Back to Borneo, and an Eden at Risk

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/02/23/travel/back-to-borneo-and-an-eden-at-risk.html?_r=0

By KAREN J. COATES 

FEB. 21, 2014

Pa Lungan in the Kelabit Highlands of Sarawak, Malaysia. Credit Jerry Redfern for The New York Time

 There are no roads to the village of Pa Lungan, just a mucky water buffalo trail beneath a tight-knit canopy — among the last standing highland jungles on the island of Borneo. In spots, the trail is more swamp than path. But that does not mean all is quiet: The rain forest is a cacophonous place. Cicadas squeal and monkeys hoot as they romp through the trees. Bamboo creaks in the breeze as its stalks grind and rub in a primitive dance.

Our journey through Borneo began seven years ago, when, on a whim, my husband and I visited the Kelabit Highlands, situated in Sarawak, one of two Malaysian states on the island. I’d been invited to a conference in the capital city of Kuching; with some time on our hands, we headed to this remote region, most easily accessible by turboprop plane, which flew a few times each week from Miri, on the coast, to the small town of Bario. (The alternatives were many hours, even days, on precarious logging roads, or several weeks on foot through the forest.) 

Thanks to a reporting fellowship, we found ourselves back in the Highlands last year. Things had changed somewhat — that flight now leaves twice daily, and a newly graded dirt road eases travel in and out of Bario. 

The town had grown slightly — more houses, a few concrete-slab roads — but the tempo had not. Bario Asal, the town’s original longhouse, remains, albeit a bit quieter than in years past. But local families still gather by unvented fires in a common area filled with smoke and chitchat. Tourists come to see this. “More tourists, every day,” a Kelabit elder named Jenette Ulun said — one or two a day, sometimes a dozen. “There are more tourists than us locals,” she joked.

Photo

The Parill family at the Bario Asal longhouse. Credit Jerry Redfern for The New York Times

For centuries, the Kelabit people lived isolated lives, best known to the outside world as champion headhunters. But that began to change under the reign of the so-called White Rajahs, a British family by the name of Brooke, who reigned in Sarawak from 1841 to 1946 and tried to rid the region of headhunting. 

Meanwhile, Christian missionaries converted the Kelabits in the 1940s and clamped down on alcohol consumption. Ever since, the Kelabits, who now number about 6,000, have gladly practiced evangelical Christianity with ceremonies far less laborious than their old animist rituals, they say. And the Kelabits have modernized in other ways: Gone are skulls hanging from the rafters, replaced by fireside cellphones and laptops.

Until a few years ago, travelers came for the “Bario Loop,” and other multiday treks organized by local Kelabit guides that hugged the Indonesian border through jungles now logged. These days, most visitors take shorter hikes and experience Kelabit culture in local homes.

Photo

Typical Kelabit fare (pounded rice cake, chicken soup, mushroom soup and fried wild vegetables) at Henry Lagang’s guesthouse in Pa Dalih. Credit Jerry Redfern for The New York Times

On our first trip to Bario, my husband and I lodged at De Plateau, a homestay near the forest leading to Pa Lungan. I remember the cold-water showers and the outdoor sink, which faced a panorama of blue-green hills bathed in flowery air. Dinners consisted of fried wild boar, fiddlehead ferns and sautéed, burgundy-red ginger flowers.

We hired a guide who led us up and down a sodden trail, a foot-long blade called a parang hanging from a scabbard at his hip. Five hours on, we found Pa Lungan, set like a mountain oasis amid verdant, dewy grasses and sparkling ponds. That’s where we met Walter Paran, our village host. He took us to his wooden house set on stilts, where we met his wife, Moriaty, and his then-toddler daughter, Mujan. Walter’s mother squatted by a blackened hearth, tending a pot of simmering cucumber. “Very simple food,” Walter said.

Photo

Kids take a sunset joyride around the Pa Dalih longhouse in Sarawak, Malaysia. Credit Jerry Redfern for The New York Times

We also met Walter’s brother, Pasen Mado Inan, who praised the forests around him. “Most of the things we need for every day come from the jungle,” he said. He feared it would disappear — the trucks were getting closer. “We hate the logging.”

Walter asked us to return so he could take us deeper into the forest, “before logging disturbs that side.” As my husband and I flew out of Bario a few days later, we saw early evidence of what he feared. Below, thick jungle turned to naked hills laced with ruddy roads. “No one can stop them,” our pilot said. “It’s disgusting.”

Photo

One of the guest rooms at the Jungle Blues Guesthouse in Bario, Sarawak, Malaysia. Credit Jerry Redfern for The New York Times

For years, I wondered what became of Walter, his family and their forests. I read of jungles all over Borneo, chopped and cleared, replanted with palms. To raze a rain forest is to bulldoze one of the earth’s biggest carbon stores. To erase this forest would also be to annihilate an age-old way of life. 

Seven years later, we returned, again flying a turboprop into Bario. This time, we stayed with Stephen Baya, a Kelabit artist, and his Danish wife, Tine Hjetting, in their homestay-gallery called Jungle Blues Dream, in a longhouse overlooking the wild yonder of rice paddies, homes and wooded hills that disappeared each morning in a shroud of fog. Stephen, a self-taught artist, fills his wooden walls with vivid trees of life, a motif that symbolizes, for him, a “journey never-ending.” Stephen was born in the Highlands but spent years working for Hilton, Holiday Inn and a Printemps department store elsewhere in Malaysia. He prefers Bario. Living the city life, he said, means “always having to think about tomorrow, think about next week.”

Photo

Walter Paran, a local guide. Credit Jerry Redfern for The New York Times

When I told Stephen of my search for Walter, he relayed the message. Spotty cellphone coverage now permeates parts of the jungle. (We later learned that if Walter wedges his phone into one particular window and stands back, he can sometimes maintain a conversation.) Walter successfully received Stephen’s message and said he awaited our arrival.

Stephen drove us to the road’s end, and from there, we hoofed it, packs on backs, sticks in hand. Along the way, elements of our first trip came back: the tests of balance provided by bridges the width of two logs that spanned streams and broad swaths of mud; an avenue of palms beneath higher, old-growth trees. We stopped at the palms, sat on a log and ate canned chicken curry. In the distance, we heard what sounded like faint, high-pitched voices. There were no trails, no villages, no one around. Perhaps it was wind, making the treetops squeak. Elders later spoke of talking spirits that occasionally spook villagers on foot in the forest.

Pa Lungan was idyllic as ever. We found Walter’s home, but he was out somewhere. Moriaty and Mujan, who was 9 by the time of our return visit, offered us instant coffee, fried shrimp crackers and a seat at their long wooden table. After a cold bucket shower and a short rest, we joined a party next door: Village hunters had caught a boar that morning, and its head crackled on the fire. They offered strips of hot, juicy fat and grilled petai beans, known for their sulfuric stench but delicious flavor.

The sky that evening was a spectacle of tropical-fruit colors: tangerine, passionfruit, papaya. Then darkness fell, and Walter’s generator rumbled on. The power allowed for a few efficiency lights, and a TV — the latter an addition since our previous visit. Mujan lay under a blanket, watching Bruce Lee chop his way through “Fist of Fury.” 

In the morning, we were greeted by Walter, who remembered us and had many things to share. He wanted to show us why tourists still come to Pa Lungan. “They love the place because it’s still green,” he said. 

Nearby Pulong Tau National Park was expanded in 2008, creating a buffer between his village and the logging threat, he told us. He said Pa Lungan remains a “nice, quiet place” — for now.

Together, we hiked a nearby mountain, across the soft earthen floor beneath palms that Walter’s ancestors had planted generations ago. The forest was dense. “This one you can call primary jungle,” he said. From there, we scrambled a near-vertical climb to the hilltop, where a giant metal cross, placed by someone from Pa Lungan (its exact origins are murky), was dedicated to “God’s saving grace”; a sign commemorates the need to avoid bringing “anything detestable” into the land. Below, Pa Lungan seemed to float in an undulating sea of trees. 

That’s Indonesia, Walter said, pointing to the horizon. He added: “Other side of the mountain, they already logged.” He eyed the area behind the cross, toward another area that had already been logged. From this vantage, we could also see Pulong Tau. Walter hoped the park would last, that its boundaries would hold; not all government decisions do, he had told us earlier. 

Walter knew he was living in an Eden at risk, but has always said he will fight for it. “I’m the one who’s always fighting against this logging,” he told me in 2006. 

Today, he has more hope for this view, still intact. We peered across thick stands of trees where Walter had taken us foraging for edible palms and rattans, and bamboos with liquid inside. He said he could live in that forest on the food and drink it provided. It had, after all, sustained centuries of people before him. “That’s why we need to keep our jungle,” he said.

Bario, and most Kelabit villages, offer homestay lodging with meals included.

Jungle Blues Dream (junglebluesdream.weebly.com) charges 70 ringgit per person per day, about $21 at 3.25 ringgit to the dollar. The owners can help arrange guides (typically 80 to 100 ringgit a day) and lodging elsewhere. Prices for homestay lodgings generally range from 50 to 90 ringgit a day.

Several Pa Lungan villagers welcome guests, at similar rates, including Walter Paran; arrange in advance from Bario or simply show up.

A version of this article appears in print on February 23, 2014, on page TR8 of the New York edition with the headline: Back to Borneo, and an Eden at Risk. Order Reprints|Today's Paper|Subscribe

The Landscape of Memory Archaeology, oral history, and culture deep in the Malaysian jungle

http://www.archaeology.org/issues/127-1403/letter-from/1793-borneo-jungle-megalithic-mounds-stone-jars

By KAREN COATES

Monday, February 10, 2014

(Jerry Redfern) Henry Lagang is one of only 6,000 members of highland
Borneo’s Kelabit tribe. Each day, Henry Lagang heads into the forest to hunt
and forage with a machete slung over one shoulder, a gun over the other, and
dogs at his heels. His mother grows rice, and so do his neighbors. For generations,
people have lived and worked like this to claim the land—and survive—in the
inland jungles of Malaysian Borneo.

For centuries, the Kelabits, a small tribe of hunter-farmer-foragers, lived in near isolation in the Bornean forests that straddle Malaysia and Indonesia. The tribe practiced animism and headhunting until missionaries converted them to Christianity in the 1940s. In contrast to the wealth of archaeological and anthropological research on the inhabitants of the island’s coasts, very little is known about the early history of the peoples who dwelled in these highlands. With approximately 6,000 tribe members among a total population of roughly 20 million Borneans, the Kelabits are a tiny minority, and little has been published on their history. But archaeologists working there now may offer new insights into the missing pieces of Kelabit history, as well as that of their predecessors.

Until recently, this region of the island was accessible only by plane or a month-long hike through the jungle. A new dirt logging road now connects the interior and the coast, but the locals who choose to stay still hike far and wide for food. Their lives revolve around the jungle. Kelabits measure their treks in cigarette time, 47-year-old Lagang explains. For example, it’s a “two-cigarette” hike from his mother’s rice field to a recently abandoned longhouse known as Batu Patong, through bucolic fields flanked by thick rain forest resonating with the sounds of insects.

(Richard Bleiweiss)

As he heads toward the jungle, Lagang passes a stone mound where local stories say heirless ancestors buried their belongings. Just a few yards away, beside a neighbor’s pineapple garden, sits a broken ceramic jar in what remains of a cemetery. Beyond, the rain forest shelters thousands of years of the archaeological record stacked atop itself, layer upon layer, site upon site: century-old longhouses with fruit trees planted by previous inhabitants, 300- to 600-year-old stone burial jars covered in moss and caked in dirt, now-overgrown rice and sago plots that fed the highlanders up to 2,300 years ago, and even evidence of widespread forest burning, a potential sign of arboriculture, dating back 6,000 years or more. Archaeologists have no way yet to precisely identify many of the jungle’s past inhabitants or the creators of these sites. And the more scientists find, the more questions emerge about the histories that lie hidden.

Though the island of Borneo has 50,000 years of known human occupation, until recently very little excavation, or even survey, has taken place in the inland mountains. Now, research in the Kelabit jungles offers new possibilities for assembling the puzzle of human history across interior Borneo. Since 2007, Lindsay Lloyd-Smith of Sogang University’s Institute for East Asian Studies in Seoul, South Korea, has coordinated archaeological fieldwork for a multiyear, multidisciplinary research team called the Cultured Rainforest Project (CRF). Led by Cambridge archaeologist Graeme Barker, CRF includes scientists from universities and institutes across the United Kingdom, South Korea, and Malaysia, and combines work in the disciplines of archaeology, anthropology, and paleoecology. The project’s aim is to investigate past and present relationships between people and rain forest in interior highland Borneo. “We really didn’t know what to expect,” Lloyd-Smith says of the project’s beginnings. “We now have a pretty good chronological framework for human occupation and subsistence in the heart of Borneo, and it has revealed just how rich and varied the prehistory of central Borneo is. It’s exciting.” Yet the local knowledge of the past on which much of the CRF’s work also depends is slipping away quickly, and documentation of the archaeology might be one of the only ways to save it.

(Courtesy Lindsay Lloyd-Smith) Members of the Cultured Rainforest Project (CRF) 
are documenting the archaeological landscape of the Kelabit highlands, including this 
large stone mound known as a perupun. 

CRF’s work has also given Lagang and his neighbors their first formal chance to learn about Kelabit history, which is not taught in Malaysian schools. And the timing is critical. The last decade has brought rapid change as interior Borneo faces the rise of commercial logging and the cultural changes that come with it. Since 1990, according to a recent scientific report, logging has altered nearly 80 percent of Malaysian Borneo’s land surface. When trees go, so do traditional lifestyles that rely on them. Amid the effects of newly built logging roads, climate change, and a desire among young people for education and city jobs, Kelabit life seesaws between tradition and transition. Fading cultural knowledge compounds the threats to potential archaeological sites from the harsh climate and farmland development, explains Borbála Nyíri, who is Lloyd-Smith’s partner in both life and work, and a doctoral student at the School of Archaeology and Ancient History at the University of Leicester. “Many sites are now only known to a handful of old people, and are quickly dropping out of the sphere of cultural memory,” Nyíri says.

Through the years, Lagang and his mother, Mariar Aran, have opened the doors of their longhouse to researchers—“many people, many times,” Lagang says—offering beds and mosquito nets, meals of homegrown rice, wild boar and deer he has hunted, and vegetables plucked from the jungle. Lagang serves as both host and guide through the tangled terrain.

The Kelabit highlands are dotted with signs of the past. Throughout the forest, there are hundreds of markers called etuu. The Kelabits believe that in order to establish rights over a landscape, it is essential to mark it. These markers can include megaliths, carved stones, stone jars, stone mounds, and even rice fields. One prominent type of mark is the large stone mound known as a perupun. Kelabits today say such mounds, which are found all across the central highlands and can reach 100 feet wide and 10 feet high, were spiritually significant. “These findings seem to indicate a widespread cultural tradition that flourished around 2,000 years ago, during the Early Metal Age,” Lloyd-Smith says. And they indicate use of the landscape going back generations.

(Jerry Redfern) Kelabit tribesman Walter Paran stands in front of a megalithic burial site—
one of the many types of man-made marks on the landscape—called Batu Ritong.

Kelabits also see etuu as evidence of a person’s ability to channel lalud, the manifest power believed to govern all nature, from rivers to rain to life itself. Lalud is deeply intertwined with the spirit world, and etuu are indicators of a person’s ties to those spirits and ancestors. According to CRF anthropologist Monica Janowski, “A successful human, of high status, should demonstrate the ability to manage and manipulate lalud effectively, and this should be visible through the etuu marks he or she makes on the landscape.”

Etuu aren’t the only signs of human occupation in the forest. There are also hundreds of old settlements in varying stages of decay. Some are standing wooden structures, such as Batu Patong, while others are recognizable only by fruits and palms planted by previous inhabitants. Some sites date to the 1800s, and locals can remember their names and histories. Others show evidence of occupation dating back 400 years, but nothing is known of the people who lived there. Researchers have also identified what appear to be large, open-air settlements with stone walls and iron artifacts dating to the Early Metal Age, some 1,000 to 2,300 years ago. “As far as I am aware, these represent the earliest Metal Age settlements yet discovered on Borneo,” Lloyd-Smith says. Cave burial sites on the island have been studied before, but much less is known about occupation sites. For the first time, Lloyd-Smith says, he and his colleagues can begin to see these early societies from a domestic perspective, rather than from their mortuary practices alone. But at this point, the researchers don’t know a lot about these sites, such as whether they were long-term villages or gathering points for multiple communities, or how iron tools were introduced, or who brought them.

(Courtesy Lindsay Lloyd-Smith, Jerry Redfern) CRF archaeologists excavate at 
Long Diit (above left), which was used as a settlement as far back as 2,400 years 
ago, then as a burial site, likely 300-600 years ago. One of the 14 stone jars (above 
right) found at the site is heavily overgrown but still stands. 

The evidence uncovered thus far provokes questions about who the jungle’s early inhabitants were, how they lived and worked, what they ate, and how they interacted with their regional neighbors at a time of thriving trade between Borneo, China, India, and Southeast Asia. Were the early inhabitants of interior Borneo indigenous to the highlands, or outsiders who came with iron tools? Were they among the first Neolithic farmers who arrived in Southeast Asia from Taiwan and the Philippines 1,000 years earlier? Or was this interior culture a mix of local development and regional migration?

These queries have led Lloyd-Smith on a new investigation, called the Early Borneo Project. He hopes to focus on the early relationships between Borneo’s highlands and coast, and on the question of whether regional trade could have sparked the construction of megaliths and monuments such as the perupuns in the heart of Borneo in the Early Metal Age. “The effect of such early ‘globalization’ on such distant interior locations has never been considered,” says Lloyd-Smith.

For outsiders, traveling through the Bornean jungle is a constant challenge of balance, strength, and determination. But Lagang knows this place, how it behaves, and how he must respond. Even fording rivers is routine for him. He braces his body against the forceful flow of cold water rushing over rocks. Once across the water, he bushwhacks through vines and leaves, clearing a path to Long Diit, a site that was a settlement 1,000 to 2,400 years ago, and was later used as a cemetery, or menatoh, likely beginning 300 to 600 years ago. Menatoh are found throughout the highlands. These were essentially “villages of the dead,” according to Janowski. There, the deceased continue to live in the parallel spirit world or dimension, growing rice, keeping chickens, and practicing other everyday activities.

(Jerry Redfern) A broken dragon jar at the edge of Lagang’s village of Pa Dalih is the only surviving vessel in what was once a cemetery filled with dragon jars.

 

At Long Diit, beneath the towering canopy of old-growth forest, are seven slab structures and 14 moss-covered stone burial jars, some standing, some fallen, some broken. The intact jars are the size of a small, slim person. The area was used as a burial ground before the Christian conversion, Lagang says. Pointing to a giant tree with gnarled roots, he recalls the skulls—“a lot of them”—that used to sit at its base when he was a child. Wherever you see this type of tree, he says, ancestral remains may lie beneath.

Stories like Lagang’s are critical to understanding the region. Sometimes, local legends are the very foundation from which researchers work.

Another type of historical evidence, large glazed stoneware storage jars, were likely first produced in China in the seventh through tenth centuries, and became highly prized trade items in Borneo, according to Nyíri. In the Kelabit highlands, these jars—known as dragon jars for the designs that typically adorn their sides—were keepsakes, or were used for rice or wine. Others were used for storing the bones of the dead in pre-Christian cemeteries. “Dragon jars became treasured heirloom pieces passed down for generations,” Nyíri says. Only the wealthy upper classes owned them, and some Kelabit elders still keep these jars in their homes. “They put rice inside,” says a 43-year-old villager named Walter Paran, describing the jar his family bought, long before he was born, from traders across the border in Kalimantan for the price of two buffalo.

Today Paran takes care of several jars that his uncle, now deceased, kept in his house. His living relatives don’t know much about them, their origins, or their value. “We forgot to ask,” he says. “That’s a big mistake for us. That is why we are losing our history …that’s why our children, they don’t know.” He’s happy the CRF team is taking notes and recording data. Paran, like many elders, says Kelabit history is fading from memory. His nine-year-old daughter, Mujan, and her peers trek five hours to the town of Bario, where they attend boarding school. In class, they learn nothing about the Kelabit culture. “They teach history,” Paran says, “but not this type of history.”

When Lagang was a child, several dragon jars sat at the edge of his village, right above a river. Only the pieces of only one remain today. He recalls that when he was a young boy, he approached that place with caution because the jars held spirits that sometimes spoke—a story repeated by Kelabit elders across the highlands. “Ting, ting, ting … whoo whoo,” he mimics the voices. When he heard that, he ran away fast, he says. It’s been a long time since the spirits have spoken to Lagang.

(Jerry Redfern) Paran is the caretaker for an imported Chinese dragon jar that has been in his 
family for generations. 

Both Kelabit villagers and CRF researchers hope their collaboration can help fill the knowledge gap. “We have always been warmly welcomed, looked after, and supported, even adopted,” says Nyíri. She feels a responsibility in return, and a duty to inform. “We hear complaints that researchers collect data, publish it, and make a career out of a few months’ work,” without sharing their findings with local communities, she says. To remedy that, the archaeologists have exhibited their findings, tools, and future research plans for local audiences. The CRF has published annual reports in the Sarawak Museum Journal and distributed project pamphlets throughout the highlands. “It’s only ethical and fair to share even preliminary results with the local community,” Nyíri says.

(Jerry Redfern)

Brochures about CRF’s work have a place of honor in the guesthouse run by Henry Lagang.

 
It’s also what locals crave. “I’ve been interviewed many, many times, but I haven’t seen the results before,” says an elder named Jenette Ulun, who is active in Kelabit festivals and whose name often appears on travel blogs as an authority on Kelabit cultural traditions. “It’s good to finally know the results,” says Ulun. “It’s not only for us to see. Now our children can see this is what’s done for the Kelabits, for our people, and understand our culture and know what their parents, their grandparents, their great-grandparents did. Otherwise there is no written record.”

That record is critical in the fight to preserve local heritage. “‘Rural development’ is the buzz phrase in Sarawak these days,” says Lloyd-Smith. The term encompasses everything from palm oil and rubber plantations that replace rain forests after logging, to agricultural projects and homestay tourism. “Within such an environment,” he says, “only by the community realizing the cultural value of their archaeology, and being proud of how important it is for Borneo and the whole of Southeast Asia, can the protection of the cultural heritage of the Kelabit highlands be safeguarded. Archaeology can play a large role in this.”

One day, Lagang stands atop a perupun just a few hundred yards from his longhouse. From this vantage point, he looks to the past. “Before, when I was small, this was all jungle,” he says, gazing at his neighbors’ homes and vegetable gardens. Lagang used to hunt birds with his blowpipe right around here. Life was a bit different then. More people lived in the longhouse, gathering in the evenings and early mornings around smoky open fires in the communal hallway that traditionally connected one Kelabit family to dozens of others. It was a close, collective existence. But these days, many permanent village residents opt for individual family homes. Modern houses with metal roofs have sprung up around the perupun where Lagang used to hunt. Rice paddies and gardens sit where trees once stood. Though jungle still surrounds the village, times have changed, and so has Kelabit culture.

(Jerry Redfern) One of Lagang’s hunting dogs sits by several toppled stone jars at Long Diit.

At sunset, Lagang works in the longhouse kitchen, preparing a dinner of paddy rice, fried pork fat, bamboo shoots, and mouse deer soup—all harvested from the forests that feed him every day, the same forests that fed millennia of highlanders. That evening, he shows snapshots of the researchers who have stayed with him through the years. When dinner is finished and the dishes are cleaned, Lagang sits alone beside the open-hearth fire, staring into the night. It’s Sunday, the last evening of a weeklong holiday. Almost all the young adults have returned to school and work in the city. Just a few elders sit and chat on the wobbly wooden floor planks, 300 feet away from Lagang, at the end of the longhouse. The lights are out, and the lengthy common corridor ends in blackness. How long will this longhouse last? How long will the Kelabit forest and the archaeological sites within it endure? Will the Kelabits have a chance to learn their own history before it disappears? Ties to the ancestral past, imprinted in stone and carved into the land, still bind the Kelabits today. The perupun Lagang remembers as a child remains intact, undisturbed. He’s happy the archaeologists are studying it. “They write the story about the Kelabit people. They can protect the megaliths, the culture,” he says. “Good.”

Karen Coates is a Social Justice Reporting Fellow at the International Center for Journalists and a senior fellow at the Schuster Institute for Investigative Journalism.

Rainforests in Far East shaped by humans for the last 11,000 years

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2014/01/140124082608.htm

Date:

January 24, 2014

Source:

Queen's University, Belfast

Summary:

New research shows that the tropical forests of South East Asia have been shaped by humans for the last 11,000 years. The rain forests of Borneo, Sumatra, Java, Thailand and Vietnam were previously thought to have been largely unaffected by humans, but the latest research suggests otherwise.

New research from Queen's University Belfast shows that the tropical forests of South East Asia have been shaped by humans for the last 11,000 years.

The rain forests of Borneo, Sumatra, Java, Thailand and Vietnam were previously thought to have been largely unaffected by humans, but the latest research from Queen's Palaeoecologist Dr Chris Hunt suggests otherwise.

A major analysis of vegetation histories across the three islands and the SE Asian mainland has revealed a pattern of repeated disturbance of vegetation since the end of the last ice age approximately 11,000 years ago.

The research, which was funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council and the British Academy, is being published in the Journal of Archaeological Science. It is the culmination of almost 15 years of field work by Dr Hunt, involving the collection of pollen samples across the region, and a major review of existing palaeoecology research, which was completed in partnership with Dr Ryan Rabett from Cambridge University.

Evidence of human activity in rainforests is extremely difficult to find and traditional archaeological methods of locating and excavating sites are extremely difficult in the dense forests. Pollen samples, however, are now unlocking some of the region's historical secrets.

Dr Hunt, who is Director of Research on Environmental Change at Queen's School of Geography, Archaeology and Palaeoecology, said: "It has long been believed that the rainforests of the Far East were virgin wildernesses, where human impact has been minimal. Our findings, however, indicate a history of disturbances to vegetation. While it could be tempting to blame these disturbances on climate change, that is not the case as they do not coincide with any known periods of climate change. Rather, these vegetation changes have been brought about by the actions of people.

"There is evidence that humans in the Kelabit Highlands of Borneo burned fires to clear the land for planting food-bearing plants. Pollen samples from around 6,500 years ago contain abundant charcoal, indicating the occurrence of fire. However, while naturally occurring or accidental fires would usually be followed by specific weeds and trees that flourish in charred ground, we found evidence that this particular fire was followed by the growth of fruit trees. This indicates that the people who inhabited the land intentionally cleared it of forest vegetation and planted sources of food in its place.

"One of the major indicators of human action in the rainforest is the sheer prevalence of fast-growing 'weed' trees such as Macaranga, Celtis and Trema. Modern ecological studies show that they quickly follow burning and disturbance of forests in the region.

"Nearer to the Borneo coastline, the New Guinea Sago Palm first appeared over 10,000 years ago. This would have involved a voyage of more than 2,200km from its native New Guinea, and its arrival on the island is consistent with other known maritime voyages in the region at that time -- evidence that people imported the Sago seeds and planted them."

The findings have huge importance for ecological studies or rainforests as the historical role of people in managing the forest vegetation has rarely been considered. It could also have an impact on rainforest peoples fighting the advance of logging companies.

Dr Hunt continued: "Laws in several countries in South East Asia do not recognise the rights of indigenous forest dwellers on the grounds that they are nomads who leave no permanent mark on the landscape. Given that we can now demonstrate their active management of the forests for more than 11,000 years, these people have a new argument in their case against eviction."

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Story Source:
The above story is based on materials provided by Queen's University, Belfast. Note: Materials may be edited for content and length.

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Journal Reference:

1. C.O. Hunt, R.J. Rabett. Holocene landscape intervention and plant food production strategies in island and mainland Southeast Asia. Journal of Archaeological Science, 2013; DOI: 10.1016/j.jas.2013.12.011

Undercover sting exposes Malaysia land-grab

http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2013/03/2013318131755948174.html

Allegations of corruption get louder following secret tapes showing plunder of resource-rich Sarawak province.

 

Florence Looi Last Modified: 19 Mar 2013 09:12

 

(video)

 

Long Napir, Malaysia - Plantations and logging are ravaging Malaysia's majestic Borneo region and indigenous people who have lived for centuries here say they are increasingly being uprooted from their once-pristine lands.  But as the timber and palm oil companies swarm over the rugged landscape of resplendent rivers and ancient rainforests, villagers in Long Napir in the country's biggest state Sarawak have vowed to thwart any further land-grabs.  The village is a settlement of longhouses, the traditional communal housing favoured by indigenous people in eastern Malaysia's Borneo island. Under the Sarawak Land Law, indigenous people have rights over areas as long as they can prove they have lived in or used the lands prior to January 1, 1958. "We have no land to farm, our rivers have become muddy, there's hardly any fish left anymore." - Tamin Sepuluh Ribu, villager But the surrounding ancient rainforests that are so essential to their traditional way of life is under threat because of logging and plantation companies. Over the past 30 years, Sarawak - one of the richest Malaysian states - has become one of the largest exporters of tropical timber.  Despite its wealth, profits have failed to trickle down, and the people here are some of the poorest in the country. Long Napir villagers lay the blame for their plight squarely on one man: the state's powerful chief minister, Abdul Mahmud Taib, who is in charge of all land classification and the allocation of lucrative forestry and plantation licenses.  "He lives, the rest of us suffer," Tamin Sepuluh Ribu, a former village headman, told Al Jazeera. "We have no land to farm, our rivers have become muddy, there's hardly any fish left anymore."  'Coterie of cronies'  Global Witness, a non-governmental organisation working against environmental exploitation, has investigated and exposed the situation in remote eastern Malaysia.   An undercover Global Witness investigator posing as an investor was offered several opportunities to purchase land in Sarawak by company officials linked to Chief Minister Taib. In each instance, the land in question was occupied by indigenous communities, who have valid claims to ownership rights under Malaysian law.  Global Witness said the indigenous areas were being sold by companies with close personal or political ties to the chief minister.  Taib has held the post since 1981, and has been repeatedly accused of corruption during his nearly 32-year rule. The US Embassy in Kuala Lumpur noted in one cable released by WikiLeaks: "Chief Minister Taib Mahmud … doles out timber-cutting permits while patrolling the underdeveloped state using 14 helicopters, and his family's companies control much of the economy."  The American cable added that, "All major contracts and a significant portion of land to be converted to palm oil plantations [including on indigenous 'customary land rights' that the state government has refused to recognize] are given to these three companies." People in Sarawak are "fed up" with Taib's administration, "seen as only enriching his family and a small coterie of cronies", it said. A Penan girl deep in the Borneo rainforests [EPA] Under investigation Global Witness released a November 2012 report titled, "In the future, there will be no forests."  "Taib's powerful executive position and personal responsibility for the issuance of lucrative logging and plantation licences has enabled him to systematically extract 'unofficial payments' from the state's timber tycoons for the enrichment of himself and his family," the report said. Taib, meanwhile, denied the corruption allegations as "wholly untrue and malicious", said the report. In 2011, the Malaysian Anti-Corruption Commission launched an official investigation into Taib, which continues at present. In secretly taped negotiations provided to Al Jazeera, the Global Witness investigator discussed buying land with company shareholders Fatimah Abdul Rahman and Norlia Abdul Rahman - Taib's first cousins. Fatimah admitted the parcel of land under discussion had been transferred to them by Chief Minister Taib. "Yeah, he's the one who gave us the land. He's my cousin," Fatimah said, laughing.  In 2011, Taib gave his cousins 5,000 hectares of land for about $300,000 dollars, according to leaked land registry documents. Having secured agriculture and timber licences, they were trying to sell it a year later for more than $16mn. Later, discussing the ease of receiving a forestry license, Fatimah told the Global Witness investigator: "The Land and Survey Department, they are the ones that issue this licence. Of course, this is from the CM's [Chief Minister's] directive, but I can speak to the CM very easily." Fatimah and Norlia did not respond to Al Jazeera's requests for comment. 'Naughty people' Chief Minister Abdul Taib Mahmud is accused of graft [Reuters] Over the years, Taib's government has sought to limit the exercise of indigenous land rights. More than 200 land dispute cases are now before Sarawak courts, brought on behalf of claimants from indigenous communities. Jannie Lasimbang, Malaysia’s National Human Rights Commissioner, told Al Jazeera that numerous amendments have eroded indigenous land rights over the years. “The commission is concerned about the high degree of frustration, anger and desperation among indigenous peoples,” Lasimbang said.  In 1994, the Sarawak government gave the minister in charge of land the power to extinguish Native Customary Rights to land. Two years later, it was legislated that land dispute cases were automatically to presume the land belongs to the state, and the burden of proof was shifted to the claimant. In 2011, the definition of "native" was amended to include "any party entering into a joint-venture plantation deal with the Land Custody and Development Authority".  In the secretly recorded conversations with Global Witness, Taib's cousins Fatimah and Norlia showed disdain and contempt for indigenous rights, describing local villagers as "naughty people".  "So the minute they hear this land has been given, has been titled to this company to do oil palm and what-not, they'll plonk themselves there," said Fatimah.  Her sister Norlia added, "They may harass you, that's all. They are actually squatters on the land, because the land doesn't belong to them. It's government land. So they're squatting." Scratching the surface The secret dealings caught on tape only scratch the surface of the Taib family's business interests. "I know people are talking about him [Taib] being corrupted and all, but I think who isn't in this world when they're leaders?" - Fatimah Abdul Rahman, Taib's cousin Leaked land registry documents analysed by Swiss non-governmental organisation Bruno Manser Fonds suggest that companies linked to Taib's family control about 200,000 hectares of land in Sarawak - an area twice the size of Hong Kong. Global Witness estimates it has a market value of $500mn.  Divorce settlement proceedings in Malaysia between one of Taib's son, Mahmud Abu Bakir Abdul Taib and his first wife Shahnaz Abdul Majid, also highlight the vast wealth of the family. The ex-wife testified that Mahmud had an estimated $233 million deposited in more than 100 bank accounts around the world.   In June 2011, the Malaysian Anti-Corruption Commission said it had launched an investigation into Chief Minister Taib, but gave no further details.  When Al Jazeera inquired about the progress of the case last month, the commission said it had "no comment on the matter".  Taib's office did not respond to Al Jazeera's request for an interview, but he has consistently denied allegations of corruption.  The family appears not view the accusations with much seriousness. As Taib's cousin Fatimah declared on tape: "I know people are talking about him [Taib] being corrupted and all, but I think who isn't in this world when they're leaders?" One villager in Sarawak promised not to allow the status quo to continue.  "We will fight on at all costs,” farmer Vincent Balingau told Al Jazeera. “We let them take timber in the past, but we had no idea they were planning to take our land."

Source: Al Jazeera

 

Global Witness video:  http://www.globalwitness.org/insideshadowstate/index.html

Conserving the Kelabit heritage

http://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/2011/07/24/conserving-the-kelabit-heritage/

FMT Staff
July 24, 2011

Trekforce, a UK based organisation, is actively working on protecting and conserving the cultural sites of the Kelabit Highland communities.

KUCHING: Getting to Sarawak’s remotest region – the Kelabit Highlands – is no easy task. There are no boats and roads leading up to this vast plateau and if you miss the plane than it’s a two hour hike across the jungle until you reach a logging road and then hopefully catch a ride on a logging truck heading up.

The Kelabit Highlands is over 1,000 metres above sea level and lies between the Tama Abu Range and Apo Duat Range on the Sarawak-Kalimantan border.

Here too is where the mighty Baram, Limbang and Lawas rivers begin.

The region’s many valleys are peppered with cottage-like settlements often surroundeded by padi fields.

In fact Bario, which a major settlement in the Kelabit Highlands, is famed for its rice which is touted to be of ‘excellent quality’.

This remote region, which is home to the Orang Ulu communities, is also the project station of a UK-based environmental conservation and community development volunteer organisation.

Calling themselves Trekforce, the group is actively working in Bario, Pa’ Umor and Pa’Main areas in the interior Kelabit Highland region.

The group comprises young self-funded volunteers between 18 and 30 years who are mostly from the UK, Europe, Canada and the US.

They work on six-week long projects which are both mentally and physically challenging, deep in Sarawak’s rainforest.

Trekforce’s key aims are to help protect and conserve the tropical rainforest ecosystems in Sarawak and to help the local people with community development projects in remote rural areas.

Burial sites

According to the expedition leader and country co-ordinator David Osborne, 30, Trekforce has, so far, carried out six successful expeditions in Sarawak since 2009.

He said the group has been working closely with the Rurum Kelabit Sarawak Association (RKS) and the community of Pa’ Umor on an ambitious cultural site and rainforest protection project and a wide range of community development projects including teaching English at SK Bario and Pa’ Dalih.

Osborne said that in 2009 Trekforce began efforts to protect ancient Kelabit cultural sites such as stone megaliths, burial grounds and dragon burial jars in the jungles of the Kelabit Highlands.

The Trekforce teams, he said, trekked deep into the jungles surrounding Bario, located the sites with local guides and GPS, identified them before cutting 400-square-metre boundaries around each site, and marked them with barricade tapes.

“The boundaries highlight these areas as protected to prevent logging operations entering and destroying both the invaluable cultural sites and the surrounding rainforests.

“So far, 105 cultural sites have now been protected in this way.

“After all of the cultural sites in Bario, Pa’ Umor and Pa’ Main areas were marked and boundaries cut, the next phase of this long-term project began.

“This involved the development of a network of trails, bridges and shelters created to provide an infrastructure framework for sustainable eco-tourism in the area and the research of the cultural sites,” Osborne explained.

Jungle trails

He said besides creating a network of jungle trails connecting existing trails with many of the cultural sites, Trekforce also constructed numerous solid wooden and bamboo bridges across difficult river passes.

“With these eco-tourism infrastructure now in place, more tourists, trekkers, nature-lovers, scientists and the local people will be encouraged to visit the area and develop an appreciation for the human history, values and beauty of the rainforest environment and wildlife.

“And this, in turn, would benefit the communities of Pa’ Umor and Bario through increased eco-tourism to provide employment for local jungle guides and more business for the many homestays in the area,” he said.

Explaining further Osborne added that “the protection of the rainforest environment and the diverse vegetation, insects, birds and animal wildlife within them is one of the important environmental challenges of our generation.”

“Borneo has some of the most pristine and biologically diverse rainforests on Earth, but their existence is severely threatened by the obvious and immediate expansion of logging and palm oil operations.

“Many indigenous groups in Sarawak have similar cultural sites, not to mention outstanding areas of beautiful rainforest – and I hope the kind of multi-level project achieved in the Bario area could form a part of a new strategy for indigenous groups all over Borneo to protect and preserve their native lands, cultural heritage, rainforest areas and, indeed, generate income and employment through this kind of low impact sustainable development,” he told local daily, the Borneo Post recently.

Further information on Trekforce can be found on their website www.trekforce.org.uk

Trekforce helps preserve Highlands heritage

http://www.theborneopost.com/2011/07/17/trekforce-helps-preserve-highlands-heritage/

by Cecilia B. Sman. Posted on July 17, 2011, Sunday

TREKFORCE – a UK-based environmental conservation and community development volunteer organisation – has completed a major conservation project in the Kelabit Highlands, particularly in Bario, Pa’ Umor and Pa’main.


CAPTIVATING: Scenic view of fish ponds and padi field in Bario.

The project – from November 5, 2009 to June 25, 2011 – has reinforced past and present researches by the agencies concerned in documenting and preserving the priceless cultural heritage in the areas, believed to contain the most dense assemblage of culture sites in Sarawak, if not in Malaysia.

Among the agencies involved were the Sarawak Museum (1986 and 2004) and Universiti Malaysia Sarawak (Unimas) while other institutions included International Tropical Timber Organisations (ITT0). Also taking part in the project were researchers such as Sarah Hitchner (2007) and an academic from Pa’ Umor, professor Poline Balang of Unimas.

Trekforce comprises groups of young self-funded volunteers who embark on extreme expeditions to remote tropical rainforest areas. A large number of them – mostly from the UK, Europe, Canada and the US – are students, aged between 18 and 30 years, who have completed their education before entering college or university.

They are normally formed into mixed teams of around 10.

Their three key aims on each expedition are:

l To help protect and conserve the tropical rainforest ecosystems.

l To help the local people with vital community development projects in remote rural areas.

l To learn vital life skills such as teamwork, initiative and self-sufficiency during the physically and mentally demanding two-month expedition.

Survival training

Expeditions begin with a week of intensive jungle survival training where the volunteers are taught a wide range of survival skills, including fire-lighting, use of parangs, jungle navigation, building natural shelters, setting animal traps and collecting wild food.

Once trained to live and work safely and effectively in the challenging jungle environment, they trek into deep rainforests to set up basic hammock camps and begin the six-week conservation phase of their expedition.

On June 28, thesundaypost had the opportunity to interview the expedition leader and country co-ordinator, David Osborne, 30 (fondly known to the locals as ‘Os’ or by his Kelabit name ‘Berapui’ – meaning strong fire).

According to Os – along with close friends Al Davies, 31 (an English jungle survival expert) and Rian John Pasan, 40, (a local Kelabit guide and expedition leader) – Trekforce has, so far, carried out six successful expeditions in Sarawak since 2009, involving a total of 51 people, including Os himself.

He said since then, they have been working closely with the Rurum Kelabit Sarawak Association (RKS) and the community of Pa’ Umor on an ambitious cultural site and rainforest protection project, and a wide range of community development projects including teaching English at SK Bario and Pa’ Dalih.

He added that in 2009, work began with volunteer groups, protecting ancient Kelabit cultural sites such as stone megaliths, burial grounds and dragon burial jars in the jungles of the Kelabit Highlands.

The ‘pioneer’ groups trekked deep into the jungles surrounding Bario, located the sites with local guides and GPS, identified them before cutting 400-square-metre boundaries around each site, and marked them with barricade tapes.

The boundaries highlight these areas as protected to prevent logging operations entering and destroying both the invaluable cultural sites and the surrounding rainforests.

“So far, 105 cultural sites have now been protected in this way. After all of the cultural sites in Bario, Pa’ Umor and Pa’ Main areas were marked and boundaries cut, the next phase of this long-term project began.

“This involved the development of a network of trails, bridges and shelters created to provide an infrastructure framework for sustainable eco-tourism in the area and the research of the cultural sites,” Os explained.

Besides creating a network of jungle trails connecting existing trails with many of the cultural sites, Trekforce also constructed numerous wooden and bamboo bridges across difficult river passes and two major camp sites – Hornbill and Silverleaf Camp.

The bridges made of solid wood can last about 20 years while the bamboo bridges about three years.

Other benefits

Os said he is proud to be part of such important, urgent and cutting-edge conservation work.

“The benefits are myriad. Protection and preservation of the Kelabit cultural sites will allow future generations to visit these fascinating sites, as well as allowing further anthropological and scientific research into their nature and origins.”

He stressed the eco-tourism infrastructure now in place will allow tourists, trekkers, nature-lovers, scientists and the local people to visit the area and develop an appreciation for the human history, values and beauty of the rainforest environment and wildlife.

This, in turn, would benefit the communities of Pa’ Umor and Bario through increased eco-tourism to provide employment for local jungle guides and more business for the many homestays in the area.

Background of Os

Os himself had spent a year in Central America working on similar conservation projects for Trekforce before coming to Malaysia and the passion he holds for tropical rainforest environments becomes more apparent as he explained what he considers to be one of the most important aspects of the project.

“The protection of the rainforest environment and the diverse vegetation, insects, birds and animal wildlife within them is one of the important environmental challenges of our generation. Borneo has some of the most pristine and biologically diverse rainforests on Earth, but their existence is severely threatened by the obvious and immediate expansion of logging and palm oil operations.

“Many indigenous groups in Sarawak have similar cultural sites, not to mention outstanding areas of beautiful rainforest – and I hope the kind of multi-level project achieved in the Bario area could form a part of a new strategy for indigenous groups all over Borneo to protect and preserve their native lands, cultural heritage, rainforest areas and, indeed, generate income and employment through this kind of low impact sustainable development,” he said.

The climax of each expedition is a major jungle trek. In the Kelabit Highlands, the groups put both their physical fitness and jungle skills to test by undertaking a completely self-sufficient week-long trek to key landmarks.

So far, they have twice trekked from Bario to the summit of the famous Batu Lawi (2,050m) and from Bario to Long Lellang and, most impressively, conquered Sarawak’s highest peak – Mount Murud (2,424m) – on an epic eight-day trek.

Future directions

Trekforce is already planning two expeditions in 2012 as well as running a ‘Trainee Expedition Leader’ course and UK school biology trip.

“There is a great deal more that can be done both on this project and by spreading our expeditions into new areas,” Os said as he contemplates returning to Sarawak for a further year to reinforce the existing networks of jungle trails, connecting the cultural sites.

The new proposed areas for conservation are in Long Lellang and Pa’ Dalih.

“Despite the logistical difficulties and natural hazards of operating in such a remote location, I love the intense daily challenge of running these expeditions. This is a truly worthy and innovative conservation project, and to be quite honest, I have fallen in love with Sarawak – the people, the culture and the rainforest,” Os enthused.

At the same time, he plans to document the project in a detailed report for RKS and professor Poline (Unimas) with the hope that the authorities concerned could later help conserve and gazette the areas before leaving his adopted Bario to travel to other parts of Sarawak and Sabah and finally back to the UK.

Os hopes to visit, among others, the two world heritage sites – the Mulu Caves (in Sarawak) and Mount Kinabalu (Sabah) and returns home at the end of August.

“It will be very difficult to leave. The people of Sarawak have made us feel so welcome, helped us in so many ways, taught me so much and we have become good friends.

“Without the help, advice, guidance and friendship of people like Rian, the Raja family and councillor John Tarawe, our expeditions here and their success simply would not have been possible. I hope to be able to return to conduct further expeditions next year,” he said.

Among the locals actively involved in the project were Dr Philip Raja (consultant doctor), Laila Raja (transport logistic) Peter Raja (accommodation), Pastor Siwa and other local leaders.

Os also hopes the conclusion of the Trekforce expedition can spur other relevant groups to intensify their conservation and rehabilitation efforts as the cultural sites face common universal problems such as neglect, abandonment, exposure to the elements, collapse, remoteness and bulldozing for logging or access roads to longhouses.

According to the ITTO Report, most of sites are located within licensed timber areas.

Official reports from the Sarawak Museum quoted Hitchner (2007) as listing over 350 sites, consisting of menhirs (batuh sinuped), burial sites, nabang, old longhouse sites, batuh narit (engrave rocks), batuh baliu (curse stones), perupun, salt springs and sacred sites.

Further information on Trekforce can be found on their website www.trekforce.org.uk