Where the Wild Still Breathes: A Farewell to Borneo

This is the fourth part in my series on traveling to the Bornean jungle village of Long Pasia. Start from the beginning here.

Our jungle trek was fascinating, exhilarating, and liberating. My one slight tinge of regret at my time in Borneo so far was that I did not get to see or interact with any animals, besides the myriads of insects (and leeches attached to my extremities). Before coming to Borneo, I had pictured myself face-to-face with an orangutan, an elephant, or even a sun bear. However, my journey in Long Pasia was more of a cultural expedition than a wildlife conservation experience. And that had been a wonderful turn of events, even if it defied my initial preconceptions of what a visit to Borneo would be like. I feel extremely grateful to have met and stayed with Boi and his family, through my guide Balang. Their kindness and warmth made me feel almost at home, even though I was probably about as far away from home as I had ever been.

Farm Encounter

Boi, being the considerate host he was, wanted to provide me with that opportunity to interact with animals – something I had expressed when arriving initially. That became the impetus for my last full day in Long Pasia; visiting a local ranch and its animal inhabitants. A half hour’s walk from the main village of Long Pasia – using the same dirt roads we took the day before to veer off into the jungle – we came to the ranch of a local farmer. When we crossed the gate of his property, I saw a vast open plain spotted with water buffalo and goats.

The buffalo were curious about our presence but also very timid and shy. A group of them would take a few steps towards us, then stop to peer at us questioningly.

A woman wearing blue flannel and a wide-brimmed hat approached us from the farm and smiled. She held a bag of salt in her hand and offered us some. The buffalo and goats took notice of our new treats and approached with more confidence. When I held out my hand with some salt, I felt the long, sandpaper tongue of the buffalo eagerly lick the salt.

In a moment, I was surrounded by eager new animal friends. It was a very fun and lighthearted time feeding the buffalo and goats. There were newborn calves as well, and the animal families huddled together against the brilliant green plains of Long Pasia made for a spectacular sight.

After some time, the owner of the land approached us from a house in the distance. He carried a long walking stick and was dressed in traditional Lundayeh robes. He had long black hair and shined a friendly and welcoming smile. Boi kept a distance from us, hanging by the entrance of the gate, and gave a wave to the approaching figure. To my surprise, the man introduced himself to me in English as Pengiran Salutan.

Caught Between Worlds

Pengiran was the first Lundayeh I had met who spoke English, and he was fluent in it. He beckoned me over to a bench by a tree on his land to chat. Boi approached from his previous distance, looking a bit irritated. He motioned for us to return home, but Pengiran exchanged a few words with him. Boi curtly waved goodbye to me and started off, with Pengiran explaining that he would be walking me back himself. I didn’t fully understand the interaction between the two, but I shrugged and sat down where he motioned. We started to chat, with the water buffalo watching nearby.

I quickly learned that Pengiran was no ordinary farmer. In fact, he was a conservationist who dedicated his life to protecting the forests and wildlife therein near Long Pasia. He told me about his work with United Nations scientists to research the native wildlife on his property. They were gathering animal census data through observations of the different rare animal species of Borneo to determine the extent to which they were threatened. In their research, he and the scientists had installed surveillance cameras throughout his section of jungle to capture the more evasive animals, as well as any illegal poachers or hunters on his land. Just the previous week, they had found a pangolin on camera, a very exciting discovery as these extraordinary animals are critically endangered due to continued poaching and environmental destruction. As he told me about his work, my impression was that he was a deeply compassionate and sincere individual.

I also learned that he is a man who lives with a target on his back. As the owner of a sizeable tract of jungle land near Long Pasia and outspoken advocate for the preservation of Borneo, he is an enemy of the logging companies. Recalling the felled trees I had noticed the day before while hiking in the jungle, I could tell that logging of jungle trees is a common and visible practice around Long Pasia. Here is an article I found online by a fellow traveler to Long Pasia, who explains the issue of deforestation in Borneo by foreign logging companies in-depth.

Pengiran has also represented Lundayeh in Malaysian legal affairs to fight for preservation of local forests, arguing native land rights over the government’s efforts towards privatization. All of this makes for a very prickly thorn in the sides of foreign industrialists wanting to turn the Bornean jungle into paper and its animal inhabitants into powdered medicine.

Between Tradition and Conservation

After talking for a while, the sun started to wane, and it was time to return to Long Pasia. Pengiran led the way, and we continued to talk on the way back. He told me how he had created a museum in Long Pasia, showcasing the history of the tribe and the conservation efforts he was leading in the area. He invited me to come visit on our way back through the village. The museum was charmingly homemade, and I felt that it captured the passion of Pengiran’s fight for the conservation of Long Pasian wilderness. It was a sincere and heartfelt display that made its message all the more compelling. Here is Pengiran’s website where he shares his story and his work.

While at his museum, Pengiran hinted to me that he was not very popular among some members of the Lundayeh tribe, specifically the hunters. He had outlawed hunting on his lands, instead designating them as nature preserves for wildlife research. He also explained that many of the Long Pasians actually viewed the logging companies favorably. The logging companies were responsible for creating the very dirt road I had ridden on from the frontier town of Sipitang a week ago. This vital road connected Long Pasia with the outside world. In the past, tribe members would travel on foot for days before reaching Sipitang. This old route was strenuous and not without its dangers. Now, they could make the trip in hours instead of days – a clear improvement thanks to the logging companies. Pengiran, though, saw the logging of Long Pasian forests as an existential threat for the village. With the continued development of forest land, the very isolation that allowed Long Pasia to exist and thrive would be lost with the trees.

While listening to Pengiran, I had a creeping feeling that it was getting late and became aware that my extended time with the conservationist might be upsetting my hosts. I gently suggested that it was time to return, and he dropped me back off at Boi’s house.

As soon as I entered, I noticed a change in the mood of the place. Boi was not his friendly, smiling self but was in fact visibly upset. He was distant and a bit sullen.

I believe he felt betrayed that I had connected with Pengiran. From Boi’s perspective, Pengiran was keeping the Long Pasians from hunting on their native land, a tradition and way of life that was deeply ingrained in the identity of the people. I was caught in an awkward position, not wanting to offend my gracious and considerate host but also feeling very sympathetic to the work of Pengiran. Here was a man who received considerable backlash from his friends and community while also fending off the aggressive advances from foreign logging companies and even the Malaysian government.

To me, he alone stood between the precious forests in this section of Borneo and the forces that wanted it for themselves. Borneo is one of the most biodiverse regions on the planet, under some of the biggest threats to environmental destruction. Sumatra, the southern part of Borneo that is controlled by Indonesia, is slated to become the next capital of the country. Jakarta, the current capital, is rapidly sinking into an oblivion of garbage and sewage. As you may recall, that city was the scene of my life-threatening bout with cholera. To imagine the lush lands of Sumatran Borneo ripped out to make way for a new dystopian metropolis the like of Jakarta is depressing to say the least.

On the other hand, Boi only brought me to Pengiran’s farm because he knew how much I wanted to see and interact with the animals of Borneo. He had ignored his personal feelings to show me the best possible time while visiting Long Pasia. I was grateful for all the efforts he made during my stay with him and his family.

A Final Treat

For our last dinner, we had leftover boar meat and fried fish, with an assortment of locally picked vegetables. Boi was silent and reflective during the meal. As a final treat, Boi’s wife had arranged a selection of different fruits, including a massive jack fruit.

The jackfruit was pungent, meaty (they don’t call it the steak of the fruit kingdom for nothing), and delicious!

I felt honored to get to experience life there and meet the kind and welcoming people of Long Pasia.

Saying Goodbye

On the morning of my final day, a gentle breeze carried over the village. We were to make the trek back to Sipitang on the same dirt road that afternoon. Boi lay in his hammock, playing a string instrument that reminded me of a ukelele. He sang songs full of emotion and melancholy throughout the day and seemed quite despondent.

When it was time for me to leave, he met us at the door of his house. His eyes were filled with tears, and he gave me a big embrace. He also made me promise to come visit again. It was a bittersweet and meaningful goodbye. What I found particularly impactful was that in such a short time in Long Pasia, my visit made a deep impact on my hosts. Boi, a fearless hunter and master of his domain, showed unabashed emotion towards our farewell the likes of which I rarely encountered in my travels. If I had to postulate, I would say that being insulated from the wider world of transaction and transience, where people come and go from each other’s lives without much thought, preserved in Boi a purity of human connection. One where he wasn’t numbed by self-protection from abandonment or loneliness to truly feel the impact of another person leaving and saying goodbye. Regardless of the fact that we didn’t even speak the same language.

I knew then that I wanted to reawake in me an intensity of connection like how Boi felt. It is, in my eyes, a virtue to strive for. Truly allowing oneself to bond without fear of goodbye. As we sped off down the bumpy dirt road away from Long Pasia, I already knew that this week-long trip would be one of the most memorable excursions for me so far.