENANG
2 . ALI HOSSEN BIN ABANG PKR 1,770
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 10,437
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 98
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 7,390
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 7,403
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 13
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 70.93%
MAJORITI : 3,752

N.6 TUPONG
1 . DAUD BIN ABDUL RAHMAN BN 8304 MENANG
2 . BAHARUDDIN @DIN SHAH BIN MOKHSEN PKR 3,753
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 17,796
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 135
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 12,192
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 12,192
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 0
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 68.51%
MAJORITI : 4,551

N.7 SEMARIANG
1 . SHARIFAH HASIDAH BT SAYEED AMAN GHAZALI BN 8008 MENANG
2 . ZULRUSDI BIN MOHAMAD HOL PKR 2,577
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 15,942
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 144
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 10,729
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 10,769
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 40
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 67.55%
MAJORITI : 5,431

N.8 SATOK
1 . ABG ABD RAHMAN ZOHARI BIN ABG OPENG BN 4691 MENANG
2 . AHMAD NAZIB BIN JOHARI PKR 1,891
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 10,431
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 79
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 6,661
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 6,717
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 56
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 64.39%
MAJORITI : 2,800

N.9 PADUNGAN
1 . NG KIM HO BEBAS 439 LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . WONG KING WEI DAP 11957 MENANG
3 . SIM KIANG CHIOK BN 4,073
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 23,576
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 69
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 16,538
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 16,558
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 20
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 70.23%
MAJORITI : 7,884

N.10 PENDING
1 . SIM KUI HIAN BN 6,780
2 . VIOLET YONG WUI WUI DAP 14375 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 29,488
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 119
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 21,274
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 21,310
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 36
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 72.27%
MAJORITI : 7,595

N.11 BATU LINTANG
1 . SIH HUA TONG BN 4,854
2 . SEE CHEE HOW PKR 13235 MENANG
3 . SOO LINA BEBAS 290 LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 27,833
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 61
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 18,440
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 18,475
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 35
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 66.38%
MAJORITI : 8,381

N.12 KOTA SENTOSA
1 . CHONG CHIENG JEN DAP 12594 MENANG
2 . YAP CHIN LOI BN 7,770
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 27,301
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 195
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 20,559
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 20,589
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 30
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 75.41%
MAJORITI : 4,824

N.13 BATU KAWAH
1 . CHIEW WANG SEE DAP 7439 MENANG
2 . TAN JOO PHOI BN 6,896
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 20,664
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 184
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 14,519
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 14,606
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 87
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 70.68%
MAJORITI : 543

N.14 ASAJAYA
1 . ABD. KARIM RAHMAN HAMZAH BN 7597 MENANG
2 . ARIP BIN AMERAN PKR 3,108
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 13,799
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 148
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 10,853
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 10,881
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 28
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 78.85%
MAJORITI : 4,489

N.15 MUARA TUANG
1 . DATO` SRI HAJI MOHAMMAD ALI MAHMUD BN 11039 MENANG
2 . NORAINI BINTI HAMZAH PAS 3,196
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 18,820
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 299
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 14,534
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 14,570
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 36
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 77.42%
MAJORITI : 7,843

N.16 BENGOH
1 . WILLIE ANAK MONGIN PKR 4,447
2 . WEJOK ANAK TOMIK BEBAS 1,007LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . RICHARD@PETER A/L MARGARET SNAP 928 LENYAU CENGKERAM
4 . JERIP ANAK SUSIL BN 8093 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 21,955
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 275
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 14,750
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 14,830
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 80
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 67.55%
MAJORITI : 3,646

N.17 TARAT
1 . ATENG ANAK JEROS SNAP 567 LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . ROLAND SAGEH WEE INN BN 6287 MENANG
3 . PETER ATO ANAK MAYAU PKR 4,292
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 16,352
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 209
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 11,355
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 11,382
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 27
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 69.61%
MAJORITI : 1,995

N.18 TEBEDU
1 . KIPLI BIN ALE BEBAS 260LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . MICHAEL MANYIN ANAK JAWONG BN 6196 MENANG
3 . CHRISTOPHER ANAK KIYUI PKR 2,130
4 . ANTHONY ANAK NAIS SNAP 468 LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 12,497
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 149
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 9,203
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 9,219
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 16
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 73.77%
MAJORITI : 4,066

N.19 KEDUP
1 . LAINUS ANAK ANDREW LUWAK PKR 4,211
2 . MACLAINE BEN @ MARTIN BEN BN 6476 MENANG
3 . AMIN ANAK BANTI BEBAS 397LENYAU CENGKERAM
4 . BELAYONG ANAK JAYANG SNAP 666 LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 17,466
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 165
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 11,915
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 12,128
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 213
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 69.44%
MAJORITI : 2,265

N.20 SADONG JAYA
1 . AIDEL BIN LARIWOO BN 4008 MENANG
2 . MAHAYUDIN BIN WAHAB BEBAS 402 LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . ABANG EDDY ALLYANNI BIN ABANG FAUZI PAS 1,074
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 7,656
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 89
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,573
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,589
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 16
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 73.00%
MAJORITI : 2,934

N.21 SIMUNJAN
1 . MOHD NARODEN BIN MAJAIS BN 5465 MENANG
2 . MASHOR BIN HUSSEN PKR 1,417
3 . ZAINI BIN LE’ BEBAS 179LENYAU CENGKERAM
4 . MAC PALIMA ANAK NYAMBIL PCM 237 LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 10,104
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 85
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 7,383
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 7,405
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 22
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 73.29%
MAJORITI : 4,048

N.22 SEBUYAU
1 . ALI BIN SEMSU BEBAS 67 LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . ADAM BIN AHID PAS 1,769
3 . JULAIHI BIN NARAWI BN 4045 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 8,042
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 87
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,968
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,979
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 11
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 74.35%
MAJORITI : 2,276

N.23 LINGGA
1 . SIMOI BINTI PERI BN 3652 MENANG
2 . ABG AHMAD ARABI BIN ABG BOLHASSAN PKR 1,146
3 . ABANG OTHMAN BIN ABANG HAJI GOM SNAP 359 LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 7,745
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 83
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,240
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,240
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 0
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 67.66%
MAJORITI : 2,506

N.24 BETING MARO
1 . RAZAILI BIN HAJI GAPOR BN 3069 MENANG
2 . ABANG AHMAD KERDEE BIN ABANG MASAGUS PAS 2,678
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 7,868
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 61
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,808
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,808
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 0
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 73.82%
MAJORITI : 391

N.25 BALAI RINGIN
1 . IBI ANAK UDING PKR 1,260
2 . SNOWDAN LAWAN BN 4145 MENANG
3 . DAN A/K GIANG SNAP 765LENYAU CENGKERAM
4 . LIPEH ANAK MAWI PCM 126LENYAU CENGKERAM
5 . COBBOLD AK LUSOI BEBAS 85LENYAU CENGKERAM
6 . SUJAL ANAK GANSI BEBAS 32LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 8,798
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 110
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 6,523
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 6,544
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 21
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 74.38%
MAJORITI : 2,885

N.26 BUKIT BEGUNAN
1 . MONG ANAK DAGANG BN 3671 MENANG
2 . LIAS ANAK JULAI BEBAS 188LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . JIMMY LIM @ JIMMY DONALD PKR 898
4 . IVANHOE ANTHONY ANAK BELON SNAP 638LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 7,778
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 56
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,451
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,472
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 21
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 70.35%
MAJORITI : 2,773

N.27 SIMANGGANG
1 . LEON JIMAT DONALD DAP 2,311
2 . FRANCIS HARDEN ANAK HOLLIS BN 4758 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 10,488
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 67
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 7,136
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 7,171
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 35
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 68.37%
MAJORITI : 2,447

N.28 ENGKELILI
1 . JOHNICHAL RAYONG ANAK NGIPA BN 4928 MENANG
2 . JIMMY SIMON MAJA BEBAS 414LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . SEMIJIE ANAK JANTING SNAP 393LENYAU CENGKERAM
4 . MARUDI @ BARUDI ANAK MAWANG PKR 1,121
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 9,444
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 70
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 6,926
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 6,926
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 0
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 73.34%
MAJORITI : 3,807

N.29 BATANG AI
1 . NICHOLAS BAWIN ANAK ANGAT PKR 1,719
2 . MALCOM MUSSEN ANAK LAMOH BN 4460 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 8,728
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 83
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 6,262
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 6,281
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 19
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 71.96%
MAJORITI : 2,741

N.30 SARIBAS
1 . RICKY @ MOHAMMAD RAZI BIN SITAM BN 3865 MENANG
2 . ABANG ZULKIFLI BIN ABANG ENGKEH PKR 2,137
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 8,054
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 76
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 6,078
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 6,107
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 29
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 75.83%
MAJORITI : 1,728

N.31 LAYAR
1 . JOE ANAK UNGGANG SNAP 183LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . STANNY EMBAT PHAROH ANAK LAJA PKR 1,787
3 . NGUMBANG @ KIBAK ANAK DATU BEBAS 170LENYAU CENGKERAM
4 . ALFRED JABU ANAK NUMPANG BN 3703 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 8,109
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 91
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,934
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,977
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 43
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 73.71%
MAJORITI : 1,916

N.32 BUKIT SABAN
1 . DAYRELL WALTER ENTRIE SNAP 641LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . JERAH ANAK ENGKIONG @ EDWARD JERAH PKR 1,125
3 . ROBERT LAWSON CHUAT BN 3899 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 7,657
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 78
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,743
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,761
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 18
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 75.24%
MAJORITI : 2,774

N.33 KALAKA
1 . ISMAIL BIN HUSSAIN BEBAS 1,665
2 . ABDUL WAHAB BIN AZIZ BN 6835 MENANG
3 . MOHD YAHYA BIN ABDULLAH PKR 1,511
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 14,167
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 120
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 10,131
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 10,202
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 71
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 72.01%
MAJORITI : 5,170

N.34 KRIAN
1 . LIMAN ANAK SUJANG SNAP 216LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . PETER NYAROK ANAK ENTRIE BN 3,088
3 . BANYI ANAK BERIAK BEBAS 125 LENYAU CENGKERAM
4 . ALI ANAK BIJU PKR 5178 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 11,016
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 67
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 8,674
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 8,688
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 14
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 78.87%
MAJORITI : 2,090

N.35 BELAWAI
1 . ABDUL WAHAB BIN ABDULLAH PKR 618LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . KIPRAWI BIN SUHAILI BEBAS 133LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . TALIF @ LEN BIN SALLEH BN 5164 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 8,623
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 91
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 6,006
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 6,049
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 43
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 70.15%
MAJORITI : 4,546

N.36 SEMOP
1 . ABDULLAH BIN SAIDOL BN 4814 MENANG
2 . ONG CHUNG SIEW PKR 564LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . AJIJI BIN FAUZAN BEBAS 419LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 8,891
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 114
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,911
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,917
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 6
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 66.55%
MAJORITI : 4,250

N.37 DARO
1 . MURNI BIN SUHAILI BN 3867 MENANG
2 . JAMALUDIN BIN IBRAHIM PKR 475LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . MOHAMAD ZAMHARI BIN BERAWI BEBAS 670
4 . NOH @ MOHAMAD NOH BIN BAKRI @ BAKERI BEBAS 129LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 7,305
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 105
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,246
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,265
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 19
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 72.07%
MAJORITI : 3,197

N.38 JEMORENG
1 . ASBOR BIN ABDULLAH BEBAS 77LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . ABDUL HAFIZ BIN NOH BEBAS 1,579
3 . GANI @ ABU SEMAN BIN JAHWIE BN 4505 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 8,635
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 120
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 6,281
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 6,295
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 14
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 72.90%
MAJORITI : 2,926

N.39 REPOK
1 . WONG HUA SEH DAP 7900 MENANG
2 . DAVID TENG LUNG CHI BN 5,221
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 18,481
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 243
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 13,364
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 13,387
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 23
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 72.44%
MAJORITI : 2,679

N.40 MERADONG
1 . LING KIE KING BN 4,197
2 . TING TZE FUI DAP 6884 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 15,337
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 107
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 11,188
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 11,205
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 17
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 73.06%
MAJORITI : 2,687

N.41 PAKAN
1 . WILLIAM IKOM BN 3938 MENANG
2 . JAMAL BIN ABDULLAH @ TEDONG ANAK GUNDA SNAP 2,741
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 9,274
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 83
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 6,762
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 6,785
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 23
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 73.16%
MAJORITI : 1,197

N.42 MELUAN
1 . JOHN BRIAN ANTHONY ANAK JEREMY GUANG PKR 2,973
2 . WONG ANAK JUDAT BN 4615 MENANG
3 . LABANG ANAK JAMBA SNAP 312LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 11,487
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 119
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 8,019
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 8,041
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 22
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 70.00%
MAJORITI : 1,642

N.43 NGEMAH
1 . ALEXANDER ANAK VINCENT BN 2361 MENANG
2 . YAKUP BIN KHALID BEBAS 278LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . ADEH AK DENONG PCM 1,366
4 . MICHAEL ANAK LIAS SNAP 577LENYAU CENGKERAM
5 . ARIS ANAK ALAP PKR 650LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 8,058
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 92
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,324
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,329
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 5
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 66.13%
MAJORITI : 995

N.44 MACHAN
1 . AUGUSTINE ANAK LIOM @ AUGUST KIOM SNAP 33  8LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . KONG TAT KIM PCM 696LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . GRAMONG JUNA BN 3683 MENANG
4 . CHEN NGUK FA PKR 2,054
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 9,944
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 109
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 6,880
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 6,895
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 15
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 69.34%
MAJORITI : 1,629

N.45 BUKIT ASSEK
1 . HII TIONG HUAT BEBAS 180LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . CHIENG BUONG TOON BN 4,700
3 . WONG HO LENG DAP 13527 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 26,926
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 97
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 18,504
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 18,518
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 14
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 68.77%
MAJORITI : 8,827

N.46 DUDONG
1 . YAP HOI LIONG DAP 9649 MENANG
2 . TIONG THAI KING BN 9,332
3 . APANDI BIN ABDUL RANI BEBAS 174LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 26,251
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 211
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 19,366
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 19,470
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 104
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 74.17%
MAJORITI : 317

N.47 BAWANG ASSAN
1 . ALICE LAU KIONG YIENG DAP 5,508
2 . WONG SOON KOH BN 7316 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 16,743
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 106
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 12,930
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 12,936
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 6
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 77.26%
MAJORITI : 1,808

N.48 PELAWAN
1 . GOH CHUNG SIONG BN 6,927
2 . WONG KEE WOAN DAP 13318 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 28,808
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 91
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 20,336
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 20,379
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 43
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 70.74%
MAJORITI : 6,391

N.49 NANGKA
1 . ANNUAR BIN RAPA`EE BN 7710 MENANG
2 . NORISHAM MOHAMED ALI PKR 2,408
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 14,197
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 152
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 10,270
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 10,270
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 0
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 72.34%
MAJORITI : 5,302

N.50 DALAT
1 . FATIMAH BT ABDULLAH @ TING SAI MING BN 6288 MENANG
2 . SYLVESTER AJAH SUBAH @ AJAH BIN SUBAH PKR 1,298
3 . SALLEH BIN MAHALI BEBAS 257LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 11,857
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 195
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 8,038
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 8,069
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 31
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 68.05%
MAJORITI : 4,990

N.51 BALINGIAN
1 . SURIATI BINTI ABDULLAH PKR 871LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . PEHIN SRI HAJI ABDUL TAIB BIN MAHMUD BN 6210 MENANG
3 . SALLEH BIN JAFARUDDIN BEBAS 1,056
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 11,792
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 116
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 8,253
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 8,280
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 27
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 70.22%
MAJORITI : 5,154

N.52 TAMIN
1 . JOSEPH MAUH A/K IKEH BN 4998 MENANG
2 . MENGGA ANAK MIKUI PKR 3,706
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 12,244
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 181
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 8,885
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 8,895
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 10
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 72.65%
MAJORITI : 1,292

N.53 KAKUS
1 . DICK @ LAURANCE DICK SEKALAI PCM 186 LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . PAUL ANYIE RAJA PKR 2,764
3 . JOHN SIKIE ANAK TAYAI BN 3366 MENANG
4 . ENTALI ANAK EMPIN BEBAS 141LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 9,604
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 105
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 6,562
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 6,574
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 12
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 68.45%
MAJORITI : 602

N.54 PELAGUS
1 . STANLEY NYITAR @ UNJA ANAK MALANG BN 2,903
2 . GEORGE ANAK LAGONG BEBAS 5740 MENANG
3 . EDWARD SUMBANG ANAK ASUN PKR 1,171LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 15,322
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 172
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 9,986
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 10,014
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 28
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 65.36%
MAJORITI : 2,837

N.55 KATIBAS
1 . AMBROSE BLIKAU ANAK ENTURAN BN 3326 MENANG
2 . TOH HENG SAN SNAP 897
3 . MUNAN ANAK LAJA PKR 1,070
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 8,542
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 85
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,378
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,397
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 19
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 63.18%
MAJORITI : 2,256

N.56 BALEH
1 . JAMES JEMUT MASING BN 5242 MENANG
2 . BENDINDANG ANAK MANJAH PKR 1,344
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 11,287
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 98
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 6,684
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 6,684
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 0
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 59.22%
MAJORITI : 3,898

N.57 BELAGA
1 . JOHN BAMPA SNAP 368LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . MATHEW AK MUNAN BEBAS 27LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . BASAH KESING @ ALI BASAH KESING PKR 1,046
4 . MICHAEL JOK BEBAS 94LENYAU CENGKERAM
5 . KENNETH ADAN SILEK BEBAS 330LENYAU CENGKERAM
6 . LIWAN LAGANG BN 3974 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 8,463
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 74
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,913
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,913
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 0
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 69.87%
MAJORITI : 2,928

N.58 JEPAK
1 . RAMLI ANAK MALAKA SNAP 433 LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . ABDUL JALIL BIN BUJANG PKR 2,342
3 . DATUK HAJI TALIB BIN ZULPILIP BN 5470 MENANG
4 . ABDUL KUDDUS BIN RAMLEE BEBAS 477LENYAU CENGKERAM
5 . AWANG ABDILLAH BIN AWANG NASAR BEBAS 89LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 12,979
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 133
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 8,944
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 9,002
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 58
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 69.36%
MAJORITI : 3,128

N.60 KEMENA
1 . LIAM ANAK RENGGA BEBAS 197 LENYAU CENGKERAM
2 . BERNARD BINAR BAYANG ANAK RADING PKR 3,020
3 . STEPHEN RUNDI ANAK UTOM BN 6369 MENANG
4 . UNGUN ANAK BAYANG SNAP 285LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 14,082
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 162
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 10,033
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 10,039
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 6
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 71.29%
MAJORITI : 3,349

N.61 BEKENU
1 . ROSEY BINTI YUNUS BN 4946 MENANG
2 . DYG JULIANA BINTI AWG TAMBI PCM 284 LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . THONY ANAK BADAK SNAP 570LENYAU CENGKERAM
4 . ISHAK BIN MAHWI PKR 1,232
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 10,672
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 103
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 7,135
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 7,135
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 0
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 66.86%
MAJORITI : 3,714

N.62 LAMBIR
1 . RIPIN BIN LAMAT BN 4625 MENANG
2 . JOHARI BIN BUJANG SNAP 693LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . ZOLHAIDAH BINTI SUBOH PKR 3,104
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 14,144
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 143
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 8,565
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 8,588
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 23
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 60.72%
MAJORITI : 1,521

N.63 PIASAU
1 . LING SIE KIONG DAP 5998 MENANG
2 . GEORGE CHAN HONG NAM BN 4,408
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 16,600
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 73
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 10,479
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 10,479
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 0
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 63.13%
MAJORITI : 1,590

N.64: PUJUT

1. Andy Chia Chu Fatt (BN-SUPP)……………….5,271
2. FONG PAU TECK (DAP)……………………….9,120

Jumlah mengundi/Votes Cast…………………..14,458
Peratus/Percentage…………………………..64.17%
Undi rosak/Spoilt votes…………………………67
Majoriti/Majority……………………………3,849

Penyandang/Incumbent: Andy Chia Chu Fatt (BN-SUPP)
Undi diperolehi/Votes polled: 6,493
Majoriti/Majority: 1,370

N.65: SENADIN

1. Michael Teo Yu Keng (PKR)………………….7,276
2. DATUK LEE KIM SHIN (BN-SUPP)……………….7,334

Jumlah mengundi/Votes Cast…………………..14,796
Peratus/Percentage…………………………..66.05%
Undi rosak/Spoilt votes………………………..186
Majoriti/Majority………………………………58

Penyandang/Incumbent: Datuk Lee Kim Shin (BN-SUPP)
Undi diperolehi/Votes polled: 7,173
Majoriti/Majority: 4,799

N.66 MARUDI
1 . SYLVESTER ENTRI ANAK MURAN BN 4578 MENANG
2 . MICHAEL DING TUAH BEBAS 122LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . GERANG ANAK DAGOM PKR 1,376
4 . EDWIN DUNDANG ANAK BUGAK SNAP 281 LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 13,093
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 86
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 6,443
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 6,443
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 0
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 49.21%
MAJORITI : 3,202

N.67 TELANG USAN
1 . NGAU LAING PKR 2,752
2 . KEBING WAN SNAP 705 LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . JOK DING BEBAS 623 LENYAU CENGKERAM
4 . DENNIS NGAU BN 3597 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 13,623
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 86
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 7,763
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 7,785
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 22
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 57.15%
MAJORITI : 845

N.68 BUKIT KOTA
1 . LEONG KWANG YEW DAP 1,774
2 . USOP BIN JIDIN BEBAS 398 LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . ABDUL RAHMAN BIN ISMAIL BN 6835 MENANG
4 . LADIS BIN PANDIN BEBAS 353LENYAU CENGKERAM
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 14,471
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 65
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 9,425
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 9,470
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 45
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 65.44%
MAJORITI : 5,061

N.69 BATU DANAU
1 . LAU LIAK KOI PKR 1,348
2 . LAWRENCE COSMAS SUNANG ANAK SIMPANG SNAP 140 LENYAU CENGKERAM
3 . PALU @ PAULUS PALU ANAK GUMBANG BN 3667 MENANG
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 7,636
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 72
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 5,227
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 5,227
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 0
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 68.45%
MAJORITI : 2,319

N.70 BA’KELALAN
1 . BARU BIAN PKR 2505 MENANG
2 . WILLIE LIAU BN 2,032
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 6,958
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 37
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 4,574
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 4,585
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 11
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 65.90%
MAJORITI : 473

N.71 BUKIT SARI
1 . TENGAH B. ALI HASSIN BN 6018 MENANG
2 . JAPAR BIN SUYUT PKR 955
PENGUNDI DIREJISTA: 9,983
KERTAS UNDI DITULAK: 94
KERTAS UNDI DALAM PETI UNDI: 7,067
KERTAS UNDI DIKELUARKA: 7,067
KERTAS UNDI ENDA DIPULAIKA: 0
PERATUS PENGUNDI: 70.79%
MAJORITI : 5,063

Anang nunda ati ka pedis. Ingatka utai ka dudi ila.

Rakyat Sarawak waspada ‘kail berduri’

ANAK SELUANG Kulim, Kedah.

UMPAN jinak di air tenang, kail berduri bersalut umpan. Sesal dahulu pendapatan, sesal kemudian tidak berguna.

Dua ayat seloka orang-orang Melayu jelas mengingatkan kita agar apabila melakukan sesuatu, mestilah berfikiran bijak agar tidak menyesal di kemudian hari.

Kepada saudara-saudaraku di Sarawak Bumi Kenyalang, janganlah termakan pujuk rayu puak-puak yang menaburkan gula dan madu kepada anda. Kami di Kedah sudah terkena. Kami telah termakan kail berduri bersalut umpan.

Kami tidak mampu lagi untuk melepaskan diri. Kami tertipu dengan janji ‘kalih’ yang dilagukan oleh puak-puak Pakatan Rakyat sewaktu pilihan raya 2008 dahulu.

Tidak ada satu pun janji yang ditaburkan oleh puak ini kepada kami ditunaikan. Alih-alih, air yang sangat penting bagi umat manusia dinaikkan tarif sebanyak 20 peratus.

Kerja kosong untuk anak-anak muda yang baharu lepas belajar juga tidak ada. Banyak kilang tutup kerana berhijrah ke negara lain, tetapi pemimpin PAS masih mengatakan banyak kilang datang melabur di Kedah, terutamanya di Kulim.

Memang kami rasa agak marah kepada kerajaan terdahulu, tetapi kami langsung tidak terfikir kerajaan baharu ini lebih teruk.

Kerajaan baharu menjanjikan bulan dan matahari kepada kami. Memang benar begitu. Waktu malam lampu jalan tidak dipasang, hanya mengharapkan cahaya bulan untuk menerangi jalan raya pada waktu malam.

Sampah sarap juga tidak dikutip dan taman-taman perumahan dipenuhi sampah. Kerajaan PAS mengatakan pendapatan kerajaan negeri meningkat, tetapi ke mana wang tersebut dibelanjakan?

Baru beberapa hari menjadi kerajaan, yang mereka pentingkan ialah menukar kereta resmi Exco kerajaan negeri. Mereka tidak selesa naik Proton Perdana, mereka lebih gemar naik Toyota Camry 2.4L 24V. Hebatkan?

Oleh itu wahai saudara-saudaraku di Sarawak Bumi Kenyalang, janganlah sudah terhantuk baru terngadah. Tidak ada gunanya sesalan, kalau nasi sudah menjadi bubur.

Harapan baru rakyat Saratok

SARATOK: Masyarakat luar bandar yang terlibat dalam bidang pertanian harus berusaha lebih gigih untuk meningkatkan taraf sosioekonomi mereka.

Menteri Muda Pemodenan Pertanian Datuk Peter Nyarok Entri berkata, kerajaan melalui agensi-agensi tertentu seperti Jabatan Pertanian, Lembaga Minyak Sawit Malaysia (MPOB), Pihak Berkuasa Kemajuan Pekebun Kecil Perusahaan Getah (RISDA) sedia membantu masyarakat tani dalam membangunkan diri.

“Kerajaan berhasrat untuk menjadikan bahagian (Betong) kita ini sebagai salah satu kawasan agropolitan menjelang tahun 2020 sebagai langkah untuk membasmi masalah miskin tegar.

“Dengan matlamat tersebut, kerajaan telah mewujudkan pelbagai peluang dan membantu masyarakat untuk membangun.

“Justeru, kita harus menjadikan diri sebagai warga yang peka serta bersaing dalam cara yang sihat untuk merebut peluang yang tersedia,” ujarnya.

Beliau berkata demikian semasa berucap pada Sesi Taklimat dan Pelancaran Kerja Ukur bagi Inisiatif Baru Tanah Hak Adat Bumiputera (NCR) di Rumah Chunggat Talit, Munggu Ubah Lempa, Krian Saratok, semalam.

Menurut Nyarok, terdapat tiga buah kawasan yang telah siap disukat perimeternya dan diwartakan di bahagian Betong yang termasuk dalam Pelan Kerja Ukur bagi Inisiatif Baru Tanah Hak Adat Bumiputera (NCR) pada tahun 2010.

Kawasan pertama meliputi Entebu, Selambong dan Bajau, kawasan kedua merangkumi Ensuri dan Serudit, manakala kawasan ketiga ialah Tanjung Sebekut, jelasnya.

Nyarok berkata, pada tahun ini kerajaan menambah peruntukan untuk menyukat tanah NCR di Sarawak sebanyak RM60 juta daripada RM20 juta pada tahun lepas.

“Usaha ini menunjukkan bahawa kerajaan tidak pernah berniat untuk mengambil tanah milik rakyat seperti yang dicanang oleh pihak pembangkang sebagai isu utama mereka menjelang pilihan raya.

“Dan, jika kita melihat dari semua sudut langkah-langkah yang diambil kerajaan pada masa kini, sudah jelas menggambarkan bahawa ia adalah untuk kebaikan rakyat.

“Semua ini dijalankan untuk menyelesaikan masalah mengenai isu tanah di negeri ini serta bagi mewujudkan satu sistem yang mudah difahami dan memberi manfaat kepada rakyat.”

Oleh yang demikian, katanya, sokongan dan kerjasama masyarakat amat penting terutama dalam memastikan setiap pembangunan yang dirancang kerajaan berjalan lancar.

“Kita harap apa jua masalah mengenai isu tanah dapat diselesaikan dengan cara yang baik dan teratur. Kita tidak mahu masyarakat, jika ada masalah, terus merujuk perkara tersebut kepada pihak pembangkang.

“Kita sedia maklum bahawa mereka (pembangkang) tidak pernah memberikan idea positif dalam menyelesaikan sesuatu masalah… apa yang mereka tahu hanyalah mencari kesalahan dan kekurangan orang lain tetapi tidak tahu cara menyelesaikannya,” kata Nyarok.

Sebaliknya, ujar beliau, masyarakat yang mempunyai masalah dalam isu tanah harus berjumpa dengan mana-mana jabatan atau badan kerajaan yang berkaitan untuk memberi khidmat masihat serta bantuan berhubung cara-cara penyelesaiannya.

Pada majlis sama, Pegawai Penguasa Tanah dan Survei Bahagian Betong, Peggy Ronin Edin berkata Jabatan Tanah dan Survei menjalankan kerja-kerja penyukatan tanah NCR untuk menyediakan satu jaminan bertulis kepada pemilik bahawa tanah tersebut adalah sah milik mereka.

“Bagi kawasan Betong, pendekatan yang diguna pakai dan dipersetujui oleh semua pihak untuk kita jalankan kerja penyukatan perimeter ialah berdasarkan corak sesuatu kawasan mengikut pentadbiran kuasa seorang penghulu.

“Kita harap apabila kerja penyukatan ini dijalankan nanti, tidak akan wujud sebarang masalah dan jika ada, kita mohon agar ia diselesaikan secepat mungkin agar kerja tidak tergendala dan berjalan mengikut jadual yang telah ditetapkan,” kata Peggy.

Turut hadir pada majlis tersebut ialah Pegawai Residen Bahagian Betong Romi Sigan, Pegawai DaerahSaratok Julahi Kadir, Penghulu Kadam yang mewakili kawasan Batang Budu, Krian Ulu dan Babang, Penghulu Latan selaku wakil Batang Kabo, Penghulu Ali bagi kawasan Awik, Penghulu George Manggie untuk kawasan Seblak Ulu serta kira-kira 150 orang penduduk setempat.

Ada cahaya di hujung terowong?

Kunjungan PM ke Saratok janjikan pembangunan

2011/04/12

SARATOK (Sri Aman): Bagaikan tidak percaya! Itu yang bermain di fikiran sebahagian kira-kira 3,000 penduduk bandar kecil ini ketika menyaksikan kehadiran buat pertama kalinya Datuk Seri Najib Razak, yang melakukan tinjauan mesra, di sini, pagi semalam.

Helikopter, yang membawa Najib dari Kuching, mendarat di padang daerah Saratok, pada jam 9.30 pagi dan disambut Menteri Muda Pertanian Sarawak Datuk Peter Nyarok Entrie, yang juga calon Barisan Nasional (BN) bagi kawasan Krian dan Abdullah Wahab Aziz, calon BN bagi DUN Kalaka pada pilihan raya negeri Sarawak 16 April ini.

Perdana Menteri yang kelihatan ceria, mengambil kesempatan bersalaman dan bermesra dengan penduduk tempatan sambil bertanyakan khabar masyarakat yang majoritinya tinggal di kawasan kampung tradisional serta rumah panjang.

Beliau turut dilihat sempat berhenti di perhentian bas dan singgah di kedai makan di tengah bandar ini bagi beramah mesra dengan penduduk. Kawasan Saratok mempunyai kira-kira penduduk 40,000 penduduk, kebanyakannya penanam padi dan pekebun kecil kelapa sawit.

Najib yang berucap selama lima minit kepada kira-kira 1,000 hadirin di sebuah taman rekreasi di tengah pekan Saratok, memberi jaminan masa depan penduduk di kawasan itu akan terjamin di bawah kerajaan BN yang sudah berjasa lebih 50 tahun kepada negara ini.

Pada majlis itu juga, Najib mengumumkan kerajaan sudah meluluskan pembinaan jalan baru menghubungkan jalan utama ke Ulu Awit serta Loji Air Sungai Krian yang dilaksanakan menerusi Rancangan Malaysia Ke-10.

Kemudian, Najib meneruskan kunjungan ke Majlis Pemimpin Bersama Rakyat Kawasan Beting Maro di Kampung Beladin, tidak jauh dari sini.
Di KUCHING, sebelum itu Najib mengumumkan peruntukan sebanyak RM300,000 bagi membaik pulih dan menaik taraf kemudahan di Pasar Komuniti Stutong di Tabuan Jaya termasuk melengkapkan kemudahan kamera litar tertutup serta jaringan internet WiFi, yang menggembirakan kira-kira 550 pemilik gerai.

Peniaga di situ bangun awal pagi dan menuju ke pasar, tempat mereka mencari rezeki, meskipun bahagian pasar basah di situ ditutup untuk pembersihan semalam.

 

Harapan baru rakyat Sarawak.

 

Manifesto BN di PRU Sarawak ke-10 dan Harapan Rakyat


  1. Memelihara keamanan, keharmonian, kestabilan dan tadbir urus yang baik untuk Sarawak (Bukannya untuk ahli-ahli politik dan kroni-kroni mereka sahaja)
  2. Memelihara alam sekitar (mengurangkan aktiviti pembalakan?), budaya, warisan dan kepercayaan semua kaum.
  3. Menyediakan peluang pekerjaan untuk semua (Supaya kira-kira 3000 ribu anak muda kaum Iban yang merantau ke Johor dan seluruh Semenanjung serta yang berada di luar negara kembali dan bekerja di SCORE?)
  4. Menjana lebih banyak peluang perniagaan untuk semua (Selepas ini akan ada kedai runcit dan restoran milik orang Iban di Pasar Saratok?)
  5. Menyediakan peluang pendidikan untuk anak-anak kita (YB Krian perlu mendesak kerajaan supaya menubuhkan Yayasan Pendidikan Ulu Krian, kerana ramai anak-anak Ulu Krian yang tercicir dalam pelajaran kerana masalah kemiskinan keluarga)
  6. Menjamin hak rakyat ke atas tanah mereka dipelihara. (Selepas ini tidak ada ukur keliling lagi, mereka terus ukur dan bagi land title kepada pemilik tanah?)
  7. Meningkatkan mutu dan kualiti hidup golongan yang miskin dan kurang bernasib baik (Terima kasih, tetapi bagaimana caranya? Sebab kalau mengharapkan perkongsian tak pintar dengan syarikat-syarikat perladangan, termasuk SALCRA atau FERCRA mutu dan kualiti hidup golongan yang miskin dan kurang bernasib baik tidak akan terbela, malah makin susah sebab berkuli di tanah sendiri dengan gaji RM8.00 sehari, tetapi syarikat-syarikat perladangan untung berjuta-juta, rakyat yang kononnya mahu dibantu masih hidup kais pagi makan pagi, kais petang makan petang)
  8. Memastikan mutu jalan raya, bekalan air dan elektrik, khidmat kesihatan dan perumahan sentiasa dipertingkatkan. (Baik, tetapi jangan tunggu lama-lama, rakyat dah nak muntah menunggu terlalu lama)
  9. Mempunyai rancangan jelas untuk memastikan Sarawak berada di landasan ke arah menjadi negeri terkaya di Malaysia. (Mudah-mudahan seluruh rakyat Sarawak juga turut menikmati kemakmuran negeri terkaya ini, janganlah nanti hanya para YB dan keluarga mereka sahaja yang kaya raya, rakyat biasa kayap)

Apabila melihat manifesto ini, seolah-olah ada cahaya lampu di hujung terowong.  Akan adakah cahaya itu?

 

Nama penemu kita senentang bala Pengari BN tu?

Keempat-empat pemimpin parti komponen BN Sarawak akan mempertahankan kerusi masing-masing – Ketua Menteri Tan Sri Abdul Taib Mahmud (PBB) mempertahankan DUN “Balingian” di Mukah, manakala presiden SUPP Tan Sri Dr George Chan (DUN Piasau).
Presiden PRS Datuk Seri Dr James Masing pula mempertahankan DUN “Baleh” di Hulu Rajang manakala presiden SPDP Datuk Seri William Mawan, mempertahankan DUN “Pakan” di Julau.

Manakala mereka yang digugurkan daripada senarai calon kali ini ialah Speaker DUN Sarawak, Asfia Awang Nasar dan dua timbalan menteri – Dr Soon Choon Teck dan Larry Sng.

Berikut adalah senarai penuh calon BN bagi 71 kerusi yang dipertandingkan.(* menunjukkan muka baru)
N1. OPAR __RANUM ANAK MINA (SUPP)
N2. TASIK BIRU __DATUK PETER NANSIAN ANAK NGUSIE (SPDP)
N3. TANJUNG DATU __TAN SRI ADENAN SATEM (PBB)
N4. PANTAI DAMAI__ DR ABDUL RAHMAN JUNAIDI (PBB)
N5. DEMAK LAUT__ DR HAZALAND ABANG HIPNI(PBB)*
N6. TUPONG__ DATUK DAUD ABDUL RAHMAN (PBB)
N7. SAMARIANG__ SHARIFAH HASIDAH SAYEED AMAN GHAZALI (PBB)
N8. SATOK __DATUK AMAR ABANG JOHARI TUN ABANG OPENG (PBB)
N9. PADUNGAN__ SIM KIANG CHIOK (SUPP)*
N10. PENDING __PROF DR SIM KUI HIAN (SUPP)*
N11. BATU LINTANG__ SIH HUA TONG (SUPP)*
N12. KOTA SENTOSA __DATUK ALFRED YAP (SUPP)
N13. BATU KAWAH__ TAN JOO PHOI (SUPP)
N14. ASAJAYA__ ABDUL KARIM RAHMAN HAMZAH (PBB)
N15. MUARA TUANG __DATUK SERI MOHAMAD ALI MAHMUD (PBB)
N16. BENGOH __DR BELEK @ JERIP ANAK SUSIL (SUPP)
N17. TARAT __ROLAND SAGAH WEE INN (PBB)
N18. TEBEDU__ DATUK SERI MICHAEL MANYIN ANAK JAWONG (PBB)
N19. KEDUP __MARTIN BEN (PBB)*
N20. SADONG JAYA __AIDEL LARIWOO (PBB)*
N21. SIMUNJAN __MOHD NARODEN MAJAIS (PBB)
N22. SEBUYAU __NARAWI (PBB)
N23. LINGGA __SIMOI PERI (PBB)
N24. BETING MARO __RAZALI GHAPOR (PBB)*
N25. BALAI RINGIN __SNOWDAN LAWAN (PRS)
N26. BUKIT BEGUNAN__ MONG ANAK DAGANG (PRS)
N27. SIMANGGANG __DATUK FRANCIS HARDEN ANAK HOLLIS (SUPP)
N28. ENGKILILI __DR JOHNICHAL RAYONG (SUPP)
N29. BATANG AI __MALCOM MUSSEN ANAK LAMOH (PRS)
N30. SARIBAS __RAZI SITAM (PBB)*
N31. LAYAR __TAN SRI DR ALFRED JABU (PBB)
N32. BUKIT SABAN __ROBERT LAWSON CHUAT ANAK VINCENT (PBB)
N33. KALAKA __ABDUL WAHAB AZIZ (PBB)
N34. KRIAN __DATUK PETER NYAROK ANAK ENTRIE (SPDP)
N35. BELAWAI __DATUK LEN TALIF SALLEH (PBB)*
N36. SEMOP __DOLAH SAIDOL (PBB)*
N37. DARO __MURNI SUHAILI (PBB)
N38. JEMORENG __ABU SEMAN JAHWIE (PBB)
N39. REPOK __DATUK DAVID TENG (SUPP)
N40. MERADONG __LING KIE KING (SUPP)*
N41. PAKAN __DATUK SERI WILLIAM MAWAN (SPDP)
N42. MELUAN __WONG ANAK JUDAT (SPDP)
N43. NGEMAH __ALEXANDER VINCENT (PRS)
N44. MACHAN __DATUK GRAMONG JUNA (PBB)
N45. BUKIT __ASSEK CHIENG BUONG TOON (SUPP)*
N46. DUDONG DATUK __TIONG THAI KING (SUPP)*
N47. BAWANG ASSAN __DATUK SRI WONG SOON KOH (SUPP)
N48. PELAWAN __VINCENT GOH CHUNG SIONG (SUPP)
N49. NANGKA __DR ANNUAR RAPEE (PBB)*
N50. DALAT __DATIN FATIMAH ABDULLAH (PBB)
N51. BALINGIAN __TAN SRI ABDUL TAIB MAHMUD (PBB)
N52. TAMIN __JOSEPH MAUH ANAK IKEH (PRS)
N53. KAKUS __JOHN SIKIE ANAK TAYAI (PRS)
N54. PELAGUS __STANLEY UNJA (PRS)*
N55. KATIBAS __AMBROSE BLIKAU ANAK ENTURAN (PBB)
N56. BALEH __DATUK SERI DR JAMES MASING (PRS)
N57. BELAGA__ LIWAN LAGANG (PRS)
N58. JEPAK __DATUK TALIB ZULPILIP (PBB)
N59. KIDURONG __HENRY LING (SUPP)*
N60. KEMENA __DR STEPHEN RUNDI ANAK UTOM (PBB)
N61. BEKENU __ROSEY YUNUS (SPDP)
N62. LAMBIR __RIPIN LAMAT (PBB)*
N63. PIASAU __TAN SRI DR GEORGE CHAN (SUPP)
N64. PUJUT __ANDY CHIA CHU FATT (SUPP)
N65. SENADIN __DATUK LEE KIM SHIN (SUPP)
N66. MARUDI __SYLVESTER ENTRIE ANAK MURAN (SPDP)
N67. TELANG __USAN DENNIS NGAU (PBB)*
N68. BUKIT KOTA __DR ABDUL RAHMAN ISMAL (PBB)
N69. BATU DANAU __PALU @ PAULUS ANAK GUMBANG (SPDP)
N70. BA’KELALAN __akan diumumkan) …
N71. BUKIT SARI __DATUK AMAR AWANG TENGAH ALI HASSAN (PBB)

Pengari SNAP enggau sekeda komen tentang sida

Nama enda ditusun nitihka lumur penuduk

1.Edwin Dundang (Marudi)

2. Kebing Wan (Telang Usan)

3. Augustine Liom (Machan)

4. Anthony Liman Sujang (Krian)

5. Dayrell Walter Entrie (Bukit Saban)

6. Stephen Sigar (Opar)

7. Frankie Jurem Nyumboi (Tasik Biru)

8. Richard Peter Munai (Bengoh)

9. Sylvester Belayong (Kedup)

10. Abang Othman Abang Gom (Lingga)

11. Dan Giang (Balai Ringgin)

12. Joe Unggang (Layar)

13. Tedong Gunda alias Jamal Abdullah (Pakan)

14. George Lagong (Baleh)

15. John Bampa (Belaga)

16. Johari Bujang (Lambir)

17. Simijie Janting (Engkilili)

18. Ateng Jeros (Tarat)

19. Anthony Nais (Tebedu)

20. Ivanhoe Anthony Belon (Bukit Begunan)

21. Bakin Umpa (Meluan)

22. Alexius Douglas (Ngemah)

23. Munan John Andrew (Tamin)

24. Adang Jirau (Kakus)

25. Douglas Alau (Pelagus)

26. Toh Heng San (Katibas)

27. Rosnah Mohamad (Jepak)

28. Lawrence Cosmas Sundang (Batu Danau)

 

Feel free to contribute any information you might have on any of the above candidates. As they are willing to offer themselves as candidates, then they must also be willing to submit themselves to the scrutiny of the public who will eventually vote for them. Or not.

Leave your information in the comment section.

Posted by Antu Beduru at 10:33 PM

6 comments:

Anonymous said…

10. Abang Othman Abang Gom (Lingga) – Not a Dayak majority area. Abang Othman was a PKR member until last week before he resigned to join SNAP because he was not successful in getting a PKR candidacy. FROG.

16. Johari Bujang (Lambir) – Not a Dayak majority area either.

25. Toh Heng San (Katibas) – Chinese standing in a Dayak majority area?

27. Rosnah Mohamad (Jepak) – Not a Dayak majority area. Rosnah was a PKR member before she resigned to join SNAP because she was never considered for a PKR candidacy. FROGGESS.

What happened to SNAP’s “umbrella to unite the Dayaks?” One minute tell the public it’s a Dayak party to unite all Dayaks and fight for Dayak rights, and the next minute it’s open to all.

Cakap tak serupa bikin.

March 26, 2011 2:03 AM

 

Anonymous said…

There are 29 Dayak seats. Out of 28 seats listed above, 3 are not Dayak majority areas – Lingga, Lambir, Jepak.

Which means SNAP is only contesting in 25 Dayak seats.

So SNAP isn’t contesting in Ba Kelalan, Batang Ai, Simanggang, and Kemena.

March 26, 2011 2:17 AM

 

Anonymous said…

1. Edwin Dundang (Marudi): He can call on all the gods of Borneo but he won’t have a chance in hell to win.

2. Kebing Wan (Telang Usan): He has stood in every election since Malaysia was formed and his majority has been reducing steadily. Will he call on the gods of Borneo for help?

3. Augustine Liom (Machan): Chief Justice who never lifted a finger for the Dayaks in NCR land disputes. Even as a High Court Judge, he was rumoured to have been easily bought.

9. Sylvester Belayong (Kedup): Lost his deposit in 2006.

11. Dan Giang (Balai Ringgin): Campaign manager for Cobbold John in the 2006 elections. Cobbold lost his deposit.

12. Joe Unggang (Layar): Sacked by the bank. Why?

14. George Lagong (Baleh): Half-brother of Datuk Sng Chee Hua. “Mar agi meli belachan ari meli undi Iban.”

15. John Bampa (Belaga): Compromised himself after supposedly brokering a deal between a logging company and the NCR landowners. The landowners now don’t trust him.

March 26, 2011 2:32 AM

 

Anonymous said…

toh heng san said he is pulling out.

March 28, 2011 12:34 AM

 

Anonymous said…

Be careful to select the representative. There are some truly genuine and ofcoz many more garbage who only strive for their own political agenda. Most of them are ex-BN man. Go for young blood, new faces, new way of thinking, new struggle, who did not only speak for himself. Ex-BN man cannot make any changes, they are same all the way. Their mindset will never change. If they win, they still perform the same way before.

March 28, 2011 8:58 AM

 

Anonymous said…

Special Branch with an independent body conducted lie detector tests on candidates for elections.It is understood that the lie detector equipment went bonkers as the first two candidates , one from the ruling party and one from the opposition took their tests.Both were liars.
So the Elections Commission now ask voters to look at the eyes of candidates when they are speaking. If their eyes shift all the time and not focused when delivering speeches – Liars ! When they shake hands,look them in the eyes – If their eyes move away from yours – Forget about voting that person. Another Liar

March 28, 2011 9:00 AM

 

Bala raban PKR ka ke Nanga Telik pagila

KUALA LUMPUR-13 /3/2011- Baru udah nerima berita madahka bala raban PKR ka datai ngagai Rumah Kayan, Nanga Telik pagila.  Nitihka berita ka apin tentu terang Iban ari Nanga Budu, ka dipelaba deka bediri ngelaban YB ka lama mega antara bala PKR ka dijangka bisi datai.  Ari jauh tu aku aku meragam baka ni enda gaya kitai serumah nyambut penatai sida tu laban ba pengawa bepilih ka udah-udah kitai serumah nadai kala ngasaka ati parti perintah.  Aku enggai melaba ka berita sengapa laban jauh ditu enda meda nama utai nyadi.  Nya alai, udah penemuai sida tu ila tau ga ngirumka berita ngagai blog Iban Universal tu.

YB veteran agi ka ngarika DUN Krian.

Nambahka nya, ari berita ka selebubu ngapa, bisi madahka YB ka diatu agi mengkang ka nanka penuduk iya.  Nyangka apin tembu ati mai pemansang ngagai rakyat Ulu Krian tauka bisi juluk ati bukai kini, tang bisi mega berita madahka iya ka diganti orang bukai ari Parti SPDP, kitai di Ulu Krian mega. Nama pengelebih sida tu ila, enti dibanding enggau YB ka diatu?

Sapa-sapa pengari kitai Ulu Krian?

  1. Kala kita meda sida tu ngetu tauka bejalai ngagai rumah kitai sebedau tu.  Maya rabat/nyengai antu tauka pengawa bukai?
  2. Kala sida tu nanya kitai serumah maya ka bepansa ba pasar Saratok.  Kala mai ngirup tauka kala meda sida tu ngayanka diri sebedau tu?
  3. Nemu sida tu kitai serumah bisi penanggul ba ai paip 10 taun tu udah?

YB Krian silih beganti.

YB silih beganti, tang bedau ga pendiau sekeda kitai baka ka suba.  Pengawa bepilih ka sekali tu nyangka enda jauh bida ari taun-taun ka udah.  Pekara ka dibantaika dalam kimpin nyangka agi hal jalai raya ka lama udah enda ditar, elektrik ka baka ka udah ka datai tang nadai temu semaya ni maya rayat Ulu Krian ensepi penyamai bisi elektrik. Pia mega, di Nanga Telik empu penusah ketegal nadai ai paip ka meruan lama amat udah besarang dalam runding kitai serumah.

Kelimpah ari pekara nya tadi, pekara pasal penatai pemisi rakyat Ulu Krian enggau Skim SALCRA ka enda mai penguntung ngagai rakyat mega dipelabaka antara pekara ka kena sebut dalam kimpin tu ila.

Kena ngujungka jaku, ari jauh tu aku meri selamat nerima penatai sida tu lalu berandau meh enggau manah, anang nyeruga politik ka dalam-dalam, perundingka pendiau enggau pengidup kitai ka dudi ari ila. Mupuk aku.

Tuan Tuai bagi kedua

PROGRESS AND THE PROGRESS SOCIETY

IN JANUARY 1954 Wilson Went on leave to Scotland. The months since the significant Community Development Committee meeting in the summer of 1953 had been full of activity. There were now 400 families in the Progress Society, and plans had been carefully worked out to distribute fairly the labour needed to complete the buildings asked for at the inaugural meeting in June. One man from each family spent fourteen days in the jungle cutting wood and bringing it back. V/hen all this was done each family gave three days on the Scheme site to help with the actual building. Now the roofs were on the dispensary, the shop, the adult school, the mess-room and the dormitories. This part of the bargain had been fulfilled.

The more urgent matter of staff had not. John Wilson had made efforts to recruit local young men for the positions which the financial estimates now made provision for—two teachers, an agricultural assistant, a co—operative assistant and a medical dresser. There was no lack of applicants. Some of them were tried out, but none came up to standard. ft was not surprising. Wilson expected and was receiving from the Ibans a response whose strength was based on a bond of respect and common purpose. No young Chinese or Malay from the towns of Sibu, Saratok or Kuching could possibly survive the pressures of the situation. Even had they been good at the job—and most were not—the position of third party in what was at this moment an intense affair between John Wilson and the Budu Ibans would have been impossible. One after another they were found smoking in the classroom or clad in smart bazaar clothes, or simply failing in their duty, and fired.

The knowledge that it must ultimately be Britons, young men such as he had known in the Royal Air Force or in the Corps at Campbelltown, had probably been with John Wilson subconsciously a long time. Now it had come to the surface. He told no ones, but he was determined to return from this leave with a qualified male nurse and an engineer—agriculturalist.

Of course he would never have got government permission to rccruit expatriate officers to help him: the modest salaries which appeared in the estimates were for local personnel. Apart from the matter of money, it was highly unlikely that at this stage the government would have appreciated the idea of Wilson setting an expatriate team of his own, outside all control, in the jungle. So advertisements in his own name went into the appropriate newspapers and magazines in Scotland asking for young men to come out to Sarawak and help the Sea Ibans. And John Wilson’s friends and relations, as was to happen increasingly in the future, were asked to rally to the cause: to act as box numbers, to process and send on replies to his address in Glasgow, to acknowledge and dispatch forms to every applicant.

This was no light task, for there were hundreds. Suddenly, contrary to the experience of official bodies overseas, who were finding it very difficult to recruit young men, John Wilson was overwhelmed with offers to come and help. Of course there were many who could be ruled out on their letter of application alone. For those that remained Wilson had a form specially produced which they were asked to fill in. If they had been intrigued by the advertisement the form was even more fascinating. It asked questions such as, “Are you prepared to eat rice at every meal?”“Are you prepared never to go to a cinema, see a shop or have any kind of entertainment at all for the two or three years of your tour?”“Can you walk five, six, eight hours through the jungle, and back again if need be without any rest?”“Are you ready to sleep on the ground? Live in primitive conditions? Work twenty- four hours a day, seven days a week?” and—for no very obvious reason—”Can you ride a motorbike?”

The questionnaire reduced the list of applicants still further, but there yet remained sixty young men to bc interviewed. Two of those were Thomas McBride of Maybole in Ayrshire and Arthur Thwaites, whose home was in Warrington but who was working in Edinburgh.

Arthur Thwaites was reading the Nursing Mirror during his off-duty period in a mental hospital in Edinburgh when he saw the advertisement. It intrigued him, because he had never heard of Sarawah am] had no idea where it was. He was twenty— five, and in an uncharacteristically light—hearted moment he answered it.

Toni McBride, aged twenty—two and working in the Accountancy Department f Scottish Agricultural Industries, had no idea where Sarawak was either, and he misread Sea Ibans for S.E.A.—South-East Asia—-which was not so far out except that his mind was full of Kanakas, South Sea Islanders and infinitely remote coral beaches. He was young and restless, so he sat down and answered the advertisement and then went off to the public library to find out where Sarawak really was.

Both young men got back the form to fill in, and, while it did not add much to their knowledge of what they might be asked to do, it certainly fired their imaginations.

Arthur Thwaites was the first to get a letter asking him to meet Wilson for an interview in Edinburgh. He went in some trepidation, which grew as the interview drew on. He had intended to tell Wilson that he had not been serious when he replied, and to apologise for any trouble that he had caused. But as Wilson talked, describing Budu, the Iban people, the gradual building up of confidence, the beginnings of the dispensary and the desperate need for medical help, Arthur Thwaites became more and more absorbed. As Wilson began to stretch before him the possibilities—raising the level of a whole community by common effort, bringing the young men to an educational standard where they could in turn lead their own people into an independent future—he found himself captured by the breadth of this vision, and even considering the likelihood that he might, after all, accept an offer.

He was fascinated by the man in front of him, who had in turn been struck by the resemblance in Arthur Thwaites to his own younger brother. When Joim Wilson drew breath and looked at him in a way that could only mean, “Well, are you coming with me?”, Arthur, already lost, stammered out something about the staff shortage in his hospital.

Wilson said, “You may think you have a staff shortage, but in Budu there is no one.” There seemed then to Arthur Thwaites only one question which really needed an answer. He asked it. Did the people themselves really want this development and need his help? It was a question after Wilson’s heart. He answered it—and as he spoke Arthur Thwaites knew that he was totally committed to the Ibans.

Tom McBride came up for an interview on a miserable evening in early spring. Wilson had seen dozens of young men by then, and had begun to despair of finding his second helper. Tonight he had two to see, almost the last on the list. They came in together out of the rain and gloom, one of them tall, splendidly fair, with a wary, inquisitive look.

They sat down to talk. Wilson told them of the work, hard living, difficult communications, non—existent roads, many uncertainties, the Iban character with its stubborn individualism, and the meagre salary—£3o a month, with no allowances for travel, housing, family or anything else. He noticed that the fair young man was not carried away by the picture he painted, but asked direct, interested questions which indicated that he on his side was testing Wilson. As they talked the conviction grew in Wilson’s mind that this might be the person he wanted, but he was chary of making a quick decision. Unlike Arthur Thwaites, who was a qualified male nurse, Tom McBride had no special qualifications, though his work in accountancy had a tenuous connection with agriculture and he had been a transport engineer while doing his National Service. Wilson needed to be certain that this was a wise choice, not only for the sake of Budu and the work, but also because the passage money to Kuching was coming out of his own pocket, and perhaps the passage money back again if the government of Sarawak did not agree to afait accompli. He wanted to be sure that at least it would be spent on the right man.

He came down to Ayr to meet Tom McBride in his home surroundings, to see where he worked and talk to his friends. There was by now a rapport between the two men, a feeling that they were right for each other. Tom took Wilson to see his mother, a homely, cheerful Scotswoman, and the moment he met her Wilson felt convinced that her son was the man for Budu. He offered thejob, and it was accepted. Mrs McBride, who had lived all her life in one small town, had taken a shrewd look at the man who was taking her son away, and decided that he was to be trusted.

Arthur Thwaites had not quite known how he was going to break to his mother the news that he wanted to go off to the ends of the earth. So he slept on it, and at 7 a.m. next morning he telephoned to Warrington. Mrs  Thwaites answered the phone. She had never heard of Sarawak either, and at first did not know what her son was talking about. What she did know was that, though he would do them the courtesy of asking their opinion, he was likely in the end to act exactly as he wanted. Arthur heard his mother shouting up the stairs to his father, “Arthur wants to go to Sarawak, dear,” as if he had said he would like to go to Glasgow for the day. After a moment she came back to the phone and said, “Well, clear, if it’s what you want we don’t mind.”

Both these young men were aware of the circumstances of their recruitment and the doubt that hung over their acceptance in Sarawak. Neither felt any qualms or hesitations. Their confidence in Wilson, though they had known him only a matter of weeks, was absolute. Nor did the conditions of employment, the meagre salary, the isolation, give them a moment’s doubt. It was as though magnet and iron filings had sprung together to adhere with a devotion and loyalty which never wavered. When Wilson recruited Arthur  Thwaites and Tom McBride he created a team which was to work in harmony for fourteen creative years.

Nor were they young men without minds of their own. Arthur Thwaites, who looked like a ministering angel, had a core of steel in his personality, and once he had made up his mind on an issue involving moral judgements it was impossible to move him. Tom McBride, with the physique and colouring of a northern god, had a quiet, unshakeable determination and a shrewd intelligence. He was to prove a pillar of strength in times of crisis. In the choosing of them Wilson showed the same concern for the whole man that he had already demonstrated at Budu. He made a point, so far as possible, of meeting the families of his new colleagues, and involving them in the Budu story in a way that was to bear valuable fruit later on. It was part of his genius, and a powerful contribution towards the success of the enterprise, that Arthur Thwaites and Tom McBride sailed for Sarawak supported by parents were already involved in the contribution that their son were going to make to Iban development.

They met for the first time on the ship. Both possessed great outward self—control, but inwardly they must have been filled th thrilling anticipation. The five weeks’ voyage, however, was not simply to be pleasure; Wilson had a training course worked out, and from the first day they sat down to learn Iban. He also gave them intensive briefing on Iban life and customs, and no doubt of the policies and administration of the government of Sarawak. He was determined very early to start them on a hard life where time was never on their side. He was eleven years older than Arthur Thwaites and fourteen years older than Tom McBride, but in the circumstances of close comradeship this gap in age could and did disappear: what did not alter was the respect, tinged with awe, in which they held him during all the years they knew each other, sharing isolation, hardship, triumph and disaster.

The first month at sea was blissful, but as Malaya drew near Wilson began to get cold feet. The sharp edges of his differences with the government of Sarawak had been blunted during his months away from Kuchmg, but now he became daily more aware of them again. This time any friction involved not only himself, but the whole future of the two young men who had given up their careers to throw in their lot with him. Lying in his bunk at night he began to visualised the anger with which his arrival, accompanied by two unknown, unaccredited, unrequested expatriate staff, might be greeted. They could be refused entry, put straight back on to the ship and sent home. He might succeed eventually in getting his way, but much unpleasant wrangling could take place first, effectively souring for them their introduction to the country. He was determined that this must not happen, and decided to leave the ship at Port Sweetenham in Malaya and fly on alone to Kuching, thus gaining five days’ grace before Arthur and Mac arrived.

On April he arrived in Kuching to face one of the most significant battles of his career. Of course, as he had long ago discovered, if the surprise is total and the troops are already swarm—ing through the brejch, then the enemy is half—routed before the engagement is well begun. if in addition the opposition has been brought up in a tradition of gentlemanly orthodoxy, the single— minded skirmisher can often outflank and pick off his opponents one by one. Wilson was an adept skirmisher.

He walked into a hornets’ nest. There were many Europeans in Kuching who felt that this time he had gone too far, and would gladly have left him to stew in his own juice, making what terms he could with his two unwanted compatriots. The Community Development Committee was affronted at the insult to its authority and the usurping of its functions. They felt themselves being blackmailed, and resented it. The one exception was the Director of Medical Services—and for a curious reason. His Department had also been advertising in Britain for medical personnel, offering good salaries and extra benefits in the way of housing, travel, children’s holidays, etc. They had received no replies at all. Now here was John Wilson not only saying that he actually had a young male nurse arriving by the next boat, but also indicating that this young man had been selected from some hundreds of applicants. To his great credit the D.M.S. admired Wilson’s enterprise, and was prepared to commit his Department to paying Arthur Thwaites’ salary.

With this concession the battle was already almost over. It was more difficult to present Tom McBride in a   favourable professional light, but John Wilson put him forward as a teacher. There was opposition in the Education Department, jealous for their own prerogatives in the hiring and firing of staff, but the decision was finally swung in Wilson’s favoured by the Chairman of the Community Development Committee, the Acting Chief Secretary, who maintained, curiously echoing the argument of the Iban elders when Wilson first went up to Budu, that it was not possible to turn back two young men who had come so far and who were after all sorely needed.

So when Arthur Thwaites and Tom McBride landed on Kuching wharf they were met by John Wilson with official contracts already drawn up and waiting for their signatures. He had won the battle, but there were many people to whom the victory did not endear him. sons were going to make to Iban development.

They met for the first time on the ship. Both possessed great outward self-control, but inwardly they must have been filled with thrilling anticipation. The five weeks’ voyage, however, was not simply to be pleasure; Wilson had a training course worked out, and from the first day they sat down to learn Iban. He also gave them intensive briefing on Iban life and customs, and no doubt on the policies and administration of the government of Sarawak. He was determined very early to start them on a hard life where time was never on their side. He was eleven years older than Arthur Thwaites and fourteen years older than Tom McBride, but in the circumstances of close comradeship this gap in age could and did disappear: what did not alter was the respect, tinged with awe, in which they held him during all the years they knew each other, sharing isolation, hardship, triumph and disaster.

The first month at sea was blissful, but as Malaya drew near Wilson began to get cold feet. The sharp edges of his differences with the government of Sarawak had been blunted during his months away from Kuching, but now he became daily more aware of them again. This time any friction involved not only

elf, but the whole future of the two young men who had up their careers to throw in their lot with him. Lying in his at night he began to visualise the anger with which ival, accompanied by two unknown, unaccredited, unreexpatriate staff, might be greeted. They could be refused Ut straight back on to the ship and sent home. He might eventually in getting his way, but much unpleasant could take place first, effectively souring for them their :loan to the country. He was determined that this must not and decided to leave the ship at Port Sweetenham in and fly on alone to Kuching, thus gaining five days’ grace Atrthur and Mac arrived.

April he arrived in Kuching to face one of the most battles of his career. Of course, as he had long ago if the surprise is total and the troops are already swarmring through  the breach, then the enemy of half-routed before the enggagement is well begun. If in addition the opposition has been brought up in a tradition of gentlemanly orthodoxy, the single- minded skirmisher can often outflank and pick off his opponents one by one. Wilson was an adept skirmisher.

He walked into a hornets’ nest. There were many Europeans in Kuching who felt that this time he had gone too far, and would gladly have left him to stew in his own juice, making what terms he could with his two unwanted compatriots. The Community Development Committee was affronted at the insult to its authority and the usurping of its functions. They felt themselves being blackmailed, and resented it. The one exception was the Director of Medical Services—and for a curious reason. His Department had also been advertising in Britain for medical personnel, offering good salaries and extra benefits in the way of housing, travel, children’s holidays, etc. They had received no replies at all. Now here was John Wilson not only saying that he actually had a young male nurse arriving by the next boat, but also indicating that this young man had been selected from some hundreds of applicants. To his great credit the D.M.S. admired Wilson’s enterprise, and was prepared to commit his Department to paying Arthur Thwaites’ salary.

With this concession the battle was already almost over. It was more difficult to present Tom McBride in a favourable professional light, but John Wilson put him forward as a teacher. There was opposition in the Education Department, jealous for their own prerogatives in the hiring and firing of staff, but the decision was finally swung in Wilson’s favour by the Chairman of the Community Development Committee, the Acting Chief Secretary, who maintained, curiously echoing the argument of the Iban elders when Wilson first went up to Budu, that it was not possible to turn back two young men who had come so far and who were after all sorely needed.

So when Arthur Thwaites and Tom McBride landed on Kuching wharf they were met by John Wilson with official contracts already drawn up and waiting for their signatures. He had won the battle, but there were many people to whom the victory did not endear him. The three went straight up to Budu, with no time to take their bearings, shop, or meet any other Britons. Of course Budu was their goal, and Wilson himself had now been three months away and was anxious to get back. ft was also, however, policy on his part to protect his young men from the fleshpots, and perhaps the subversion, of the capital until they were in a position to judge for themselves against a background of knowledge. So they boarded the launch and arrived at Saratok the next afternoon. Messages had already gone up-river to Budu for some of the people to come down and meet them there.

The night spent in Saratok was the first contact with reality for Arthur and Mac. Remembering his own experience nearly sixteen months before, Wilson understood something of their feelings when they saw the place in which they were to sleep among the rats on the dirty floor, going out to relieve themselves amid the clouds of bluebottles which arose buzzing from piles of wormy faces. Nothing they had been told had brought home to them the conditions behind the romantic façade, and he could see the shock in their faces. To help lighten their spirits he told them that Budu, though more primitive than the small township, had the advantages of the country; it was clean, and bathing in the river was possible.

The situation was retrieved by the arrival of Empeni driving a fine long boat which flew proudly at its stern a yellow flag with a red lion rampant! The warm smile of welcome on a Iban face, the flaunting Royal Standard of Scotland displayed all unwittingly, raised Arthur and Mac’s spirits, and a summons to the District Office to receive a reprimand for flying a forbidden flag did not depress them again. Only Empeni, deprived of his boat’s decoration for a reason that he did not understand, was difficult to pacify, and no doubt considered the rather more common Union Jack no adequate substitute.

Early next morning they embarked on the canoe, along with the baggage, of which there was a good deal as Wilson had not been idle during his days in the capital. The water was iow and the boat heavily laden, so at Kakiwong all who could be spared had to walk.

Mac and Arthur had little idea of what the actual physical conditions of the jungle might be like, and many of their notions had, inevitably, been gleaned from films or magazines, or the stories told them by well—intentioned friends delighted to appear omniscient. Arthur’s nursing colleagues had regaled him with many tales of the diseases of the Ibans, and he had acquired a large number of technical books to help him. Now, faced with the possibility that he might, as he imagined, be called upon at any moment to deal with an unknown illness, he insisted on taking all the books with him in his rucksack. Mac, on the other hand, travelled light, but he could not rid himself of the remembrance of a film once seen, The African Queen, in which the hero, working in a tropical river, became covered with leeches. Each time they had to cross water—and this was very frequently—his skin crawled and he wondered how he was going to survive.

Once again Lium, the elderly Iban who had first taken Wilson up to Rumah Gelau, was the guide. Budu lay eight hours away, and each man carried Ills own baggage. It was the custom, and the Ibans admired the ability to carry heavy loads across country: in any case pride would have prevented the young men from showing signs of strain. Lium travelled slowly, recognising that the strangers would need all their strength, but Wilson was anxious to press on and make sure of reaching Budu that night. He had given this as the date Ofl which he would return, and he set great store always on fulfilling any promise. He knew, too, that there would be a reception prepared with food and rice wine, and he did not want to disappoint the people.

In spite of the difficulties and the strenuous demands being made on them, Mac and Arthur were going well. However, at Rumah Bruang, a longhouse of forty families, there came a hold-up. The house had prepared food and rice wine, and it would have been ungrateful and impolite not to stop and eat it. Besides, the people wanted news.

This first actual contact with a longhouse was far from being the romantic meeting that the two young men had foreseen. They were appalled by the darkness and the dirt. Arthur, fastidious in his person, suddenly found to his shock and shame that Ibans were a tactile people, who liked to crowd round an slap a newcomer on the back, and that he shank from their touch. By two in the afternoon they were on the way again. Stopping had not made the walking easier, and muscles which had begun to stiffen protested at being made to work once more. The path grew steadily worse, the packs heavier. Near Nanga Budu, at the confluence of the Krian and Budu rivers, they met bad news in the shape of a messenger. Birai, the lad left at Budu as the teacher, had just lost his wife, and he wanted Wilson to come to his long- house and pay his last respects to her.

Wilson was devastated by this news, and without thought of Mac and Arthur he agreed to go. Birai’s longhouse lay two hours out of their way. Lium knew a short cut, which took them, as short cuts are apt to do, over extremely difficult and precipitous ground. Even in the jungle shade the midday heat struck paraly— singly. Arthur’s shoes had been reduced to ribbons, and the precious medical books felt like millstones on his back. Mac, himself barely able to keep going, took turns in carrying them. Ahead Wilson forged on, seemingly tireless.

At five o’clock they reached Birai’s house, and Wilson paid his last respects to Birai’s wife. He recognised now that he should have taken more thought for the young men, and suggested that they stay the night in the house and come on to Budu next day. Torn between the two unthinkable alternatives of a night alone in the murmuring darkness of a Iban longhouse with a funeral in full swing or several hours’ more walking, they chose the latter. They were persuaded to allow Lium to take turns in carry— mg the heaviest haversack, and Arthur threw away the flapping shreds of the cheap shoes he had bought in the bazaar, to stumble toward in stockinged feet.

Lium was anxious to reach shelter before nightfall, but when darkness came they were still an hour from the nearest longhouse itself another hour from Budu. They got to Rumah Desai without an ounce of strength to spare. Wilson left them there. He had promised to be in Budu that day, and the promise was to be reemed. Travelling alone with every step bringing him nearer home, his tiredness dropped from him. At one minute to midht he climbed the ladder up to the verandah of Rumah Gelau looked across in the moonlight to the Centre of the Budu Development Scheme, while his friends crowded round him and tiwce bowls of rice wine were pressed into his hands. He was back. He had done what he said he would do and returned, on time, with help. Anything now was possible. There was immense exhilaration in the longhouse at Rumah Gelau that night, and no sleep for anyone.

Next morning, at Rumah Desai, Arthur and Mac woke from their profound slumbers none the worse. After all, they were young and alive and being treated with great kindness by the people they had come to help. Arthur, bathing his ruined feet in the river, shouted to Mac to throw him a pair of sandals from his pack. Mac did so, and one of the sandals fell in the river, to be swept away by the current. It was goodbye to Arthur’s only other pair of shoes (he had meant to buy more, and there had never been the time), and with them went his last backward look. Whatever happened now he was here for good. Some of the boys whom they were later to teach guided them on the last stage of the journey, and they walked into Budu in the middle of the morning to a heroes’ welcome. The people had turned out to greet them, and as they crossed the river to the neat jungle clearing with its clean white—washed buildings, cut grass and smiling, friendly children, they thought it was the nearest thing to heaven that they had ever seen.

On the third day after their arrival the canoes came up—river with the stores and equipment that Wilson had brought back with him, and Arthur and Mac became absorbed in unpacking, sorting and listing. Arthur set up his first primitive dispensary, and was at once plunged into the realities of treatment and prevention of disease in the jungle. Mac showed his immediate usefulness by repairing two outboard engines, but his particular job was to prepare the first Budu co-operative shop and supervise its opening

—which was scheduled for a fortnight ahead! Once decisions had been reached and plans made, Wilson disliked wasting time. However, on this occasion there was another reason for the pressure to have the shop open and running by the beginning of May. The Governor, Sir Anthony Abel, had promised to give the Budu Development Scheme an official blessing, and he was due to redeem it on May. In so far as 0sible, everything must be operational by then. One of the things which Wilson had done when he was on leave was to make contact with the Managing Director—later to become the Chairman—of Scottish General Products in Glasgow, the export department of the Scottish Co-operative Society. Even at this very early stage of Budu development it seemed to Wilson that it might become essential to establish an outside source of supply for the shop which would ensure a measure of independence, and enable Budu to break the power of the Chinese, who held the monopoly in up—river trade. This was the rationale for the connection, but shipping difficulties, length of time on the high seas and the actual value of the goods ordered never really justified the theory of alternative supply. Wilson, however, needed to have direct lines of communication open to Scotland which could not be threatened by actions taken locally. In effect the connection with Scottish General Products, if not major to the development of the co—operative shops, was a long, close and often entertaining one; in the very first consignment of goods to be delivered up the Krian river Wilson had ordered a full china dinner—service as well as tumblers and cocktail and sherry glasses, so that the Governor could be entertained in style!

The dinner—service did not arrive until some weeks later, having gone up the wrong river, but the Governor did. He came by water, having the same high priority as canoe—loads of supplies, and like them he got stranded by low water and had to spend an unexpected night in a school which was being rebuilt at Nanga Budu. He waded across the river at Budu with his trouser legs rolled up and a smile on his face, and his presence there gave immense delight to everyone gathered to meet him. For the Ibans it was visible recognition of their efforts for progress—not only by the government but also by the Queen; for John Wilson it was open acknowledgement of a powerful ally; for Arthur and Mac it was a sign that their confidence had not been misplaced, that this was ajob worth doing; for the schoolboys it was a chance for fun and festivity.

The Governor ate off battered tin plates—and never noticed them. Wilson was an excellent host, and he possessed the valuable quality of being able to switch his mind completely away from the day’s problems when he was entertaining. Sir Anthony gazed in astonishment at the displays of Iban and Scottish dancing which the pupils put on for hit a while he drank Cinzano out of a metal mug. (John Wilson’s alternative to too—potent rice wine was an attempt to counter by a milder European variant the prevalent tendency to excessive drunkenness.)

So, in the chirruping darkness, with the electric light switched on to honour the occasion, graceful honey-coloured boys hookhed in the wild shouts of the eightsome tee’ or flowed meltingly through the slow steps of an Iban dance while the wrinkled faces of the old men looked on proudly over their Cinzanos and the young, fresh, entranced faces of Arthur and Mac gazed and gazed. It seemed to the Governor that, though much of it might strike him as curious, none of it appeared to be strange to the peopie themselves.

It was now, once the Governor had teturned to civilisation and the excitement over his visit had died down, that Wilson’s constant preoccupation with thinking forward during his year alone began to bear fruit. Two very important concepts had emerged. The first was the absolute importance of inter—dependency in all aspects of development. Now that there were three senior members of staff, each with a specific area of operations—John Wilson education, Tom McBride trading, Arthur Thwaites medical—it would have been easy fot each one of them to have become conscious of the priority of his own department and less interested in an overall community development plan. As it was, Wilson made it plain from the beginning that every man was to some extent a generalist, and his specialist aspect must be slotted into the major plan in such a way that it contributed to the whole. Thus the school was at the hub and the shop and dispensary operated at weekends, when the school was not affected. Just as Wilson helped in both, while accepting the jurisdiction of whichever member of his staff happened to be in charge, so Arthur and Mac taught in the school under his authority.

The second vital principle was that of intensive training for the Iban lads. In the days when Wilson was alone this had been the only way to work; now it was an integral part of the whole development plan. As the boys rose up the school they or their place naturally, as a part of their training and parallel 1th their academic learning, as apprentices in the dispensary and the shop, in routine administration, in teaching the juniors, in agricultural extension, and so on. This not only ensured that their education was on the broadest possible basis, but retained and strengthened the all—important links with their home community. It also actcd as a valuable selection technique, enabling Wilson to judge a lad against a wide background of work and to form a shrewd assessment of his aptitude and abilities.

Along with this aspect of the job went a particular emphasis on the approach of the staff to their work. The priority must be on teaching, on meticulous training of the young Ibans for future responsibility. So, although the temptation might be to get on with things themselves—and of course there was much of the work which could not be handed over—Arthur and Mac, from the moment they arrived at Budu, were constantly being reminded by Wilson that their first job was to impart knowlodge, to anticipate the time when they would no longer be needed. Even in those very early days he was talking in terms of an investment in people, and warning the two young men against setting too much store by outward success, which would necessarily deteriorate after they left.

This was a side of his philosophy which the authorities in Kuching never saw, for when there he was always fighting ruthlessly for the betterment of Budu in terms of money, goods and freedom to operate. Many myths were in the making about John Wilson of Budu, considerably helped by his brief, apocalyptic appearances in Kuching and the flamboyance of some of his gestures—such as the recruitment of Arthur  Thwaites and Tom McBride. These images did nothing to help relationships with the Community Development Committee or with government departments. Thus Wilson became a ruthless, misogynist, uncooperative, atheist Scot (and that word too could be used pejoratively) who might even be exploiting the Ibans for his own ends: while from Wilson’s standpoint government departments were by definition rigid, ponderous, bureaucratic and out to thwart him. But in a curious way the Budu Development Scheme may actually have benefited from the atmosphere of embattled isolation that prevailed. Like all crisis situations with enemies, real or imaginary, without, it resulted in a close—knit conflict  and generated a powerful spirit of creative self—help.

Perhaps the section of government which was most at odds with developments at Budu was the Co—operative Department. From the beginning there were difficulties. Immediately on arrival ‘Tom McBride was given full authority to organise the first Budu co—operative shop. He had worked madly—helping, between periods spent teaching, to finish the buildings and terrace and plant the surrounding hills—so as to present an appearance of operational trading for the Governor’s visit. Nevertheless, it was June before the shop was properly organised for business. This in itself was remarkable. Mac had never run a co—operative, and knew little about the day—to—day details; his shareholders were illiterate and totally ignorant of the economics of money except in a most primitive way; all the goods had to be brought ttp—river by canoe, a journey that might take two or even three days; a system of accounting had to be devised that would ensure knowing at the year’s end how much each member had bought; a group of senior pupils had to be selected as trainees and given some rudimentary idea of how a co—operative worked; prices had to be fixed and times of opening arranged. It was hardly surprising that he chose the simplest possible ways of working, and in particular reduced paper work to the unavoidable minimum. Accounts must be kept—and in this, fortunately, he was well versed—but the forms which the Department of Cooperatives required to be filled in went by the board. I’he 400 members each had a ten—dollar share. The share numbers were allocated at Budu, and were arranged in blocks which related to specific longhouses. It was enough that the names of the numbers were known to everybody; and, in a society accustomed to relying on memory rather than written lists, this was not dificult. If and when there was time, the filling in of forms could comae later.

Mac’s priority lay with the goods. There was little use registering some hundreds of new co_operators if the shop held nothing for them to buy, so he began by concentrating on the setting up of a supply chain. This was not a simple affair. Saratok which would be the main source of goods, lay far enough to make visits there a complicated business. Money for payment, or alternative arrangements, had to be considered, as had the possibility of antagonism among the Chinese traders. Then the goods had to be transported up the changeable, treacherous, often very dangerous river. Sudden floods could bring the water level to about forty feet above normal, and then the rapids became sinister, roaring cataracts. In the early days scarcely a week went by without a canoe sinking, with consequent damage to goods, or even their loss.

From the beginning the idea of communal wealth was of great importance. The object of the co—operative society was not to enrich individuals, but to improve the economic life of the area, and above all to give the Progress Society the financial backing which would make it possible for the members to take whatever independent steps they wished for the betterment of the

Inuility. It was recognised that the most important of these steps would be setting up a pool of local people able to run the various aspects of the Scheme. For this, training would be necessary and might have to be paid for by the community itself. Even if he had had more confidence in the government’s willingness to accept every recommendation put forward by the Progress Society for financial assistance, Wilson would still have felt it imperative that the Budu people should not rely on government money, but should recognise that they must themselves be prepared to pay the price for any improvement they wanted. So a 4 per cent levy on all the shop turnover was payable to the Progress Society as shop rent, and of this 2 per cent was put aside as a training fund.

This idea of communal wealth was not typical of the Ibans. On the contrary, each longhouse family was traditionally independent, and competition was more normal than cooperation. There must have been absolute confidence in the honesty and judgcment of the three Britons to enable such a gigantic change in the normal “economic” thinking of the local people to take place so quickly and with such comparative ease.

There may have been few snags in gaining acceptance for the idea, but in the actual practice there were a good many more. For Tom McBride the strains were enormous, and they were not made easier by acrimonious relations with the official Cooperative Department. At the beginning the Department’s attitude was ambivalent. The setting up of a co—operative society of such strength in a completely new area was naturally an attractive proposition. They agreed to send up staff to organise the registration and set the young society on its feet. Inevitably, when the department officials who did eventually arrive saw the pragmatic, and to their eyes chaotic, way in which the society was being organised, they strongly disapproved. Mac, overwhelmed, exhausted, but with a workable scheme beginning to emerge under his direction, was totally unprepared to accept that it was necessary to spend laborious hours filling in forms which nobody could understand. So, for years to come, the pattern was set of tensions and friction between the department and the Budu Co-operative Stores Society—a state of affairs which was not improved by the fact that so many of Mac’s and Wilson’s early decisions proved to have been correct.

Meanwhile Arthur Thwaites was having his difficulties too. Faced with the reality of Iban existence with its poor standard of living and its many hazards to life and health, he had to make adjustments to his ways of thinking. All his preconceived ideas about nursing procedures had been swept away, and he was left defenceless, armed only with his own knowledge (of which he had grave inward doubts) and a rock—like determination to succced. He also had John Wilson’s complete support, for Wilson possessed in a high degree one very valuable quality of leadership. Having chosen and accepted his colleagues, he was prepared genuinely to delegate responsibility to them: but, true to his concept of a participating community in which everybody played a part in every aspect, he put his experience and knowledge, as an auxiliary helper, at Arthur’s disposal, as he had at Mac’s. And this experience was vital in that certain patterns had already emerged. Of those, the most important was the limitation on medical services to midday, weekends and Friday afternoons. This meant that there was no interference with schooling, in which Arthur was expected to play a part, and it also enabled the schoolboys to work as trainees in the dispensary and shop. It was convenient, too, in that canoes bringing patients for medical aid could at the same time take back goods from the shop.

There were large areas of difference between Wilson and Arthur at the beginning of their partnership, and Arthur soon showed himself to be as stubborn as Wilson when the occasion demanded it. That the harmony of their work together was never seriously threatened was due in large measure to their complete dedication to the cause of the Ibans. If Arthur could show that his way of working was the best for the Ibans, then Wilson would accept it, and vice versa.

The other factor which contributed powerfully to a steadily developing relationship of respect and loyalty and affection among the three men was simply the pressure of the work. From the beginning they lived separately, each in his own small house. In the middle of the day they fed together with the school on cold rice, with any extra garnishing of meat or vegetable that might be available. In the evening they met, when possible, in the house of one of them for a simple meal of fried egg and beans, taking it in ,turn to cook. There was a certain formality in their attitudes: the two young men, though later they called him—as the Ibans did —Tuan Tuai, the big lord, never used Wilson’s Christian name: he was always Mr Wilson. The cooking formula, too, was adhered to, though Arthur was a bad cook, and there were many times when the other two would gladly have absolved him from the duty. But for most of the time they were busy, frantically, absorbedly busy, each with their own special cares but all dependent on the others for help, and all working for a common object. There was no time for homesickness, boredom or quarrels.

Arthur started to design and build, with the help of his trainees, the kind of dispensary that he felt was necessary. This consisted of an inner sanctum with high walls, windows and a door that closed, all reached by a narrow passage which ensured that the milling throng outside reached Arthur, ensconced inside, one at a time. He felt strongly about privacy and professional confidence, two things about which the Ibans knew nothing at all. Naturally, being interested in the ills of their neighbours, they climbed on the forms put outside for them to wait on and looked over the walls to see what was going on. Extremely angry with the violation of principles which he held dear, Arthur added another plank to the top of his dispensary walls—and several more degrees to the already stifling temperature inside. Sweating with the heat and the effort to achieve some sort of understanding with his patients, he was distracted by the knowledge that the man before him was addressing every word about his illness to a point high up above his head. He knew what was there, but tried not to look. At last in exasperation he would shout in his still primitive Iban at the row of eyes which appeared to be lining the top of the dispensary wall.

When he began to recognise—as, being a young man of sensitivity, he quickly did—that the whole Iban view of illness was radically different from his own, the dispensary design was rapidly altered. Now it. had half—walls, or even no walls at all, and the patients, unhampered by privacy, could recount their symptoms to their friends and neighbours. This was how they consulted with the Manang, whose concern, like their own, was not with any bodily manifestation, but with the struggle with the spirits who controlled their life and health. Their interest related to dreams and omens rather than precise areas of pain, and these spiritual phenomena were of importance to the whole community. So while the patient recited the history of his illness the audience, breathless, would follow with exclamations of astonishment and interpretation.

The difficulties of getting precise clinical information were formidable. Arthur had to rely at first mainly on his own skill and his eyes and ears. But from the start, because this was the direction Wilson had already taken, he was able to accept the validity of the Manangs’ treatment, and did not feel that this was a rival practice which must be crushed. He had observed for himself that, even under ideal conditions in Western medicine, different patients reacted in dissimilar ways to the same drugs. There was an unpredictable factor which lay in the realm of the spirit.

So the relationship with the Manangs remained undisturbed by the advent of a trained male nurse. Asthur treated the Manangs rather as he might have treated a specialist in Edinburgh or Warrington. If he had deployed all his skill and the patient still seemed to be resisting cure, then he sent him to the Manang to complete the process by dealing with the evil spirits. In return the Manangs treated Arthur as their consultant in time of trouble. He might receive a child patient who had already had the spirit catsout by chanting and other rituals, but who was still seriously ill. Then, perhaps diagnosing pneumonia, Arthur would treat the small boy with penicillin and sulpha drugs, and the resultant cure would be a partnership matter and satisfactory to all concerned.

Arthur found himself faced at Budu with a wide variety of physical ailments. Malaria, tuberculosis and yaws were all widespread. There were epidemics of ‘flu, pneumonia, chicken pox, measles and diphtheria which took their toll among the ill— protected Ibans, wise knew nothing of hygiene or quarantine. Worm—infestations and stomach troubles, conjunctivitis, cobra bites which could often prove fatal—he never knew what might face him across the dispensary threshold. Then there were the accidents, which often required the utmost skill and courage if a limb was to be saved—and he knew now what total disaster a disablement could be for human beings whose daily life required unremitting effort. Often a man would be carried in by his family or friends with hideeses slashes caused by a jungle knife which had slipped when cutting undergrowth, or crushed by a falling tree, or mauled in a quarrel which had blown up over a cock-fight. Sometimes a Iban would walk in himself, having travelled for hours with an injury which should by rights have rendered him immobile. One a father brought his son to the Centre with two fractured femurs, and then stood outside the school until lessons were over for the day before he told Arthur about the boy.

It was perhaps inevitable that the first big difference of opinion between Arthur and Wilson should be on the matter of “universal” medicine, for this was a point where two philosophical concepts came into conflict. Fresh from the halcyon early years of Britain’s National Health Service, Arthur felt that it was the right of every man to hay medical attention, and this went particularly for the poor, the rersiote and the underprivileged. But to Wilson it was becoming increasingly plain that, if the Budu Scheme was to build adequately on its initial success, then it must be selective and restricted. In other words, only those who gave in could take out. Undoubtedly, iii the context in which he was working, this was a correct analysis: every improvement that the community gained must be tile result of work and effort—and therefore inalienably their oem. With a minute trained personnel and an enormous potential consumer element, the development scheme could only work if it was self-service, and each expansion had to be able to generate its own creative energy. If everyone who wished could call upon the services of the Budu Scheme and its staff, then very quickly the trickle of their efforts would be overwhelmed and disappear without trace into the ever—encroaching jungle.

So the Budu Development Scheme became exclusive, to the extent that no longhousc which rejected active membership— buying shares in the shop, giving free working days, and so on— could make a claim on the benefits, and this was a principle which aroused angry cries in defence of the poor outcasts from far-away administrators in Kuching. Arthur, also in opposition for a professional ideal, was prepared all the same to consider Wilson’s arguments. This was not sufficient for Wilson, who insisted, as always, that the decision should rest with the people. So the Progress Society met, to discuss whether the treatment of the sick should be universal or exclusive. Being men of ordinary human weakness they decided to keep out all non-members, but nevertheless persisted in bringing their own relatives for medical attention whether they were members or not! Eventually a compromise was arrived at, based on Wilson’s original first aid programme, whereby payment, in the form of a certain amount of rice, must be made for those who were not automatically entitled to treatment. It was not wholly satisfactory, and the collecting and enforcing of the payment was an additional chore in an already overburdened life, but it went some way towards solving the dilemma.

When it came to preventive medicine, however, there was fresh difficulty. The Medical Department launched an anti-yaws campaign, and a government team came up to the Budu area to inject the populace. Arthur was sick when they arrived, and so medical matters were in the hands of Wilson and the young Iban trainees. At this point the question of the right to exclusive treatment on the part of Scheme members raised its head again. Wilson let his strong emotional feeling for “his” people overrule common sense, and insisted that only Scheme members Were entitled to the anti—yaws injections. In this lie was, ofless certain. Life was already hard and busy, and their plans for tile future probably did not conceive of very radical change ill the way of life of tile middle-aged and elderly. Had literacy been the primary aim of adult classes, it is likely that they would have been a failure.

But Wilson had never thought of literacy as an end in itself. His main intention was to instigate a uniform rate of progress throughout the whole community, so that no one section of it should become isolated through too much or too little knowledge, and so tear the social fabric apart. The curriculum for adults included simple science and mechanics, hygiene and health, history and geography, agriculture, cooking and sewing child care, civics and general knowledge, and, as tools for all this new experience, reading, writing and arithmetic. It was a formidable programme.

Every longhouse now associated with the Scheme was asked to send two representatives, one man and one woman, in the thirty to forty age—group to the Centre for tell days in the month over a period of a year. In this way each longhouse would have a tiny spearhead of literate adults, as well as a growing number of educated children, who would, at worst, keep the house informed of tile changes that were taking place, at best become activators passing on what they themselves had learnt. In fact this method was later found to be too slow and cumbersome and was altered to intensive overall coverage, but in 1954 forty_five adults were accepted and enrolled for the first adult school, twelve women and thirty—three

Though most of those first months were taken up with work of a kind which two of them at least had never before even imagined—continuous exhausting, demanding_the three men were happy. They were alive, physically, ntallyand5ptuy and each was supported by the bond of companionship which strengthened hourly between himself and the others. Although there were times when it seemed that progress was infmitesimal, when the gap between aspiration and achievement appeared so enormous that their only recourse was to fill it by anger or despair, yet always in tile background was the knowledge that solid links were being forged with the Iban community. Moreover, though life might be hard it was never dull. The Iban boys were beginning to take on personalities, to become known and loved: Jawie and Luke, intelligent, brave, responsible, leaders in the school; Rabing and Chundie, the one small and full of humour, the other gentle and quiet, showing an aptitude for the work of the dispensary; Liman, strong and reliable, ready to support Mac when there was difficult work to be done; Bilun the footballer, and many others. Mac, having discovered that a high regard for grammar was merely a hindrance when learning a language that had very little, was making rapid progress in Iban, and the English now heard frequently about the Centre grounds from the mouths of brown, dark-eyed boys had a strong Scottish accent. Arthur had forgotten his initial anguish at the loss of his only pair of shoes, and walked for many hours between long- houses—as did the others—in bare feet.

Crises were part of the normal round. Cobras were feared and were the cause of many deaths. When one was sighted the cry went up “ular”, and everyone within earshot grabbed a stick and came running. This could be a disastrous method of dealing with the snake which then, encircled, turned on the nearest person and struck. If he were sure of hand and eye the victim survived; if not, he died.

One morning a lad came in to see Wilson in his office and spied a cobra coiled up on the shelf behind the Turn Tuai. With a cry of “ular!” the boy rushed out of the door, rousing the whole compound, who poured out of the other buildings armed to the teeth. In seconds the office was surrounded by frenzied, screaming Ibans, while inside Wilson and an awakened cobra sat breathlessly still. Beside Wilson’s hand lay a duku, a hunting knife, but as things were he knew very well that there was no way of reaching the snake before it reached him.

Alerted by the noise, Mac arrived and Wilson, talking in quiet, level tones, instructed him to clear the front of the office and gather the crowd behind it. In this way he hoped that the noise might frighten the snake and drive it to seek escape out of the door. Meanwhile he himself sat perfectly still. Exactly as he had hoped the cobra, alarmed by the din coming through the wall behind it, began to slide off the shelf towards the open door, ignoring the man in its way. As it passed him Wilson picked up the duku, and with one devastating swipe severed its head. To the legena which were already current about him in the longhouses this incident added yet another ofa man of subtle calculation and infinite coolness.

A few weeks later Wilson was having a late bath in the river by the light of a small paraffin lamp. Its beam shone on the water, leaving him in darkness. He stripped, and was just about to plunge in when he saw a kengkang mau, a large yellow—green snake, coming towards him at great speed. Utterly demoralised, forgetting that it was the strong light which was the attraction, he clambered up the bank and made for the buildings, yelling, absolutely unconscious that he was stark naked. Gone was the reputation for coolness in the face of this particular danger. The Tuan Tuai was as susceptible to the terrors of the jungle as any other man.

The river was a source of danger as well as being the lifeline. Its unpredictable nature made it difficult to guard against all the hazards; only skill, knowledge and confidence in one’s fellow man could mitigate them. The Ibans had early warned John Wilson of the height of the floods which could rush down suddenly from the interior, but so imprecise, to his way of thinking, had been their calculations that he was sure they were grossly exaggerating the possibilities of havoc. So, accepting his own more rational estimates, the pigsties were built twenty feet above river level. To double this, as the Ibans seemed to indicate would be safer, would have added immensely to the cost in concrete for drains—concrete every ounce of which came laboriously and expensively up-river.

But the Ibans were right, as they usually were in matters pertaining to the nature of their country, and at least once a year the waters would crash down, carrying everything with them to a height of forty or fifty feet above their normal level. Then, day or night, the pigs were always the first concern. They must be let loose immediately before they drowned in a watery, barbed—wire grave. Freed, they made at once for the high ground, where they wrought havoc among the vegetable gardens and occasionally attacked an interfering human being. Once a huge Berkshire boar rescues. if an engine left Budu in good condition it returned that way, and there was no help until it did. The trainees, aware that a stand had been taken which the staff would not go back on, responded. They knew that Wilson would not have hesitated to send back to his longhouse any youngster who wantonly disregarded a rule of this kind. When it came to discipline the three Britons spoke with one voice, and they kept their own rules as well as expecting others to do so. Gradually the percentage of canoes lost was reduced, and the standard of engine care rose until it became exceptional for a boat not to return from an expedition down—river safely and with all its loads.

The shop had been running for some months when Mac took the next logical step and established a system of buying local produce, mainly rubber. Because it seemed the most sensible way to proceed, the buying did not take place through a separate cooperative, as the Department would have liked, but through the already existing society which ran the shop.

A meeting of the Progress Society was held, and the matter was discussed. It was agreed that members who brought in rubber for sale should receive a small first payment when the produce was handed over, and a second final payment, based on the market price received, when the rubber was actually sold. There was an element of chance here, as the market price could not be determined beforehand, but by working in this way the amount of capital available for buying could be extended much further. There were no dissentient voices.

It was further agreed that, to save transport costs, the rubber would be stockpiled at Engkilihi, the point furthest down-river at the edge of the Budu territory, until there were ioo piculs—the equivalent of approximately i pounds.

One day five large canoes were loaded with the collected hundred piculs. Only the most experienced trainee drivers were used Mac led the procession with Chuk as his driver, and Wilson rought up the rear in case of accidents or delays to any of th craft. It was the first major trading venture of the Budu Coperative Society, and much depended on it. If this endeavour was success and all the local produce could be marketed directly through the co—operative, then the whole financial basis of the society would be greatly extended and the Progress Committee, which remained in control of all activities, would have its power considerably strengthened.

When Saratok came into view the little procession took up an arrow formation, Chisk’s canoe leading, with Tom McBride golden—haired in the prow. It was a beautiful calm evening, the river placid as though its waters never held any thought of menace. Great cumulus clouds, tinged with a rosy pink, billowed up softly behind the palm trees. With a roar like a flight of planes the canoes rounded the bend, every engine full out, every man on board alert and splendid. They converged with a gesture of pride maybe tinged with defiance—on Saratok. The crowds rushed to the banks of the river to see the sight. Men and women thronged the landing stage, small boys screamed with the excitement of it all. Flushed with pride, tile little flotilla swept in to land.

For Wilson, for whom Saratok had been the scene of several humiliations, it was a deliberate flaunting of success. He intended to show Saratok, and particularly authority in Saratok, that Budu was not something to be written off with scorn and criticism, that the Ibans were capable of community organisation. Like many successes based on a desire to score, it very nearly had disastrous results.

The evening started well, however. Tile rubber was unloaded. They all washed and swam in tile river. A chicken was killed and roasted and Mac and Wilson indulged in the delicious luxury of iced beer. Even tile District Officer’s barbed comments about shopkeepers could not damp their spirits. They were immensely pleased and proud of their Iban young men.

The blow fell when the trainees went off round the bazaar to ascertain the market price of rubber. Information on the radio before the fleet left Engkilili had given it at 70 cents per kati, or one and a third pounds, and on this they had based all their calculations. Now tile trainees came hurrying back, their faces wiped clean of exultation, to say that tile price had fallen 20 cents since the day before and all they were now being offered was 50 cents per kati—a total loss, if they had to sell at this price, of about 2,000 dollars. Unable to believe the news, Mac and Wilson went off themselves to question the traders. The boys’ information was confirmed. The splendid exhibition had redounded with a vengeance”, And what would now happen if they had to return to Budu, all their fine plans in shreds, and make a second payment to all those who had entrusted them with the sale of their produce which was, less, not more, than the first?

As always, they held a meeting to discuss the vital next step. Some of the Ibans, unaccustomed to withstanding the bargaining power of the Chinese traders and concerned to get some money anyway, wanted to sell whatever the price. Wilson and Mac refused to contemplate this course of action, and others of the young men upheld them. This was the test. If they accepted the traders’ price and gave in, then the whole future was in jeopardy. Capitulate this time, and it would be impossible to stand out next time. The argument wavered back and forward, but eventually a decision was reached in which all concurred. At that price no sale.

It was dark and the tide was turning. They were all exhausted, not only by an arduous day’s work, but by the emotion and pride of arrival which had so quickly turned sour. Nevertheless, they decided to reload the boats immediately and return the rubber to the store at Engkilili. With anger their energy returned. It would be dangerous loading in the dark with only flickering lamps to help, and to journey up-river at night with heavily laden canoes held many hazards: the loss of a boat could not be discounted, and injury or death for a trainee. But Wilson’s blazing determination drove him on, and each man followed him inspired by his conviction.

When they began to load the crowds gathered again. It was unprecedented to see canoes take on their baggage with intent to leave Saratok in the middle of the night. The news ran round the town, and the traders, too, came down to see what was happening. The Budu Ibans and the two Britons spoke only to one another, ignoring the questions and comments of the hundreds of curious spectators who thronged round them.

When the boats were packed they climbed on board and left, as they had arrived, in formation. In the early hours of theThc second payment was made, the loans were returned, bills were paid and the shop became solvent again. Budu had gained a reputation which, when trading was gradually rsumed at Saratok, assured them of respect and bargaining powe?The Progress Society had met a major crisis and survived it.

And so the less dramatic affairs of Budu went on. ne Sunday, at dawn, Arthur was lying in bed planning the work1he would do on a new vegetable garden. He was looking forward to a peaceful day in which to recover from the pressures and efforts of the previous week. But Sundays were no more inviolate than any other day, and before he had even got out of bed the call came to visit an old man in a longhouse two and a half hours away who had “had a bad dream, been made ill by a spirit and become half an animal”. Helped only by this not very precise medical description, Arthur arrived at the longhouse to find that the man had had a stroke, and that the treatment was simple and routine. That was from the point of view of the Western trained nurse. There were, however, other factors. The room was full of people, all beseeching the patient, who had lost his speech, to tell them what was wrong with him. The more he grunted the louder they shouted—being no different from any other peoples in imagining that if a man cannot show you he has understood it must be because he is deaf.

There was no oxygen at all in the room, and the noise of the gongs being beaten just behind the patient’s head to summon the spirits was terrible. The man lay on the floor, desperate and miserable in the centre of all the clamour, while his friends, having tied a thong round his shoulder, were flailing his paralysed arm in an attempt to drive out the devil. It had taken the messenger at least two hours to reach Budu and Arthur rather more to return, so all this frantic activity had been going on for the better part of five hours.

Arthur knew the Manang, and immediately held a professional discussion with him. It was good to summon the gods by noise, but better if this took place on the ruai, the long communal verandah, rather than in the patient’s ear. The Manang agreed. He too had need of a second opinion, for his treatment had not been bearing results, and he led the band out of the room, taking most of the spectators with them.

Then it was possible to open the windows, to lay out the patient more comfortably, to explain to his near relations that his speech would return, but until it did they must converse with him by signs and nods. Arthur examined him physically and gave instructions about feeding, toiletting, changing his position from time to time, all of which were listened to and accepted. Leaving some phenobarbitonc tablets and hoping for the best, he went back to Budu.

Four weeks later the patient himself arrived outside the dispensary at Budu, on foot and recovered. How did he feel? Much better, but the illness had been severe. He had wandered away into a very fine country and was enjoying his visit until he had met his brother. But his brother was dead—so he must be in the land of the clcad. His brother had jumped on his back and prevented him from returning to the land of the living. He struggled, but he could not dislodge his burden. Fortunately his wife and his friends kept calling to him, and he had been able to throw the brother off and was now nearly well again.

It was a revelation to Arthur not only of the resilience of the human frame, but of the tremendous gulf that existed between East and Wst in the matter of medicine. But it strengthenedalso his understanding of the place of the Manangs, and he did not repudiate the name by which he was now beginning to be called himself, not Tuan or Mr Thwaites but Manang.

The end of the year was celebrated with a hari besai, a big day. It was the first time that Budu had put on a festival of its own, though they were common in longhouses on a greater or smaller scale to celebrate a wide variety of different events.

As always, Wilson was ambitious. This was to be the most splendid day that could be imagined, a cross between a Iban celebration and a Highland gathering; something to which everyone would come from miles around, and which would carry the name of Budu back across the jungle to the remotest places. The proceedings were to last three days, and it was hoped that two or three thousand Ibans would come. There were difficult problems of feeding for such a number. A funfair was visualiscd, and Mac and Arthur created miracles of do—it—yourselfery on the shooting gallery, tile coconut shies, the wooden horse racing. Competitions were set up: raffles with white piglets, sewing machines and engines as prizes; football contests, dancing exhibitions, even an open—air cinema—a totally unknown attraction. The school would have its sports and there ould be cock- fighting, without which ban fair would be complete.

When the day actually arrived the oniy thing/that was not in doubt was the weather. The spectators poured in, and the neat Centre grounds were black with astonished, bewildered, excited, joyful humanity as the gorgeous Scottish-Iban affair got underway. The sports went like clockwork, and Wilson drove home to the older Ibans who were watching the visual lessons of discipline. Fighting broke out, as always, at the cock-fighting: every decision the football referees made was questioned and games ended in a mêlée of boxing and wrestling—to the enjoyment of the spectators and the despair of the Centre staff—until Mac decided to referee all games himself. The knock-out pillow-fight on a greasy bar over tile river proved a roaring success, but Arthur, Chundie and Rabing, tied to the dispensary day and night to deal with the results of battles, stomach aches and strangers taking tile opportunity to have tIleir ailments treated, saw little of it all. The trainees ran the funfair, sold the raffle tickets, organised the crowds where that was possible, helped with feeding and filled Wilson with immense pride.

In the evenings, when darkness fell, there was electric lighting for a stage on which the dancing exhibitions took place, and for the funfair, which continued unabated. The Information Department had agreed to provide films, a projector and an operator, and it had been decided that to cover the costs of transport o cents would be charged for everybody who wanted to watch the films, except school pupils and children. It was another instance of the gaps that sometimes appeared between Eastern and Western thinking, for no Iban could see why he should pay 50 edIts to see a film which he could see free from the branches of a tree or a nearby hill. So tile cinema played to an empty enclosure, while 2,000 spectators watched enraptured from every available eminence round about!

Mac, anxious to encourage a spirit of giving, sent collecting boxes round among the audience which sat watching the dancingand tile concert—and was surprised and angered when they came back to him full of cigarette ends and wrapping paper, Ibans not having the background to recognise a collecting box for what it was!

But in spite of these setbacks, in spite of the exhaustion, the occasional quarrels, the immense amount of clearing up, the hari besai was a resounding success and started another Budu tradition. It was one more milestone in the creation of a community.

Those were tile halcyon days, though they may not have appeared so at the time. Budu was coming alive: the Scheme was young and growing, every ounce of sweat and effort seemed to bear positive results. The team—the Britons, the schoolboys, the Progress Society—was a comparatively small one and all were drawn together, in some degree, by participation in a pioneer venture. Outside criticism seemed remote and, on the whole, ineffective. Budu had not yet sufficiently made its mark on the Sarawak world to arouse serious jealousy or irritation, or for its ways to be considered a threat to more established procedures. At this point John Wilson and his colleagues still felt that the obvious rightness of their developments would convert all men of sense to their way of thinking, and saw no reason why the Budu pattern should not be widely extended to benefit all the ulu peoples.

Kena Ngingatka Tuan Tuai: John Kennedy Wilson

Niang John Kennedy Wilson @ Tuan Tuai begulai enggau Mr. Arthur Thwaites  @ Tuan Manang enggau Mr. Thomas McBride @ Apai Tam enggau Dr. Ronald Lees @Tuan Ragum ngemansangka Iban di menua Ulu Budu, Krian, Saratok, Entabai enggau Entaih di Julau. Maya Tuan Manang agi idup suba iya selalu nemuai ka Nanga Drau. Taja pan udah lama ninggalka menua Sarawak, Tuan Manang tu agi landik bendar bejaku Iban.

Sida ka dalam cerita tu sampal agi idup sereta agi gerai. Bala anembiak Tuan Tuai, baka sida Dr Jawie Masing, Empeni Ikum, Pengajar Bilun Numoi, Luke Tungku, Niang Dr Rabing ak Tupai ari Nanga Maras enggau Liman Numpang kala mangku pengawa besai dalam opis perintah sebedau pincin. Ngagai bala anak uchu anembiak Tuan Tuai, anang enda betanya ngagai apai tauka aki kita pasal pengingat sida belajar enggau Tuan Tuai kelia, kala sida iya agi idup.  Pia mega, nadai salah bekunsi pengingatnya enggau bala mayuh ditu.

LONGHOUSE IN SARAWAK BY MORA DICKSON

1 SCOTLAND

jk wilsonjk wilson 1

JOHN KFNNEDY WILSON arrived in Sarawak in April 1949. He was thirty-five years old. Nothing in his life had foreshadowed the extraordinary work that he was to undertake in the far interior of that country.

He was born in Glasgow on 4 April 1914, the fourth child among six brothers and sisters. It was a happy family. His father was a headmaster, and his mother, to whom John Wilson was very close, a warm, homely woman round whom the household revolved. He grew up a thin, red—haired boy full of energy and life, good with his hands and at all kinds of physical activities. He was curious, interested, making friends easily with his contemporaries.

In the nineteen—twenties the Wilson household became divided, geographically though not emotionally. Mrs Wilson and her eldest son suffred from bronchitis, and Glasgow, with its penetrating fogs and damp gloomy climate, was the worst possible place for them. One winter they went to stay in Dunoon, further down the river Clyde, to see whether they could get any relief for their complaint. The visit was a success, and it was decided to take a house there. This was a time of unemployment and fmancial stringency, and Mr Wilson had to stay in Glasgow to carry on his job, so it was arranged that half the family would live with him there, while the othcr half moved to Dunoon, where Mrs Wilson had decided to take in boarders to help the family fmances. At weekends and during the holidays the family was once more reunited.

John lived in Dunoon with his mother, and went to the academy there, where he was an average pupil who did well because he was very determined. He was a headstrong boy, who dd not fail to tell his teachers if he disagreed with them. He loved to debate, and was usually involved in any committee formed to organise out—of—school activities. With a group of friends, some

2 SARAWAK

WHEN WILSON STEPPED 0ff the boat at Kuching in April 1949, he came as part of an education service, in the professional capacity of a teacher. His concept of this role was an all—embracing one, but he saw no conflict with authority here—good teachers ought to be concerned with the lives of their pupils, and whatever else he might be his every instinct was that of a good teacher. Here, in a country just recovering from occupation, faced with a change of status, backward, having to enter the twentieth century with virtually no advance preparation, he saw the challenges which his spirit sought.

Sarawak, on the island of Borneo, had achieved some romantic fame as a kingdom ruled over by a White Rajah, a state of affairs which had become increasingly anachronistic as it lingered on into the middle of the twentieth century. Then the Second World War came. Borneo was occupied by the Japanese, the remote head—hunting tribes found occasion to practise their ancient ritual again, and the days of the White Rajahs came quietly to an end. On I July 1946 Sarawak became a Crown Colony under the British Government though not without some opposition from the people themselves. The Rajahs had been just and revered rulers, and the local population had been accustomed to speaking freely and to having their opinions listened to seriously. When a Commission came from the British House of Commons to try to gauge public opinion on the matter of cession, some of the upriver Dayaks asked them, “Does the King intend to live in Kuching?”

They said, “No, we do not think he will live in Kuching.”

The Dayaks then asked, “Has the King any sons?”

The Commission replied, “No. The King has no sons.”

“Has the King a brother?”

“Yes, the King has a brother, but we do not think it is likely he will live in Kuching.”

The Dayaks then said that this was an important question to them because hitherto, in order to reach the Ruler, they could go by canoe and perhaps get a lift in a boat to Kuching, the cost being, say, six dollars. What would be the cost of going to London? The Commission told them that it would be rather more than six dollars, but that there would surely be a King’s representative in Kuching. What they did not tell them was that the King’s representative would become hydra—headed as departments of government grew, making it almost impossible for an individual Dayak th have access to the Ruler in the way that he had previously had, and felt to be important.

Sarawak was, and still is, a multi racial land, but not an equiracial one. There is a Chinese community, prosperous, self sufficient, industrious, responsible for much of the trade and business of the country; and there is a Malay community, who in the time of the Rajahs held the positions of governmental and political power: both these peoples had had their traditional roots outside Borneo and arrived there as a result of emigration. The local, indigenous peoples were the tribes who lived in the interior, the ulu, as it was called—the Ibans, Kayans, Kenyahs, Kelabits, Land Dayaks: of these the Ibans, or Iban, were far the most numerous, comprising approximately 31 per cent of the population of the whole territory.

The Iban lived in longhouses upriver. They depended on a rice culture, and in their steep, confused, hilly country with its poor soil they were forced to move continually, seeking fresh acres of virgin jungle to cultivate. A competitive, independent, egalitarian society, they had enjoyed both head-hunting and piracy, and it had taken the Rajahs some time and several battles to bring them to accept the authority of the Ruler. Having done so the Rajahs took the view that they should be allowed to continue developing in their own traditional way, protected from too great an influence by more advanced peoples. The Iban and the Rajah enjoyed a special relationship, and during the Japanese occupation many Iban showed their loyalty by protecting the Rajah’s British representatives at the risk of their owfl lives:

3 INTO THE ULU

AT DAWN ON the first ofJanuary 1953, as the tide turned and th New Year began to lighten the sky behind the palm trees, John Wilson boarded the launch that was to take him from Kuching to Saratok on the final stage of his journey to Budu. He had great deal of luggage three lorry loads, to be precise, much of bought with his own savings, though he confidently looked foi ward to some future moment when these expenses would b refunded by government. Not for the first time he was puttin into practice a maxim which infuriated civil servants with whor he had to deal—act first and ask permission later; or its twin rule spend your own money, then ask for a refund when you aproved to be right.

There were a dozen hens, three small pigs, boxes of seedling bags of cement, bales of wire netting, cases of books, enough foo to last for many weeks, tools, a small engine, simple househol goods, paper, notebooks, everything hc could think of whic might be necessary in the days ahead when there would be turning back if anything had been forgotten. Many of his studens had got up in the silent moment of darkness before the first stii rings of dawn to see him go, and they helped to load this strang assortment of goods. One of the’m, Empeni Ikum, a young Iban, was going with him into the Ulu Budu. Wilson had know Empeni Ikum for some time, and had been very good to him. The young man had originally turned up at Batu Lintang looking for job. He may have wanted to be a student, but his educational back ground precluded this, and he had been taken on as a gardener graduating to a position as office boy. Whatever his motives is returning with Wilson to the kind of background from which he had tried so hard to escape—and Wilson himself suspected that he had been given a push in this direction by some of the studens who were concerned for their principal’s welfare—he was to prove a faithful and valuable friend.

Eventually all the goods were packed on to the launch, and the launch slipped from its moorings. Kuching appeared fresh and neat and peaceful in the morning light, and in front the river curved away as it ran to meet the sea. For the next few hours there was nothing to do, no new situations to be dealt with. Wilson felt relaxed and calm. He had qualms, for he was by no means blindly self-confident, but he had no regrets about the course he had taken.

Curiously enough, one of those qualms concerned living alone. Although highly individual and always prepared to fight singlehanded if he deemed it necessary, he was in fact gregarious, enjoying the companionship of other men. This was the first time that he had actually made a break with established organisation in order to commit himself wholly to back his own judgement. As a student, a teacher, a pilot, he had endeavoured, often fiercely, to bend the organisation to his will; but the framework of the school, the Service, the college had always been there, and he accepted it. Even now the link with government still held, though tenuously. He was going to Budu as a teacher, on the salary paid by the local authority to its rural teachers, approximately 250 dollars, or £30 a month, but his long term plans were always for a commu.nity development scheme centred on, and growing out of, the school. The Community Development Committee, or one or two members of it, had been prepared to hedge their bets when he had discussed his plans with them, but there had been mention of the possibility of a grant, and John Wilson was by nature optimistic. He was a man whom many regarded as impossible to work with, an uneasy colleague who did not know how to compromise; others found in him a creative brilliance which they admired—but preferred to keep at a distance; some, notably the Governor, Sir Anthony Abell, felt that it was positively good for the administration to have a gadfly in their midst. There had been sufficient respect for his ability and ideas to send him off up the Krian river with government acquiescence, if not with their blessing.

The launch dropped anchor for the night at Kabong, the Malay fishing village at the mouth of the Krian. It was here that the open spaces of the China Sea with its dazzle of water and endless sky contracted to a wide brown ribbon edged with low, dark green, jungly banks. The spidery legs of the long gimcrack landing tages ran out into the tide from the ramshackle stiltcd houses and the launch with its assorted cargo swung quietly with the current. On board her Wilson slept soundly and without dreams.

The next morning, at dawn, they slipped away for the last stage to Saratok, the District Headquarters, where they were due at noon. Arrangements had been made for twelve men from Budu to meet the boat here, and two former students, Philip and Nicholas, were also to be there.

This was a moment of apprehension. It would be the first sign from the Iban Budu that the plans made at a distance meant something to them in reality when the time for action actually arrived. The peace of mind that he had felt so far gave way to nervousness as Wilson scanned the banks at Saratok . No one there appeared to have any particular interest in the arrival of the launch, or to expect it. There was, however, one figure which was familiar, the District Officer. John Wilson and the District Officer at Saratok had met before: their last encounter, a year ago, had resulted in a difference of opinion about the selection of students. Wilson had a capacity for profoundly irritating District Officers, who felt the indigenous peoples to be their especial charge, by giving the impression that he, and he alone, knew the Iban. So this particular District Officer must have been disconcerted, to say the least, to learn that Wilson was coming to live and perhaps to stir up trouble— in his district. Looking now at the motley collection of pigs, hens and boxes lying about on the deck of the launch, he made it plain that he was under no obligation to offer the facilities of the station: if Wilson chose to go off in this fashion, then he did so on his own.

“I am not aware,” Wilson said in his soft Scots voice, “that I have made any request for transport or for government storage” though he had no idea what he would do next if the Budu party failed to turn up. Fortunately at that moment he saw Philip and Nicholas, who had come up with the small crowd that had gathered to see two Europeans quarrelling. The Rumah Gelau people had arrived, and were at that very moment in the bazaar. When they had been assembled by Philip and Nicholas and greetings were over, the first task was to transfer the goods, livestock and all, to a smaller launch owned by a Chinese called Alun, who was to become a firm ally. The change was necessary because the river, as far as the end of the tidal reach two or three hours upstream, became faster and shallower and began to develop rapids. At Kaki Wong

, where the tides ended, there would be yet another change to the canoes from Rumah Gelau.

By the time it was done Alun said it was too late to sail. They must wait for the tide to run next day. So the party adjourned to the bazaar and coffee, where Wilson was formally introduced to the Dayaks among whom he was coming to live. They had strange, harsh names, and they greeted him with friendliness: Janggat Lium, Dunggat, Emparak (mati setaun dua tu), Gambang, Kiroh. Sturdy, small in stature but robust and well built, with black straight hair and dark direct eyes, they looked at the thin, red haired Scotsman and he looked back at them. He, at least, felt a rush of confidence. These were men with whom he could work.

It was a happy evening. Several ex-students of Batu Lintang Teachers Training College, having heard that their former principal was in town, came to greet him and join the group. The momentary doubts, of the morning were expunged in an atmosphere of warmth and friendliness. Then came the moment when they must get some sleep, and it was immediately apparent that so far as the Dayaks were concerned he did not belong. They took it for granted that, whatever their superficial differences, he must have a bed in the house of the District Officer. This was normal and accepted practice for European visitors. Even without the morning’s incident, Wilson would have felt reluctant to cut himself offat this moment from the men among whom he was going to spend the next months. As things were he had no choice. So he simply said that where they, the men from Rumah Gelau, were going to sleep he would sleep too.

This announcement caused consternation among the Dayaks. But when they saw that Wilson was adamant, they accepted the situation and the Rumah Gelau men took him along with them. They had a room in a house in the bazaar, and now it was Wilson’s turn to be dismayed. By the light of a flickering lamp it was plain that the place was haunted by rats and deep in litter. Dirty paper, old clothes, cigarette ends, tins, and things less easily defined lay about everywhere. The Dayaks unrolled their mats and lay down: Wilson too unrolled his mat, but before he lay down he gave, consciously, his first lesson in hygiene. With great care he collected up every morsel of refuse and piled it neatly in a corner, then he lay down and slept soundly.

The next morning, as the tide began to flow up-river, twelve Iban, with Wilson, Empeni, Philip and Nicholas, piled into Alun’s small launch, already overburdened by all the baggage. The Dayaks had not expected quite so much luggage, and had begun to have doubts as to whether it could all be got up to Budu. Dunggat remarked that fifty canoes, rather than twenty,would be needed. In the event his calculation was not far out, for each of the twenty canoes eventually had to make two trips.

They reached Kaki Wong at three o’clock. This was the last trading post on the river, the farthest distance to which a launch could come. After this it was difficult broken water and wild, steeply hilly country, the ulu. Philip had made arrangements to store the goods in a hut, and by the time they were unloaded it was already dark. The small shop was kept by an elderly Dayak, Entamin, and he killed a hen and put it to cook over the wood fire alongside a pot of rice.

Now at last on the threshold of the Budu country, Wilson was aware, because of their absence, that he had had anxieties. Lacking in language, overburdened by baggage, repudiated by a fellow— countryman, he had not been certain what kind of a reception he would eventually receive. Now, after this evening at Kakiwong, he felt sure that this was his chosen life.

Next day was 4 January, a clear, sunny morning. From this point everyone, except those needed to navigate the canoes, must take to their legs. Lium was detailed to be the guide. Wilson was asked to indicate which pieces of baggage were essential to his comfort on arrival, and this done the walkers left the river party to load, and set off.

Travel in the jungle is calculated by time, not distance. On foot, Rumah Gelau lay six or seven hours away; for the canoes, poled laboriously up rapids and shallows, perhaps two days. It was not easy walking. When there were paths they were narrow and twisting, slippery with rotting vegetation, bristling with roots and fallen branches. Once, when they came down again to meet the river, they saw the canoes, and John was appalled to observe that they appeared to be so heavily overloaded that they would clearly sink. The Dayaks smiled at him and told him not to worry.

He had expected to arrive at Rumah Gelau that night, but the journey was out of his hands now. It was to be a progress. Never before had someone of a diffrent race come to live among these people, at his own suggestion and their invitation. Whatever kind of man he was, he was going to affect many more people than just Rumah Gelau. So they wanted to see him, to assess for themselves, perhaps also to make certain that he understood their way of life. There were longhouses on the way, sometimes also struggling, hopeful, tiny schools with a teacher who had been under Wilson at Batu Lintang. At each one they stopped. They climbed the tree trunk ladder to the verandah, paid their respects to the family heads, and sat for an hour to tell the news.

That night they slept at a longhouse, Rumah Jacob, whose Tuai Rumah—the chief of the house—very unusually spoke English. It was a relief to Wilson to be able to talk directly to a Iban, and he and Jacob sat far into the night learning from each other. Wilson stored away much useful knowledge and made a firm ally and supporter.

The next day, by mid afternoon, they reached Rumah Gelau, lying across the river from the small school which had first given Wilson the idea that here was a people able to make use of help. There was nothing to distinguish this jungle clearing from thousands of others. A longhouse on stilts beside the river with untidy patches of felled, cleared land. Women and children bathing in the shallows, some scrawny pigs and hens scratching under the house, and miles and miles of hills and trees. But fifteen years later, because John Wilson chose the path he did, there was to emerge from this longhouse a fully-qualified doctor with a degree from Aberdeen University. Wilson’s strength, which was apparent from the very beginning of his work, was that he believed in people rather than paper, and envisaged community development in terms of what men and women could find themselves capable of. It was this quality that made the arrival at Rumah Gelau satisfying rather than disconcerting: materiallythere might be nothing at all, but the people had given him a welcome, and already he felt himself to be close to them.

When the news had first come that the red-haired European who had visited them had resigned his government job and was oficring to come and teach in their school, the community elders had differed in their attitudes. They knew very well that he would bring problems. Some strangers in their midst might be absorbed, but not this one. Apart from anything else, they feared the responsibility for his safety: death from disease, floods, snakebite or fatal accidents was commonplace. They debated for a long time, weighing carefully the advantages and disadvantages. In the end majority opinion agreed that his offer should be accepted, for a reason that showed a profound humanity—that a man who had sacrificed so much should not be rejected.

What were they like, these people with whom Wilson had decided to throw in his lot? The Ibans, or Ibans, had come originally from south of the watershed which divides Sarawak from Indonesia, moving frequently in search of virgin jungle. They were padi farmers, practising a form of shifting agriculture which demanded constant change, as the poor hill soil would not support crops more than two years running. So they cut and fired, planted and harvested, and when the land over a widcr and wider area became despoiled the longhouse itself was abandoned and the whole population moved on. The cycle of their padi farming was dependent on spiritual rituals, and much of their living was ruled by signs and omens from the spirits.

The rivers were their highways, and they had enjoyed piracy and head—hunting. Certain sections of the Ibans had been the last to accept the rule of the Rajah Brookes. A proud, aggressive, individualistic people, they loved argument and had a fine command of language. They also had a sense of fun.

The longhouse, which at first seemed to present an ideal form of communal living under a chief or Tuai Rumah, was in fact not communal but a competitive, egalitarian society with each family room independently owned and with no common property. All the men and women were equal. The Tuai Rumah was the custodian of the adat, or custom, which was the ritual fabric of daily living. Nevertheless, the sheer necessity of close contact in the ionghouse had made the Dayak tolerant and uninhibited. If a man wanted to play his gongs at midnight or get up at 3 a.m. it was his affair and nobody minded.

That evening Rumah Gelau gave Wilson a ceremonial gawai. They drank tuak, the local rice wine, and made speeches, which Nicholas or Philip had to translate; the gongs were beaten, the young men and girls danced in the lamp light. The Tuai Rumah took a white cock in his arms and waved it over Wilson’s head while he prayed for blessings on him. The boy, Jawie, who was to graduate fifteen years later because of this man, watched wide eyed while the new teacher sat on the mat opposite his grand-father. The old man spoke to Wilson in Malay, asking him if he was to have a companion to relieve his loneliness. The teacher replied begging him to speak in Dayak, so that he might the more quickly learn to make friends. At last, when they had all gone to their sleep, his grandfather told Jawie that the general view was that the new teacher had not come to displace things but to enrich the community.

The next morning Nicholas and Philip left to return to Saratok. Wilson watched them go with a sinking heart. It had been all very well the night before. Uplifted by the feeling of breaking new ground, of being the centre of interest, he had been carried along by events. This morning it was different. His ex-students were gone, the longhouse was preoccupied with its own affairs, the jungle unconcerned. Faced with the reality of isolation, the careful plans began to look unachievable. However, he was not the sort of man to hesitate for long. Accompanied by Empeni he waded across the river in front of the longhouse to the ground on the other side, where a small house had already been built for him beside the school. In the sunshine he sat down on the steps of his first home at Budu to consider where to start.

Empeni, who had begun to look round with a view to organising the ordinary affairs of daily living, quickly enlightened him. The school, it appeared, was full of pupils waiting, very rightly, for the teacher to start teaching them!

The sight of the children, ready and interested, smooth brown faces with huge eyes looking at him in anticipation, dispersed immediately any unaccustomed indecision. It could not have beena better or more significant beginning, for it was to human beings that wilson responded, and here were young human beings eager to meet him half-way.

At first, though, their paths did not quite converge. The teacher spoke no Dayak, the pupils no English: the children expected an immediate issue of notebooks and pencils—the apparatus of formal education—while John Wilson saw that there was much hard physical work to be done befoe the school would be fit for proper use. It had never been hi intention that any benefits which he could bring, of education or improved health, should be gifts from a benevolent European to the Dayak people. He intended that they should struggle and work for them, while he fought by their side. So now, with tasks graded to their size, the pupils began to cut wood, to collect stones, to dig earth to repair their building.

The children were undernourished, tired, plagued by ill health, clad in little more than rags, but alive and willing to work. John Wilson, toiling alongside them in the heat, watched them with an eagle eye. Because they had few clothes, he too wore only swimming pants—partly so that no one need feel a sense of shame, more profoundly because he wished from the very beginning to make it plain that intelligence and learning are not dependent on garments. He knew only too well how easy it is for an educational system to turn out young men who despise their family background, and feel themselves too good for the humbler daily jobs. The symbol of this attitude was for him the immaculate suit of clothes. Not that he despised clothes. When the time came for some of his boys to go overseas, he was meticulous in seeing that they should be dressed as well as possible: but by that time they all knew that fine feathers were an extra and not the whole man. He did, however, insist that whatever they wore should be clean. To appear in ragged shorts was of no importance: to come to school in dirty ragged shorts was intolerable.

As he worked beside them, in a way that must at the very beginning have upset any preconceived ideas of how the teacherto help with translation, but most of thc time Wilson struggled grimly on. In the evenings, now with Empeni’s help, he learned relearned the phrases that he had gleaned during the day.

His own house was primitive. He slept on the floor and ate at a table made with strands of bamboo. He was determined that no outward show on his part should create a barrier between him and the people. But the house was spotlessly clean and tidy, and there were books and music. He looked for a subtle balance, an example for the community high enough to draw them on but not so high that it would seem unattainable; and as their standards rose to meet his, so his would rise too.

Empeni considered this was nonsense. With no fine theories as to how a community development worker should live, he set out to provide himself with as many amenities as possible. He made a rattan basket chair, and when he saw that Wilson was not averse to sitting in it he gave it to him and made himself another!

By the time the school was repaired and ready to open the baggage had arrived, and Wilson had enough Dayak words to be able to say “Stand up”, “sit down”, “come here”, “go there”. For these Dayak children the school had become a magnet. They were obedient and mannerly, and it was punishment enough for the new teacher just to raise his voice. He was beginning ço distinguish one from another, too. There was Jawie, humorous and intelligent, whose grandfather had played a leading part in the welcoming ceremonies; Luke, thin and undernourished, but with deepset trusting eyes and a natural physical grace; Bilun of the chubby cheeks and dazzling smile; and Chundie with the eyes of a hunted deer.

Wilson, with his fierce determination, must have astonished them often, for from the beginning he worked them very hard on all kinds of things which could at that stage have had little meaning for them. If they worked he was satisfied; if, however, they gazed out of a window at a bird or forgot for a moment the serious purpose that had now entered their lives, then he was fierce. He tore their books from them and flung them out of the windows, and sent them after to look for grasshoppers which could certainly write better than they. He could storm and shout. Because he loved them and was involved with them, they couldinfuriate as well as charm him. And from the beginning it was made plain that they were there to learn and he was there to help them learn, but the responsibility was theirs. Acutely aware of being on his own, though not lonely and not alone, he prepared planned study sheets so that his pupils could learn individually if any crisis prevented him from being there. In all this thinking, which was geared to the necessities of a practical situation, he anticipated in 1963 curriculum reforms which were to come to the forefront in British education in the 1960s, programmed learning, inter—disciplinary inquiry, a curriculum geared to the social needs of the community.

While this was going on in the school, there was naturally curiosity in the longhouse, as the Iban watched the furious activity on the other side of the river. The physical appearance of the landscape had begun to change as the school was repaired, ground cleared and seedlings planted, the pigs penned in proper sties, the hens given a run. Parents started to cross the river to look at what was going on, to touch and peer, till there came a moment when Wilson told them they must stay away during school hours because they were a distraction for the children and for him.

The school was his first priority—indeed, at this point he had time for nothing else. To teach all day, learn Dayak half the night, prepare lessons, develop the compound, accustom himself to a totally strange life, all this provided a full schedule. He had little contact with the longhousc people, and for the moment he was not absolutely certain how deep he wanted his involvement to become. The school was manageable, and in a year, if he wished to leave, it would not be impossible to hand it over to a reasonable teacher, but if he expanded further then he would find himself with commitments that he could not so easily dispose of. So he told the people to stay away.

For the most part they did. Dayaks are themselves outspoken individualists, and maybe they recognised another such. What they could see was that their children were thriving and blossoming under this new regime; and that the man who was responsible was living as simply as they were, and working as they had rarely seen anyone work. So, for the time being, they were content to accept him and to wait and see. By the middle of February the school was under control and the pupils were making good progress. In the evenings Empeni had begun to teach a few adults, and Wilson, using every opportunity to exercise his Dayak, helped him. Empeni was at this time the only person to whom he could talk freely, and long into the night they would discuss what the next step should be or whether there should even be a next step at all. So far Wilson had not divulged to anyone that he had brought with him medical supplies and the necessary skill to use them. He saw that it would be wrong to start anything which could not go on, but it also seemed improper to withhold the help he could give on a wider scale. Medical assistance would provide him with invaluable contacts with the people. But the need that he now saw around him was so enormous that, once he stepped outside his present prescribed area of the school, he might well be overwhelmed.

The thinking that he now devoted to solving the problems of possible expansion was to set the pattern for the whole future development of the Budu Scheme. The school must be the centre and have priority, because it was through the school that the education and training of the young generation would come. Any area of expansion, therefore, must interlock with the school in a way that made it possible to operate both; and immediately, without further ado, the senior pupils must be involved in that expansion as trainees and helpers. Even now, though perhaps dimly as yet, he looked to a future in which the authority would lie with the people.

He started cautiously, allowing it to be known that he had medicines—but for children in school only. Skin diseases, conjunctivitis, festering wounds, worm infestation, there was no lack of patients. But it very soon became apparent that he could not keep this aspect of his work inside the school, and that if the children were to get any real benefit it must be extended to their homes.

So one Saturday he called a meeting of the people from Rumah Gelau.

By now his Dayak was surprisingly fluent, and one or two of his pupils already knew some English. He told the people that he would like to help the sick, but that he would do so only at theweekend, unless there was an emergency with severe wounds or broken bones. He felt very strongly that this help should not be free (at no time was anyone in the Scheme to get something for nothing), so those wanting treatment must bring a cup of rice or some vegetables. The Dayak economy having always been based on rice, this was an understood and acceptable method of payment.

So at the weekends the small house beside the school became a dispensary from early on Saturday morning to late on Sunday evening. Numbers increased alarmingly, and people began to come from several hours’ walk away. There was scarcely time for Wilson to take any food, and often the rice which had been cooked for him by Emnpeni went to feed patients from a distance.

The collecting of payment proved an arduous task and brought its own complications. Iban, like other people, want to know that they are getting value. So there were those patients who would not bring their rice until the cure had worked: when this happened, and an ex-patient walked for two hours to hand over his cup of rice, Wilson’s confidence in his own medical ability and his faith in Dayaks had a boost: when a debtor never returned he cursed them for their avariciousness while secretly wondering if he had done them irreparable harm.

The stocks of medicine with which he had come up the river began to diminish, but the Director of Medical Services, who had shown himself to be a man of understanding and vision where Wilson was concerned, solved this problem by agreeing to replenish his supplies at intervals.

There were other problems. As the news spread patients arrived from longhouses three, four or even five hours away from Budu. They brought no food with them except the cup of rice for payment, and sometimes they sat all day waiting their turn in the throng—and then walked five hours back again to their homes. They made no complaints, but Wilson was uneasy about their plight and would have liked to give them some priority. He could not, however, get the other patients to agree. No Iban saw why he should give up his place in the queue for any other man, and a people accustomed to long hours of travel on foot found no reason to accept this as a cause for discrimination. It took a long time and many hours of discussion before it became the acceptedpattern to give long-distance patients the right to early attention. Already some of the older pupils, were working with him, being slowly trained to give out medicines and explain to the patient what he had to do with them. Others helped with cooking and feeding. As their knowledge and confidence grew so the work eased and the weekend dispensary, instead of being a nightmare, became a manageable operation that fmished by midday on Sunday. Then they relaxed, teacher and taught alike. They swam and fished together. The Iban boys took him scrambling up waterfalls and exploring rock pools, delighting in showing their agility and skill, and not above making jokes at thcir teacher’s expense when he proved himself lacking in acuteness of eye or ear or clumsy in his attempts to follow them. So a relationship began to grow up between them which was, in the best sense, that of a father with his sons. They were ready to accept his authority when there was work to be done, but they did not fear him when it was finished. For his part he found boys with few inhibitions, accustomed to being treated with affction by their own people and expecting nothing less from him; aware of the possibilities that his presence among them could hold out, and prepared to take on the responsibilities that he might demand of them.

By April the plants and seeds that he had brought from Kuching were beginning to sprout. The transplanted coffee bushes had taken, and there was green on the pineapple shoots. On the nearest siopes behind the school the wild growth of secondary jungle had been cleared, and neat terraces had begun to follow the contours of the hills. In the evenings he sat at the door of his small house, drinking a bottle of beer and smoking a cigarette while he pondered over the next steps forward.

He needed this hour at the end of the day, to be alone, listening to music on his gramophone, to have time to think, to gather the sense of his own identity around him. For he had not “gone native”—though there were rumours of this in Kuching. He had ajob to do for which he saw the need to live simply, and close to the people with whom he was working. He was growing to love these people, but not to sink his personality in theirs. He remained a tough, emotional Scotsman with strong and continuing linkswith his own people. At an early stage he made it plain that this was to be a working partnership on a basis of respect and equality. On both sides there was to be no attempt to change “custom”— unless the necessities of the common good demanded it. Te Dayaks, accustomed to a life where physical privacy was almost totally absent, could not understand his need for this one regular hour of solitude, but they came, at his insistence, to recognise that this was his “custom”, and as such to be respected in the same way that he observed theirs when he visited their houses.

It was about this time that the first real test of his intention and abilities had to be met.

In 1949 the Department of Agriculture had started on a rehabilitation of the pepper industry, which was to become an important feature of the Sarawak economy. Pepper bushes are very hard on the land, drawing a great deal out of it, and the Department did not want new pepper groves springing up on fresh land outside their control. They had no great opinion of the Dayaks as farmers, and it is true that the shifting padi cultivation which the Dayak families practised took no account of the preservation or impoverishment of the land they worked. So the Dayaks were forbidden to plant pepper vines.

This was a simple direction to give in an office in the capital, but a great deal less easy to enforce. Most Dayaks were illiterate, and many lived far beyond the range of the government’s active jurisdiction. In any case, the ulu Iban found it incomprehensible that anyone could forbid them to plant as they wished. The moment came when the Agricultural Department grew tired of having its authority flouted, and the Agricultural Assistant at Saratok was instructed to summons several Iban for disobeying the law. One of those who received a summons to appear in court was Janggat Lium. He had a good, well-tended pepper-garden ready to yield its first crop, and it had never occurred to anyone that he could be punished for this.

There was anger among the Budu community, and a meeting was held to consider what action they should take. Wilson was asked to attend. The meeting was a passionate one, for Ibans are naturally fighters, and their inclination was to make a physical protest, to refuse to go and to repulse, violently if necessary, anyone who came to get them. No doubt Wilson’s sympathies were with them, for he too was a fighter with little time for blanket regulations and restrictions. But he saw that what was required from him was not partisanship but statesmanship. On his handling of this crisis might depend the whole future of his work in this place. Suddenly he was more than the teacher with strange ideas: he was a Community Development Officer being consulted by his people.

He explained over and over again that the law could not be fought physically and that to attempt to do so could only result in disaster; but it was difficult to think of an alternative course of action which would satisfy their strong sense of injury at what had happened. Then suddenly the dilemma was solved for him in a way that had not entered his calculations. Janggat Lium asked Wilson if he would come down to Saratok and defend him in court.

He had a short space of time in which to make a very critical decision. On the one hand this was the first time that any of the Budu people had asked him for help on a major matter: on the other hand he could vividly imagine the possible reaction of the government in Kuching, and the District Officer in Saratok, if he supported a Dayak law-breaker against them. He stood to lose either way, for without Dayak confidence none of his dreams was realisable; while without government acquiescence, and ultimately aid, his very right to remain in the country might be threatened, and the help he could bring would certainly be greatly impoverished. But it would have been totally out of character for him to have refused to accept the challenge of helping an individual to confront bureaucracy—not in defence of his rights, for in this case Janggat was clearly contravening the regulations, but in his stand against the all-embracing impersonality of those regulations, to prove that the law itself was unjust. It was agreed that he would defend Janggat in a test case, and at that tempers cooled and the meeting dispersed.

Wilson was well aware that he had taken a momentous step. In the week before the trial he lay awake at night and argued the case over and over again in his mind, imagining sometimes triumph, but vividly aware also how near he might be to disaster. The news travelled fast, in the mysterious way that news does in very remote places, that a European was to defend a Dayak in the magistrates’ court in Saratok—the first time such a thing had ever happened. When Janggat and Wilson arrived the court was crowded. Now that the moment had come he forgot his qualms: in circumstances like this he was at his best, for, whatever doubts he might have had about his own personal position, he had none at all about the equity of his cause. He knew that justice ought to be on his side, and it was his ability to persuade others, against their own judgement, to feel this too that couldmake him enemies. The Agricultural Assistant putting forward the case for the Department may have had the law with him, but from the moment Wilson began to speak he must have known that nobody in the court believed that the law was just.

The magistrate delivered judgement. Janggat had acted illegally and he had no option but to fine him, but the fine was a nominal one. Wilson asked for a stay of execution of the verdict and appealed to the Divisional Court on the grounds that there was no evidence thatjanggat had known of any written instructions that Dayaks were not to plant pepper. There was no appeal, but a telegram arrived for the District Officer from the Chief Secretary to say that, subject to certain conditions, the Dayaks could now plant pepper.

It was a victory. The return to Budu, the night—long celebrations in the longhouse, were a personal triumph. Not only had the attitude towards Wilson undergone a subtle change, but something of more consequence seemed to have taken place. For the first time in the endless discussion of what had happened, there was a positive note of acceptance that progress might be possible.

Wilson was too much of a natural teacher to let the moment pass without drawing lessons from it, and he never forgot the wider issues of the job he was engaged in. Some government officials might have been astounded to hear his interpretation of the day’s proceedings, and it is true that he was inclined to think of The Government as a body that should be aware of what he was doing and ready to help him in the way that at that moment seemed best to him. So the government, had they been present, would have found themselves being toasted as having gained astriking moral victory. They could not have known about this law, Wilson explained. It must have been something that the Director of Agriculture wanted and had not told the government about. When they knew, they repealed it. So, not by fighting and quarrelling but by taking a firm, determined stand on their rights government could be convinced and progress go forward.

They believed him, for they had seen it happen with their own eyes, and their reactions were immediate and positive. In his work in the dispensary Wilson had for some time been urging preventive measures as part of the medical treatment— personal hygiene, cleanliness in the home, the provision of pit latrines. There had been no response. The patients saw no con— nection between their ailments, caused by a spirit resident in the body, and the external factors of their daily life. They still saw no connection, but out of gratitude, in recognitiOn of the fact that he had been accepted by them, the Dayaks now helped to construct two pit latrines.

Striking while the iron was hot, Wilson encouraged them to start on a third one, extremely large—ten foot by six. They had reached a depth of about nine feet when, one night, heavy rain fell steadily and unexpectedly for twelve hours. At dawn the pit was a shambles. The sodden, clayey soil had collapsed and fallen in, and the hours of digging were completely nullified. The peopie gathered round and gazed at the ruins of their work. Then the Tuai Rumah said, “Our gods did not like this hole. They have filled it in for us,” and the people turned away to go back to their own pursuits.

Desperately aware that if he lost now it would be a serious setback, Wilson shouted, “Wait!” while he thought wildly of ways in which to deal with such a powerful omen. Instinct told him that it must be by counter-conviction rather than any form of compulsion. “Wait,” he said, then turning to Tuai Rumah Gelau, “How many people live in this house?”

“One to two hundred when we are all with our families.”

“Then it is clear why your gods did not like this hole,” said John. “Your gods did not think it big enough,” and seizing a changkol and a basket he leapt on to the sodden mud in the centre of the hole and began to dig, crying as he did so, “We will make it twelve feet, not ten, so that everyone in the house can use it !“ There was a moment of hesitation. Did they believe that he had authority to speak for their gods? Were they willing to accept an explanation that gave them freedom of action? Did John Wilson’s intensity of purpose carry them with him in spite of themselves? Whatever it was, several young men jumped in beside him and the latrine, larger and stronger, was finished, and survived for many years.

It was not Wilson’s first encounter with the spirits who control every aspect of Dayak life. When he began to treat the sick he very soon came face to face with the Manang, the intermediary with the spirit world.

The Manang lives like any other Dayak, farming to support his family, but he can be called on at any time, day or night, to go to the aid of a sick man. He may go into a trance, so as to pass over to the spirit world where the soul of the sick man is wandering about and bring it back: he may believe himself to be given the remedy for the sickness by the spirits, and anoint the part with various ointments and charms: he may sacrifice a pig to consult the liver.

John Wilson had been asked to attend agawai darah, a ceremony of exorcism. He had seen the patient made comfortable, surrounded by relatives ready to help force the spirit out, by incantation, stroking, even, if need be, by beating.

The Manang cleared the immediate environment of any spirits who might be lurking about and be detrimental to the cure, and the ceremony started. It could be quite a simple one or, as it was in this case, night—long and complicated. At dawn a pig was slaughtered and the liver examined. The “heart”, in fact the liver, was carefully laid out on a plate and handed round the wise men of the house. Wilson too was handed the plate. All eyes were on him as he gazed in silence. He looked for a long time. Then the “heart” moved on. Nothing was said, there was no discussion. When all the wise men had examined the “heart” there seemed to be no single decision, but everyone knew if it was good or bad. If it was good the patient lived, if bad he died.

Though he could sec nothing in the “heart”, Wilson found the ceremony moving, and felt in spiritual agreement with the finaldecision. He might deplore the stifling atmosphere in which the patient was kept, the clamour of the gongs beating constantly to warn the spirits off, the lack of air, but he felt that he had no right to attempt to alter these customs, and he had a respect for the Manang. His Highland ancestry had given him a belief in the powers of faith, and he could accept the Manang’s miraculous cures. Above all he was a man tolerant of other people’s ways of life. It was this quality that made him different from many other men who had gone into jungles to try to change what they found there. He felt passionately that the Dayaks must change themselves. He would provide some of the means, but what they made of them was their own affair, and he respected them sufficiently as men like himself to be able to accept their decisions. What he wanted above all was to teach people so that they could make these decisions out of knowledge rather than ignorance. It was this rare ability genuinely to. recognise men of another race as equals that was to give him a unique place in the community.

So now he found nothing incongruous in entering into a kind of partnership with the Manangs to treat the sick. The Manangs, who had considerable influence in the longhouses and could be useful allies, were willing also to accept him. The longhouses on the Krian and Budu rivers were more stable than those of Ibans in other valleys. For some years they had planted rubber, which gave them the beginnings of a money economy; they no longer moved their houses intermittently to follow the padi cultivation; they had contacts with Saratok, and the occasional Chinese bazaar boat penetrated up the river beyond Kakiwong. They were already, even if tenuously, in touch with new ideas. It was their good fortune that the first real impact of those ideas came in the shape of John Wilson.

As though to indicate that luck was now running in his favour three of the white pigs, brought with such effort from Kuching, farrowed—and suddenly there were nineteen. The effect was electric. One of the first jobs in the weeks after arrival had been to make sties for the pigs, wired off and with a cement floor. None of the Dayaks, whose own pigs roamed freely underneath the longhouse and rooted in the surrounding undergrowth, had believed that pigs kept in captivity like this would ever breed. Now, satisfyingly and dcmonstrably, they were proved wrong.

The pigs were another visual aid to add to the many that were gradually signs that new methods did not necessrily bring disaster. The demonstrators were the schoolboys, and when, night and morning, they washed the pigs under a small alcon pump and took it in turn to look after the engine, they drew an intcrested audience. The fact that it was their own boys who were doing these things, and not just a stranger whom they could credit with outlandish skills, must have given the lessons a particular significance for the parents. And the sons were beginning to feel themselves deeply involved in the changes that were becoming more and more apparent in their environment. It was they who terraced the slopes and tended the bushes planted there, kept the school spotlessly clean, cooked the food, cut the grass, helped to treat the sick, looked after the livestock, planned and renovated the buildings, as well as putting in hours of study. It was they who helped to teach Wilson Dayak, in which he was now reasonably fluent, and who in turn had learned from him sufficient English to carry on a halting conversation. And it was through them that Wilson was beginning to bring a form of psychological pressure on the parents to force them to take the first steps on the real road to progress.

In the conversations that increasingly took place after his evening hour of meditation, in visits to the longhouses, while holding dispensaries or being watched at work with a changkol, he would say casually that it was really very little use teaching the children if it made them despise their parents. Why should he try to show them a better way of life just so that they could leave to work somewhere else? What was the use of their learning hygiene in school if it alienated them from their homes? It had never been his intention to divide families, to give the young men ambitions which would make them go away, never to return. Now he saw that this might happen, that educated children would not want to stay in a place which never changed and gave them no opportunities to use their education. So it might be better if, at the end of his year, he returned to Kuching and the children went back to work with their parents as they had always done.

April gave way to May. Somewhere among all his multifariousactivities Wilson had found tune to wire the school and his own house for electric light. Although, in fact, he preferred not to use it when he was readmg alone, for its radiance had a powerful attractive effect on insects, when visitors arrived it was ceremonially turned on. The ease with which this happened, and the brilliance of the result, caused astonishment. Wilson, who turned every action of his daily life into a lesson, told them exactly how it worked. So, too, when he turned on the radio and listened to music or the news, hc did not keep these marvels to himself, but explained and translated, so that gradually, almost unconsciously, the wider world began to penetrate the fabric of his audience’s daily lives.

Wilson was happy. He had no regrets, and no wish to return to the easy existence of thc capital. He was living a hard life with few comforts. His food was rice and salt fish, with occasionally a stringy hen. He slept on the floor and relaxed in Empeni’s rattan basket chair. He worked incessantly, both mentally and physically, from dawn till dusk; and after his hour of quiet in the evening he was now frequently the centre of an inquiring group of adults.

That was one side; on the other, he was himself learning. There were long walks with the boys, invitations to join in rituals and ceremonies in the longhouses. He learnt much about the stars, how to tell time by the size and shape of the moon and to guide the rice-growing cycle by the skies. He found that in jungle travel he was a child compared to his pupils, and when he tried to be helpful at the crossing of a river or the climbing of a hill, and fell in or disrupted the party by slithering down on top of them, they roared with laughtcr. He discovered that Dayak politeness, which insisted that he should go first on a jungle trail, also prevented them from telling him when he went wrong, and so many journeys were unnecessarily prolonged. They loved to play practical jokes on him, and one morning arranged a huge, newly killed python in the path where he would come on it unexpectedly. On that occasion he did not enjoy their uninhibited delight!

Snakes, centipedes, leeches and mosquitoes abounded. To be lost in the jungle at night could be a terrifying experience. There were violent storms with thunder, lightning and relentless rain, and in their aftermath flash floods which could cause havoc and usually seemed to come in the dark. Then the call would go out from the 1onghose for a search for a child or an elder who had been taking an evening bath and been swept away. Almost always the victim was drowned, and sometimes there were lives lost among the rescuers. Wilson knew now what it was to live always very close to disaster, and as he came to admire the fortitude, chccrfulness and resourcefulness of the Ibans, so on journeys his own brand of blithe stoicism, contained in a maxim of his grandmother’s “What’s for ye will no gae past ye”, took over.

In the evenings he would ponder over decisions and discuss them at length with Empeni, with the boys whom he was coming to know—Jawie Masing, Luke, Liman, Bilun, Rabing, Chundie—and with Tuai Rumah Gelau and the other men who were beginning to take his ideas seriously. In these months, when he felt himself to be setting a pattern for the future and could not afford to make major mistakes, he came to understand the value of being slow at making up his mind. He was helped, too, by the dependence of the Dayaks on omens and signs from the spirit world, and their superstitions and folklore. Some of the old men began to have dreams about him and to interpret the signs that they saw in nature as being related to what was happening in their midst. Wilson did not attempt to agree or disagree when they told him of the latest portent; he simply nodded wisely and hoped that his aims would be helped by this identification. Once, when an elder recounted a dream about a small stone rolling down a hill and becoming bigger and bigger as it went, he offered an interpretation—the small stone was the beginning of the way to progress, and the dream a sign that it would gather momentum and end with something large. But when they began to equate him with the hero of one of their own folk—tales, a stranger who would one day come to help them, he denied it, saying that he was a man who enjoyed working, but was not one of their gods. At this they were confirmed in their suspicions that he was in fact the stranger whom they were looking for, because Dayak social etiquette makes negatives into positives. A Iban, out of politeness to his host, will deny that he is hungry even if he has not eaten for many hours—but he will not expect his denial to be takenseriously, and will wait to be pressed to accept the food he has refused.

So the days drew on till June, the month when the harvest was safely in and the people had some time of relaxation before the cycle began again. This was the moment, too, when Wilson hoped that there might be some results from his weeks of persistent psychological pressure. He was not mistaken, though until the very last moment he was by no means sure that there would be any genuine approach from the people. One evening the first official delegation arrived to ask him what he intended to do for them.

If they had expected to be welcomed and treated to a lecture on the future with their own part it in carefully mapped out, they must have been surprised when Wilson made it plain that this was not at all the idea. He had shown them many possibilities, they had discussed at length in the evenings different aspects of the future; now, if they were to talk seriously with him, it must not be about his plans to help them, but about their plans to help themselves.

It was a brief meeting, and after they had gone he wondered whether he had taken too great a chance. Would they come a second time? Had they understood in a creative way his refusal to help them, so that it would be possible for them to come back, or would they accept it as the end? Had he overestimated their desire for improvement or their intelligence in being able to plan for it? He lay awake wondering, but he did not worry, for, being certain in his own mind that this was the right way to proceed, he was not prepared to compromise, whatever the risks.

A week later they did return; and this time they did not ask him what he wanted to do, but told him that they had been thinking about this and that and would like to start to improve their longhouscs. The plans were vague, the understanding rudimentary, but the change in emphasis was vital. It was they themselves who had taken the decision to make changes. Now he could go ahead and help them.

For many years it was to be held against him by departments of government in Kuching who found themselves at variance with his policies that, for all the façade of democratic progress, he wasfact a dictator, ruling the Iban Budu subtly but surely with an iron hand. Of course in the early stages his was the mind that led the discussions and fed in the ideas, but this was natural and right and indeed could not have been otherwise. He was there to bring development and inspire progress, and the Dayaks had no yardstick against which to measure what he told them except their own wisdom and common sense. Nevertheless, the responsibility was genuinely with the people, and they knew this. He might lead the discussion, but they argued and talked and assessed his suggestions in the light of their knowledge of their own people, and the decision, when it was made, was theirs.

At the end of June a general meeting of the community elders was called in Budu. Representatives of 300 families met at the school to hear Wilson put forward his ideas. “He challenged the people,” Jawie wrote later. Wilson would have put it rather differently. He had come to recognise that the guarding of the Dayaks’ pride was of paramount importance. There is no word in the Dayak vocabulary for “thank you”—not out of ingratitude, but because of pride. He felt sure that the way to get a response was to demand from them almost more than they could reason-, ably be expected to provide, to set them difficult goals and take it for granted that they could reach them.

So the pattern for development that was discussed was a formidable one. A Progress Society was to be established. It would be legally constituted, with revenue, office and status, and properly registered in Kuching, and its authority would be accepted by all its members. A working Committee of Progress, Komiti Pemansang, of two members from each longhouse in the Society, would be elected at a general meeting of the Society. This Committee would be the management body for every aspect of future development, and would make final decisions on matters of policy and finance, but all its decisions must be confirmed at the general meeting. All land under the Scheme would be titled in the name f the Progress Society and could not be alienated or sold, though it could be excised for the local authority to build schools and staff quarters.

Any revenues from produce on land belonging to the Society (rubber, coffee, pepper, etc.) would be spent at the discretion of the Committcc of Progrcss, but only for education, medicine, advanced training and other community benefits. They could never be used for personal profit or be divided up. Assistance with rubber planting, pig breeding, etc., in the shape of advice or plants or stock, would be available to members to help raise the long— house standard of living.

There was to be agreement about the payment of an annual rate to provide comnnity funds. This was eventually to be assessed at ten dollars per year for each family in the Progress Society.

A high priority was to be given to a programme of adult education. Experience in his dispensary had convinced Wilson of the importance of giving the adults basic knowledge in the prevention of disease, clean living, sanitation, better cooking, vegetable growing, fruit tree planting, simple science, geography, how to feed young babies, pre— and ante—natal care, animal husbandry, hens to produce eggs and protein, first aid, home treatments—especially enlightened and temperate drinking habits!

Any scheme of development must have a sound economic foundation, so the members of the Society must be ready to produce more and to reassess their traditional ways of doing things. The results of their work should be kept within the community, to make community wealth as distinct from private wealth, and this meant that co—operative trading must play an important part in the new economy.

For his part, Wilson promised to raise the standard of living and improve the general health of the people, and also—and this was probably the single most important reason for his gaining the co—operation of the community—to train their young men to take over from any expatriate staff himself included, any scheme which might be produced by the hard work and efforts of the Iban people.

The training of the young men for genuine leadership was undoubtedly responsible for the surge of creative energy that was to transform the Budu Ibans in the next few years. Also extremely significant was his decision to orientate the education towards the homes of the pupils, so that those who failed academically the majority could be easily reabsorbed by the community. For this reason learning by young and old must gohand in hand: the schooling would have as high an academic standard as it was possible to attain, but the school itself should remain physically simple and unsophisticated, and the whole educational programme would be geared to the life and needs of the community. The brilliant and the dull would work together outside the school and alongside their parents on the hard manual tasks and the new methods that would gradually change the face of the locality, and when the clever went away for further training they would return, not as foreigners, but to a home which they had themselves helped to transform; while those with no ability to absorb Western book-learning would know that this was only one part of a whole new way of life in which their contribution of farming or building or marketing was of equal importance.

All this adult education, co-operatives, a health programme, schooling could not operate from one small school, already bursting at the seams, and Wilson s own house. Tiere would need to be buildings, and these would have to be provided by the people. Wilson told them the essential minimum: a dispensary, a school for adults with sleeping accommodation, a shop, administrative offices. After some discussion it was agreed that every adult would give a minimum of four days’ work a year to the Scheme. In the event this was almost always exceeded, and some men gave as much as fourteen days.

Wilson then said that he would go to Kuching and see what help he could get from the government. He would take one of the Budu men with him as a representative of the newly formed Progress Society, and it was decided that Dunggat should be the one to go.

“It had taken me, therefore,” he wrote later, “almost six months to ensure that a desire for progress had come from them and not been imposed.”

During these six months, while Wilson was starting the work that was to put Budu on the map, the Community Development Committee in Kuching, which had retained a tenuous responsibility for him, had undergone a reorganisation. It had been made more significant by powers to co-opt heads of departments to serve on it. At this time Budu was the only active community development scheme, and it must have been apparent to the members of the Conimittec that what six months earlier had been only one man with idcas was now a potentially interesting project. They were all men whose expertise lay in one field—that of their particular department. For each one of them community development was a new, and perhaps suspect, phenomenon being “pushed” by the Colonial Office, a hybrid of which they could not wholly approve. Wilson had gone to Budu as a teacher; he now emerged as something much more dangerous, a community developer appropriating to himself the right to have theories about medical treatment, agriculture and co—operatives as well as education. Moreover, he saw these aspects of living as parts of a unified whole. It was a situation which could hardly fail to produce frictions.

Wilson was not, however, without allies. The Director of Medical Services had been generous to him with help before he went up the river, and had consistently replenished his supplies of medicine; the Director of Education, though he had not liked losing a valuable member of staff, knew and appreciated Wilson’s qualities. And there was one more powerful still—thc Governor. Sir Anthony Abell was intrigued by Wilson. He admired him, and, because he was himself unpretentious, was prepared to show his interest openly.

When Wilson, with Dunggat in tow, stepped off the launch at Kuching wharf there was an invitation waiting for him to stay at the Astana, the Governor’s residence on the opposite bank of the river. Wilson refused, giving as his excuse that he had no suitable clothes. He must have been well aware how valuable the Governor’s influence could be, but he had Dunggat with him, and the loyalties to Budu burned fiercely.

But the boat caine back, with a note saying that clothes did not matter. Wilson refused a second time. He was sorry, but he had with him a Iban, the representative of the newly-formed Budu Progress Society, and he would prefer to stay where this man stayed in Kuching.

When this message reached the Governor he was convinced that Wilson did not want to come, and the more determined that he should. The boat returned a third time. This time the message more or less commanded Wilson to come, and bring the Iban too.

Even Wilson could not refuse after this. He and Dunggat, with their meagre baggage, got into the boat and were swiftly ferried across. They landed at the Watergate with its steep pitched roof, and walked up the slope with its flowering shrubs and well kept grass to the thatched Astana. They must have looked a curiously ill assorted pair, but this Governor did not stand on ceremony. Some months before Sarawak had had a visit from the Duchess of Kent, and the suite of rooms to which they were shown had been specially done up for her. Now Wilson watched entranced while Dunggat, who had never been further than Saratok, walked round in a daze touching the beautiful fittings, sat in the lovely chairs and gazed in fascination at the bathroom with its shower and luxurious sunken bath.

The visit was a success, and it consolidated a relationship between Wilson and the Governor which was to survive all vicissitudes and to be valuable to Wilson and to Budu.

Next day Wilson crossed the river to meet the Community Development Committee. Contrary to all expectations he had a way with committees, and he had taken trouble to perfect a technique. He was a supreme lobbyist. So, in turn, each member of the Committee found himself subjected to half an hour, an hour if necessary, of soft, convinced, intelligent argument backed up by Wilson’s hypnotic personality, with every proposition tailored to suit the recipient’s moods and interests. The Chairman had already received an advance report, and he too got a visit. By the time the Committee met they were already half-way to approving the Budu Development Scheme. They discussed in full session the principles involved in the setting up of a three-year project, and it was difficult to fault the plan, especially as none of them had been to Budu.

The project was decided on. It was to consist of opening a school for adults as well as children; setting up a clinic; starting a co-operative shop; and supplying certain agricultural extension and administrative services. Government, through the Community Development Committee, would provide funds to recruit local staff if such could be found to help, and a certain amount of money was to be put in the financial estimates to be used forbuilding subsidies, principally to cover the costs of cement and some roofing materials which could not be obtained upriver.

It was a beginning. Certainly Wilson would have liked more, but he was realistic, and already thinking in terms of the next step. At least he had got recognition. Government was committed now to some financial aid, and this meant that Budu was firmly on the government map.

Busy as he had been in those first months, he had also been working out, sometimes subconsciously, the pattern of future development. If the right kind of professional help could be found to cope with the various facets of the work medical, agricultural, co-operative trading, teaching—the aim would be three streams of learning: the very young, to feed the schools; the advanced pupils, who would work part time in the shop, dispensary, plantations, etc.; and the adults, who would be the spearhead of development at longhouse level. Thus widespread and parallel progress would be assured. If the twenty-five to thirty-five agegroup could be influenced, this would ensure that the boys who emerged from the school would find improved living standards, while within the schools they would gain the right attitude to work and a good grounding in all the essential sciences that went with raising daily living standards.

Coming soon:  PROGRESS AND THE PROGRESS SOCIETY

Rayat Ulu Krian udah ngasaika penyamai bisi karan.

Tiang enggau tali api ari pun jalai

ULU KRIAN- 12 Okt 2010– Baru udah nerima pesan pandak (SMS) ari siku kaban.  Iya madahka tiang api bisi udah dipeda degi-degi nisi jalai Ulu Krian. Kenu ka sekeda orang ka bisi mansutka jaku, tiang api nya “ginti perintah BN” kena napi pengawa bepilih besai menua Sarawak ka ka nyadi enda lama agi.  Berita ka bukai, iya madahka bisi orang Ulu Krian udah belabuh kimpin ka bediri ngelaban pengari BN ka udah beberapa penggal ngarika DUN Krian.  Setiap kali maya bepilih besai jalai raya  enggau api sereta pemansang bukai endang nyadika danji bala sida ka minta pilih, tang kenyau ari taun 1980 an suba dataika diatu apin meh jalai raya, letrik enggau pemansang bukai bisi diasaika mensia mayuh di Ulu Krian. Beberapa taun ka udah lalu SALCRA ngerembaika skim sabun (sawit) ke menua Krian Ulu tang projek nya nadai ngemai penguntung ngagai orang mayuh.

Jalai Ulu Krian 5km Keterubah ari simpang

Dalam pengelama 10 taun tu ka udah, ninting maya ka bepilih besai Jalai Ulu Krian ditar semina beberapa kilometer aja ari nanga jalai. Udah nya nganti maya ka ka bepilih baru, baru ngetar semina beberapa kliometer aja.