http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2009/5/26/nation/3978645&sec=nation
Tuesday May 26, 2009
Homestay operators urged to link up with Tourism Ministry
KUCHING: Villagers interested in running a homestay programme should register with the Tourism Ministry to enjoy benefits such as marketing, promotion and upgrading of their facilities.
“They are normally given a certain amount, for instance to improve their toilets, and we will help promote them in our brochures,” said state Urban Development and Tourism Minister Datuk Michael Manyin.
“If they are not registered, we cannot help them. So we encourage them to register,” he told reporters after opening a baruk (traditional Bidayuh community hall) at Kampung Benuk near here yesterday.
There are currently 232 registered homestay operators in 19 villages throughout Sarawak.
The programme is regulated by the Tourism Ministry through the State Tourism Action Council.
Manyin also said Sarawak planned to intensively promote the homestay programme to foreign tourists in the next few years.
“We can offer tourists something different in terms of lifestyle, culture and food available, through our homestay programme,” he said.
Meanwhile, state Tourism Action Council manager Mohd Tuah Jais said the Tourism Ministry recently upgraded the toilet facilities of all homestay operators in Sarawak at a cost of up to RM5,000 each.
In addition, the ministry had come up with common signboards for homestay operators which were being distributed now.
He said 10,480 visitors stayed with 197 homestay operators in Sarawak last year, bringing in a total revenue of about RM500,000.
He added that in the first two months of this year, the homestay programme attracted 5,632 visitors who generated about RM100,000 in revenue.
“Travellers these days are going for experience rather than just to have a holiday. They want to live with the local people for a richer experience, so they go for homestay,” he said.
Earlier, Kampung Benuk community leader Bundu Suwap said the village started a homestay programme in 2005 with seven operators.
He said the programme received 2,695 visitors in 2005, while last year, it had 2,890 visitors.
Bundu added that the baruk, built with a RM150,000 allocation from the ministry, was part of an upgrading project to improve the attractions in the village.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Friday, May 8, 2009
High Commissioner, Boyd McCleary visits Bario, Sarawak
http://ukinmalaysia.fco.gov.uk/en/news/?view=News&id=17454331
Last updated at 5:56 (UK time) 8 May 2009 Press centre
High Commissioner, Boyd McCleary visits Bario, Sarawak
08 May 2009
Boyd McCleary recounts his experience in Bario, home of the Kelabit tribe
One of the most fascinating books I have read since coming to Malaysia is "The World Within" by Tom Harrisson. It tells of the year Harrisson spent in a long-house in Bario, recruiting the locals to rise up against the Japanese occupying forces, when the Allies landed. Bario is the place where the renowned Bario rice is grown. But where exactly is it? I found out recently, when I spent a couple of days there in the course of a visit to Sarawak. When I told a "Star" reporter about my impressions, he invited me to write them down, as he thought they might be of wider interest. So here goes.
The first thing to note about Bario is that it is not served by any road. So the only way to get there is on foot (a two month walk from Miri), by river (a couple of weeks up from Marudi) or by air. I chose the last option and took an ancient, but very reliable Twin Otter (designed and built in Canada for bush flying) from Miri. On check-in I was surprised to discover that not only my baggage had to be weighed, but also me. This was so that they could judge how much weight was still available for cargo. Because the rear half of the aircraft was stuffed with cardboard boxes bringing everything conceivable up to Bario.
At 6'5", I had a bit of difficulty squeezing in. But they gave me the front row and I managed to stretch my legs into the gap between the pilot and co-pilot. We stopped off in Marudi and had to spend a while there waiting for the cloud to clear. But luckily we met up with Lucy, a school principal in Miri, who was to be one of our hosts and we started to learn about what lay in store. When we eventually did get off the ground, Lucy was also able to talk us through some of the sights on the way, in particular the twin peaks of Batu Lawi which we saw off to the left. The cloud cover had lifted and we had good views as we came in to land on what seemed to be a remarkably small strip of concrete, a postage stamp in the centre of a big valley, surrounded by high mountains, some of them in Indonesian Kalimantan.
Bario sits at around 3,000 feet. The Kelabit have lived there for thousands of years. It is not that many generations ago that they were head-hunters, but for many years they have practised settled agriculture, first using slash and burn methods to grow their rice and other crops, but now using padi, as they have learned the techniques of irrigation. The rice is still sweet and fragrant. Sadly, however, there are no longer enough people in the community to look after it and many of the fields are falling into disrepair. Less than 2,000 Kelabit now live in Bario, the rest of the population of 6,000 having moved into the bigger towns and cities of Sarawak and West Malaysia
Bario Airport is charming. We were greeted personally at the bottom of the aircraft steps by a lovely lady who was in charge of virtually everything, as far as I could see. She escorted me to a waiting line of community representatives, many of them ladies with beautiful beaded skull-caps (handed down apparently from generation to generation), who presented me with a bead necklace and invited me to drink the juice from a locally grown pineapple. It turns out that Bario produces some of the sweetest and best pineapples in the world, for reasons which are not quite clear to agro-science. I ended up bringing a box-load home!
One of the welcoming party was Gerawat Gala, President of the Kelabit Association, who had flown in specially from Kuching (where he is a high-powered lawyer with Zaid Ibrahim) to look after me. It's been some time since a British High Commissioner visited! Gerawat introduced me to the community elders, including Henry, the father of Idris Jala, CEO of Malaysian Airlines, who was born and brought up in the community and made his way into the big wide world via Shell, who have their Asia-Pacific Headquarters in Miri. When I had met Idris in KL a few months ago, he had encouraged me warmly to visit his home community and now it was happening.
One of the amazing things about Bario is the number of brilliant people the valley has produced! Businessmen, academics, doctors, lawyers and teachers! And yet until 1945 there was no school in the community and no-one had ever had any chance to study. Tom Harrisson helped change all that. After the war, he stayed on in Bario and built the first primary school, subsequently followed by a middle school, which takes the children up to 16, after which they have to move down to Marudi or Miri, where they board. Incidentally Harrisson later became Curator of the Sarawak Museum in Kuching, one of the best small museums in the region.
My first engagement in Bario was lunch at Lucy’s Home Stay. This was an opportunity to talk to the community elders. And boy can they talk! They talked about the days of the White Rajas, Harrisson and the Second World War (a second-hand memory now for almost everyone), the incorporation of Sarawak into Malaysia in 1963 (Bario voted against; they were quite happy with British rule), the Confrontation (Bario was one of the bases for Commonwealth troops) and the way the community had changed over the years, as more and more young people had left.
Then we headed off for a tour of the community, which consists of a few long-houses and increasing numbers of individual dwellings, all interspersed with rice fields. The town centre is pretty modest and the only building with a sign outside is the e-Bario, a pilot project run my UNIMAS to bring the internet into rural areas. We visited the primary school, where the children put on an impressive show of local dance, and the middle school, where Gerawat explained what it had been like for him as one of the first pupils to move through and on to university. Between the schools is the site for a new community hall, which Shell are helping to fund.
Above is a hill, from where you can get the best view of Bario. Sitting there for a few moments gave a real sense of peace and well-being. The only disturbance is the distant sound of bulldozers, pushing a logging trail toward Bario, a trail which could change the life of the community for good. But visible too is land now gazette as a new state national park, Pulong Tau, shaped like a violin. There are apparently plans afoot to extend the width of the violin and take the park across the border into Kalimantan, as part of the ambitious and highly important Heart of Borneo project, the aim of which is to create a protected zone covering 200,000 square km of Malaysia, Indonesia and Brunei, an area nearly the size of the UK.
Near the top of the hill is a small museum, housed in one simple room, which tells Bario’s story through pictures and artifacts. One thing that caught my attention was a set of photographs and sketches describing the work by a group of UK universities, including my own alma mater Queen’s Belfast, in mapping the stone megaliths which lie in the hills surrounding the settlement. Megaliths which, when dated, may help the Kelabit demonstrate the extent of territory in which they held sway.
In the afternoon Gerawat suggests that we trek to the salt spring. So we switch into hiking gear and head off along a narrow winding track that takes us past some rice fields (now cared for by Indonesian labourers), past a tiny church (virtually the whole Kelabit community are Christian), across the river and through the site of the old long-house, which was abandoned because of flooding and now stands empty. The timber was taken to re-build at a new site.
Nearby we are shown the place where a Royal Navy Whirlwind helicopter came down during Confrontation. The helicopters were used to ferry troops – SAS, Gurkhas, Royal Green Jackets (the villagers remember the individual regiments!) – to the points along the border where Indonesian irregulars came across. Gerawat remembers Confrontation as an exciting time for him as a boy, who was roped in by the soldiers to carry supplies and ammunition, One account of Bario tells also of the rowdy life-style of the squaddies, who created a different impression of the white man from that of the Australian missionaries, who had come a few years earlier.
We walk past the turn-off to the Indonesian border and arrive soon at the salt spring. Gerawat explains that some years ago a hunter picked up a blowpipe dart that had missed its target. When he licked the dart to clean it, he noticed a salty taste and discovered a source of salty water. The community, who had till then had to trade for salt with the outside world, decided to use the spring to create their own local supply. So they built a small dam, now a well surrounded by concrete, and every week one family gets the chance to make salt.
But how? What happens is that the family whose turn it is collects firewood from the surrounding area (a huge task, as they have to keep two fires lit for the full week) and stores this in the make-shift hut by the spring. Salt water is gathered in a bucket and poured into large cooking pots, which are then placed on the fires and left there till all the water has evaporated, leaving the salt in the bottom. This salt is taken and decanted into bamboo tubes (also pre-prepared) and left to dry in the warm environment of the hut (where the temperature is stifling and we are all sweating profusely). When dry, these tubes are sealed up and wrapped in a leaf and tied off with natural twine.
Local hospitality is such that I was given one of these tubes. I hesitate to accept given the amount of time, energy and sweat it has cost, but Gerawat tells me it would be rude to refuse. I thank the family and wish them well for the rest of their week’s hard labour. And we set off home. The return journey is quicker than the outward leg, as Gerawat has arranged for us to be picked up by a local boatman, who takes us back along the river to our starting point.
Home for the night is “Gem's Lodge”, a Home Stay house owned by Gerawat (he plans to retire there) and managed by members of his family. After changing out of our hiking gear, we enjoy a delicious cold beer on the terrace overlooking the river. Then there is a wonderful supper for the whole village, cooked communally, after which a cultural evening is promised. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. But it turned out to be a mixture of song and dance involving everyone. The old ladies led the singing, as they were the ones who knew the words, many of them in an older form of Kelabit which the younger people didn’t fully understand.
One of the high points was the the Kelabit “Warrior Dance”, performed initially by a young man from the long-house, wearing a goat skin adorned with feathers and wielding a parang and wooden shield. It looked graceful when he did it. But it then transpired that all honoured guests had to follow suit. Gerawat did a good job (he must have done this many times before), but then it was my turn! I hope I managed to make not big a fool of myself. And I could then relax while others did their best. Graceful was no longer the most appropriate adjective to describe their antics.
Among the guests were two young Brits. The first is an anthropology student doing research into long-houses. He is a nephew of the Earl of Cranbrook, who worked with Tom Harrisson and whose article on the Borneo pygmy elephant I have just read in the Journal of the Sarawak Museum. The other is a graduate in ecology, who is setting up a business to bring students and others into Sabah and Sarawak for study trips and eco-tourism. He has been in Bario and surroundings for the last few days looking out suitable trails.
The evening concluded with a spirited conga, danced by all present. Fortunately there are no photographs. But the rhythm of the song was captivating and the sense of community overwhelming.
Next morning, after a relaxed breakfast on the terrace, we head off on another short trek, this time to the small reservoir, which is the source of water for the community. The water flows by gravity-feed and is channeled through a narrow plastic pipe laid by the villagers. The only outside help they needed was a gift of cement made by the Chairman of Shell, who visited Bario and asked what he could do to help. Cement costs RM250 per bag up in the highlands (transported in by Twin Otter) compared with RM 20 per bag in Miri!
On the way Gerawat tells us of how they built the concrete walls to hold in the water of the reservoir, which has been a real success. He also recounts the story of the micro-hydro facility, which was conceived a few years ago as a source of electricity for the community. After months of building and millions of ringgits of expenditure, it ran for about 45 minutes and then gave up the ghost. The level in the dam was simply not high enough to provide the water to feed the turbine. So the village still survives today on expensively fuelled generators and of course on candle power.
As we travel there and back Gerawat talks about his time in the village as a boy. He points out a couple of branches set at an odd angle and explains that these are a porcupine trap. He still knows how to set one. He knows the trees, learned how to use a blowpipe, knows every path for miles around and could find his way home from anywhere, simply by orienting himself to the hills and rivers. But the boys in the village today have lost many of these skills. Whereas in the past everyone learned to hunt and there were maybe twenty hunters in each long-house, today there are only two or three and they no longer venture as far afield.
These are not the only skills which are being lost. The Kelabit language too is under pressure. Lucy had explained to me the night before that there is no proper orthography. Nor is there a Kelabit dictionary. When the missionaries came, they translated the bible into Lun Bawang, but not into Kelabit (except strangely for the Book of Romans!). And, as the old people disappear, there is a real risk of the language dying out with them.
When we get back to “Gem’s Lodge” there is just time to pack and make ready for departure. We are driven to the airport and as we sit down with the local headman and others gathered to see us off, I wonder about what the community will feel like if I come back in a few years’ time. Will there be anyone left living in long-houses? Will there be anyone who still knows how to set a porcupine trap or use a blowpipe? Will the children of the old ladies know (or understand) the words of the songs? How many of the next generation will be prepared to spend a week making salt? Will the new logging road mean not only cheaper cement, but also more visitors, more pollution and less of a sense of community? I hope not.
As we take off in our Twin Otter I feel privileged to have seen Bario as it is today. A special place with some very special people. I plan to return.
Boyd McCleary
September 2008
Last updated at 5:56 (UK time) 8 May 2009 Press centre
High Commissioner, Boyd McCleary visits Bario, Sarawak
08 May 2009
Boyd McCleary recounts his experience in Bario, home of the Kelabit tribe
One of the most fascinating books I have read since coming to Malaysia is "The World Within" by Tom Harrisson. It tells of the year Harrisson spent in a long-house in Bario, recruiting the locals to rise up against the Japanese occupying forces, when the Allies landed. Bario is the place where the renowned Bario rice is grown. But where exactly is it? I found out recently, when I spent a couple of days there in the course of a visit to Sarawak. When I told a "Star" reporter about my impressions, he invited me to write them down, as he thought they might be of wider interest. So here goes.
The first thing to note about Bario is that it is not served by any road. So the only way to get there is on foot (a two month walk from Miri), by river (a couple of weeks up from Marudi) or by air. I chose the last option and took an ancient, but very reliable Twin Otter (designed and built in Canada for bush flying) from Miri. On check-in I was surprised to discover that not only my baggage had to be weighed, but also me. This was so that they could judge how much weight was still available for cargo. Because the rear half of the aircraft was stuffed with cardboard boxes bringing everything conceivable up to Bario.
At 6'5", I had a bit of difficulty squeezing in. But they gave me the front row and I managed to stretch my legs into the gap between the pilot and co-pilot. We stopped off in Marudi and had to spend a while there waiting for the cloud to clear. But luckily we met up with Lucy, a school principal in Miri, who was to be one of our hosts and we started to learn about what lay in store. When we eventually did get off the ground, Lucy was also able to talk us through some of the sights on the way, in particular the twin peaks of Batu Lawi which we saw off to the left. The cloud cover had lifted and we had good views as we came in to land on what seemed to be a remarkably small strip of concrete, a postage stamp in the centre of a big valley, surrounded by high mountains, some of them in Indonesian Kalimantan.
Bario sits at around 3,000 feet. The Kelabit have lived there for thousands of years. It is not that many generations ago that they were head-hunters, but for many years they have practised settled agriculture, first using slash and burn methods to grow their rice and other crops, but now using padi, as they have learned the techniques of irrigation. The rice is still sweet and fragrant. Sadly, however, there are no longer enough people in the community to look after it and many of the fields are falling into disrepair. Less than 2,000 Kelabit now live in Bario, the rest of the population of 6,000 having moved into the bigger towns and cities of Sarawak and West Malaysia
Bario Airport is charming. We were greeted personally at the bottom of the aircraft steps by a lovely lady who was in charge of virtually everything, as far as I could see. She escorted me to a waiting line of community representatives, many of them ladies with beautiful beaded skull-caps (handed down apparently from generation to generation), who presented me with a bead necklace and invited me to drink the juice from a locally grown pineapple. It turns out that Bario produces some of the sweetest and best pineapples in the world, for reasons which are not quite clear to agro-science. I ended up bringing a box-load home!
One of the welcoming party was Gerawat Gala, President of the Kelabit Association, who had flown in specially from Kuching (where he is a high-powered lawyer with Zaid Ibrahim) to look after me. It's been some time since a British High Commissioner visited! Gerawat introduced me to the community elders, including Henry, the father of Idris Jala, CEO of Malaysian Airlines, who was born and brought up in the community and made his way into the big wide world via Shell, who have their Asia-Pacific Headquarters in Miri. When I had met Idris in KL a few months ago, he had encouraged me warmly to visit his home community and now it was happening.
One of the amazing things about Bario is the number of brilliant people the valley has produced! Businessmen, academics, doctors, lawyers and teachers! And yet until 1945 there was no school in the community and no-one had ever had any chance to study. Tom Harrisson helped change all that. After the war, he stayed on in Bario and built the first primary school, subsequently followed by a middle school, which takes the children up to 16, after which they have to move down to Marudi or Miri, where they board. Incidentally Harrisson later became Curator of the Sarawak Museum in Kuching, one of the best small museums in the region.
My first engagement in Bario was lunch at Lucy’s Home Stay. This was an opportunity to talk to the community elders. And boy can they talk! They talked about the days of the White Rajas, Harrisson and the Second World War (a second-hand memory now for almost everyone), the incorporation of Sarawak into Malaysia in 1963 (Bario voted against; they were quite happy with British rule), the Confrontation (Bario was one of the bases for Commonwealth troops) and the way the community had changed over the years, as more and more young people had left.
Then we headed off for a tour of the community, which consists of a few long-houses and increasing numbers of individual dwellings, all interspersed with rice fields. The town centre is pretty modest and the only building with a sign outside is the e-Bario, a pilot project run my UNIMAS to bring the internet into rural areas. We visited the primary school, where the children put on an impressive show of local dance, and the middle school, where Gerawat explained what it had been like for him as one of the first pupils to move through and on to university. Between the schools is the site for a new community hall, which Shell are helping to fund.
Above is a hill, from where you can get the best view of Bario. Sitting there for a few moments gave a real sense of peace and well-being. The only disturbance is the distant sound of bulldozers, pushing a logging trail toward Bario, a trail which could change the life of the community for good. But visible too is land now gazette as a new state national park, Pulong Tau, shaped like a violin. There are apparently plans afoot to extend the width of the violin and take the park across the border into Kalimantan, as part of the ambitious and highly important Heart of Borneo project, the aim of which is to create a protected zone covering 200,000 square km of Malaysia, Indonesia and Brunei, an area nearly the size of the UK.
Near the top of the hill is a small museum, housed in one simple room, which tells Bario’s story through pictures and artifacts. One thing that caught my attention was a set of photographs and sketches describing the work by a group of UK universities, including my own alma mater Queen’s Belfast, in mapping the stone megaliths which lie in the hills surrounding the settlement. Megaliths which, when dated, may help the Kelabit demonstrate the extent of territory in which they held sway.
In the afternoon Gerawat suggests that we trek to the salt spring. So we switch into hiking gear and head off along a narrow winding track that takes us past some rice fields (now cared for by Indonesian labourers), past a tiny church (virtually the whole Kelabit community are Christian), across the river and through the site of the old long-house, which was abandoned because of flooding and now stands empty. The timber was taken to re-build at a new site.
Nearby we are shown the place where a Royal Navy Whirlwind helicopter came down during Confrontation. The helicopters were used to ferry troops – SAS, Gurkhas, Royal Green Jackets (the villagers remember the individual regiments!) – to the points along the border where Indonesian irregulars came across. Gerawat remembers Confrontation as an exciting time for him as a boy, who was roped in by the soldiers to carry supplies and ammunition, One account of Bario tells also of the rowdy life-style of the squaddies, who created a different impression of the white man from that of the Australian missionaries, who had come a few years earlier.
We walk past the turn-off to the Indonesian border and arrive soon at the salt spring. Gerawat explains that some years ago a hunter picked up a blowpipe dart that had missed its target. When he licked the dart to clean it, he noticed a salty taste and discovered a source of salty water. The community, who had till then had to trade for salt with the outside world, decided to use the spring to create their own local supply. So they built a small dam, now a well surrounded by concrete, and every week one family gets the chance to make salt.
But how? What happens is that the family whose turn it is collects firewood from the surrounding area (a huge task, as they have to keep two fires lit for the full week) and stores this in the make-shift hut by the spring. Salt water is gathered in a bucket and poured into large cooking pots, which are then placed on the fires and left there till all the water has evaporated, leaving the salt in the bottom. This salt is taken and decanted into bamboo tubes (also pre-prepared) and left to dry in the warm environment of the hut (where the temperature is stifling and we are all sweating profusely). When dry, these tubes are sealed up and wrapped in a leaf and tied off with natural twine.
Local hospitality is such that I was given one of these tubes. I hesitate to accept given the amount of time, energy and sweat it has cost, but Gerawat tells me it would be rude to refuse. I thank the family and wish them well for the rest of their week’s hard labour. And we set off home. The return journey is quicker than the outward leg, as Gerawat has arranged for us to be picked up by a local boatman, who takes us back along the river to our starting point.
Home for the night is “Gem's Lodge”, a Home Stay house owned by Gerawat (he plans to retire there) and managed by members of his family. After changing out of our hiking gear, we enjoy a delicious cold beer on the terrace overlooking the river. Then there is a wonderful supper for the whole village, cooked communally, after which a cultural evening is promised. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. But it turned out to be a mixture of song and dance involving everyone. The old ladies led the singing, as they were the ones who knew the words, many of them in an older form of Kelabit which the younger people didn’t fully understand.
One of the high points was the the Kelabit “Warrior Dance”, performed initially by a young man from the long-house, wearing a goat skin adorned with feathers and wielding a parang and wooden shield. It looked graceful when he did it. But it then transpired that all honoured guests had to follow suit. Gerawat did a good job (he must have done this many times before), but then it was my turn! I hope I managed to make not big a fool of myself. And I could then relax while others did their best. Graceful was no longer the most appropriate adjective to describe their antics.
Among the guests were two young Brits. The first is an anthropology student doing research into long-houses. He is a nephew of the Earl of Cranbrook, who worked with Tom Harrisson and whose article on the Borneo pygmy elephant I have just read in the Journal of the Sarawak Museum. The other is a graduate in ecology, who is setting up a business to bring students and others into Sabah and Sarawak for study trips and eco-tourism. He has been in Bario and surroundings for the last few days looking out suitable trails.
The evening concluded with a spirited conga, danced by all present. Fortunately there are no photographs. But the rhythm of the song was captivating and the sense of community overwhelming.
Next morning, after a relaxed breakfast on the terrace, we head off on another short trek, this time to the small reservoir, which is the source of water for the community. The water flows by gravity-feed and is channeled through a narrow plastic pipe laid by the villagers. The only outside help they needed was a gift of cement made by the Chairman of Shell, who visited Bario and asked what he could do to help. Cement costs RM250 per bag up in the highlands (transported in by Twin Otter) compared with RM 20 per bag in Miri!
On the way Gerawat tells us of how they built the concrete walls to hold in the water of the reservoir, which has been a real success. He also recounts the story of the micro-hydro facility, which was conceived a few years ago as a source of electricity for the community. After months of building and millions of ringgits of expenditure, it ran for about 45 minutes and then gave up the ghost. The level in the dam was simply not high enough to provide the water to feed the turbine. So the village still survives today on expensively fuelled generators and of course on candle power.
As we travel there and back Gerawat talks about his time in the village as a boy. He points out a couple of branches set at an odd angle and explains that these are a porcupine trap. He still knows how to set one. He knows the trees, learned how to use a blowpipe, knows every path for miles around and could find his way home from anywhere, simply by orienting himself to the hills and rivers. But the boys in the village today have lost many of these skills. Whereas in the past everyone learned to hunt and there were maybe twenty hunters in each long-house, today there are only two or three and they no longer venture as far afield.
These are not the only skills which are being lost. The Kelabit language too is under pressure. Lucy had explained to me the night before that there is no proper orthography. Nor is there a Kelabit dictionary. When the missionaries came, they translated the bible into Lun Bawang, but not into Kelabit (except strangely for the Book of Romans!). And, as the old people disappear, there is a real risk of the language dying out with them.
When we get back to “Gem’s Lodge” there is just time to pack and make ready for departure. We are driven to the airport and as we sit down with the local headman and others gathered to see us off, I wonder about what the community will feel like if I come back in a few years’ time. Will there be anyone left living in long-houses? Will there be anyone who still knows how to set a porcupine trap or use a blowpipe? Will the children of the old ladies know (or understand) the words of the songs? How many of the next generation will be prepared to spend a week making salt? Will the new logging road mean not only cheaper cement, but also more visitors, more pollution and less of a sense of community? I hope not.
As we take off in our Twin Otter I feel privileged to have seen Bario as it is today. A special place with some very special people. I plan to return.
Boyd McCleary
September 2008
The Kelabit community showing great potential, says Alfred
http://thestar.com.my/metro/story.asp?file=/2009/5/8/southneast/3836611&sec=southneast
Friday May 8, 2009
The Kelabit community showing great potential, says Alfred
KUCHING: The Kelabit community has proven that they are not lagging behind in the development of human capital with many taking up important posts in the private and government sectors although it is a minority group in Sarawak, Deputy Chief Minister Tan Sri Alfred Jabu said.
According to him, the records showed that the community with a population of only 6,500 statewide, had churned out many graduates from tertiary institutions in the country and abroad.
“Their willingness to try, work hard as well as emphasis on positive values and education have shaped them into the outstanding community that they are,” he said at the Rurum Kelabit Excellence Awards 2009 ceremony here.
He expressed his pride in the Kelabit community because of their healthy lifestyle and not taking part in activities like rooster fighting, gambling and drinking and their ability to contribute to the country’s development.
“However, the Bario highlands in Miri were becoming lonely with more of the younger generation moving to the city to further their studies, marking the end of their tradition of living in longhouses,” he said.
Last year, 45 Kelabit students received awards for excellence in the UPSR, PMR, SPM and STPM examinations. — Bernama
Friday May 8, 2009
The Kelabit community showing great potential, says Alfred
KUCHING: The Kelabit community has proven that they are not lagging behind in the development of human capital with many taking up important posts in the private and government sectors although it is a minority group in Sarawak, Deputy Chief Minister Tan Sri Alfred Jabu said.
According to him, the records showed that the community with a population of only 6,500 statewide, had churned out many graduates from tertiary institutions in the country and abroad.
“Their willingness to try, work hard as well as emphasis on positive values and education have shaped them into the outstanding community that they are,” he said at the Rurum Kelabit Excellence Awards 2009 ceremony here.
He expressed his pride in the Kelabit community because of their healthy lifestyle and not taking part in activities like rooster fighting, gambling and drinking and their ability to contribute to the country’s development.
“However, the Bario highlands in Miri were becoming lonely with more of the younger generation moving to the city to further their studies, marking the end of their tradition of living in longhouses,” he said.
Last year, 45 Kelabit students received awards for excellence in the UPSR, PMR, SPM and STPM examinations. — Bernama
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