Malaysia's Most-Wanted

As a farewell, Hanim treated me to lunch at Lala Chong, a Chinese restaurant that specializes in extremely fresh seafood steamed in garlic, ginger, and Chinese wine; Chinese style fish head curry; and glass noodles stirfried with seafood. We ended up ordering steamed fish, along with many other sides. I must say that I was relieved not to have to try fish head. I even ate some beef because it looked so good.

Our meal was more somber than normal. I was slowly beginning to accept that I would be leaving Malaysia in a few days. More importantly, the day before, the Bersih 2.0protests had taken place in Kuala Lumpur. Put simply, Prime Minister Najib was appointed to his office. To prove his legitimacy, it is customary to hold elections. The opposition, led by Anwar Ibrahim (former Deputy Prime Minister/current member of Parliament), planned a protest demanding election reform (transparent, free, and fair). PM Najib legally banned the protests. He later changed his mind due to the intervention of King Tuanku Mizan Zainal Abidin and permitted the protest to occur inside of Stadium Merdeka. Later in the week, he retracted that permission. This caused them (the yellow shirts) to decide to march to the stadium anyway. The protests were not pretty.

Hanim did not participate in the protests, but watched them unfold on television with a heavy heart. She spent that whole day crying and worrying about the future of the country that she loved so much. The emotional drain was written all over her face. I could not completely empathize with her given her status as a member of the ethnic majority of her country. Hanim is a proud Malaysian (nationality) and a proud Malay (ethnicity) who understands the value of progress. The dichotomy of my US pride and her Malaysian passion is rooted in a sense of belonging. Hanim lives and breathes Malaysia. She looks, acts, and feels Malaysian.

While we continued discussing the politics of yesterday’s protest, a tall Chinese-looking man, wearing gym clothes sat a couple of tables away and began snapping photos of us with his iPhone. At first I just dismissed it as him being intrigued at the spectacle of a black man having a one-on-one meal with an older Malaysian woman. Then Hanim told me that she used to be a lot more politically active in her youth. She believes that she’s on a couple of watch lists and gets followed around sporadically. She turned to wave (mockingly) at him and I forced uncomfortable eye contact with him. Embarrassed, he got up and left without ordering any food.

Lunch always tastes better with a little tear gas

Before I go any further, with Jeremy as my witness, I promise we did not go out looking for trouble. We went to Little India so Jeremy could get his final fix of chicken Tikka, which was heavenly. We found a small North Indian place called Jassal and had a feast. The lunch was rather uneventful, until about 30 minutes before we paid. We heard sirens and the owner quickly went over to close the metal shutters. Before we got up and left, Jeremy offhandedly commented that his eyes felt a little uncomfortable. We left the restaurant to a scene of people quickly exiting the area holding cloth over their face. We moved toward crowd, trying to enter KL Sentral train station. To get there we had to go through a covered section of the building. As soon as we started walking through, the unmistakable feeling of tear gas hit us. Our eyes and nose immediately started tingling and running, while our throats tightened up. According to Jeremy, who had been gassed before, he said that was only about 1/10th of the total strength.

After coughing and sniffling our way through the tunnel, we entered KL Sentral to find a large group of people waiting inside to escape the threads of tear gas still lingering in the air. Sadly, to get where we needed to go, we had to go back out into the tunnel and face the gas again.

Reports are showing that there have already been many arrests yet the Bersih crowd has yet to disperse. Should make for an interesting rest of the day.

Taman Negara

We just got back from Taman Negara. The rain forest was beautiful. The rides down the river were relaxing. I spotted many animals and some native species of the jungle. We ventured on a hike. I enjoyed the scenery and the exercise. We got to meet some of the aboriginal community, the Orang Asli. I am having a great time in Malaysia. I have taken hundreds of photos so far documenting my travels. Everywhere i turn is a new opportunity for a photo. I have fallen in love with this country and would like to come back later this year. The multicultural context Malaysia brings is breath taking. Walking down the street i get a flavor of three cultures. I am very happy english is widely used and understood here. Getting around and communicating has been simple. Very important for myself, the food offers a diverse array of options. Eating vegetarian or Halal is easy for anyone.

Orang Asli Settlement

We were assigned a 40-page chapter to read about the Orang Asli people before meeting them. Basically they are composed of several indigenous groups on peninsular Malaysia that used to live on the coasts. As settlers, mainly Asian, moved in and claimed the land, they were continually pushed into the interior of the country if they chose not to assimilate. Depending in the time in history, they were either neglected, targeted, or taken advantage of in instances of communist and ant-communist movements in the country.

Presently, they are semi-nomadic groups of people who speak several different languages, and whose beliefs are animistic and nature-centered. Most of the kids don’t go to school and very few of them use electricity or plumbing. Their integration into the Malaysian economy is very limited—usually they sell their tools, arts, and crafts to tourists in exchange for money to buy petrol (gasoline) for their wooden motor boats. Occasionally an indigenous young person goes to school and college, but it is rare that they return to live amongst their people. By international standards, they meet the definition of poverty. Within the Malaysian government, there is an Indigenous People’s Council that is composed completely of Malays—not one indigenous person. In the name of protecting and providing services for these groups of people, the government continually attempts to set up schools for their children. They get significant indifference and even push-back because the schools will teach them the Bahasa Malay language and Islamacize them, causing their language and religion to die off as they assimilate. Furthermore, children who spend all day at school are not seen as immediately productive for the family to eat each day. Integration seems to be the least popular choice within the government.

As with most destinations in the jungle, we took a relaxing boat ride to the settlement. We were told that different groups set up at a location separated, but reasonably close to where tourists would be. They only stay for a few months at a time. They sell their goods to us and go back deeper into the jungle to live more naturally. Other than purchasing their goods, it was recommended (by Malaysians) that we bring cigarettes for the men and candy for the children as gifts (I guess the women don’t deserve gifts). From the beginning, a couple of people in our group objected to the idea of gifting cigarettes—such a deadly and disgusting vice. I have to admit, I initially thought that it was slightly pretentious of us to judge this exchange ritual that has been suggested by actual Malaysians.

When we stepped off of the boat, there was another group of white people sitting at the benches watching a blow dart demonstration. Their cackling and applause made it evident that there were thoroughly entertained. This was juxtaposed to our somber group milling about mentally comparing what we had read and discussed with what we were seeing. I was self-conscious about being the only dark-skinned tourist in sight. How different was I to the rest of the group? Did they notice our similar hair texture & skin tone (I was only slightly darker than most of the people there)? Did they care? Had African or other African American tourists ever visited them? While I was going through this in all of my mind, we were being told to hand out the candy to the children. These were not the jubilant 7-year-olds that I remember from my travel in Senegal. They were teenagers with that “screw your candy” look on their faces. I was too embarrassed to reach into my pocket or approach them. Some people in our group felt the same way. Meanwhile, other people were photographing them as if they were animals. I was growing very uncomfortable. I walked off and pretended to admire their houses made mostly out of bamboo and giant palm leaves.

When it was our turn to get the speaking part of the tour, I turned on my attentive/not-disturbed listening face. The Malay guy who drove our boat was all of a sudden our tour guide. He discussed their nomadic way of life, how they live in the moment, and are not planners for the future. He pointed out that there was not much of a mosquito problem because smoke was constantly burning in the settlement. We were taught that their temporary raised-houses with spaced-out bamboo floor planks were perfect for staying warm at night and cool during the day. Children are immediately given dangerous tools and the responsibilities that go with them. He shared an anecdote about why blow darts were a smarter alternative to guns for hunting, since they don’t make enough noise to alert other animals that they are the next victim. This was a well-planned segue to the blow dart demonstration. It was cool. An old indigenous man and two teenage boys created blow darts (poisonous and non-poisonous) using all natural materials, while our guide was speaking. Then the old man blew a few at a target with impressive aim. Though we were impressed, no one clapped or made any hoopla over it. A few of us tried ourselves. Professor Heng asked our guide to ask one of the boys how old he was. In a different language (not Bahasa Malay or English), he replied that he did not know. It seemed a bit too “cute” not to have been planned.

To close out, our guide explained that these indigenous peoples did not have a problem with us visiting their settlement, taking photos, and purchasing their goods. Their only policy is that we accompanies by a (pre-approved???) guide to tell their story on their terms. Our guide ensured us that he is very well-trusted by them. I found it a bit queer that there was never any direct translation between the elder of the village and our guide—no speech or greeting. A lot of us left the settlement uneasy about the experience. “A picture is worth 1000 words, if told correctly.”

Don't Go Chasin' Waterfalls

After the canopy, hills, and leeches excursion we rested for an hour, then had lunch. Professor Heng got us really pumped about the waterfalls that we’d see in the afternoon. To get there, we’d have a 45-minute boatride and a 20 minute hike.By this time; the boat rides became my favorite activity in the jungle. The hikes after a rainy night were not. Still a bit paranoid about leeches, I maintained my technique of always looking at the ground and keeping my feet moving at all times. On the other hand, Schuyler decided to wear flip flops.
At one point, less than 5 minutes away from the waterfall, Eva got a leech on her ankle. She did not panic and waited for Jeremy to help her get it off with salt. In the meantime, Sara got one on her sock. While she was trying to take care of that, Jeremy got one on his shoe. All three of them were in front of me on a narrow part of the path. There was a very steep hill on the left and a 20ft drop on the right, so I couldn’t squeeze past. Suddenly, behind me I heard Schuler panicking, “I’ve got two on me, get them off!” Jeremy began losing his patience, “Do it yourself or wait for me to take care of the others’ first!” This all happened in the span of about 12 seconds. Meanwhile I was still marching in place, trying my best not to show how nervous I was. Professor Heng instructed the people without leeches to keep going, but she didn’t realize that there was no passing room. Within about 45 seconds, all leeches were removed, my stress level went down, and we were on our way again.

A few minutes later, we reached the river again. Its flow was being obstructed by dozens of giant boulders. As few meters upstream, water was falling from a part of the river slighty higher (maybe 5-7ft) in elevation, creating a beautiful scene and peaceful sound. While it was gorgeous, it was not quite what I had imagined when we were told that we’d see awaterfall. Sure there was water falling, but not from overhead in a giant shower-like fashion. It looked like glorified rapids.

Anyway, the Europeans or Aussies were enjoying their swim, complete with Speedos, so Carline, Eva, and I jumped in. The water was very cold and refreshing, but too murky to see the bottom. I had to take my mind off of Rajwantie and my favorite show, River Monsters, to have a good time. Swimming against the current reminded me of how far out of shape I was.

During the boat ride back, Schuyler spotted a giant monitor lizard, the size of a small komodo dragon. It was amazing, since we were 100ft away from it in the safety of our boat (sorry, didn’t get a pic of it)

Jungle II - Canopies, Hills, & Leeches (Oh My!)

The next morning was miserably soggy and incredibly humid (even for a New Orleanian). To avoid leeches, I tucked my heave Girbaud jeans into my calve-high socks. We all looked like fashion faux pas together. The beginning of the hike was easy since we’d done that part the day before. It was only exhausting because I was on edge about the leeches. Usually we’d spot them sticking straight up out of the dirt or in a leave squirming around searching for a shoestring or pant leg to attach to.

Passing a very large group of tourists, we make it to the canopy walk tower and only had to wait about 15 minutes. We were already drenched in sweat from the pace of our hike and the humidity. The tower stood about 2 ½ stories tall and was connected to a narrow bridge made of planks and ropes.Although it looked safe, it swayed considerable with every step. We worked out a system to all get photos of each other. The views were worth the wobbliness of the bridge. There were about 8 bridges between giant trees. The drop would vary significantly because the ground below was very hilly. There was one point that we were so high, it was impossible to see the ground. That’s where Schuyler accidentally dropped his water bottle. It took SO long for is to hear the thud. The worst bridge was simply a 45° ladder suspended completely by ropes, with only a net under it that led [not to the next tree, but] to a completely suspended plank with ropes. It was definitely worth it, but thoughts of the bridge failing were VERY disturbing.

When we got back to the ground, the group waited around for everyone to finish and mentally prepare for the unforgiving hill ahead of us. The summer before, Professor Heng broke her leg on this hill, but the view is supposed to be worth the headache. As soon as everyone was ready, we set out for the climb. Someone in the group spotted a guy sitting on a bench dealing with all of the blood that came from a leech encounter.This caused me to look down at me shoe, and sure enough, “Guys, I got a LEECH! Someone get it!” Realizing that no one was coming to my rescue I tried to knock it off of my shoe with my water bottle. It held on. At this point, it quickly began thinning its body out to weasel its way into the mesh of my running shoe. I was left with no other choice but to quickly grab it with my fingers (yuck!) and throw it. I was freaking out. For the rest of the time, I was constantly moving my feet to ensure that the leeches didn’t have an opportunity to inch back onto my shoes.

The climb up the hill was a workout. My heart rate was at dead-sprint speed although we were only walking up the hill. This was only the halfway point. We walked, stepped, and climbed for 800 meters. When we finally reached the summit, we were completely re-drenched in sweat. That explains how rough we look in the photos.

Jungle I

eremy barged into the room and announced “Alright, you guys! We’re leaving in 20 minutes!” Feeling the physical effects of the previous night’s excitement, I was a bit slow to react. By the time I got up, only 15 minutes were left. I scurried around the room as fast as my sore quads and calves would allow, and packed everything I needed for our 3-day jungle (Taman Negara National Park) excursion. After a 3-hour bumpy van ride (that the majority of us slept through for obvious reasons) and an awkward half-awake breakfast in a small town, we arrived at a station where wooden motor boats would take us on our 1.5 hour journey up the Tembeling River to our hostel. Based on the heat and humidity, I was thrilled that the boats were covered and the speed was high enough to deliver a very refreshing breeze. The first few minutes reminded me of swamp tours back in Louisiana. As we traveled deeper into the jungle the landscape began to change. The trees got taller and with more girth, the river got windier, and the green hills surrounding became taller. I eventually snapped out of the swamp tour nostalgia and remember that I was entering a jungle in Southeast Asia. The scene in American Gangster when Frank had to travel through the Vietnamese bush on boats to negotiate his initial bulk purchase of raw heroin popped into my head. “You don’t want to go there; they got mosquitoes the size of birds.”

Oh yeah, I forgot. I have a fear of bugs all animals similar to that of a five-year-old school-girl from a the city. I began thinking about the text message that Hanim sent me.

“Enjoy the giant leeches at our national park!!! To remove them, drop liquid steeped in tobacco. Buy a packet of cigarettes (not lights or mentholated). Remove the loosened tobacco into ziplock sandwich bags, pour a quarter cup or less water. Zip up and let steep. When you find leeches on your body, DO NOT pull them away! Instead, pinch some tobacco and squeeze fluid onto leeches, after a few minutes they will peel off. Blood from site will ooze for several minutes but will clot naturally.”

I was conflicted between excitement and anxiety about all of the wildlife that I would encounter.

After Dr. Heng took care of all our lodging arrangements we headed towards our hostel. Our path was partially blocked by a small snake with an orange and white pattern. It hadn’t even been 15 minutes and there was a snake where all of the humans hang out! I got a bit worried about when we would find beyond the concrete path. Our hostel had four bunk beds, a weak fan, and the little AC that couldn’t. We shared the restrooms with small bugs, but nothing I couldn’t handle. When I came outside, Jeremy and Adam were photographing a wild boar that had to be 3 ½ feet tall on all fours and around 400lbs. Before I got over my initial shock, Sarah was ready to go on a hike. By then, everyone knew how I preferred to view nature—through glass tanks or television screens.

I returned from the hike with a sense of confidence. Nothing really scared me. I swatted at bugs here and there, but nothing unexpected. In return I was able to enjoy the sight of giant bamboo that photos could do no justice. There were other amazing trees, exposed roots systems, and interesting plants—some familiar, others exotic.

Dinner was served on a floating restaurant across the river. Each trip across the small river cost RM1/per person (USS$0.33) the same price it is to get from my Villa to the Bangsar LRT station, a few kilometers away. The food was very tasty. I couldn’t get enough chicken satay and fried rice with those special high-heat woks.

We returned to the room to get settled and prepare for the next day. After a couple of hours of hanging out Schuyler yelled “TARANTULA!” I jumped off of the bottom bunk, flew to the opposite side of the room, dashed to the top bunk, and looked away. It was under Jeremy’s backpack. Jeremy and Adam went into military mode (while Schuyler and I cowered in fear) and grabbed shoes and flashlights. Jeremy cautiously moved the backpack and SLAM! “I think I got one of its legs, but he got away. Okay, here’s the deal. I’m going to move this wardrobe. Toussaint, make sure it doesn’t escape to the left. Don’t take your eyes off of this wall, from floor to ceiling. Schuyler: same thing, but on the left side. Adam, you hold the flashlight and keep looking under the bed.”

Jeremy moved the large piece of the furniture. Nothing turned up. It must have escaped through a hole or something. I was so glad that I didn’t actually see it. It wasn’t, in fact, a tarantula but everyone who laid eyes on it was visibility shaken up. Strangely enough I was able to have a good night’s sleep. I guess I was THAT exhausted. In addition, the most relaxing thunderstorm moved overhead. The rain pounded the tin roof of our cabin perfectly. The only problem that the rain presented was leeches for tomorrow’s hike