This is the second week of our "activity period" -- the hiatus between official lock-down (now being eased by the minute, it seems) and the renewed low profile we're going to need to adopt in order to ace our pre-flight covid test. We still had a couple of jobs to do. But we were also determined to make the most of our new freedom ("tourism" was back as of last week, and this week the authorities lifted the prohibition on inter-district travel). So we hired a car, and embarked on some day trips.

Our first took us back to Padawan. The ride is still a slow one, as the Pan-Borneo Highway roadworks/traffic jams just go on and on... And there are enough bumps in the road to reprogram your Google Maps, and secretly add "home" as an interim destination, with the result that the polite electronic lady keeps trying to persuade you to do a U-turn at every junction (Nigel says I scrambled it, but I swear I DIDN'T).

Anyway, it's worth persevering.

Our first objective, a few kilometres outside the town, was the old Church of St James, in Kampung Quop (or Kampung Kuap, depending on the source you're reading -- personally I prefer Kuap, the less anglicized version, but it's not up to me...)

I heard about this little gem via the Sarawak Heritage Society's ever-informative WhatsApp feed. Consecrated in 1865, it is one of Sarawak's oldest churches, and the only survivor of the prefabricated belian wood churches built by the Anglicans back in the busy days of mission. The components were assembled in Kuching, transported to the village by river, and then carried up the hill on the villagers' shoulders (no easy task, given that they don't call belian "ironwood" for nothing). The Kuap mission to the Bidayuh people was apparently the first to take off (the previous attempt in Singai having not been successful).

The new church of St James was consecrated in 1987, and although the community recognizes the importance of preserving the heritage wrapped up in the old one, it is a tough job, and termites and water have taken their toll.

But you wish it well. Surrounded by greenery and birdsong, it's a beautiful little place.














Our second objective was Semenggoh Nature Reserve, as it was over a year since we'd had our last orangutan fix. The folks at Semenggoh have been rehabilitating and accommodating rescued orangutans since 1975. The animals are free to turn up for one of the two daily feeding times, but they're also free not to, if they've got plenty of other food sources in the forest. And anyone who's followed this blog knows that we've had very different fortunes on our three previous visits. First time round, we saw zero orangutans, and got extraordinarily wet. Last September, post-quarantine, we paid two visits, and saw seven and four respectively.

Today was our first afternoon visit. Edwin, one of the big males, rolled up pretty pronto.





A short sharp rain shower drove the small group of humans back under cover for a while. Orangutans are not that keen on the wet, and we thought we might not see any more.

But they weren't going to be discouraged. The rain eased off a bit, and next up we had Jubilee. He was a particularly welcome sight, as he's now our adoptee, and he's always very acrobatic and enterprising.





After that more kept emerging, in ones and twos, until we'd seen an amazing total of nine.









I never tire of watching these strong, graceful animals. The wardens reckon that three of the females are pregnant. So if all goes well, there'll be three more orangutans very soon. May it be.

Back in Padawan, we took the opportunity to have a closer look at the huge mural that was finished last year, but we'd only seen from the road. It's another by the gifted Leonard Siaw, whom I've mentioned several times in this blog.



The mural features the "Dayung Hmuai Semban". Dayung hmuai means "beautiful lady" in the langauge of the Bi-emban (a subgroup of the Bidayuh people group), and Semban is their village of origin. The women in the mural are wearing traditional headgear, necklaces, sashes, belts, blouses, and sarongs, but crucially they are wearing coiled brass rings around their calves and forearms.

Called 'rasunk'ng' (pronounced lasung) and 'ruyank'ng' (pronounced luyang) respectively, the rings were worn from an early age. Without them, women could not take part in the eagle dance that was part of the village festive rites, and they were an essential ingredient in the way that community interpreted beauty. Unringed women, therefore, might have problems finding marriage partners.


The tradition came screeching to a halt at the end of the 1960s. Girls had to attend school, and "accessories" of all descriptions were banned. The rings were still worn, but largely for ceremonial occasions. There are therefore few survivors from among the original "ring ladies" (those who wore the rings permanently from childhood). Even some of those featured in the mural are no longer with us now.



Another disruption came in 2014, when the residents of Semban and three other Bidayuh villages were relocated to the Bengoh Resettlement Scheme to make way for the construction of the Bengoh Dam. (There's lots more information on the complexities of this business here.)

Nevertheless, the Kampung Semban cultural troupe lived on, performing at various venues, national and international. And in 2020, Sarawakian film-maker Nova Goh made a documentary about Peluk Abeh, one of the women depicted in the mural. The doco shows how she struggles to adapt to the new environment to which she and her fellow-villagers have been moved, and misses her old life. But she also encounters new opportunities there. West Malaysian fashion designer Wong Lee Leng discovers Peluk and the women's costumes, and goes on to create "a ring ladies fashion collection". She meets Peluk, and "together these two very different women introduce the unique culture of the ring ladies through fashion to a modern world".

It's a tradition that was bound to struggle in contemporary times, I guess (although you have to ask whether brass rings are that much more impractical than high heels...). But it's good that this way of life is being commemorated. And it's particularly good that the mural received the nod of approval from its three surviving subjects.



Words can't convey to you how much I am loving being out and about again... Sarawak is beautiful, interesting, different, puzzling... I missed it so much in all those long months of confinement and routine.