http://202.187.94.201/e-bario-the-kelabit-gift-to-malaysia-
e-Bario: The Kelabit Gift to Malaysia by Laura Lee
UNDP
Just picture this: rolling hills, fresh crisp air, the tranquil and serene environment greets and welcomes you the Kelabit Highlands of Bario. This indigenous community in Bario, Sarawak consists of warm and very friendly people. They lead simple lives of planting the famous fragrant Bario rice, hunt from the jungle for daily food or just trading in small business enterprise. Despite being so remote and cut off from nearby developed towns, the place produced some fine leaders in the country. Datuk Seri Idris Jala, the CEO of MAS hails from this Kelabit community of just over 5,000 people. Amongst others are many successful businessmen and women, academicians and high ranking government officials. Many who made it also returned to Bario to set up small business enterprises in hope of elevating their families out of poverty.
One such person is a local empowered women named Maszuin. Originating from Bario, she operates the local Mini Market called Y2K. The small business enterprise is likened to the "Megamall" to residents in Bario. Supplies from the more modern towns of Sarawak could usually be found at this quaint little shop although at somewhat higher prices due to the high costs of flying the merchandise into Bario.
Moving on to other members of the Bario community, there is a couple by the names of Lucy and David Labang. They operate a travel lodge longhouse in Bario. With internet connectivity via the e-Bario telecentre, the couple is able to communicate with tourists from all corners of the world wanting to make reservations to stay at their travel lodge. Guests staying at the Labang longhouse will be well taken care of with a good spread of local delicacies and warm Kelabit hospitality.
Adjourning from dinner, David will proceed to gather guests around a bonfire in their kitchen where some night entertainment entails. Skillfully playing a traditional instrument called 'sape' (boat lute), David will sometime play a duet with a younger member of the community. The lady members of his family might don their traditional headgear and take to the dance floor with the graceful movements of the hombill dance.
Bario, being so remote and cut off from the rest of the more developed areas in the surrounding region, do not even have proper roads. The more affluent members of the community will own 4WD vehicles to travel on the dirt tracks. The rest might just travel by motorcycles whilst some just walk to reach their target destinations. Electrification is supplied via solar power or generators. Despite being so remote and rural, ICT was able to bridge the digital divide when it arrived in Bario a few years ago. Connected via VSAT technology, e-Bario came into existence - the only telecentre in Bario and its surrounding region that provides connectivity to the world beyond the highlands of the Kelabits.
The benefits of ICT were tremendous especially in impacting and improving the livelihoods and economic conditions of the Bario people. From only 2 travel lodges, Bario now has 6 travel lodges. The fragrant high quality Bario rice is being marketed over the internet whilst family members were able to communicate with their loved ones outside of Bario - news that used to take weeks or months to arrive is now only a click of the mouse away.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2007/9/23/focus/18870189&sec=focus
Sunday September 23, 2007
Long trek to school pays off
By SUHAINI AZNAM
Forty years ago, the Lun Bawang were “the poorest natives of Sarawak”. Education was the only way out of their hand-to-mouth existence, but going to school entailed a long trek over hills and rivers. They persisted, and today some are pillars in their chosen professions.
WE walked three days to school – and three days back, said Freddie Acho Bian, 47, a senior bank officer and liaison chief of the Dayak Chamber of Commerce and Industry.
“Three days? Three hours, you mean,” I said.
Freddie looked at me steadily. “No, three days. Term holidays then were only two weeks long, and we would get to spend only half of them at home.”
Thus began the tale of their journey – the Lun Bawang walkabout – when children as young as seven would walk for hours, even days, to get to school.
“We would leave school at Friday lunchtime, and run kaki ayam (barefoot) to reach home for dinner,” recalled Freddie, whose education began in a primary school in Long Luping, which was about five hours' trek from home. Fortunately, the school had boarding facilities for children from distant villages, and Freddie was one of those boarders.
The primary school in Long Luping still stands, serving a cluster of surrounding villages linked by a pebbled road.
“Our school had one hostel, half for the girls, half for boys. We had blankets but no mattresses, no pillows, no kerosene light.
“We had no books, just small black boards, which we wiped off. And we collected stones for counting in arithmetic class.”
The youngest children carried one milk tin of rice each as his weekly contribution to the communal larder. His eldest sibling carried six. This was Lun Bawang democracy – each according to his ability, rather than his need.
“We were so hungry,” recalled Freddie laughing. “Sometimes, some of us managed to smuggle beras (uncooked rice grains) which we hid from the cook and ate raw.”
“And what did you eat the (cooked) rice with,” I naively asked.
An embarrassed pause: “Nothing... just rice, with salt,” said Freddie softly.
“Sometimes there was enough money left over and they would buy us canned sardines. That was such a treat!”
Unbeknown to them, the strapping cook in charge of feeding them, Miriam Ukul, now 60, was also afraid of them. “The children back then were so big,” she laughed.
“Food was scarce,” she conceded. For the 10am break, biscuits did little to hush rumbling tummies.
“It was a school rule that we must not eat the rice raw, even if it's your own,” said Freddie's elder brother, lawyer cum politician Baru, 49, soberly. “I was caned once for that.”
”Sometimes we caught ikan telapia (fish) from people's sawah (padi fields) and cooked it in any tin we could find,” said Baru, an environmentalist who today champions customary native land rights.
Far from their parents, the children quickly learnt responsibility. Miriam would send the girls to look for ferns and the boys to chop firewood for the school and teachers.
“Can you imagine entrusting a parang to little boys in Primary Three?” said Freddie.
This dexterity with the parang proved fortuitous. Years later, having been warned about the ragging at the then Mara Institute of Technology, Freddie, Baru and a few other Sarawak “freshies” took the precaution of smuggling a parang each onto the plane.
Seniors from the peninsula had second thoughts as legend spread about “our wild head hunters' instinct,” laughed Freddie.
Continuing the account of their early school days, Baru said: “We woke up very early. At 6am, in the fog and mist, we were forced to do physical exercise.
“At 6.30am we were made to go to the Batang (River) Penipil and jump in. It was so cold, you could see the steam rising. Some of us cheated by just dabbing water on our T-shirts.”
“If you had two pairs of blue (school) shorts, you were lucky,” said Freddie. We would wash and dry them on the rocks while we bathed in the stream.
“We were just little boys and the shorts would smell of urine. We didn't even have bar soap.
“The cows liked the smell of urine and ate our shorts. So the boy with only one pair had to borrow from a friend or run back naked.
“At Standard Six, all the students would sit for a common entrance exam. One fifth would make it.”
The villagers would hold a big party for those who graduated. They were then told that they would be going to a faraway land.
That distant land was Lawas, the district capital 98km away from Long Semadoh, from where Freddie’s three-day walk began.
Lower secondary introduced many alien things to the children – their first taste of bread, noodles, fluorescent tube lighting “which flickered before it came on”, first flush toilet and toilet brush, which the children naively used to scrub their backs.
Struggle against poverty
Schooling was free but there were still uniforms, books, stationary and shoes to buy.
For Jameson Tai, 45, the children's youngest maternal uncle who grew up with the Bian brothers, “it was a personal struggle against poverty, to make a change – not just for you but for your family”.
“I didn't have money for ice cream but it was okay. I had RM5 in my pocket to start school with.”
For entertainment, those boys with a little spare cash would catch the latest movies in town. Bruce Lee was a favourite. Tickets were only 50 cents for the cheapest front row seats. Notwithstanding the crick in their necks, they returned to their dormitories as heroes, reliving the entire movie, animated with flying kicks, for their buddies.
Apart from the hardships, there was homesickness.
“At first, Mina and Baru cried having to go to Lawas,” recalled their mother, Takong Taie, 69.
“They were not accustomed to being so far away, they had never been separated from me. I cried too.”
But with each new year, another child would enter school. Older siblings became their comfort points and their guides on the long trek home.
“We walked from 6am to 6pm, stopping only for lunch. These were packets of rice, wrapped in leaves, packed by kind villagers at whose longhouses we had stayed the previous night,” described Baru.
“It was funny, the thought of going home,” he laughed. “It always took us longer to go back to school than going home!”
The last subject before school let out at noon on Fridays was singing, recalled Freddie. “We were so happy, singing evergreens (such as Red River Valley and John Denver's Back Home Again) at the top of our voices.
“Then the bell rang and we would pick up our few belongings and just dash out!”
Until today, Freddie, an avid guitarist, and his buddies still get together for jam sessions where they would sing in parts. Malaysia Airlines (MAS) managing director and CEO Datuk Idris Jala, a Kelabit from Bario, plays regularly with the band.
But the walkabout has left a psychological scar. In end 2005, Freddie took his own two sons jungle trekking. “It brought back bitter memories. I have had enough. I don't want my sons to suffer like me.”
Freddie remembers his first pair of shoes. “I loved them so much, I slept beside them. I didn't want them to go away.”
To save their only pair of shoes for school, the children walked home barefoot, wrapping their feet in vines to protect the soles.
“Some children could afford slippers but even these would snap. Barefoot was better,” said Jameson. “Rain or mud, we didn't stop.”
They walked without a compass, relying on memory and the curve of the river to guide them home.
“Some of the hills were steep and we just grabbed whatever we could, vines or bamboo, to haul ourselves up,” he recalled.
“And we sang to make the journey shorter. The advance party would rest and wait for the others to catch up. We had a rule among ourselves that we would never split up the group. Sometimes the bigger boys ahead would catch a squirrel or a monkey and roast it. It was so delicious. It taught us to share what little we had.”
Baru pays the highest tribute to the villagers who fed and sheltered them along the way.
“Can you imagine, three days, two nights walk from Lawas into Long Kerbangan (where their father, the late Pastor Bian Labo, retired). Over 100 kids walking, and they had to feed us.
“Once we reached the Irang Riak (Coughing Hill), we knew we were almost home,” said Jameson.
“But the steep slopes were terrible. The muddy heels of the kid in front of you were in your face.”
Three days and three nights and the Long Semadoh kids reached home. Every end of term, the Bario children flew home – they had no choice.
The Ba'kelalan boys had it the hardest, recalled Jameson. “At one point, they would have to cross the Sungai Beluyu 28 times as it cut its way up the mountainside.”
“It's a mark of the Lun Bawang, I guess.
“Our girls have pretty faces but when you look at their legs, they are thick and sturdy,” said Jameson.
For all their deprivations, those children are today pillars in their chosen professions.
Many came from poor but respected families of note. The Bians, the Tagals, the Langub Pengirans and Buaya Tadems were all barefoot children of the misty highlands. Today they have emerged to do their families proud.
Sunday September 23, 2007
Long trek to school pays off
By SUHAINI AZNAM
Forty years ago, the Lun Bawang were “the poorest natives of Sarawak”. Education was the only way out of their hand-to-mouth existence, but going to school entailed a long trek over hills and rivers. They persisted, and today some are pillars in their chosen professions.
WE walked three days to school – and three days back, said Freddie Acho Bian, 47, a senior bank officer and liaison chief of the Dayak Chamber of Commerce and Industry.
“Three days? Three hours, you mean,” I said.
Freddie looked at me steadily. “No, three days. Term holidays then were only two weeks long, and we would get to spend only half of them at home.”
Thus began the tale of their journey – the Lun Bawang walkabout – when children as young as seven would walk for hours, even days, to get to school.
“We would leave school at Friday lunchtime, and run kaki ayam (barefoot) to reach home for dinner,” recalled Freddie, whose education began in a primary school in Long Luping, which was about five hours' trek from home. Fortunately, the school had boarding facilities for children from distant villages, and Freddie was one of those boarders.
The primary school in Long Luping still stands, serving a cluster of surrounding villages linked by a pebbled road.
“Our school had one hostel, half for the girls, half for boys. We had blankets but no mattresses, no pillows, no kerosene light.
“We had no books, just small black boards, which we wiped off. And we collected stones for counting in arithmetic class.”
The youngest children carried one milk tin of rice each as his weekly contribution to the communal larder. His eldest sibling carried six. This was Lun Bawang democracy – each according to his ability, rather than his need.
“We were so hungry,” recalled Freddie laughing. “Sometimes, some of us managed to smuggle beras (uncooked rice grains) which we hid from the cook and ate raw.”
“And what did you eat the (cooked) rice with,” I naively asked.
An embarrassed pause: “Nothing... just rice, with salt,” said Freddie softly.
“Sometimes there was enough money left over and they would buy us canned sardines. That was such a treat!”
Unbeknown to them, the strapping cook in charge of feeding them, Miriam Ukul, now 60, was also afraid of them. “The children back then were so big,” she laughed.
“Food was scarce,” she conceded. For the 10am break, biscuits did little to hush rumbling tummies.
“It was a school rule that we must not eat the rice raw, even if it's your own,” said Freddie's elder brother, lawyer cum politician Baru, 49, soberly. “I was caned once for that.”
”Sometimes we caught ikan telapia (fish) from people's sawah (padi fields) and cooked it in any tin we could find,” said Baru, an environmentalist who today champions customary native land rights.
Far from their parents, the children quickly learnt responsibility. Miriam would send the girls to look for ferns and the boys to chop firewood for the school and teachers.
“Can you imagine entrusting a parang to little boys in Primary Three?” said Freddie.
This dexterity with the parang proved fortuitous. Years later, having been warned about the ragging at the then Mara Institute of Technology, Freddie, Baru and a few other Sarawak “freshies” took the precaution of smuggling a parang each onto the plane.
Seniors from the peninsula had second thoughts as legend spread about “our wild head hunters' instinct,” laughed Freddie.
Continuing the account of their early school days, Baru said: “We woke up very early. At 6am, in the fog and mist, we were forced to do physical exercise.
“At 6.30am we were made to go to the Batang (River) Penipil and jump in. It was so cold, you could see the steam rising. Some of us cheated by just dabbing water on our T-shirts.”
“If you had two pairs of blue (school) shorts, you were lucky,” said Freddie. We would wash and dry them on the rocks while we bathed in the stream.
“We were just little boys and the shorts would smell of urine. We didn't even have bar soap.
“The cows liked the smell of urine and ate our shorts. So the boy with only one pair had to borrow from a friend or run back naked.
“At Standard Six, all the students would sit for a common entrance exam. One fifth would make it.”
The villagers would hold a big party for those who graduated. They were then told that they would be going to a faraway land.
That distant land was Lawas, the district capital 98km away from Long Semadoh, from where Freddie’s three-day walk began.
Lower secondary introduced many alien things to the children – their first taste of bread, noodles, fluorescent tube lighting “which flickered before it came on”, first flush toilet and toilet brush, which the children naively used to scrub their backs.
Struggle against poverty
Schooling was free but there were still uniforms, books, stationary and shoes to buy.
For Jameson Tai, 45, the children's youngest maternal uncle who grew up with the Bian brothers, “it was a personal struggle against poverty, to make a change – not just for you but for your family”.
“I didn't have money for ice cream but it was okay. I had RM5 in my pocket to start school with.”
For entertainment, those boys with a little spare cash would catch the latest movies in town. Bruce Lee was a favourite. Tickets were only 50 cents for the cheapest front row seats. Notwithstanding the crick in their necks, they returned to their dormitories as heroes, reliving the entire movie, animated with flying kicks, for their buddies.
Apart from the hardships, there was homesickness.
“At first, Mina and Baru cried having to go to Lawas,” recalled their mother, Takong Taie, 69.
“They were not accustomed to being so far away, they had never been separated from me. I cried too.”
But with each new year, another child would enter school. Older siblings became their comfort points and their guides on the long trek home.
“We walked from 6am to 6pm, stopping only for lunch. These were packets of rice, wrapped in leaves, packed by kind villagers at whose longhouses we had stayed the previous night,” described Baru.
“It was funny, the thought of going home,” he laughed. “It always took us longer to go back to school than going home!”
The last subject before school let out at noon on Fridays was singing, recalled Freddie. “We were so happy, singing evergreens (such as Red River Valley and John Denver's Back Home Again) at the top of our voices.
“Then the bell rang and we would pick up our few belongings and just dash out!”
Until today, Freddie, an avid guitarist, and his buddies still get together for jam sessions where they would sing in parts. Malaysia Airlines (MAS) managing director and CEO Datuk Idris Jala, a Kelabit from Bario, plays regularly with the band.
But the walkabout has left a psychological scar. In end 2005, Freddie took his own two sons jungle trekking. “It brought back bitter memories. I have had enough. I don't want my sons to suffer like me.”
Freddie remembers his first pair of shoes. “I loved them so much, I slept beside them. I didn't want them to go away.”
To save their only pair of shoes for school, the children walked home barefoot, wrapping their feet in vines to protect the soles.
“Some children could afford slippers but even these would snap. Barefoot was better,” said Jameson. “Rain or mud, we didn't stop.”
They walked without a compass, relying on memory and the curve of the river to guide them home.
“Some of the hills were steep and we just grabbed whatever we could, vines or bamboo, to haul ourselves up,” he recalled.
“And we sang to make the journey shorter. The advance party would rest and wait for the others to catch up. We had a rule among ourselves that we would never split up the group. Sometimes the bigger boys ahead would catch a squirrel or a monkey and roast it. It was so delicious. It taught us to share what little we had.”
Baru pays the highest tribute to the villagers who fed and sheltered them along the way.
“Can you imagine, three days, two nights walk from Lawas into Long Kerbangan (where their father, the late Pastor Bian Labo, retired). Over 100 kids walking, and they had to feed us.
“Once we reached the Irang Riak (Coughing Hill), we knew we were almost home,” said Jameson.
“But the steep slopes were terrible. The muddy heels of the kid in front of you were in your face.”
Three days and three nights and the Long Semadoh kids reached home. Every end of term, the Bario children flew home – they had no choice.
The Ba'kelalan boys had it the hardest, recalled Jameson. “At one point, they would have to cross the Sungai Beluyu 28 times as it cut its way up the mountainside.”
“It's a mark of the Lun Bawang, I guess.
“Our girls have pretty faces but when you look at their legs, they are thick and sturdy,” said Jameson.
For all their deprivations, those children are today pillars in their chosen professions.
Many came from poor but respected families of note. The Bians, the Tagals, the Langub Pengirans and Buaya Tadems were all barefoot children of the misty highlands. Today they have emerged to do their families proud.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Decorated soldier now a squatter
http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2007/8/18/nation/18618106&sec=nation
Saturday August 18, 2007
Decorated soldier now a squatter
By STEPHEN THEN
MIRI: He was a decorated soldier and policeman. In the 34 years he served the nation, Ngalinuh Bala saved lives and survived bullet wounds.
But Bala, 66, a Kelabit native, is a far cry from who he was before.
Semi-paralysed after suffering a stroke, he has been living in a squatter area without piped water and electricity in Taman City.
“What I hope for is a piece of land of my own; is it too much to ask? I have spent my life savings of RM75,000 to build this house on this plot of vacant government land.
“I have no title to this land. I have to use rainwater to cook and drink. I have to use my own generator for electricity.
“I am not asking for recognition or financial reward. All I want is a proper place to live in,” Bala said slowly and in a soft tone when interviewed at his squatter house earlier this week.
Bala was a soldier in the British Army in then Malaya and later in the Malaysian Field Force.
He received six awards for bravery from the British, Brunei Sultanate and Malaysian and state governments.
In 1972, Bala received the Seri Pahlawan Gagah Perkasa, the nation’s highest award for a soldier, from the King.
He holds the awards, letters of commendations and medals close to his heart but hopes he will get his 50th Merdeka wish – good health and a place to call his home.
On Thursday, the Rurum Kelabit Sarawak and Kelab Sukan Highlanders gave him RM2,000 for his daily needs.
“We consider him a community hero. We hope the Government will help him.
“Some people who achieved little in sports have got more than this hero,” said Sarawak Kelabit Association chairman Dick Bala.
Saturday August 18, 2007
Decorated soldier now a squatter
By STEPHEN THEN
MIRI: He was a decorated soldier and policeman. In the 34 years he served the nation, Ngalinuh Bala saved lives and survived bullet wounds.
But Bala, 66, a Kelabit native, is a far cry from who he was before.
Semi-paralysed after suffering a stroke, he has been living in a squatter area without piped water and electricity in Taman City.
“What I hope for is a piece of land of my own; is it too much to ask? I have spent my life savings of RM75,000 to build this house on this plot of vacant government land.
“I have no title to this land. I have to use rainwater to cook and drink. I have to use my own generator for electricity.
“I am not asking for recognition or financial reward. All I want is a proper place to live in,” Bala said slowly and in a soft tone when interviewed at his squatter house earlier this week.
Bala was a soldier in the British Army in then Malaya and later in the Malaysian Field Force.
He received six awards for bravery from the British, Brunei Sultanate and Malaysian and state governments.
In 1972, Bala received the Seri Pahlawan Gagah Perkasa, the nation’s highest award for a soldier, from the King.
He holds the awards, letters of commendations and medals close to his heart but hopes he will get his 50th Merdeka wish – good health and a place to call his home.
On Thursday, the Rurum Kelabit Sarawak and Kelab Sukan Highlanders gave him RM2,000 for his daily needs.
“We consider him a community hero. We hope the Government will help him.
“Some people who achieved little in sports have got more than this hero,” said Sarawak Kelabit Association chairman Dick Bala.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Idris Jala’s dad flies high
http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2007/8/4/nation/18498509&sec=nation
Saturday August 4, 2007
Idris Jala’s dad flies high
By STEPHEN THEN
MIRI: Datuk Idris Jala may be the talk among corporate circles for his turning around of Malaysia Airlines (MAS), but the Sarawakian had to take a backseat yesterday.
Not that the MAS managing director minded. It was his 75-year-old father who was being honoured by the Sarawak Government for his outstanding role as a community leader.
Henry Jala Tamalai was awarded the post “Pemanca” (equivalent to that of paramount leader), the highest state honour for the minority 7,000 Kelabit community.
Standing before Miri Resident Ose Murang and other local community leaders here, Henry was only the second in the community to be granted the honour.
The gritty highlander from Bario was the first Kelabit teacher to win the National Tokoh Guru award.
“I am very grateful to the government. I hope to use this post to improve the welfare and livelihood of our small community.
“Most of the Kelabits live in isolated areas,” said Henry, who looked fit despite his age.
Tamalai can be equally proud of Idris and his three other children, who grew up in the Bario Highlands of interior Miri, as they are all high achievers.
Ba’kelalan assemblyman Nelson Balang Rining, who attended the brief ceremony, said he was confident that Henry would play a significant role in his new capacity.
Saturday August 4, 2007
Idris Jala’s dad flies high
By STEPHEN THEN
MIRI: Datuk Idris Jala may be the talk among corporate circles for his turning around of Malaysia Airlines (MAS), but the Sarawakian had to take a backseat yesterday.
Not that the MAS managing director minded. It was his 75-year-old father who was being honoured by the Sarawak Government for his outstanding role as a community leader.
Henry Jala Tamalai was awarded the post “Pemanca” (equivalent to that of paramount leader), the highest state honour for the minority 7,000 Kelabit community.
Standing before Miri Resident Ose Murang and other local community leaders here, Henry was only the second in the community to be granted the honour.
The gritty highlander from Bario was the first Kelabit teacher to win the National Tokoh Guru award.
“I am very grateful to the government. I hope to use this post to improve the welfare and livelihood of our small community.
“Most of the Kelabits live in isolated areas,” said Henry, who looked fit despite his age.
Tamalai can be equally proud of Idris and his three other children, who grew up in the Bario Highlands of interior Miri, as they are all high achievers.
Ba’kelalan assemblyman Nelson Balang Rining, who attended the brief ceremony, said he was confident that Henry would play a significant role in his new capacity.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Bario – The Perfect Venue for Development Conferencing
http://202.187.94.201/06-12-2007-bario--the-perfect-venue-for-development-conferencing
(06-12-2007)
Bario – The Perfect Venue for Development Conferencing
UNDP
The recent e-Bario knowledge fair held concurrently with the UNDP Workshop on e-Inclusion and media for indigenous peoples from 6-8 December 2007 managed to gather participants from four continents around the globe to openly discuss and share knowledge on ICT and indigenous peoples and utilizing media to generate more awareness for the abovementioned topics in the name of development.
The event brought together over 150 people to share knowledge and brainstorm ideas on issues relating to ICT and indigenous peoples whilst using media as a powerful tool to generate greater awareness. Amongst delegates were participants from Indigenous Communities who were either experts or practitioners in the thematic areas of ICT or indigenous peoples. There were also members of the media representing several indigenous groups attending the conference.
The three day event saw active interactions between the local Kelabits and the guests to Bario, where exchanging knowledge and information were the order for the day. There was a blend of academic and local Kelabit presentations in the Plenary e-Tracks, whereby a balance was achieved in the inclusion of foreign and local presentation flavours.
Wang Jianhua aka Ayoe, a Chinese from the tribal Akha people group found the event educational and informative. He also reckoned it was a creative way to gather information and knowledge. Pio Jun Verzola from Philippines quoted that the on site workshop in a place like Bario is a great idea especially in driving home some key points of discussions that would otherwise remain abstract and theoretical only. Daniella Schiller, an intern researcher from Germany found the location to be the highlight of her stay. She quipped, “… it wasn’t a workshop just about Bario but also a little bit for Bario in that people could present as well (most important!) and also get some financial benefits out of it through the sale of handicrafts and the home-stay programme.”
Florance Lapu Apu, the local tour guide was impressed that Bario was chosen to host this international event and hopes that there will be more future events. He would like to see more local Kelabits participate and learn from the foreign experts at events such at this.
The local vicar, Reverend Solomon found the event filled with enriched interactions, especially in the exchange of ideas and innovation where all were able to learn from one another. Through the exchanges, many ideas surfaced and some profound ones were exposed.
Dick Bala shared the same sentiments and recorded that it was great for the Kelabits to be able to interact with the different ethnic groups found at the event.
Mary Peter, a local Kelabit lady expressed that it was interesting to see many people from different countries and cultures coming together in Bario for the event. She found the delegates were very accommodating and hardly complained especially when it came to food – no one was choosy and accepted whatever food served to them. Mary further explained that the menu in Bario is not predictable as they do not have much choice with regards to food supplies. They will cook as the supplies flew in on the small airplanes.
Jesse Fiddler from the Nishnawbe tribe of Northern Canada (Sandy Lake First Nation) highlighted that he learned about the challenges the indigenous peoples are facing in Asia when trying to implement ICTs in improving lives for their people, despite the many obstacles faced. On the other hand, Sanjay Nadkarni, and Indian residing in Macau said that the event achieved in generating awareness about the plight of the indigenous peoples and the role of ICT in mitigating the socio-economic situation whilst simultaneously allowing them to retain their distinct culture and identity.
Ina Hume, a development worker with children utilizing new media concluded that it was a fascinating conference and workshop in a beautiful place. She found the sessions to be informative and interesting and graciously thanked the hosts, the wonderful Kelabit people before ending with words of thanks and gratitude to UNDP for a job well done in organizing the excellent workshop.
Jim Remedio from CAAMA Radio, Australia shared the same views with Ina and he was delighted with the very well organized workshop by UNDP staff in such a place like Bario. He also found the workshop presentations very informative and realized that some participants were very passionate about their work. Jim also acknowledged the great group dynamics exhibited at the workshop.
For further details on how you could organize a conference on development at a truly down to earth place where dialogue with the local beneficiaries like the Kelabit people are made possible, please visit the following link at http://www.ebario.com/
(06-12-2007)
Bario – The Perfect Venue for Development Conferencing
UNDP
The recent e-Bario knowledge fair held concurrently with the UNDP Workshop on e-Inclusion and media for indigenous peoples from 6-8 December 2007 managed to gather participants from four continents around the globe to openly discuss and share knowledge on ICT and indigenous peoples and utilizing media to generate more awareness for the abovementioned topics in the name of development.
The event brought together over 150 people to share knowledge and brainstorm ideas on issues relating to ICT and indigenous peoples whilst using media as a powerful tool to generate greater awareness. Amongst delegates were participants from Indigenous Communities who were either experts or practitioners in the thematic areas of ICT or indigenous peoples. There were also members of the media representing several indigenous groups attending the conference.
The three day event saw active interactions between the local Kelabits and the guests to Bario, where exchanging knowledge and information were the order for the day. There was a blend of academic and local Kelabit presentations in the Plenary e-Tracks, whereby a balance was achieved in the inclusion of foreign and local presentation flavours.
Wang Jianhua aka Ayoe, a Chinese from the tribal Akha people group found the event educational and informative. He also reckoned it was a creative way to gather information and knowledge. Pio Jun Verzola from Philippines quoted that the on site workshop in a place like Bario is a great idea especially in driving home some key points of discussions that would otherwise remain abstract and theoretical only. Daniella Schiller, an intern researcher from Germany found the location to be the highlight of her stay. She quipped, “… it wasn’t a workshop just about Bario but also a little bit for Bario in that people could present as well (most important!) and also get some financial benefits out of it through the sale of handicrafts and the home-stay programme.”
Florance Lapu Apu, the local tour guide was impressed that Bario was chosen to host this international event and hopes that there will be more future events. He would like to see more local Kelabits participate and learn from the foreign experts at events such at this.
The local vicar, Reverend Solomon found the event filled with enriched interactions, especially in the exchange of ideas and innovation where all were able to learn from one another. Through the exchanges, many ideas surfaced and some profound ones were exposed.
Dick Bala shared the same sentiments and recorded that it was great for the Kelabits to be able to interact with the different ethnic groups found at the event.
Mary Peter, a local Kelabit lady expressed that it was interesting to see many people from different countries and cultures coming together in Bario for the event. She found the delegates were very accommodating and hardly complained especially when it came to food – no one was choosy and accepted whatever food served to them. Mary further explained that the menu in Bario is not predictable as they do not have much choice with regards to food supplies. They will cook as the supplies flew in on the small airplanes.
Jesse Fiddler from the Nishnawbe tribe of Northern Canada (Sandy Lake First Nation) highlighted that he learned about the challenges the indigenous peoples are facing in Asia when trying to implement ICTs in improving lives for their people, despite the many obstacles faced. On the other hand, Sanjay Nadkarni, and Indian residing in Macau said that the event achieved in generating awareness about the plight of the indigenous peoples and the role of ICT in mitigating the socio-economic situation whilst simultaneously allowing them to retain their distinct culture and identity.
Ina Hume, a development worker with children utilizing new media concluded that it was a fascinating conference and workshop in a beautiful place. She found the sessions to be informative and interesting and graciously thanked the hosts, the wonderful Kelabit people before ending with words of thanks and gratitude to UNDP for a job well done in organizing the excellent workshop.
Jim Remedio from CAAMA Radio, Australia shared the same views with Ina and he was delighted with the very well organized workshop by UNDP staff in such a place like Bario. He also found the workshop presentations very informative and realized that some participants were very passionate about their work. Jim also acknowledged the great group dynamics exhibited at the workshop.
For further details on how you could organize a conference on development at a truly down to earth place where dialogue with the local beneficiaries like the Kelabit people are made possible, please visit the following link at http://www.ebario.com/
Sunday, April 15, 2007
The hills are alive with art
http://thestar.com.my/lifestyle/story.asp?file=/2007/4/15/lifearts/17407215&sec=lifearts
Sunday April 15, 2007
The hills are alive with art
Story and photos by ANDREW SIA.
An artist forsakes city life to open a gallery deep in the highlands of Sarawak. Could this be the beginning of an artistic renaissance among the longhouses?
HE has gone against the tide. While his family and most younger Kelabit people have left the Bario highlands of Sarawak to work in the cities, artist Stephen Baya turned his back on urban life and chose to go home to open up an art gallery in his longhouse.
PHOTO: Stephen Baya’s tonguein- cheek installation, Hydrypokes fun at a failed multi-million hydroelectric project in Sarawak’s highlands. The wood comes from the project’s flooded site.
Bario is, of course, renowned as a the “land of perpetual spring” (altitude 1,000m); it’s also known for its fragrant mountain rice, pristine forest treks, mysterious megaliths, salt springs, staunch Christianity and, above all, heartfelt hospitality.
Baya discovered his artistic talent when he “was sleepy during boring lessons in school” at Bario, and eventually found himself working on window and mannequin displays at Printemps department store in Kuala Lumpur in the mid 1980s. During his 16 years as the resident artist of the Kuching Hilton (till 2003), he was involved in hotel decor, poster designs, event backdrops and even dinner table layouts, garnering four Merit Awards along the way.
So why did he give all that up to return home? Especially as even his parents are in Kuching; his sister is a lawyer in Kuala Lumpur and his brother is an architect in Kuching.
It was the search for tranquillity, traditional community and natural artistic inspiration, it seems.
PHOTO: Old and new co-exist peacefully: Baya holds a traditional sapa talunpounded-bark vest made by his mother, Maria Peter, and a piece of bamboo and rattan installation art.
“There’s no need to stay in the city. Just going there maybe once a month is good enough,” says the 43-year-old.
His home cum gallery is a wooden longhouse at Ulung Palang village, a peaceful hill setting 20 minutes walk from Bario town centre. To pay the bills, he works part-time as a jungle tourist guide, does some computer graphic design and is thinking of converting one room in the longhouse into a guest room so he can offer “artistic home stays”.
His works display his virtuosity in various styles and the influence his surroundings have on him. Over a bright yellow painting, he has assembled fern stems from the jungle into a scaffolding of sorts. Under Construction is his testament to recycling and environmentalism. In his other installation works, he utilises dried jungle fruits, a gourd (traditionally used to keep fish), rattan twine and waste wood.
The Tree of Life motif, comprising vegetation in overlapping curlicues representing the natural life force, is an important symbol in the lives of the Orang Ulu, the “upriver peoples” of Sarawak that include the Kelabits. The motif is usually pervasive in their homes, appearing on everything from musical instruments to clothes. In Baya’s longhouse, one whole wall is adorned with a striking, contemporary version done in bright blue acrylic on cloth.
“The Tree of Life starts from one point and goes on like a dream,” says Baya.
The motif is also found in several of his other works. In Proud, it discreetly blends into the dresses of two snooty, fashionable ladies. In Kingfisher, it sings in luminous arcs of blue sky along with the little bird. In the dynamic Viking, it emerges almost as a phantasm from a dark, psychedelic kaleidoscope.
“That was inspired by some similar patterns that I saw on a mock Viking ship in Denmark,” the artist says.
An untitled painting has a pair of surreal, bird-like fish flirting – or perhaps flitting – with temptation at a fishing hook’s sinker and showing clear echoes of Salvador Dali.
Another painting, Big Head, symbolises how the small guy struggles against the majority – though Baya won’t admit that this work is self-referential and that he might well be a bit of an artistic misfit within his community!
PHOTO: The Orang Ulu Tree of Life motif appears in many of Baya’s works: in brilliant sweeps of sky in Kingfisher (above) or as the pattern on a couple of fashionable women in Proud.
Baya was born in Pa Main village, a four-hour trek away near the border with Kalimantan. During the Confrontation with Indonesia in 1963, his family was evacuated to central Bario.
“The Indonesian soldiers came to our village. Later, the British and Gurkhas fought them back. I remember how the helicopter came and we evacuated everything, pigs, chickens, house planks ... only the buffalo was left there. In the hurry, I was almost dropped from the helicopter.”
Old co-exists with new here. The current longhouse (made from solid local Agathis wood, none of that modern concrete here, thank you) has long been in construction – and is still unfinished – to replace the one that burnt down nine years ago.
The area’s recent past makes an appearance in Hydry, Baya’s tongue-in-cheek take on “hydro”. The work refers to an RM12mil hydroelectric project built in Bario by the Government. When it failed spectacularly on its first day of operation in 2002, it entered highland legend – and forced the locals to continue using kerosene lamps and generators powered by diesel (which costs some RM4 a litre by the time it arrives in Bario; in the Klang Valley, it costs RM1.52 a litre).
As pointed out by the then Energy, Communication and Multimedia Minister Datuk Amar Leo Moggie, “Even a layman could tell that this project was not feasible. It (was) a waste of public funds.”
And what does Baya do? He takes the dead tree roots from the dam site and turns them into an installation artwork.
So, will his venture succeed? In recent years, he has held a solo exhibition in Copenhagen and a group exhibition at the Sarawak Museum in Kuching. In the meantime, he is working on promoting his artworks through e-Bario, the village’s only Internet radio link with the outside world – it’s a rather tenuous link, however, as power shortages are frequent.
Multi-talented, he also plays the guitar, drums and, of course, the sape, the traditional stringed instrument of the Orang Ulu. Sitting in his gallery, he coaxes delicate, ethereal tones from the sape that seem to fit right in with all the Trees of Life evident in the space. Perhaps he will also coax an artistic renaissance out of the highlands of Bario.
Stephen Baya can be contacted – when he has access to power and the Internet! – at ohbario@yahoo.com or espanabario@gmail.com
Sunday April 15, 2007
The hills are alive with art
Story and photos by ANDREW SIA.
An artist forsakes city life to open a gallery deep in the highlands of Sarawak. Could this be the beginning of an artistic renaissance among the longhouses?
HE has gone against the tide. While his family and most younger Kelabit people have left the Bario highlands of Sarawak to work in the cities, artist Stephen Baya turned his back on urban life and chose to go home to open up an art gallery in his longhouse.
PHOTO: Stephen Baya’s tonguein- cheek installation, Hydrypokes fun at a failed multi-million hydroelectric project in Sarawak’s highlands. The wood comes from the project’s flooded site.
Bario is, of course, renowned as a the “land of perpetual spring” (altitude 1,000m); it’s also known for its fragrant mountain rice, pristine forest treks, mysterious megaliths, salt springs, staunch Christianity and, above all, heartfelt hospitality.
Baya discovered his artistic talent when he “was sleepy during boring lessons in school” at Bario, and eventually found himself working on window and mannequin displays at Printemps department store in Kuala Lumpur in the mid 1980s. During his 16 years as the resident artist of the Kuching Hilton (till 2003), he was involved in hotel decor, poster designs, event backdrops and even dinner table layouts, garnering four Merit Awards along the way.
So why did he give all that up to return home? Especially as even his parents are in Kuching; his sister is a lawyer in Kuala Lumpur and his brother is an architect in Kuching.
It was the search for tranquillity, traditional community and natural artistic inspiration, it seems.
PHOTO: Old and new co-exist peacefully: Baya holds a traditional sapa talunpounded-bark vest made by his mother, Maria Peter, and a piece of bamboo and rattan installation art.
“There’s no need to stay in the city. Just going there maybe once a month is good enough,” says the 43-year-old.
His home cum gallery is a wooden longhouse at Ulung Palang village, a peaceful hill setting 20 minutes walk from Bario town centre. To pay the bills, he works part-time as a jungle tourist guide, does some computer graphic design and is thinking of converting one room in the longhouse into a guest room so he can offer “artistic home stays”.
His works display his virtuosity in various styles and the influence his surroundings have on him. Over a bright yellow painting, he has assembled fern stems from the jungle into a scaffolding of sorts. Under Construction is his testament to recycling and environmentalism. In his other installation works, he utilises dried jungle fruits, a gourd (traditionally used to keep fish), rattan twine and waste wood.
The Tree of Life motif, comprising vegetation in overlapping curlicues representing the natural life force, is an important symbol in the lives of the Orang Ulu, the “upriver peoples” of Sarawak that include the Kelabits. The motif is usually pervasive in their homes, appearing on everything from musical instruments to clothes. In Baya’s longhouse, one whole wall is adorned with a striking, contemporary version done in bright blue acrylic on cloth.
“The Tree of Life starts from one point and goes on like a dream,” says Baya.
The motif is also found in several of his other works. In Proud, it discreetly blends into the dresses of two snooty, fashionable ladies. In Kingfisher, it sings in luminous arcs of blue sky along with the little bird. In the dynamic Viking, it emerges almost as a phantasm from a dark, psychedelic kaleidoscope.
“That was inspired by some similar patterns that I saw on a mock Viking ship in Denmark,” the artist says.
An untitled painting has a pair of surreal, bird-like fish flirting – or perhaps flitting – with temptation at a fishing hook’s sinker and showing clear echoes of Salvador Dali.
Another painting, Big Head, symbolises how the small guy struggles against the majority – though Baya won’t admit that this work is self-referential and that he might well be a bit of an artistic misfit within his community!
PHOTO: The Orang Ulu Tree of Life motif appears in many of Baya’s works: in brilliant sweeps of sky in Kingfisher (above) or as the pattern on a couple of fashionable women in Proud.
Baya was born in Pa Main village, a four-hour trek away near the border with Kalimantan. During the Confrontation with Indonesia in 1963, his family was evacuated to central Bario.
“The Indonesian soldiers came to our village. Later, the British and Gurkhas fought them back. I remember how the helicopter came and we evacuated everything, pigs, chickens, house planks ... only the buffalo was left there. In the hurry, I was almost dropped from the helicopter.”
Old co-exists with new here. The current longhouse (made from solid local Agathis wood, none of that modern concrete here, thank you) has long been in construction – and is still unfinished – to replace the one that burnt down nine years ago.
The area’s recent past makes an appearance in Hydry, Baya’s tongue-in-cheek take on “hydro”. The work refers to an RM12mil hydroelectric project built in Bario by the Government. When it failed spectacularly on its first day of operation in 2002, it entered highland legend – and forced the locals to continue using kerosene lamps and generators powered by diesel (which costs some RM4 a litre by the time it arrives in Bario; in the Klang Valley, it costs RM1.52 a litre).
As pointed out by the then Energy, Communication and Multimedia Minister Datuk Amar Leo Moggie, “Even a layman could tell that this project was not feasible. It (was) a waste of public funds.”
And what does Baya do? He takes the dead tree roots from the dam site and turns them into an installation artwork.
So, will his venture succeed? In recent years, he has held a solo exhibition in Copenhagen and a group exhibition at the Sarawak Museum in Kuching. In the meantime, he is working on promoting his artworks through e-Bario, the village’s only Internet radio link with the outside world – it’s a rather tenuous link, however, as power shortages are frequent.
Multi-talented, he also plays the guitar, drums and, of course, the sape, the traditional stringed instrument of the Orang Ulu. Sitting in his gallery, he coaxes delicate, ethereal tones from the sape that seem to fit right in with all the Trees of Life evident in the space. Perhaps he will also coax an artistic renaissance out of the highlands of Bario.
Stephen Baya can be contacted – when he has access to power and the Internet! – at ohbario@yahoo.com or espanabario@gmail.com
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