Temengor in 1939 was a fairly large Malay village of some 200 inhabitants,
surrounded by extensive padi (rice) fields. It is situated on the very attractive
Temengor River, a tributary of the upper Perak River, and about 30 miles from Grik.
There is a mixed boys and girls Malay school at Temengor, and it was in order to
visit (and inspect) this school, that I was asked by the Education Department to
arrange an expedition, starting over the Easter weekend when it was easier to find a
few friends to accompany me. Plenty of men were anxious to do the trip, but I had a
difficult job to find a married woman to come as chaperone!
The party eventually consisted of: Phyllis, whose husband was an Education Officer
in Teluk Anson, Kenneth and Bill, both masters at the Malay College in Kuala
Kangsar, and therefore very anxious, as I was, to further our knowledge of Malay, and
Tony from a commercial firm in Taiping and a neighbour of mine. The Malay Visiting
Teacher from Grik, whose job covered the Upper Perak District came with us. His
name was Jabit and he brought along a friend called Mat Wi (always complete with
umbrella), the husband of the headmistress of the Malay Girls School and an old
friend of mine. Jabit was splendid in arranging equipment for the trip and he managed
to procure almost all we needed including three very good camp beds quite an
assortment of Malay saucepans, cutlery and china borrowed from the Rest House at
Grik, a teapot from the school and two oil lamps. We took with us an extra camp bed,
one mattress, two mosquito nets, a small folding table and two or three folding stools,
a frying pan and two small saucepans with handles which proved useful as dippers, and
two large buckets (all metal).
Our transport consisted of two elephants provided by the Government, which carried
all the baggage, and a third smaller elephant which we hired at the rate of $2.50 a day
(about 5 / -) to carry any surplus baggage and any of the party who wanted to ride. The
elephant drivers, or 'gembalas', were called Mahmud, Mat and Sam. Mat was a most
cheerful character with a face always wreathed in smiles and almost invariably a
cheroot between his teeth. Mahmud was also a cheerful old rogue, but suffered from a
dreadful 'acking cough which frequently kept us awake at night! Sam who drove the
little elephant, was my favourite with a most amusing face. He possessed no teeth and
very sunken cheeks with a kind of squashed look that made his chin and forehead
almost meet when he laughed, which he did often and kept us all in fits. One other
Malay called Omah did nothing but follow the elephant and and carry a gun. The only
other gun was carried by Jabit, but neither weapon was ever used, though it was well to
take precautions as we were going through tiger country.
Last but by no means least, we were accompanied by three members of the
hill/jungle tribes of Malaya known as Sakais. Their leader, Herring, by curious name,
was a most intelligent chap, with a knowledge of Malay, Chinese and even some
English. Their clothing consisted of a string round the waist, and they carried
blowpipes with a sheaf of poisoned arrows which they demonstrated on several
occasions. They also had a blanket or sack as protection against cold. As well as being
highly entertaining and instructive in jungle lore, they proved a tremendous help in
numerous ways, fetching water, opening and closing boxes, carrying our lunch each
day and erecting our mosquito nets in a most professional way at night.
We had made a very careful programme, leaving Grik on Easter Sunday and
reaching our destination on Tuesday afternoon. By leaving Temengor on Thursday
morning I intended to have all Wednesday for my work at the school. We had not,
however, bargained for the length of time it would take to load the elephants, or for the
fact that after travelling half a day, they require half a day to rest and eat. The weather
was dreadful and we motored through sheets of rain on our way to Grik which we did
not reach until 3.00 pm. At first (in our ignorance) we were keen to push off that
afternoon but after a tremendous discussion with Jabit and the gembalas, who painted
a none too attractive picture of us plodding through dark and muddy jungle at 10
o'clock at night, we decided to have what we expected to be our last good night's sleep
in the Grik Rest House. Fortunately there were no other guests staying there but the
Boy (caretaker-cum-cook) had his work cut out making up beds and feeding us all.
The rain ceased at about 4 pm and we spent a busy evening calling on all the local
celebrities, starting with the elephants who were introduced to us. One had had
toothache the previous week and had to have an extraction. We were told that this was
done by tying the tooth by rope to a tree and making the poor beast walk backwards,
but I cannot vouch for the authenticity of this. At any rate he seemed to have been
cured, so perhaps it was only a small tooth! We also inspected our gear for the trip
which was behind the English District Officer's house. He was not at home so we
visited the Malay A.D.O. and saw some beautiful material woven by his daughter on
her own loom. The A.D.O. Abdul Wahab, the Visiting Teacher, the headmaster of the
local boy's school and several other men folk joined us in the Rest House for drinks of
orange squash and ginger beer (our guests all being Muslim and therefore teetotal).
We turned in early that night as we wanted to make an early start the next day.
Grik is situated at a fairly high altitude and the following Monday morning was
distinctly chilly with a dense white mist which cleared later. We all went up early to the
D.O's house to make sure the loading of the elephants was started in good time and
then returned for breakfast. Before we had finished they turned up packed and ready
to start, so we followed them up to the end of the village where at least half the
inhabitants turned out to see us off! The first two miles followed a good hard track,
and watching our elephants swinging along at a good pace on the level made me realise
how sick one might feel riding on their backs. As it happened that was the only level or
smooth part of our trek, and our last sight of civilisation was a tiny Chinese shop,
where Herring demanded a few cents to buy tobacco. It was about 10 am when we left
this track and turned off into the jungle. For a while we followed the elephants, taking
numerous photographs, mainly of their rears. We crossed numerous small streams on
rickety bridges and in each case the elephants had to make a detour into quite deep
gullies and then climb the other side, often using their front knees on a particularly
steep bank. The bridges, of course, were unable to support their weight, but this was
very slow going and we soon realised why it would be impossible to cover more than
the allotted 10 miles each day. So we decided to leave the elephants to their own pace
and we tramped on ahead making very good time and taking time off to eat a picnic
lunch which we carried with us. Unfortunately all the beer was on the elephants miles
behind so we had no drink! A bad mistake which we did not repeat.
We all favoured different kinds of clothing from shorts to slacks and jodhpurs,
although a little hot, were judged the most comfortable and were almost leech-proof if
the ends were tucked into woollen socks, and they enabled one to sit or kneel at lunch
time. Slacks provided too good a cover for leeches who could climb undetected to a
good feeding ground. Shorts were both cool and comfortable and leeches could be
quickly seen and removed, but they afforded little protection against sun or other
malicious insects (mosquitos etc.) which attacked from all directions whenever we
stopped.
During the first morning we negotiated a very unnerving kind of suspension bridge
about 100 ft above a deep ravine. It was the width of one plank and two hawsers, which
acted as rails, were secured to trees on either bank. It was approached by a flight of
wooden steps and swayed so precariously that only three or four of us could cross at
one time. Without the rails, I for one would never have attempted it!
At another place we had to remove our footwear and wade across a small river. Here
Bill nobly gave me a piggy back as I was wearing jodhpurs which I could not turn up.
We made a good cine photograph!
We reached Basir, our first halting place, at about 3 pm and called on the
headmaster of the small and rather attractive Malay school surrounded by a bamboo
fence and well kept vegetable garden. There were about 40 pupils with one master, but
there were no children present as Malay schools only open from 8 am to I pm. Basir
was a small village with a population of about 80, and lies close to the bank of the
upper waters of the Perak River which we roughly followed for the first two days. A
walk of about a mile from the school brought us to our 'halting bungalow' or 'hotel' as
Jabit called it, in a tiny clearing on the bank of the river. There were three of these huts
built by Berkeley of Upper Perak on the route to Temengor many years ago, and all
were of the same pattern. They consisted of two separate wooden-walled rooms with a
corrugated iron roof, two windows and a door, and connected to one another by a
wooden or bamboo platform 10 to 12 ft wide. The whole was raised 12 to 15 ft from the
ground on strong wooden piles, thus enabling the elephants to be loaded or unloaded
straight from the platform. There were of course no bathrooms and no furniture
except a large sand-tray and some bricks on the platform on which we did all our
cooking in true Malay style. The huts were terribly hot in the afternoon but pleasantly
cool in the evening and night, and really cold in the early morning. We waited, panting
with thirst, until our elephants arrived and almost as soon as they were unloaded we
had our saucepan boiling merrily on our fire and were assuaging our thirst with what
we unanimously agreed was the best drink of the day - a cup of tea. After that, into our
bathing gear and down a steep sandy bank and into the river, where we had a good
scrub and a lot of fun with an old bamboo raft. Shortly afterwards the elephants joined
us for a dip and how they enjoyed it after their long trek! They lay on their sides in the
water while their gembala clambered over them and scrubbed them with brushes made
from coconut fibre.
We fed on tinned soup, tinned ham and baked potatoes that night, but the latter
were not a success being either burnt black or raw. After that we stuck to rice for
supper which was much easier to cook. We had visits from the village headman
(Penghulu) and one or two of his pals. They brought us presents of eggs and coconuts
and we gave them cigarettes and they stayed chatting to us for quite a time. The river is
still quite wide at Basir, but full of rocks and sandbanks and sparkling clear water.
Even in one night the level of the water could change considerably, affected as it was by
the rainfall in the mountains. I don't think I can ever remember a more beautiful
evening with the murmur of the water, the chirruping of the cicada beetles (made by
rubbing their legs along their wings) and other less identifiable jungle sounds. Except
for the clearing round our camp we were surrounded by dense jungle.
Our beds and mosquito nets were put up by the menfolk, aided by the Sakais, and
we all turned in early. Phyllis and I occupied one room and the three men the other
one, sharing the two mosquito nets. Our room also acted as a store for all surplus
barang (a useful Malay term covering luggage, stores, possessions etc, etc). We also
made our room the dining room, where the floor at least was fairly level to
accommodate our folding table and whatever we could find to sit on. The gembalas
slept on the platform outside our door, having tethered each of their charges to a long
chain attached to a tree or post a short distance from the hut. The chains were the exact length to allow the elephant to crop or graze a measured amount of vegetation and no more. Strictly rationed in fact.
Our first breakfast consisted of fried eggs and bacon (the latter carried in a thermos). Our bread supply lasted for that day, but thereafter we used ryvita which was much simpler. Fresh butter, also from a thermos, was turning to oil by Monday evening and we reverted to tinned. The washing up, packing and loading was accomplished very quickly. The largest bull elephant stood with his chin resting on the platform and swept his trunk round picking up anything within reach. He got a whole coconut into his mouth and objected with snorts of rage when his gembala got it away from him after quite a struggle. He cheered up a lot when he got it back cut up into manageable pieces! All of course recorded on cine camera.
Our second day's march was very much more difficult than the first, the track was
bad and more overgrown and for the most part through really dense jungle. Though
there was little direct sunlight, the atmosphere was hot and humid and we were nearly
driven mad by leeches. They were waiting in their thousands, poised on every leaf and
blade of grass. If you stopped to remove one, four more climbed onto your foot or leg,
so we tried not to stop until we came to any sort of stream where we each found a
different rock and proceeded to de-leech. Some of the men with shorts or slacks fared
badly and the water ran red with blood. The best way to remove a leech that has
already taken hold is with a lighted match or cigarette applied to its tail. They must
never be pulled off by force as that can leave a sore which can later fester. They are
almost as thin as a hair and only 1/2 to 3/4 inch in length before attacking but can swell to
the most disgusting size of a man's thumb after a good feed, when they eventually drop
off of their own accord. The great thing was to try to catch them before they climbed
over the edge of one's shoe or crawled through an eyelet hole, because once inside
shoes or slacks one felt nothing until they had been feeding for some time. The Sakais,
who wore nothing on their feet, never seemed to be worried by them.
We climbed to a good height on Tuesday, always in dense jungle, then skirted round
some hills and eventually dropped pretty steeply to the river again. For the first part of
the way the elephants followed another route, but they caught up with us when we
were eating an early lunch in one of our little de-leeching streams. After that Phyllis
and I decided to ride as we were fed up with the leeches and because we were looking
forward to a unique experience. It certainly turned out to be the most interesting and,
at times exciting, journey that I have ever made. The path was so uneven and our steed
had to move so slowly and carefully that there was none of the rather unpleasant
swaying motion that I had heard about. We sat side by side on a kind of basket seat
facing forward with our legs hanging down on each side of the elephant's neck, while
the gembala sat right on his neck with his feet tucked up behind the elephant's ears like
a tiny jockey. Of course there was quite a lot of luggage piled up behind us, but we were
assured that our extra weight made little or no difference, especially as the other
elephants were carrying a much greater load. The cleverness and sure-footedness of
those beautiful creatures is quite amazing. Sam, like all the gembalas, had his own
special language for talking to the elephants who understood and obeyed every word.
This language was originally brought over from India when Indian Mahouts were
borrowed to teach the Malays in training the Malayan elephants to work, so none of us
understood a word. Sam carried a short rotan cane, with which he would tap a tree
trunk, etc. if we seemed to be passing too close and the elephant would automatically
sway in the opposite direction to give the load on his hack a wider berth. We had to
make frequent stops while Sam cut away roots, or lianas, or fallen bamboos so that we
could pass underneath. Often we had to cross fallen tree trunks, sometimes two trunks
lying athwart one another, but the elephants never slipped or made a false step. We
traversed deep gullies where they would test the depth of each pothole with their
trunks before risking the next step, and the mud might be over 5ft. deep. Being on the
third elephant we could watch the two ahead making a path for themselves and watch
their huge feet coming out of the mud with a sucking squelching sound. We noticed
that they always put their back feet into the holes made by their larger front feet. At almost every step they would wash the mud off each foot with their trunks. Sometimes
the path, just wide enough for one foot, wound along the side of a hill with a steep drop
to the river below. One slip and we would have crashed down the hillside. Sometimes
we had to cross streams or gullies where a bridge would not bear us and going down an
almost perpendicular bank I was sure I would shoot over the elephant's head! We only
rode for 4 or 5 miles but it took all of 3 hours, the last bit being a long slippery drop
down a rocky and muddy ravine to the edge of a river which had to be crossed. The
river was wide with three quite deep channels separated by shoals and sandbanks. We
had to tuck up our feet to prevent getting wet, but the elephants must have loved the
refreshing paddle, as they douched themselves constantly. Fortunately they were well
trained and only sprayed the water underneath, but the water shot out between their
back legs and we got much of it in our faces. The menfolk who had gone ahead and
been ferried across on a raft were waiting for us with their cameras clicking and I am
sure we made an imposing spectacle!
We spent that night, Tuesday, at Kuala Temengor (Kuala means mouth) where the
much narrower River Temengor joins the Perak River. We were now surrounded
mainly by bamboo forest, and the very small village consisted of 3 or 4 Malay houses
built entirely of beautifully clean bamboo, so we did not have many visitors that
evening. It was there for the first time we saw our Sakais carrying water in long hollow
sections of bamboo. Partitions are removed except at one end and a 15ft section would
hold nearly 2 gallons. They were carried at a slope over their shoulders and were much
easier to carry or empty than buckets. Malays use bamboos for piping water from, say,
a waterfall, or storage tank, to lower levels.
Our 'hotel' was similar to the first one, except that the slatted platform was
extremely dangerous, half the bamboos of which it was constructed being rounded,
were slippery and either missing or too widely spaced. Many of our possessions,
especially soap, cutlery etc., were constantly dropping through and had to be retrieved
by endless climbs down and up a very rickety single bamboo ladder. We enjoyed
another delightful bathe in the clear sparkling river in company with our elephants,
but there was much first aid to be carried out on the many leech bites from which the
poor men were suffering. Riding on the elephants was a tremendous relief from the
leeches. The only thing that worried us were the elephant flies, rather like horse flies
and with a nasty bite. Phyl, wearing shorts, fared worse than I did; in fact my riding
breeches were a boon throughout.
We were told that a tame elephant once ran amok at Kuala Temengor killing its
gembala. One of ours had a very uncertain temper and had reputedly killed 5 people,
so we kept him at a distance when possible though nothing untoward occurred. There
is a slight danger of wild elephants coming to inspect the tame ones, but a shot or two
from a gun usually frightens them away. We suppered on tinned rabbit that night
which was a dismal failure as it tasted of sawdust and we threw it away under the hut
where it failed to attract even a wild animal. We turned in at 9-30 p.m. after our nightly
cuppa of delicious cold ovaltine. I prepared my clothes, soaped my socks with carbolic
(an excellent leech deterrent) collected my school books and prepared my lunch as I
planned to make an earlier start next morning. Owing to the day spent in Grik we were
a day behind schedule and I knew I would only have the afternoon of Wednesday to
inspect the school. I wanted to reach Temengor as early as possible so that Jabit could
send a message to the school to recall the children and teachers in the afternoon.
We rose early on Wednesday and after a hurried breakfast of tinned salmon, Jabit
and Mat Wi, one of the Sakais and a young Malay guide who had joined us at Basir
and knew the route well, and I, set forth after 7 a.m., leaving the rest of the party to
pack up and follow at their leisure. It was a dull grey morning so walking was pleasant
and the jungle seemed quite dark and eerie though we saw and heard plenty of monkeys who are always noisiest at dawn. We saw plenty of large and beautiful
butterflies, often congregating round a pool or puddle, drinking. My companions
were quite worried when we came upon wild elephant spore, which we saw on and off
all morning, but not a glimpse of an elephant.
Our previous day's walk had made us realise why ten miles a day is the limit for a
loaded elephant. It was quite enough, too, for a man on foot through jungle, climbing
and dropping incessantly. We had been extraordinarily lucky in having 2 days without
rain (unusual in Malaya) for the paths could have turned very slippery and the going
slower.
The path on Wednesday was wider and not so overgrown, hence there were fewer
leeches and we made better time. As we were in a hurry we set a steady pace only
stopping 2 or 3 minutes at a time at a few streams for a drink, a refreshing wash or a
de-leech. Our route followed the Temengor River without crossing it, sometimes
dropping to the water's edge, sometimes high above it with just a glimpse of sparkling
water through dense green foliage. The sound of running water all day was very
pleasant. Once we traversed a wide area of ground cleared for the grazing of buffalo.
Here the grass came up to our shoulders, was very wet and the path difficult to find. A
water hole (salt lick) was pointed out and here we saw fresh tiger spore, but never a
sight of a tiger, alas! In one or two places there were fallen trees across the track and the
roots had torn away rocks creating a minor landslide, which were quite difficult to
climb over. I heard later that our elephants had to cross and recross the river on several
occasions to avoid these or similar hazards, which took a long time.
I had just begun to feel that I could not go another step when to my surprise we
reached Temengor at 12 noon having done a good 10 miles in just under 5 hours. Our
now familiar hut was a very welcome sight. The Penghulu of the District was away, but
the Ketua (Headman of the Kampong) was there to greet us, and he sent a message to
the school a couple of miles further on, to tell the children to return after their lunch. I
had brought a change with me, and for the first time that week I donned a dress, as
trousers were certainly not the garb of a woman teacher, especially among
Mohammedans. Poor Mat Wi was completely worn out and disappeared for a well
earned rest, but Jabit and I squatted in the shade under the hut in a spot we hoped
might remain free of ants (a great hazard of picnicking in Malaya) and ate our lunch,
mine consisting chiefly of tomato juice and an orange. Slightly refreshed, Jabit and I
then set off for an unbearably hot walk to the school across 2 miles of unshaded padi
(rice) fields on a narrow, very muddy path. We passed several very attractive clean looking
bamboo houses on stilts, some having gaily-woven red, black and white walls,
and each surrounded by its own little cluster of banana and other fruit trees. We later
managed to procure some delicious pomeloes which are rather like very large
grapefruit and usually sweeter and very juicy.
Children appeared from the houses and kampong (village) and followed us in a long
line across the padi fields. When we came near to the school they dived into the trees
and reached the school before us and were already in their desks. I was very tired and
hot and glad to sink into a chair and accept a fan, but not until the children had risen as
one with the habitual greeting of 'Tabek Missi', 'Tabek Enche' - Mister to a Malay.
After that you could have heard a pin drop, as they sat wide-eyed in their shorts and
white shirts (the boys) or brightly coloured sarongs and bajus (the girls). The school
was tiny with approximately 80 pupils, run by a man and his wife who had only been
there a few months. I think they had not yet really got used to living so far from
civilisation, and I found from the visitors' book that no European had visited the
school since 1930. The Visiting Teacher from Grik (at present Che Jabit) goes up once
a year, and the Malay A.D.O. pays an occasional visit, but to most of the children I
was the first 'orang puteh' (white 'person') they had seen. After a hygiene inspection
and looking at some of the work, we sent the children home, and concentrated on
stocktaking and inspection of furniture, buildings, school garden, compound and
toilet facilities, most of which I left to Jabit and the head master. Soon after 2 p.m. the rain came down and I wondered how the rest of our party were faring and around 4-30
two very bedraggled spectacles appeared limping up the school path, Kenneth and
Bill, hardly able to put one foot in front of another. They did look a sight, drenched to
the skin and mud to the knees, some of which they were able to remove with the water
from the school well. Having left the rest of the party at the 'hotel' they had made a
dash of the last bit in order to see the school and they waited patiently until we had
finished our work. The H.M. whose house adjoined and almost touched the school,
produced some very welcome tea, of which we could have drunk gallons. Although
very sweet, as they always make it with condensed milk, it is extraordinarily refreshing
and quite revived us. I spent a long time giving the woman teacher a needlework lesson
and making a list of materials she would require. Sewing is an important part of the
girls'curriculum, while the boys do mainly basket weaving, carpentry, etc., and all do
gardening. We finished our work at about 5.45 (Kenneth and Bill having spent a very
profitable couple of hours repairing the school clock with a pocket knife and machine
oil!) and after taking a few snaps and inviting the headmaster and his wife to pay us a
visit at our 'hotel', we started our trek back to the river. The path was even more
muddy and slippery by this time, but I just managed without sitting down. We found
Phyllis and Tony busily preparing tea, while the Sakais were erecting beds and nets.
Meanwhile beside the bank four stalwart Malays who had come up from Grik some
days ahead of us, were putting the finishing touches to our craft for the return journey
the next day... a magnificent raft on which we hoped to reach Grik in one day
(travelling downstream).
Phyllis had travelled on our elephant all day (I quite envied her) and the three men
had taken it in turns, Tony mounting after lunch while Kenneth and Bill had hurried
ahead to join me at the school. Phyl and Tony had got very wet when the rain started
and the elephants had considerable difficulty making any progress at all on the
slippery ground. We had been lucky indeed to have had no rain on Monday and
Tuesday's march.
When planning the week's meals, I had bargained on getting a curry and rice at
Temengor, but when I found that the school was so far from our hut, and we had kept
them working so late, I felt I could not possibly ask the poor teachers to cook one. So,
after rather a short and not very pleasant bathe as it was getting dark and our guests
had not turned up, we decided to have a quick meal of soup and finished up all the odds
and ends left over, reserving just enough for a picnic lunch next day. We then made tea
and sat down to await our friends. At about 9 o'clock, when we were having our
bedtime Ovaltine as we had given them up - lo and behold they arrived, armed with, of
all things, an enormous curry. No wonder they were late, they had killed, plucked, and
cooked at least one chicken, plus curry and rice and then carried it all that distance
across pitch black padi fields. It smelt too delicious for words, but we had fed so well
that none of us could have touched it. We could not possibly offend them so we
transferred it to our own plates and put it in one of the bedrooms, promising to eat it
later. I do no know whether they expected to sit down and share it with us (Malay
women do not usually sit down and eat with a European man) or merely watch us eat
it, but we made more tea which they did share, and sat and talked for at least an hour.
We thought they would never go and it was difficult to keep awake, as we had all had a
long and tiring day. We generally sat in the dark at night as we found that our rather
powerful lamps attracted myriads of moths and other flying creatures which hurled
themselves against the shades like bombs. On the second night we nearly had a nasty
accident when someone hit a lamp with their head, bringing it crashing down.
Fortunately the only damage done was a broken mantle.
When our guests eventually departed Bill jokingly said, 'Who would like a cuppa?'
Someone said, 'I would', whereupon we all agreed and we set to and made what must
have been our fourth or fifth cup of tea that evening. It was really wonderful the trouble that our kind menfolk went to at all times, lighting the fire, fetching more
water, balancing the old round-bottomed saucepan (we had no kettle) on the bricks
and then blowing the fire continuously. After drinking our tea, it was suggested that
we might need boiled water for drinking next day, so the fire was once more rekindled
and we all got smoke in our eyes trying to get it boiled more quickly. We then
discovered that it was full of foreign bodies, grass, wood, insects, etc., so with great
difficulty we strained it through a clean handkerchief, only to find the next morning
that an inch of sediment had settled at the bottom, so after another strain we made it
into hot tea which we carried in our flasks. This effectively disguised the colour, all
members of our party had survived! Some of us did sample the delicious curry that
night but we gave the bulk of it to our Sakais next day.
Our Homeward Journey
Thursday, 13th, saw us out of bed at 6 a.m. Bill as usual being the first to get the fire
going for breakfast, which we had as quickly as possible. We then packed, which was
difficult as most of our barang had to go back to Grik on the elephants, a three day
journey, and our problem was what to take on the raft and what to leave. My giant
kitbag, which had seen many years' service in East Africa, came in very useful for
stuffing in things like mosquito nets and even the frying pan and saucepans! On the
raft we took one small mattress and our cushions/pillows to sit on, and quite a large
amount of personal luggage.
Our Sakai friends, to whom we paid a sad farewell, were extremely sceptical about
our raft: we had to get 12 people on it, an unheard-of number, and they were quite sure
we would all be wrecked. However, they assured us that they would be travelling near
the river and would be ready to rescue us should we need them. I must admit that it did
not seem possible to get so many people, plus luggage, onto that raft and we very
nearly did come to a sticky (or watery) end on the first rapid.
The raft was 18 to 20 ft. in length and about 5 ft. wide and made entirely of lengths of
bamboo about as thick as a man's arm, expertly lashed together with rotan
thonging... not a nail anywhere. A platform about I ft. high, 6 to 7 ft. long and the full
width of the raft was raised in the centre. Over this, supported by bamboo poles, was a
nice attap (palm leaf) roof, which afforded excellent shelter all day against either sun
or rain. Our baggage was lashed firmly on the centre of this platform, leaving enough
room for us to sit at either end facing fore or aft. Besides the five of us there was a crew
of four (who had built the raft), Jabit, Mat-Wi and our guide from Basir.
Our crew navigated our frail-looking craft with remarkable skill through some very
nasty and difficult reaches of the river. Two stood in front using two long bamboo
paddles with a short square bamboo blade at the end and fixed in position on pronged
sticks so that they could swing from side to side. There was a man with a similar paddle
at the back and another man with a long pole with which to fend us off rocks etc.
The floor of the platform was made of split bamboo lashed so close together as to
make it a really flat surface, smooth and quite comfortable to sit on even without
cushions.
We were ready to set sail at 7.30 am. We paid off the Sakais, tipped the gembalas
(who were later paid by the government) and left our luggage to their tender mercy. We
also said a sad farewell to our lovely elephants and to the huge crowd of Malays, adults
and children, from the village to whom we must have presented quite a sight. It was a
typically beautiful Malayan morning, so our cameras were busy as we pulled away
from the bank. Before doing so we had been carefully instructed how to throw
ourselves from one side of the raft to another if we started to roll at a rapid, to prevent
capsizing. How we floated at all (sometimes in as little as 4" of water) was a source of
wonder to us all but bamboos are amazingly light, and, being hollow, very buoyant.
Barely five minutes after we had started we came to our first rapid, Jeram Dare,
(jeram meaning rapid) and here we experienced quite a terrifying rocking, while waves
of water splashed over us and our crew hurled themselves so violently from side to side,
that one of them fell off and caused endless amusement to himself and the other. The
raft soon steadied itself and from then on we never rocked so violently although we
passed many worse rapids. I suppose we had not found our 'sea legs' or got properly
balanced on the first rapid. It was quite exciting and some of the things got very wet.
Fortunately we had hung our cameras up out of danger. A little later we came to a
fallen tree across the river, leaving us so little room to get past that we scraped on the
stones and the crew all got off to push us over the shallows.
All morning we drifted or glided slowly down the Temengor River, the swish of the
paddles and the call of the monkeys or jungle birds and the occasional cry of a Sakai
being the only sound to break the wonderful stillness, as well as the music of the water
over the stones. The lights on the water, contrasting with the deep shadows near the
banks were indescribably beautiful. Our oarsmen knew every bend, rock and pool and
they were very skilful navigators. Part of the time they merely squatted on the raft
while we drifted with the current, but when nearing a rapid they were galvanised into
action. There would be a sort of scuffle and then a furious paddling, possible against
the current, to guide us to some part of the stream where we could shoot more easily
through the rocks. The excitement of all on board was tense at these times, cameras
would be hung up in their rubber bags as we hung on with both hands. Later, however
we got much more confident and found this was unnecessary and I even got some good
photos of shooting rapids. About noon we passed some Sakais, not our friends, round
a camp fire on a little beach, who greeted us cheerfully. A little later we came across an
old discarded raft made from a dozen or so bamboos lashed together. One of our
Malays fetched it and poled it down after us and when we stopped for our lunch on a
nice sandbank, they cut it up and lashed it underneath our craft to strengthen it. This
showed us that even they had no great faith in our raft, but with the great weight on
board, I guess it might have snapped underneath had we hit a submerged rock at
speed.
At about 1 pm we shot out from the Temengor River into the much wider Perak
River at Kuala Temengor and we soon came to a solid 2 miles of rapids which were
most exciting as the water was deeper, swifter, and the rocks gigantic. We missed the
shade we had enjoyed on the narrower river of the overhanging trees, and the sparkling
water with the grey rocks was rather glaring though very beautiful and colourful. We
all got our legs and feet sunburnt hanging them out over the side.
I wore slacks instead of jodhpurs that day, but during the afternoon we all got into
bathing costumes, and in between the rapids where the water was clear and deep, we
had some lovely swims, diving off the raft and then being towed behind it.
At one place we saw some wild otters (membrang) and occasionally large fish and of
course many birds, especially the dazzling plumage of the kingfisher and scores of
brightly coloured butterflies. We were told the name of each rapid, Jeram Berhala
Puteh (white idol), J. Sawasan (fishtrap) J. Anak Mati (dead child), J. Bereksa (a
legendary Pegasus), to mention only a few. Jeram Berusa was considered the most
dangerous, and long before we reached it we had been regaled with stories of the many
people killed on it! I must say we were lucky in our companions on our trip as all were
typical examples of the nicest type of Malay, so jolly, amusing, and at all times
considerate and helpful.
When we reached Basir, where we had spent the first night, we stopped for a short
while and said goodbye to our Malay guide who had joined us there. We had a paddle
and examined some beautiful woven mats that some Malays were carrying.
As we got nearer to Grik, we left the rapids behind and the river widened and flowed
more slowly. The paddles were needed to accelerate our progress or we would have
been on the river all night. It was so gloriously peaceful that we were lulled to sleep and
my efforts to learn more Malay from the ever helpful Jabit were not very successful!
We reached Grik about 6.30, sooner than we expected, and not realising that the
river was some 2 miles from the town, we had no transport to meet us. Kenneth nobly
mounted a borrowed bicycle and went off and fetched his car and told Tony's and my
syce to bring our cars to the river. On arrival at the Rest House we had some more tea
and I called on the ADO to thank him for his help, etc. We paid our raft crew (their
wages came to $9.00 and that magnificent raft cost $6.00), left directions with poor
Jabit to send on our things when they arrived, bade him and Mat Wi farewell, and
departed in our various cars about 8.30 pm. I was indeed thankful that I had my syce
for that 90 mile drive home, half of it being along tortuous jungle road, as I could never
have kept my eyes open. One excitement was that we saw a black panther bound across
the road in the light of the lamps. It was 11.30 before we reached Taiping. Phyllis went
with Ken and Bill to Kuala Kangsar for the night and returned to Teluk Anson next
day.
As the government kindly paid for the two elephants and the raft, the whole trip was
extraordinarily cheap, working out at about $15 (less than 2 pounds) per head, including a
night at the rest house, food, tips, and everything!! It was worth every cent, and
everyone agreed that it was the best trip we had ever had.
Unfortunately both Tony and Kenneth had trouble with their leech bites which went
septic, but both soon recovered. Otherwise we suffered no ill effects and I had 250 ft. of
cine film to keep as a wonderful record.
Postscript Ipoh 1951
Although we made three copies of my cine film, all, including the original, were
sadly lost in the Japanese war, including all my photographic records of my pre-war
years in Malaya, some 3,500 ft. of cine much in colour, and many hundreds of stills.
Of the party who accompanied me on the jungle trip:
Kenneth and Bill were P.O.W's and worked on the infamous Siamese railway, but I
am glad to relate that both survived that terrible ordeal. They both returned to Malaya
and got married and had families.
Phyllis sadly lost her husband in a P.O.W. camp in Sumatra,
where conditions were a great deal worse than the camps in Singapore.
Tony left Malaya in 1941 and was in Australia on leave when the Japanese war
broke out. He married an Australian girl and had a son.
I was very lucky to marry a Naval Officer (ex Rubber Planter) in Singapore in
January 1942, three weeks before the fall of Malaya and escaped with him on a Naval
vessel just two days before Singapore fell - another story! He returned to Malaya in
1945 and I joined him with our two year old son in 1946. After a three-year tour on the
lovely east coast, we returned to Perak and I had my old job back in the Malay schools
and met many old friends.
Much had changed however, the communist emergency precluding any wonderful
elephant trips into the jungle and many of the outlying schools had to be visited by
means of an armoured car (very hot) or with an armed escort. The old feeling of safety
and accord with the people had changed to some extent, though not indeed in the
villages, but the country was still the beautiful one I came out to in 1936, and long may
it remain so.
Regarding our famous jungle trip, it must be remembered that there was no such
thing as plastic in 1939, so we had no light and handy plastic mugs, plates and other
utensils, and no plastic bags or sheets in which to pack or protect our things from the
wet. Suitcases and even the stoutest kitbag were no proof against a tropical downpour,
and much of our kit would have been ruined had we had such a storm, or had our raft
capsized. We only had small rubber bags for things like cameras. Any kind of
ice/freezer container other than thermos flasks, were unknown, so we had to depend
on tinned food which could not be kept once opened. We always used dried milk in our
homes and still do, though fresh milk was now obtainable from hill station farms, at a
price. On our jungle trip we were lucky in obtaining eggs, coconuts, and fresh fruit
along the way, and could have procured fish or chicken but had no means of preparing
or cooking them. The staple diet of the Malays in the villages was rice flavoured with
vegetables and a little chicken or goat meat and the occasional fish caught in the rivers,
and they use a lot of dried fish. The Sakais would kill squirrels, birds, flying foxes or
fruit bats, and sometimes monkeys, for food with their blowpipes, though I did not
enjoy watching them do this, proficient though they were.
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