The Plantation - Di Morrissey [67]
A friendly staff member explained to her that the ground floor held the natural history collection of local fauna, while upstairs were exhibits of ethnographic items such as models of longhouses of the various ethnic groups of Sarawak, musical instruments, fish and animal traps, handicrafts, models of boats, and ceremonial clothing and artifacts. Clearly, it was too much to take in for one visit.
Julie sat inside the model of a longhouse, or a rumah panjai, on a woven mat, looking at a set of photographs that showed how the interior was arranged. Essentially one long wall ran along the length of the building and served as a sort of corridor and communal verandah. Partitioned sections served as spaces for family units. Cooking fires were either in the corridor or in an adjoining area at the end of a suspended walkway. The photos gave only a sketchy sense of what a longhouse might be like, but now Julie’s interest in the life of tribes like the Iban was really piqued.
Had her great aunt sat in a smoky longhouse somewhere in Sarawak, talking with these people who were once known as sea Dayaks and had been pirates and head-hunters? Julie wished she’d had the time to retrieve Bette’s book from her mother and read it before she came away.
Finally she found her way to the museum bookshop. This too, was a treasure trove of information, history and art. The woman behind the counter, who looked to be in her late forties, was a mixture of Malay and possibly Iban, judging by her deep olive skin, dark button eyes, small flat nose and straight dark hair. She was keenly attentive, which was not surprising as Julie was the only customer browsing among the bookshelves, carvings, artifacts and souvenirs.
‘Are you looking for anything special?’ asked the woman.
Julie shook her head. ‘Not really. Everything is so interesting.’
‘Your first time in Sarawak? Are you staying long? Where are you going?’
‘I’m with friends who are taking me upriver to meet some Iban. I was hoping to learn a little bit about them before I went,’ said Julie.
‘You are a tourist? An academic or business person?’
‘Tourist, I suppose. Except my family spent a lot of time in Malaya in the old days so I’m sort of retracing a bit of family history.’
‘Your grandfather was in the war? You are Australian. I know the accent.’
‘My grandfather was English. He ran a plantation at Slim River and I’m visiting here for the first time,’ said Julie.
‘Tracing family roots, eh? We have quite a lot of family histories recorded here. I run the library as well,’ said the woman.
‘This is a brilliant museum. I mean, really impressive when you consider the collections,’ said Julie.
‘We had a very wonderful curator after the war until the sixties. A true eccentric Englishman, a most interesting character. I am Mrs Ping. If I can be of any assistance …’
‘Thank you. Actually, I wonder if you might know about my great aunt. She wrote a book about her time here in the early ’70’s …’
‘As so many did, mostly the men, as they undertook more adventurous exploits. What was your auntie’s name?’
‘Bette Oldham. She wrote about spending some time with the Iban people.’
‘Yes, of course, I know it. We had a copy here some months back. Quite a rare publication. I believe we sold it. She was interested in the orangutans, too, was she not?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t know. I only know about her book about visiting Borneo and her time staying with the Iban. Did she write about orangutans?’
Mrs Ping squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘I’m trying to think. I’m fairly sure she wrote a pamphlet of some kind. It was early days then. Logging wasn’t at the level it is now, which has caused such problems for the animals. The 1970s was the start of