(Part 1)
ONCE considered a fading tradition, the soulful sounds of the sape, the traditional lute of the Orang Ulu community, has resonated stronger than ever across Sarawak in recent years.
No longer confined to remote longhouses or cultural exhibitions, the sape experienced a vibrant revival, thanks to a growing number of passionate players, both seasoned veterans and emerging talents.
The sape is more than just a musical instrument; it is a vessel of stories, rituals, and ancestral memory.
Traditionally carved from a single block of wood and used in healing ceremonies and festivals, the sape had been part of Orang Ulu identity for centuries. Its melodic strings carried the echoes of history, weaving tales of communal life and spiritual connection.
Yet for decades, the sape stood at the edge of extinction -threatened by modernisation, a lack of documentation, and the fading of oral traditions passed down through generations.
Many feared that the unique rhythms and haunting melodies of the instrument would be lost forever, swallowed by the rapid pace of change sweeping through Sarawak’s communities.
However, the tide began to turn. The growing popularity of the sape became increasingly evident in high-profile events like the Rainforest World Music Festival (RWMF), where sape players shared the stage with internationally acclaimed artists.
for this exclusive interview.
Workshops and classes mushroomed across the region, and local schools started introducing the instrument to their students, ensuring that the next generation would inherit this cultural treasure.
As the sape flowed from the hands of older masters to a new wave of eager learners, Sarawak witnessed not just a revival but a renaissance. With its hypnotic rhythms and haunting melodies, the sape told a story of resilience.
Once thought to be dying, it now carries the heartbeat of a generation determined to honour the past while creating a future rooted in identity, music and pride.
Matthew Ngau: The voice of the sape at the Rainforest World Music Festival
Matthew Ngau has become a familiar figure at the RWMF, where the gentle strum of his sape has enchanted audiences year after year.
“I have been involved with the Rainforest World Music Festival for more than 20 years,” Matthew recalled with a smile.
“They always invited me to perform and conduct workshops. It became part of who I was.”
But Matthew’s presence at RWMF was not simply tradition, it was testimony to the sape’s profound cultural significance.
“You could not have the Rainforest Festival without the sape,” he said.
“It symbolises our culture. The sape gave the festival meaning – it was about preservation.”
In 2015, Matthew was officially proclaimed a “National Living Heritage” by Malaysia’s Ministry of Tourism, Arts and Culture.
This recognition honoured his contributions to the revival and growth of the traditional Bornean string instrument and his embodiment of the precious culture of his people, the Kenyah Ngorek.
It reflected his deep commitment as both a musician and cultural ambassador.
The sape, once played exclusively in longhouses to mark celebrations and sacred moments, was deeply tied to the identity of the Kenyah and Kayan tribes.
According to Matthew, its origins traced back to ancestral migrations from East Kalimantan, with each tune echoing centuries of communal memory.
Now based in Bau, Matthew not only performed but also crafted the sape by hand, a skill that had once been rare but was increasingly sought after by Sarawakians across ethnic lines. He is also a skilled artist in traditional designs.
“When I first started, only a handful of people knew how to make the sape. But later, even the Chinese and Bidayuh communities began learning. That made me proud. Culture shouldn’t be kept to ourselves – it must be shared,” he said.
The sape’s spiritual heritage was deeply reflected in the type of wood used to carve it. Among the most prized was Adau wood, steeped in legend and mystical stories.
“There’s an old tale,” Matthew said, his voice tinged with reverence.
“A man’s wife lay on the edge of death. One night, he dreamt of a haunting melody – played on a sape carved from the sacred Adau tree.
“Guided by the dream, he found the tree, crafted the instrument, and played its song beside her. As the music filled the air, she began to heal.”
Though Adau wood had become rare, Matthew still ventures deep into Ulu Baram during the dry season to find suitable timber.
“Adau gave a distinctive tone, especially in its acoustic form. But due to increasing demand, we also use Kayu Medang or even durian wood as alternatives,” he added.
Despite the sape’s growing popularity, Matthew acknowledged the challenge of preserving traditional styles amid modern influences.
“Younger players tend to favour contemporary styles. Traditional tunes were becoming scarce. That’s why I returned to places like Asap to refresh my memory,” he lamented.
“It was important we didn’t lose the old sounds, the spirit, and the stories behind the music.”
Timothy Sebuang: Guardian of the sacred sape in Belaga
Deep in the heart of Belaga, Timothy Sebuang carried forward a legacy passed down by his granduncle, Kesing Nyipa – the revered Patron of Culture in the region.
His passion was kindled at the tender age of thirteen, but his connection to the sape transcended mere music.
“A man named Anyie Selong was told by a spirit in a dream to carve a boat-shaped instrument from an Adau tree to save his wife’s life.
“That was how the sape came to be. It called the spirit back through music,” Timothy explained, the story similar to Matthew’s.
Such stories reinforced the sape’s role not just as a musical instrument, but as a bridge between worlds, the physical and the spiritual.
Timothy’s journey was not without obstacles. Growing up in a remote area with limited access to formal instruction via roads, he relied heavily on online resources such as YouTube and sought mentorship from elders like Ukong Mering and the late Kuit Killah.
“It was difficult, but I learnt a lot from watching videos and from local masters,” he admitted.
He spoke candidly about the cultural challenges facing youth in rural Sarawak.
“Modernisation and Western music are major distractions. Many young people don’t see the value of traditional instruments anymore. That is dangerous for our heritage,” he warned.
To combat this, Timothy championed cultural education and increased visibility.
“The sape should be celebrated in schools and communities – not kept behind glass in museums. Social media could help us inspire the next generation,” he said.
His goal is clear, which is to keep the sape alive not as a relic, but as a living, breathing tradition.
“It tells the story of who we are. It must remain part of daily life,” he stressed.
The sound of tomorrow
Together, Matthew and Timothy represent the spectrum of the sape’s revival, from global stages to village halls. Their work demonstrate that this ancient instrument is not only surviving; it is evolving, adapting, and thriving in the modern world.
Matthew, ever the cultural ambassador, offers a heartfelt reminder.
“We shouldn’t be selfish with our culture. It should be shared, embraced and celebrated by everyone,” he reiterated.
Timothy echoes the sentiment.
“Our heritage belongs to us all. It nourishes our identity and unites us,” he said.
As their hands plucked the strings of the sape, they did more than make music. They connected generations, bridged worlds, and carried Sarawak’s indigenous soul forward, one melody at a time.
