A former ex-pat reminisces about life in Borneo
When I first went to live in Miri on the Island of Borneo, there were none of the modern shopping centers or department stores that I was used to back home in Australia. There were plenty of strange little shops selling everything from plastic Buddhas to 100 year old eggs to tiger balm and, at first, I’d been as intrigued as any Western tourist but after two years I’d started to dream of endless supermarkets, extensive malls, trendy boutiques and major departmental stores.
Kuala Belait (KB), the second largest city in Brunei was only 120kms away and I went there regularly to buy Diet Coke which you couldn’t get in Miri but mainly to renew my tourist visa. You see my visa was only good for a month but that was never a problem because we lived close to the border between Malaysia and Brunei. Every time I returned from my regular monthly shopping expedition in KB, the Malaysian immigration officers would extend my visa for another 4 weeks hence the attraction. But while the supermarket stocked more Western food lines, what was on offer in the local shops, in the way of fashion, make-up and accessories, was on par with Miri.
Members of my bridge group talked about Yohannes, a world class store in Bandar Seri Begawin (BSB), the capital of Brunei and home to the Sultan, then the richest man in the world. Yohannes sold everything you’d expect to find in a world-class store like Harrods or Macey’s. I was in dire need of a shopping fix and my friend, Clare felt the same. When she suggested we take a trip to BSB, I jumped at the chance.
BSB was another 120 kms further than KB - too far for a day trip. But, with both our partners working on a rig in the South China Sea for another fortnight, we were fancy free. As excited as schoolgirls, we set off for Brunei.
It took a lot longer than we’d thought to travel 240kms. There was always a long wait for the ferry ride across the Belait, the river that divides Brunei and Malaysia and rather, than waiting in turn, many of the locals just pushed in.
That day it was worse than usual and when we eventually reached the immigration station on the Malaysian side of the border, it was closed. Generally immigration stations close for two hours between 12 and 2. As a result, we didn’t get to BSB until after five.
Not to be deterred from our mission, we booked into the hotel, dumped our bags, asked for directions and set out on our quest. The concierge told us that the quickest route was through Kampong Ayer (the Water Village).
About 39,000 people live in ramshackle wooden shanties built on stilts in the river. It's a well-known tourist attraction but as I looked around, I noticed we were were the only foreigners.
As we walked along a complex web of waterways, the sun was setting and I felt a twinge of uneasiness. It might look quaint and picturesque by daylight, but something told me this was not the pace for two blonds to be walking unattended in the dark. Clare felt the same and we both, agreed to come back in a taxi.
By now, it was dark and the neighborhood was deserted. In the distance, we could see the bright red letters of Yohannes’ neon sign. Leaving the Kampong we walked toward the beacon, feeling discouraged because it still seemed miles away.
Just ahead we could dimly see a field. It may have been a soccer pitch or some kind of playing field, but it was too dark to see if there were goal posts. ‘What do we do now?’ asked Clare, looking dubiously at the wide drainage ditch between the road and the field.
It was obviously going to add another 30 minutes to our journey if we walked around the perimeter of the field and I replied, ‘We jump.’
Now Clare and I made an odd couple. For a start Clare, 15 years younger, is tall, fit and athletic while I’m short and haven’t exercised since I left school in 1960. Wouldn't you think, if anyone was going to fall in the brink, it would have been me? But I cleared the filthy ditch with inches to spare. Clare wasn’t so lucky.
I helped her out but her legs were caked with foul-smelling mud. Ploughing on in silence, you can't blame Clare for not seeing the funny side, we cut across the field and ten minutes later, rolled up at the entrance of a very impressive building. The washroom was near the entry and very posh … no wonder - the Sultan’s wives and daughters shopped at Yohannes.
Clare had her leg in the wash basin and was attempting to scrape off the excrement when in walked three princesses in luxurious, silk robes like something out of an Arabian Night’s dream. Sooo embarrassing!!
Luckily, there was a telephone box handy. I phoned every taxi company in the directory. All the numbers rang out. A passerby, when questioned, told us taxis in BSB only operated until 4pm, no kidding!
Despite the mishap (my word choice, not Clare's), we'd been luckier than we deserved. Walking back would really have been pushing the envelope. I phoned the hotel, explained the situation and within half an hour we were back in our room. The last thing Clare said to me before turning out the light was that she’d never go anywhere with me again.
Next day we drove back to Miri. All that we’d seen of Yohannes was the washroom. It was all we were ever to see – we never went back.
Miri is the setting for The White Amah a mystery/ thriller set against the backdrop of the timber industry in Malaysia. If you'd like to read an extract or purchase the book, click here.
Ann Massey
http://www.annmasseyauthor.net/
Author of:
The White Amah, a mystery set against the backdrop of the timber logging industry in Malaysia. Sample or purchase: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1456578065
The Biocide Conspiracy, a Young Adult thriller that sweeps readers into the world of biowarfare. Sample or purchase; http://www.amazon.com/dp/1456503367
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