MY mom’s eldest brother, Uncle Ngauh Narang, joined us from his job at Shell in Lutong, Miri, around 1964. He was single at the time, having previously been in a relationship with a Bakong girl in Miri, with whom he had a daughter.
It remains unclear what happened to his family after he ended his contract as a medical assistant with Shell Bhd in Lutong. He left Miri for Saratok and eventually became part of our family. His mother, my grandmother, Kejuang Meling, was living with us at that time.
In my view, this addition to our family was a blessing, as Uncle Ngauh was a responsible man who even bought a gun for hunting. His skills provided us with extra meat, and we all looked forward to his hunting trips, both day and night.
In a humorous twist, there was a rumour that when he and his mother first registered for their identity cards in 1950, Uncle Ngauh was said to be ten years older than her. This discrepancy, which led to the mistake in the records, likely arose because they rounded their ages.
The error was corrected and verified after Malaysia was established. Uncle Ngauh was happily integrated into our family. My mom, his younger sister, and grandmother arranged for him to marry his distant cousin from another longhouse in Assam. They became husband and wife in early 1965.
Our first disaster in Kedap struck in the early hours of one morning in 1965. At that time, I was staying in the longhouse with Uncle Ngauh and Auntie Dungkung while my parents were away in our residence in Bukit Tinggi, upriver from Melupa. It was during a school break, and we were the only occupants in our room in Kedap.
I learned about the fire only after it had been extinguished. Later, some policemen led by the well-known Sergeant Salus came from Saratok to investigate, suspecting arson. They stayed in TR Limbing’s room for at least two nights, but to my knowledge, they found nothing.
After that, life in Kedap returned to normal. I was happy to be in the company of Uncle Ngauh and Auntie Dungkung, who looked after me well. I even enjoyed gambling with the adults over a ten-cent bet while playing a Chinese card game called daun tui. The game includes a minimum of four players and can accommodate up to ten players.
I had a small fund collected from gifts from my parents, grandmother, and Uncle Ngauh, who sometimes joined the gambling sessions. I was probably the youngest player among adults, and this marked the beginning of my gambling persona.
Uncle Ngauh and Auntie Dungkung worked tapping rubber at our nearby rubber garden in Sungai Kedap, about a half-hour walk from the longhouse. Sometimes, I would join them for fun, but I would return home after an hour of playing around.
During one of those trips, Auntie Dungkung fainted and was brought back by Uncle Ngauh. She didn’t recover well and became seriously ill, passing away around late 1966. Her funeral was the first in our family held in Kedap, and she was buried two days later in Burui Cemetery, just upriver from Kedap.
An important event for all Kedap folks was the Gawai Antu (Festival to Commemorate Deceased Relatives), held in early August of 1973. This event took place during the Second Term School Break, and we invited Tun Jugah Barieng, who was then the Federal Minister of Sarawak Affairs.
Also invited was State Secretary, Tan Sri Datuk Gerunsin Lembat, a Saratok native and cousin to my dad. I remember that among the attendees were Datuk (later Datuk Amar) Dunstan Endawie Enchana, the Krian assemblyman, and former Chief Minister, Dato Tawi Sli, who was still an assemblyman for Simanggang. I distinctly recall welcoming him and storing his footwear in our room.
On July 20, during our preparations, I heard on the radio that my idol, Bruce Lee, the Hong Kong actor and philosopher, had died. This news dampened our celebratory spirit, especially since some of my paintings of the kung fu idol had been displayed in various households, including that of Musa Giri (now Datuk), who was then the private secretary to Tun Jugah. Although I was initially devastated by his death, I eventually recovered and continued with the decorations.
On the evening of the Gawai proper, I served Tun Jugah some drinks at our house, which was just a door away from Musa’s. He was quite intoxicated, but I helped him walk back to Musa’s room after spending a few hours with us.
Tun Jugah’s presence at the Gawai Antu in Kedap marked a turning point, leading to several beneficial developments for the longhouse. He allocated funds to extend a gravity feed water supply from a high hill in Jangung River, a stream tributary of Kedap about five kilometres away. This feed was later known as ‘Ai Jangung’ and continues to function alongside the water supply from JKR.
Additionally, the main road was widened to allow better access for motor vehicles to the Kedap longhouse. Thanks to the funds granted by Jugah, this route facilitated improved access from the longhouse to the main road. His attendance at the Gawai Antu brought progress to our community and was seen as a blessing for all Kedap folks.
In October 1973, we faced another funeral in our room: Uncle Ngauh Narang (1914-73) passed away due to illness. I was unable to leave my Lower Sixth examination at the Methodist Secondary School in Sibu and was informed about his passing by my brother Edward. I regretted not being able to attend the funeral, but I could not miss our end-of-year exams.
In July 1974, I invited a few girls from Methodist School to visit the Kedap longhouse. Joining me were my classmates Ivy Ngui, Rohani Abdul Karim (now Datuk Seri), Shirley Goh, Hii Mee Gee, and Margaret Ting, a Lower Sixth Art student.
Two male classmates, Joshua Panggau and Darius Munang, were waiting for us at Joshua’s house near Rimbas Bridge in Debak. We spent one evening at Kedap and another at Joshua’s residence.
Even now, Ivy Ngui fondly remembers the joyful moments we shared bathing in Iban style (with sarongs) at the Melupa River near our Kedap longhouse during that trip.
I recall it as a cherished memory of our former Kedap Tebing Ai longhouse. The visit strengthened our unity and camaraderie, creating bonds worth remembering. Every participant truly valued those wonderful moments together – eating, drinking, bathing, and sharing jokes. Each moment was filled with palpable happiness.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at tawisalok@yahoo.com.
