Glancing over his shoulder from the open cockpit the pilot of the small twin propeller plane smiled and said “we’re going to land in a few minutes.” As the plane banked the view of dark dense jungle covering sharp peaks was uninterrupted. From this low altitude the tree canopy looked like a vast field of broccoli. Descending lower and apparently flying into a mountain, individual trees resolved from the green wall. What was missing was an airfield.  Listening intently to the drop in engine revs and watching the view from the cockpit window we saw the trees lurch closer. Then, there it was, the airfield. The de Havilland Twin Otter is a short takeoff and landing plane and it did just that. No sooner had the wheels touched the ground than we were swinging in toward the terminal building in a cloud of dust. Actually it was a wooden building with a veranda where waiting passengers lounged in the shade and flicked away flies.

There was little formality as the door swung open and the steps were lowered. The bright and friendly policewoman, holding her daughter, waved a greeting and nodded to the boatmen who assembled our rucksacks and cargo on the grass beside the plane. In single file we followed them down to the river at the end of the short airstrip. Here the three canoes were loaded, with broad green leaves designating the seating locations. Explaining that it might be a bit bumpy as the river was so low we crashed into big boulders, scraped over rocks and were thrown from side to side in turbulent fast flowing water. In calmer stretches the journey was serene as we glided under huge trees trailing lianas and creepers into the brown water. Sometimes the boatmen jumped out to push the boat over difficult bits and sometimes we walked over the rocks at the edge of the river whilst the boatmen ran the rapids. Our boatman was only thrown out once and we survived intact, if wet.

This group of Penan were once nomadic jungle dwellers, hunting wild boar, deer and other animals and gathering food crops like sago, fruits and berries. They were quiet, friendly people who welcomed us into their village. Wilson, the headman and his wife Joy, said they were the first group to establish a settlement and that they were in touch with other groups who still roamed the jungle.
Resting in Wilson and Joy’s wooden house we noticed a quiver of darts on the wall and thought they were ethnic ornaments. As Wilson carefully handed us a black tipped dart he said, “careful! these are coated with thirty minute poison for hunting wild boar.” This was a kind of safety feature. Thirty minutes allowed time for the blood coagulating venom to be treated. The fast acting poison he said was considered too dangerous for normal hunting.

In the days that followed Gerin, a village elder, took us out into the jungle to see the tree which contains the poison sap.  We also visited the small hut of the man who made blowpipes. Hardwood staves were held in a vertical jig whilst the craftsman sat on the branch of a tree and used a long auger to bore the hole. Swinging out of the jungle with loping strides three hunters carried long blowpipes and in their rattan back baskets were joints of freshly killed barking deer. We have a great picture of Wilson holding up the haunch of barking deer, still dripping blood, that became our supper.

Whilst the Penan traditionally lived in small easily constructed huts which were raised platforms the government had provided longhouses, similar to those preferred by the Kelabit people in the area. There were also three new government built houses which the community appreciated.

During the second world war detachments of British and Australian troops had parachuted into the area to establish guerrilla operations against the occupying Japanese.  Soon after the war Christian missionaries arrived and set up schools. The school at Long Lamai was one of the reasons this particular group of Penan had settled there. After Malaysian independence the school was taken over and refurbished. It is now an excellent campus with twelve teachers for 84 children in modern well equipped buildings with good facilities. Now all fervent evangelical Christians with 100% literacy many people are opting for employment outside the region.

Those that remain though, value their jungle way of life, some returning near to retirement to live in peace with nature again. Wilson and Gerin explained that their peace was being threatened by extensive logging that had already impacted on other areas of the Kelebit Highlands. To protect their traditional hunting grounds the village elders have resisted a road being built from a nearby logging road to the village.

Recently the government have funded a telecentre powered by solar cells to give the residents access to the internet. We attended an internet class run by the University of Malaysia Sarawak. Inevitably perhaps the young easily grasped the concepts and immediately hooked up to Facebook and Twitter. The older users struggled slowly to unwrap the delights of Google and surfed religious themes.

We had been asked for our impressions on the development in the village. To us the development was mysteriously lopsided. On the one hand there was an excellent and long established school with a telecentre near by. Every month a doctor flew in by helicopter. On the other hand the residents still hunted with blow pipes, washed their clothes in the river and had no electricity apart from the fortunate with petrol generators. How long this precarious balance can remain is debateable, but for now the older residents are relishing their jungle life.

Pictures