Chapter 23
Ernest, growing up in Switzerland, had read the classic novels. Together, they pulled him in as a child, leaving indelible marks on his imagination that likely, subconsciously, led him to Sarawak. In Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, natives were portrayed with such dignity, yet were oppressed under colonialism. Herman Melville’s Typee travels in Polynesia, describing islanders as free, generous, and happy, living in nature, far from corrupting Western influences.
Ernest was taken by the concept of the noble savage, even though he knew it was partly stereotypical, and maybe he had been a little too naive in his own interpretation. Nonetheless, the concept was still liberating because he understood natives as naturally virtuous and morally superior to those of us living in the so-called “civilized” world. Ernest’s perspective turned the tables on the smug superiority of his own technologically and money-driven society.
The Indigenous people as a whole were depicted as living in balance with nature, guided by natural rhythms rather than rigidly defined social structures and economic systems that created disparity rather than happiness. The noble savage, in his readings of 17th- and 18th-century literature, was depicted as having a lifestyle and belief system unburdened by corruption, greed, artifice, and the vices of civilization. Ernest admired the concept of a people lacking formal education yet possessing a natural and intuitive wisdom, with an infinite capacity for empathy, an ever-diminishing characteristic in his own world. The noble savage gave his young mind the ability to flip values by downgrading his own society and judging it for the inherent hypocrisy and greed at its core. Even though Ernest didn’t think of himself as being rebellious or angry, he was both of those things. The concept of the noble savage, like an imaginary friend, gave him hope and served as an escape.
Some of the same influences he was rebelling against in his own life, and the reasons he had left Basil, helped explain why he began his long odyssey. Ernest knew he must go further and deeper into the rainforest and experience what he thought was, at least in his mind, a version of the noble savage, and determine for himself his own true nature and that of his own family and homeland. Oddly, he believed, if in some way he could understand the life of the nomadic Penan, he would better grasp the intricacies of his own life. It was complex.
Chapter 24
It was morning, and the new sun filtered through the canopy, dappling the clearing near the river where Thambi’s family had set up their village. Smoke from the cooking fires rose lazily, carrying the faint scent of sago and smoked fish. Ernest sat cross-legged beside his friend Thambi, listening to the chatter of children while an elder nearby hummed a haunting tune while playing his keringot.
When the last of the rice had been eaten and the bowls rinsed with river water, Thambi leaned in closer and said, “It is time I must return to the park. My duties await me, and I cannot linger here any longer, as much as I wish I could.”
Ernest’s expression tightened as he knew this day was coming. “So this is where our paths divide, at least for a while.”
“Yes, for now,” Thambi said gently. The forest is tricky that way and always brings people back together one way or another.”
They walked together several more paces before Ernest stopped completely and looked out towards the dense jungle past the river. A slow breath left him, unsteady like he had been holding it for years.
“I suppose I should tell you what I am really after,” Ernest said. “Not just wandering. Not tourism. Not even research, at least not in the typical way the universities mean it.”
Thambi angled his head. “I assumed something was pulling you across the island. You’ve been chasing the horizon ever since we met.”
“It’s the Penan,” Ernest confessed. “Not the settled ones, not like your wonderful family. The ones who move through the forest in the old way, living lightly, living freely.”
Thambi studied him with a kind of knowing sadness. “My parents, Rentap and Melur, told you those stories, didn’t they? They enchanted you with lore?”
Ernest smiled and nodded. “They did. They described a people untouched,” Ernest said, almost whispering. “A people still whole. It ignited something in me. A type of longing I can’t quite identify. Maybe it’s foolish, but the idea of a life stripped down to its essence, free from the noise of the world. I’d like to experience that once in my life.”
“Sounds like the colonial version of the noble savage the missionaries spoke of when I was in school. Ernest, my friend, listen to me and listen carefully. The forest is not the same there as it is here. My people no longer roam freely, nor do they cross the border. It is dangerous, and besides, you have no papers for such a journey. You could get arrested. It is not a place for you.”
“That’s exactly why I must see it. To understand, to witness it with my own eyes.”
Thambi shook his head in disbelief, his voice rising with urgency, as he hoped to dissuade his friend from such lunacy. “No. You think it is only more forest, only trees. But in Kalimantan it is a different level…”
Ernest flinched, then laughed, ashamed, but honest. “Yes. I appreciate the dangers. I understand your concern, but maybe that’s what I’m searching for. Some remnant of purity that my world has crushed.”
Thambi gazed out over the forest, its endless green waves rolling toward the heart of Kalimantan. “Just remember,” he said quietly, they’re people. Not legends. Not myths from an anthropology text. They bleed, they argue, they cry and suffer. And some of them wish for things we have: medicine, safety, a future for their children. They aren’t so different.”
“I know,” Ernest replied. “At least, I want to.”
Thambi looked directly into Ernest’s eyes, saw his honesty, and then offered his hand. Ernest took it.
“Find them if you can; they may not wish to be found,” Thambi said. “But don’t search for ghosts. Search for real people.”
When they finally departed, the sun was lowering behind the ridge behind the village, casting two diverging shadows across the mossy ground, each walking toward a different destiny in the same vast, breathing jungle.
Ernest reached for his friend’s shoulder and cut him off, gripping him firmly. “I hear you, Thambi. And I don’t take your warning lightly. But ever since I was a child reading old travelogues and classic novels, I’ve imagined what it would be like to lose myself in the jungles of Borneo. I didn’t come all this way just to stop at an arbitrary line on a map. This is my chance. If I don’t take it now, I never will.”
Thambi’s jaw clenched. His eyes softened, though, when he looked at Ernest; he only saw the same stubborn fire that had carried him this far. “You are like a river, Ernest. When it wants to run, no rock can stop it. But rivers can be swallowed by the earth too, lost forever. Promise me at least you will not go alone.”
“I promise I will be careful. But I must go. For me, this isn’t just an adventure; it’s a fulfillment of something I’ve carried my whole life.”
Thambi was silent for a long time. “You are my brother. If your heart cannot be changed, then I will not stand in your way. But remember my words. Kalimantan does not forgive the careless. And if anything happens to you, it will be as though a part of my family has been lost.”
Ernest stood beside Thambi, the two men locking eyes in the golden morning light. “Then I’ll carry your words with me, Thambi, always.”
“Ernest, you are a novice, a stranger in a strange land. Think before you do this thing. The forest is a power. It can destroy you in a moment. At least agree to let the village guides escort you wherever you wish to go, and that will give us some peace of mind. My people have an expression for this for a very good reason. Translated, it goes something like, " Wander a few steps from the trail to be lost forever.”
“I concede and will gladly use the help and skill of your guides.” With that, the issue was closed for the day as Thambi clasped Ernest firmly by each shoulder, looked him steadily in the eye for a long moment. “I wish you all the best of luck, and may the spirits of my ancestors guide you and keep you safe on your travels. Those will be my last words on the matter.”
No comments:
Post a Comment