That’s how it
happens: early in the morning on Thursday you go to the Tamu in Donggongon and
you meet some
one
you somehow know but you don’t really from recall from where. Anyway, that
acquaintance of yours is very much eager to invite you will join. There are
certainly worse things than getting invited to a wedding, and for me the fact
that the party is an inaccessible area where you have to walk is only so much
more reason to go! Thus, as per promise, I met my acquaintance again in the
middle of the next week. We were to leave Thursday, the wedding being on Friday,
it stuck me a bit as odd, but then it was wedding season and if everybody would
get married on a Saturday how would would you be able to visit them all and join
their respective festivities? That reasoning makes senses! Here, jack- that is
the name of my acquaintance, and really a good friend- explained to me why we
would go to such a faraway wedding when he himself is from the north of Sabah:
the young man getting married is the brother of his wife, and jack was to be his
best man. Knowing that I was invited by the best man to this wedding was
reassuring. I felt certainly less guilty and more belonging than when I am
dragged to a wedding because a friend of a friend has a cousin who sister in law
auntie eldest son. I never really seem to get used to the fact that here,
however pleasurable it is, you can go to just about anybody’s wedding and be
heartily welcome! It says so much about the people here!
We met again
as agreed on the Tamu ground in Donggongon, and after some to and after some to
and fro we were finally on the road. Much to my excitement it was in one of
those sturdy old Land Rovers one only sees once a week congregating en masse in
Donggongon: during the tamu. These sturdy old cars have taken the people from
the far interior to the tamu in Donggongon and others parts of Sabah over the
past forty years. They rarely run with the original engine any more, are heavily
modified, and look dramatically rugged and adventurous, usually with e parts
here and there held together string and wire. But they run, and still offer the
most amazing power safety in the most demanding off-road situations. We were to
need this power to-day many times, but at the moment we were headed for Gunung
Emas and the Alab Pass there on the well maintained tarmac road that links Kota
Kinabalu with Tambunan and Keningau in interior. I was curious as to which
junction we would take. I had a faint idea as to where we were heading, but I
had never been in that area and was not sure about the turn-point. When we
reached junction - still below the pass - I knew well where we were but I had
never taken that road before - great, I thought, for me totally unexplored
terrain, and with each kilometer my expectations and excitement grew. The road
became, as expected, very quickly demanding, and extremely challenging, but our
driver mastered even foot-deep and mud filled ruts without even once getting
stuck. There were a couple of dramatic moments when to the left or the right of
road the slope would drop away into some distant valley, and I had to think
against myself that for this part of the adventure alone some people would paid
good money...
We finally
reached our destination after a nearly three hours' drive, whereby the last two
hours were challenging off-road and made more interesting in the incessantly
pouring rain. It was not really raining any more when we alighted from the car
and stretched our tattered limbs - the seats in those cars tend to be on the
hard side - but it was still drizzling and it was cold. Side. My guess is that
we stopped at around 1500m above sea level, about one kilometer before SK Sungoi
in the Tuaran District. We stopped at a little shelter along the road, and of
course it was not our destination because from here we would have to walk. We
started unloading the car and I felt aghast. If the wedding is really one hour's
walk from here, then it is going to be a hell of a drag schlepping all those
boxes into the valley: several dozen kilogram's of frozen chicken and half a
dozen cartons with frozen beef , each of about 20 kg; a big suitcase which
obviously contained the gown and the dress of the bride and groom (and later 1
learned also the dress of the best man...); the wedding cake, several boxes with
vegetables and other victuals and much more I could not imagine would be
necessary for a wedding in the jungle. But then, this was going to be a `modern'
wedding, only I did not know...
The rain
started again heavier just as the car was unloaded, and we tried to store all
cardboard boxes, children and ourselves under the small bus stop when a group of
young men with `wakid' carrier baskets emerged. They were followed by a couple
of women, also carrying sturdy wakid and after a couple of greetings they
started loading their baskets. A wakid is an incongruous looking thing, but it
is actually ingenious in design and practicality. It must have been in use for
as long as there have been Dusun in Sabah, because all of them use the wakid and
variations in design are small. It stands normally about two feet tall and it is
made from split bamboo. The largest I have seen have a diameter of nearly two
feet at the bottom and three at the top. A wakid can be loaded with just about
anything, and if it does not fit inside you tie it to the top - as I was to
witness. Incredible loads can be heaved with a wakid, and the Dusun, especially
the women, never fail to awe me with their strength and endurance. Climb Mt
Kinabalu, and you will see them using their wakid, too! No other, modern design
or material has ever been able to replace the traditional wakid, though there
are some modifications now and it is rare to find a truly traditional wakid: the
straps, in olden days made of rattan and called 'togivis' are now more often
made from cloth - which is just a bit nicer on one's shoulders; and the bottom
ring that holds the wakid base in place, once made from bark, is now more often
made from PVC piping making the rest of the wakid last even longer! Ever the
practical Duson’s, never short of ideas!
I watched in
respect as the wakid were loaded now, and suddenly the whole load that was in
the car was gone, or nearly so. The bride to be wanted to carry the wedding cake
herself, and the groom took charge of the wedding dresses in their valise. But
the rest was carried by the group of porters - for such they were, specially
arranged for the wedding I was told, and they actually arrived right in, time!
It never fails to amaze me what youi can carry in a wakid - first they were
loaded with bags and other smaller items and boxes that would fit inside; then
came the oversized boxes with frozen meet, wrapped in black plastic bags now
because of the rain. They were tethered to top of the carrier baskets. Each
person, I estimated, had not less than thirty kilogram's on their back, and
most of the weight above their head for that matter, an unthinkably bad way of
distributing weight. But that did not seem to bother the porters any further as
they set off down into the valley heading for the groom's house.
While the
porters and some of our party went off I was waiting with Jack for the rest of
the group, which came in a second Land Rover. They finally arrived just as the
rain seemed to lessen and we..
