I've done a couple of posts recently on heritage buildings in Kuching.

Often it's a case of realizing that what you've seen many times has historical significance. This rather lovely old house features on our "peninsula walk", for example, and we photographed it way back in February last year:


But we didn't know back then that it's called Darul Maziah, was built by Datu Bentara Abang Haji Hashin bin Arif, and dates back to the late 19th century: "Constructed by local Malay craftsmen, it is made entirely of ironwood and is decorated with Moorish-inspired woodcarvings." It apparently has eight bedrooms, a large kitchen, and "a large room where the owner held court". Wish I could see inside...

A similar thing happened with Darul Kurnia, which we happened to photograph on the same day, again purely because it was such an attractive building:


This elegant 1930s edifice was constructed by Datu Patinggi Abang Haji Abdillah, who played a prominent role in opposing "cession".

Cession was the act that converted the curious little polity of Sarawak, which had maintained a kind of sovereignty under the tutelage of the "white rajahs" since the mid-1800s, into a formal part of the British Empire. It was a complex and controversial move.

The Cession Bill was narrowly passed in the Council Negri in May 1946. The movement to oppose it went on until 1951. Of course, the motivations of the protesters varied. Some simply wanted the restoration of the status quo ante. Others saw the return of the Brookes as an interim phase that would give way to national independence. But all strands resented the "encroachment of British bureaucratic imperialism".

Various phases of the struggle were acted out at Darul Kurnia.

Realizing the prominence of civil servants in the anti-cession movement, the British Government issued its famous Circular No 9. This stipulated that "any government servant in future who associates himself with any activity designed to keep open the question of cession or commits any act of disloyalty to government will render himself liable to instant dismissal".

Wow, so government servants are definitely required not to have opinions, then...

Darul Kurnia was the venue for a number of meetings on this issue. And ultimately, 338 of the civil servants chose to resign rather than sign the required "loyalty oath".

The Sarawak Youth Coalition also marked the first anniversary of annexation with a conference here: "Sixteen different anti-cession organizations assembled in the grounds of Darul Kurnia and later marched out four abreast behind their own brass band carrying Sarawak flags of all sizes, as well as banners and posters."

OK, so that's two buildings we walked past quite obliviously last year. Here's another from the year before (although at least I cursorily honoured this one with a photo in a blog post):


This is the Heritage House of Tan Sri Dato' Seri Abang Ahmad Urai Bin Datu Hakim Abang Hj Mohideen (yes, long names are a feature of this part of the world, because they also incorporate the father's name and honorifics). Anyway, the owner is notable for having served as the President of the Senate in the Malaysian Parliament, and the building is notable for its Minangkabau-style roofs and ornate carvings.

The other week we went hunting for some more venerable buildings.

Here's another we'd walked past many times without realizing:


Built in 1863 by Kuching mayor Datu Bandar Abang Haji Kassim, it was in its day the biggest Malay house in the city.

The home of the oldest Malay social organization in Kuching unfortunately remained elusive.

But we did find this guy instead:


And nearby, in the graveyard of the pretty pink mosque that we've photographed so many times, we spotted this tomb that we swore we'd never seen before, but which obviously hadn't appeared overnight...


Now, I suppose one of the questions that arises from all this is why there's not, at the very least, a little more on-the-ground signage marking the significance of these places.

When we -- briefly, and oh, so long ago, it seems -- visited Almaty, Kazakhstan, we were fascinated by its commemorative plaques:



Now, we don't need to go quite this far, but surely some simple signboard would not be out of place as a humble nod to the past?