THE passing of James Alexander Ritchie on May 3 left a gaping void in Sarawak’s journalistic community. A void that cannot be filled, only remembered with reverence, gratitude and admiration.
To most, he was Sarawak’s best-known newsman, a prolific feature writer, an accomplished author and a walking encyclopaedia of Sarawak’s indigenous heritage and modern history. To me, he was all that and something more. He was my mentor, my guide, my friend; my compass in a profession I chose when I was only 20.
I had once dreamed of becoming a lawyer. But fate and my HSC results had other plans. Journalism became my calling not by default but by conviction. I loved to read and write. I loved to question, to probe, to tell stories. And I have never regretted that decision.
My career, now 46 years strong, began on the streets and courtrooms as a crime and court reporter. I climbed through the editorial ranks, eventually specialising in politics and sports writing. Feature writing never held my fancy – until James Ritchie, or JR as we all fondly called him, came into my working life.
I first met James in the early 1980s. At the time, I was already an assistant editor. Some colleagues at The Borneo Post who knew James well introduced me to him. That meeting changed the course of my professional life forever.
JR was unimpressed by titles or editorial ranks. He never did subbing, and didn’t care for newsroom hierarchy. What he cared about was the craft of storytelling, the art of research, and the power of the written word to preserve history and amplify unheard voices.
He took me under his wing, unofficially and without ceremony. I became his part-time research assistant – not for pay or prestige, but for passion. He needed help digging through archives, chasing leads, speaking to government officials and piecing together obscure histories.
In those pre-Internet days, research meant legwork and phone calls, not Google and PDFs. It was exhausting but exhilarating.
It was in those quiet hours of chasing dusty files and forgotten facts that I began to understand what journalism could really be. James was a relentless researcher. He was a storyteller who didn’t just write stories; he became part of them.
His love for Sarawak’s ethnic people and historical undercurrents shaped everything he wrote. And slowly, under his guidance, I started to appreciate the world of feature writing.
I still remember the moment he said to me, “Rajah, you are not a complete journalist if you don’t do features. You’re just an ‘estate journalist’ or a kampung reporter.” It stung. But JR never meant to belittle. He meant to challenge. And I took the challenge seriously.
From that moment on, I strived to master a genre I once avoided. And JR, ever the patient mentor, nudged me along. “You’ve got good English, Rajah,” he would say. “You can do this.”
I did. And I owe that to him.
He eventually invited me to collaborate on his books. I would help him gather information, and he would weave his narrative magic. When he discovered my passion for sports, he didn’t hesitate to say, “Why don’t you write a book about Sarawak sports personalities?” That was the spark that led to ‘Sarawak Sports Powerhouse’, which I co-authored with the late Y. John, a respected teacher and sportsman.
I also helped edit two of James’ important books, namely ‘Bujang Senang: Terror of Batang Lupar’, a chilling narrative of Sarawak’s most notorious man-eating crocodile, and his account of the elusive Swiss environmentalist Bruno Manser, who disappeared deep in the jungles of Borneo. Both books were meticulous in research and gripping in style, pure JR.
Over time, James’ mentorship bore fruit. My confidence in feature writing grew, and my stories matured. With his encouragement, I pushed myself further and was humbled to receive two minor recognitions at the Kenyalang Journalism Awards ceremony, something I never imagined when I first entered this profession. James was proud, and that meant more than the awards themselves. I also received the Sarawak Premier Special Awards during the National Journalists’ Day (HAWANA) 2024.
His career was legendary. Starting as a cadet reporter at The Straits Times in Kuala Lumpur in 1971, he covered everything from high-profile criminal cases to cultural documentaries. He was there for the Japanese Red Army hostage crisis in 1975. He wrote about the feared ‘Master of Disguise’ Lai See Kiaw, and the infamous criminal Botak Chin.
But it was in Sarawak that James truly found his soul’s purpose. He joined the New Straits Times in 1981 and never looked back. He roamed Sarawak like an explorer, chronicling the lives of its people, including their stories, their struggles, their spirits. In time, he wrote 45 books, each one a tribute to the land he adopted as home after his father, Datuk Seri John Ritchie, moved here as Sarawak’s Commissioner of Police in the 1960s.
He served in various capacities. As reporter, editorial advisor, media consultant, but his true identity remained constant: storyteller. Journalism wasn’t a job to him. It was his life’s mission.
His accolades were many; they include the Shell Kenyalang Gold Award, the Ang Lai Soon Gold Award, the AZAM Press Award, and last year, the prestigious National Journalist Day (HAWANA) Award.
Yet, James remained grounded. He preferred the company of fellow journalists, sportsmen, cultural custodians and village elders to boardrooms and press conferences.
Beyond journalism, he was a multi-talented man. He was a rugby player for Selangor and Malaysia, bodybuilding enthusiast, singer and a community man in every sense of the word.
His final days were spent as media consultant to and special writer for Sarawak Tribune, but his fire for storytelling never dimmed. His last book was launched in May 2024, just a year before his passing.
On Tuesday, May 6, James Ritchie was laid to rest at Nirvana Memorial Park in Siniawan. The service at St Thomas Church drew 300 people – family, friends, journalists, and those whose lives he had touched with his words and wisdom.
As I sat there, among those grieving, I realised the magnitude of his influence. James didn’t just teach me how to write. He taught me to be whole. He made me a better journalist, and a better human being.
To many, JR was a chronicler of Sarawak. To me, he was the man who gave my journalistic journey its meaning. He was the giant on whose shoulders I stood.
Farewell, JR. Thank you for making me a complete journalist.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at rajlira@gmail.com
