Borneo is the 3^rd largest island in the World and largest in Asia.  Three countries, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Brunei reside on the island. Chinese were the first and are the most populous people.

I landed in Kuching, Sarawak, Borneo aboard Malaysian flight 129 with my partner, Lee.  I was pulled aside by officials as I departed the plane.  They didn’t tell me why and when all had deplaned and been checked through customs, allowed me to proceed.  I was told later that Malaysian officials did not approve of my long hair (over my ears) and my full beard. Not wanting any problems, I found a barber and had a nice clean look a few minutes later.  Our mission today was to line up permits to go up the Lubang River into the interior.  We also gathered food and supplies to support our mission of filming wild orangutans.

The 80’ long boat carried people, animals, chickens, gasoline and anything a village may need.  Roads only run along the coast and few natives have cars. Most travel in Borneo is by river boat. We meandered for hours on the brown river Lubang, gazing into a impenetrable jungle that crept to the edge of the river and then some,  Mangrove trees, walking out into the river.  Occasionally we stopped at small openings, taking on or dropping off people and supplies.  Seven hours later we arrived in the little town of Bantu, now in the country of Indonesia.  We disgorged, in Bantu, like all the passengers, chickens, pigs, goats, and cargo.  Bantu is the end of the line.  Only small boats could go on. The river had split and the water was clearer.  We checked into the eight room hotel above the bar and had a two hour siesta, before walking the dirt streets lined with fighting cocks tied to stakes.  Cock fighting is big in Asia, even in the backwoods of Borneo.  There are no restaurants here, but the locals fight who will feed you, because you are white and have cash money.  The people and food were delightful.  We applied for the next level of permits to go on into the interior, but were denied.  Last week a group they called, communists, had massacred another group and so officials denied our permits. Crestfallen, we hit the bar at the hotel, pouring down a few beers, before retiring. At about midnight my door opened and a stranger was standing in the middle of my room trying to walk.  A drunk missed his door. Startled, I told him to get the hell out.  Moments later Lee came to my room and said the men in the other room were talking about stabbing me, because I had insulted them by yelling.  After moving the furniture against the door, I had a sleepless night.  They never came.  We walked the streets of Bantu until the boat arrived at noon.  Besides the fighting cocks, a baby Honey bear was staked with a small chain, near the dirt streets. The mother was probably killed for bush meat.  People were feeding him bread and just about anything else. I fed him some bread, but when I placed the bread in his mouth, many things landed on my bare arm. I was now a host to Asian fleas.  The biting and itching was maddening.  At noon we boarded the river boat back to Kuching.  We had only been on the boat an hour when an old man that was rippling muscles and tattoos asked me in excellent English what we were doing in such a remote part of the World.  I told him our story of failure in getting the permits.  He countered with, “come home with me.”  We got off at the next stop, a trail in the jungle heading away from the Lubang.  His name was Mantee and he had been educated by Catholic missionaries and he was the chief of a tribe of Dayaks.  We were invited to spend a night in a long house, like a community housing co-op.  We followed Mantee through the jungle, up and down, dripping with sweat up and down which seemed like miles.  We were on the equator and I think it was 100 degrees with 100% humidity.  We had to stop many times.  Mantee was almost irritated with us.  We finally arrived in a mud clearing, Mantee laughing and us gasping and me scratching.  The building looked like a motel on stilts.  A twelve foot single log with notches in it was the ladder to our lodging.  It was pulled up at night for security.  We were spending the night with the legendary Dayaks, also known in the old days as the headhunters.  Shrunken heads, 6-8 together hung in nets in the corners.  Everyone smiled.

Published every Wednesday, at least.