LONG before roads reached Upper Sungai Ngemah, Kanowit, the river was the only highway into the remote interior.
Longboats carried families between scattered longhouses, while the forest provided food and the land sustained generations of Iban communities. Life revolved around farming, fishing and the rhythms of the river.
But by the late 1960s, another presence had emerged deep within the jungle.
Communist insurgents had begun operating across the Rajang Basin, turning once peaceful settlements into the frontline of a conflict that would forever change the lives of many families.
Among them was the family of Ngemah assemblyman Anyi Jana.
He was only a child when the war claimed someone closest to him.
“I was only about five or six years old.
“But I already knew my brother had died protecting the country,” he recalled.
His elder brother, Border Scout Luyoh Jaul, was among the 13 security personnel killed in the Pendam Bungkang ambush on Aug 27, 1970, one of the bloodiest attacks during Sarawak’s communist insurgency.
Although he was too young to understand the full tragedy, the story stayed with him throughout his childhood.
According to Anyi, communist insurgents had raised red communist flags in Pendam Bungkang, deep in Upper Sungai Ngemah, prompting security forces to investigate.
“They wanted to attack the Malay Regiment.
“But the Malay Regiment stopped along the way, while the Border Scouts continued upstream,” he said.
The Border Scouts reached the area first and walked into a carefully planned ambush.
Seventeen Border Scouts took part in the operation.
Only four survived — Nyampun, Dusi, Tukau and Lajong.
Nyampun, Dusi and Tukau, despite suffering serious injuries, survived by lying motionless until the communist insurgents left. They later floated downstream, where they were rescued by nearby villagers. Lajong also survived, although the circumstances of his survival remain unclear.
The remaining members of the patrol were killed, including Luyoh.
“My brother was among those who were killed. It was sad,” Anyi said quietly.
As he grew older, Anyi came to understand that his brother was one of many Sarawakians who had sacrificed their lives defending communities in the state’s remote interior.
For families in Upper Sungai Ngemah, the war was never a distant conflict reported in newspapers.
It arrived at their doorstep.
Forced to leave home
The Pendam Bungkang ambush marked only the beginning.
As communist activities intensified across the Rajang Basin, fear spread through longhouse communities and security patrols became a common sight.
To protect villagers and isolate communist insurgents from rural support, the government relocated many longhouses to Resettlement Scheme (SPS) settlements under the Rajang Area Security Command (RASCOM).
Rumah Sigan, where Anyi was from, was among those moved.
In 1974, Anyi’s family left the ancestral longhouse where generations had lived and relocated to SPS Nanga Ngungun.
“Our longhouse moved in 1974,” he said.
The move meant leaving behind ancestral land, fruit orchards and farms that had sustained families for generations.
“When we moved, we no longer had our land. The government only allocated a small piece of land for each family, so it became difficult to farm,” Anyi said.
Yet he also believes the relocation gave many children opportunities they would never have had otherwise.
“There were benefits too. If we had remained in Upper Sungai Ngemah, I think many of us would never have gone to school,” he said.
Schools, healthcare facilities and government services became much easier to access.
Before the relocation, travelling home depended entirely on the river.
“There were no roads.
“If we travelled by longboat to the nearest town, it took about five or six hours. The distance was only about 30 kilometres, but everything depended on the water level. If the river was shallow, the journey could take the whole day. When the water was high, it was much faster,” he recalled.
Even after moving, reminders of the conflict remained close.
In 1975, while studying at SK Ngungun, Anyi heard a powerful explosion less than a kilometre from the school after a Border Scout attempted to remove a communist flag.
According to Anyi, the insurgents had concealed a booby trap beneath the communist flag.
“When a Border Scout tried to pull it down, the bomb exploded. He survived but suffered shrapnel injuries to his back,” he recalled.
Growing up amid relocation, military operations and the constant threat of violence left a lasting impression on him.
Carrying his brother’s memory
The loss of his brother shaped the course of Anyi’s life.
“I wanted to become a soldier,” he said.
His reason was simple.
“I wanted to avenge my brother.
Driven by that determination, he applied to join the military.
In 1984, he was selected for officer cadet training and travelled to Kuching.
“I went to Kuching. But after hearing how tough the training was, I decided not to continue,” he recalled.
Although he never became a soldier, the family’s tradition of serving the nation continued when his younger brother later joined the Royal Malaysian Navy.
Today, Anyi no longer speaks of revenge.
Instead, he remembers the sacrifices made by his brother and the many Border Scouts who never returned home.
“They sacrificed their lives to protect the country,” he said.
More than five decades after the Pendam Bungkang ambush, a memorial in Kanowit Town near Fort Emma bears the names of the 13 Border Scouts who died that day.
For visitors, the monument commemorates a defining chapter in Sarawak’s history.
For Anyi, it bears the name of the elder brother he barely had the chance to know.
He hopes younger Sarawakians will continue learning about the communist insurgency and the sacrifices made by those who defended communities deep in the interior.
“It is important that they know what happened. Many people sacrificed their lives so that we can live in peace today,” he said.
For Anyi, the communist insurgency is far more than a chapter in a history book.
It is the story of a family that lost a son, a longhouse forced to leave its ancestral home, and a young boy whose life was forever shaped by war.
More than half a century later, one memory has never faded.
Luyoh Jaul remains the brother who never came home.
