The area where Sue's schools are located is predominantly malay and therefore muslim, but around the Kabong area are dotted a number of iban longhouses whose children also attend the local primary schools. At one school the iban children have invited Sue to visit their longhouse and yesterday she decided to take them up on the offer.
We hitched the bikes to the back of the car and drove down to the school, which is in a remote and truly idyllic location by a beach facing the South China Sea. The longhouses have been vaguely described to Sue as being "further up the beach". But, such is the segregation of the communities here that none of the mainly malay teachers have ever visited them.
We unloaded our bikes and set off up a track running parallel to the beach. We were soaked with sweat in just a few minutes in the afternoon heat and humidity. The coast is wild and remote and apart from the coconut palms the atmosphere is not unlike the dunes and salt marshes of East Anglia. After about three kilometres we ran across a group of pupils from the school piled onto a motorbike. They greeted us with a delighted "hello Madame Sue" and guided us another five hundred metres to their longhouse.
The longhouse is a ramshackle wooden building on stilts with a corrugated iron roof. A few faces, some quizzical, some suspicious look down at us from the windows. We smile up at them and say "hello" and most of them smile back. I can understand their reticence, they can't see strange faces here very often and when they do it won't necessarily be good news. One of the adults, a middle-aged woman, comes down to greet us when it is clear that we have some reason to be here. She speaks to us in good English. There are about 160 people living in the longhouse and she takes us for a walk around the perimeter and along a path to the beach. We are followed by ten or twelve children and an inquisitive dog.
The ambience is squalid, purposeful and profoundly beautiful. These people really live in their environment and draw all they need from it and they are surrounded by the tools and junk of their everyday lives. Nets hang under the longhouse and there are chickens everywhere, running free and in cages. From somewhere I can hear the squeal of pigs. Down on the beach, which is in a sheltered muddy inlet, there are small wooden boats tied up. Our guide tells us that there are many crocodiles this year, she has never seen so many. But my sense is that crocodiles are seen as just another community - iban, malays, crocodiles, they all have their territory - and sometimes there is conflict. I have my camera with me, but I take no photos although I'm sure if I ask they will say "yes". I know if I take pictures they will be admired by friends as "interesting" and "picturesque" and this will in some way be a discourtesy to the iban who are proud of where they live and of their lives.
We are invited to stay and eat fish, but the evening is drawing in and we say thank you, but we must get home, promising to return. We cycle back up the track to cries of "goodbye Madame Sue" and we incline our heads and wave back. As we cycle I realise that Sue, as well as having wanted to see the longhouses, is also making a point and I respect her for this.
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