LAST year Sahabat Alam Malaysia (SAM) sent its officers for the first time to visit Sungai Asap, the small township 40km away from Belaga where 10,000 persons from 1,700 families from the Kayan, Kenyah, Ukit, Lahanan and Penan ethnic groups were resettled to make way for Bakun Hydroelectric Project.

It was discovered then that the Bakun Resettlement Scheme was a harsh contradiction to the Government's sugarcoated promises and assurances.

In Asap, the new longhouses were poorly built and exorbitantly priced (RM52,000), there was no secondary school or cheap public land transportation and the roads were not tarred. Asap literally forced the formerly self-sufficient communities into a cash economy, which is not sufficiently land-based, with no adequate job opportunities, little access to rivers and forest.

The result of such a scheme? Communal conflicts, alcoholism, youngsters dropping out of school, women losing independence and worst of all food shortage. By late 1999, there were already families who had to resort to consuming rice with salt only.

SAM published the findings in Utusan Konsumer in January 2000 and a pamphlet demanding both the Federal and Sarawak State Governments to take urgent, appropriate actions.

In November 2000, a SAM team visited Asap again for the second time, only to witness that things had gone from bad to worse.

KULIT LONGHOUSE

Ina Tingai, 36

When I take my bath and I don't have soap, I feel like crying. How could I show my face at the shop anymore? I owe so much money to them. It is just so humiliating facing the shopkeeper. I'd be thinking, "How is it going to be this time ... our debt is just too high, would they allow me to take the things that I need..." But I know I don't have a choice but to go there. Despite the debts and my embarrassment - I am left with no choice. I have nothing.

Then, the shopkeeper would write in his book again. It keeps on adding up. I have cried over it.
My younger children have been reluctant to board in the hostel. So, everyday the transport cost is 30 sen each for one trip, RM1.20 everyday. This does not include other expenses like books. In Long Jawe the school was within walking distance. The textbooks were loaned annually, free of charge.

Now we have to pay for them. RM50-RM70. I got a shock reading the letter for the parents. What happens when you have three, four children? I still haven't settled the payment for this year. Mothers especially have been complaining, why is it different this time around?

I earn a little money by doing odd jobs now and then. I work for other people, weeding and helping them to farm. That is the only way I can manage to obtain some money. The villagers themselves hire me, those who have managed to start small grocery businesses. But work like this isn't regular, they only call you when they need you like during harvesting or to help them do the weeding.

The compensation land is so far away. I haven't actually seen it. It is so remote, there is no road going into the plot. How are we going to reach there? In Long Jawe, we travelled by boat. Even if we had land at distant places, if we took the boat, we'd still reach the place.

Now we only farm on the payung (communal garden) land. Technically it is state land. It can only manage to produce 1 gantang of rice. Last year's harvest was pretty good. But this year's is not so good. The paddy is dying. We are now eating rice from the previous harvest. I don't think the supply will last until next year. There are only two sacks left. That is why I am so nervous, how do I purchase rice, my money is gone. This is the end of me.

My husband used to fish a lot back in the old place. Our icebox was always filled to the brim. For two years, we could actually afford not to farm, we depended solely on his income. Fishing - that was all he did. Some he sold, some was for our consumption. Sometimes he could return with RM300 in one day. Sometimes - even RM600 a day. Just by selling fish at the logging camps. The kurau fish is especially expensive.

People are willing to try anything to find money. You see the two kids there, they are going around trying to sell the rice grinder. Nobody would sell such a thing in the old place. Sometimes I get upset a little when I have to buy things like wild boar meat from the people around here. In the old place, people just gave it away.

There have also been thefts taking place here. Chainsaws, chickens have been stolen. [Even] the festivals are seldom celebrated here. Everything is quiet. People come back from work and keep to themselves. The place is mute. Because people's thoughts are occupied. What to do in the future?

If I did not have school-going children, I would not have moved here. They closed down all the schools there. Those who remained mostly do not have small children. Had they not closed down the schools and clinic, nobody would choose to move. Here, even the clinic is located faraway.

I am tired of eating cassava shoots with rice. Or cekur manis. I eat rice with those vegetables only, with eggs. I have to buy the eggs. Everyday, twice a day, it has been rice with vegetables only. Only when we have the money, would we be eating meat. Of course buying again. When we first moved, yes, we could afford wild boar meat. Now, it's been months since I last ate it. You know what I mean? I'm almost Muslim here.

If we have meat, I'll cut them to small pieces. Then, my children would say, "Mother, we'd like to have some more." I pity them so much. Once, they were picking up the piece that fell down onto the floor. Then, I just refused to eat my portion, I gave it all to them. Their father consoled them and said, "Why don't you just eat the one that fell down?" Sometimes they would be done with the bones and then, proceed to re-eat them. They could never get enough of it. They would not be done yet and ask, "Mother, do we have some more?"

I would say then, "Is there more? Everything is finished. I didn't buy that much. We would have to keep some for later."

"When do we get to eat that?"
I'd have to tell them, "Why don't we wait until dinner?"
They'd tell me, "Mother, why can't we finish it all now, please?"
Then, I would have to cook it all at one go. Because they could not get enough, enjoying the meat. Because they rarely eat meat here.

DARO LONGHOUSE

Bang Adang, 70++

In the old home upriver, the fish that you could catch were really huge. In one day, if you hunt for wild boar, you could easily get 4 to 5 of them. Here, you would probably catch only one in two months. The production of paddy was also good back then. Even our orchards grew very well because the soil was good. Here, after 5 to 6 years, I think it will no longer be good because we only have one plot of land, at 3 acres.

What else is there to eat? I am really troubled. I'm telling you the truth. How do I plant paddy any longer like this? This type of soil doesn't feed you. I don't normally take meat here. I'm telling you the truth. In the old home, I had fish, vegetables, wild boar. Here, everything has to be purchased.

Ado Wan

Everything is difficult here. Everything has to be bought. Even betelnut. There are no fish, wild boar or rattan. There is no celebration, no tuak. If you don't have a car, you would have to walk. Even if you want to sell vegetables, you'd have to walk.

I am very angry with the Government. Do they want to kill us? Do they want to bring us harm? Or make the rakyat live better? Nobody came over to see how we are doing here. Only during elections, some people came.
When we were asked to move, I cried because I did not want to move. I even cried when we finally reached Asap. I missed my home in the upriver.

BALUI LIKO LONGHOUSE

Diman Aring, 70

When I wanted to farm this year, I hired a car to take me to my plot - at RM10. This is the reason why I cannot afford to work on this land. Since last year, I've been planting on state land, nearby my longhouse. The soil quality is also poor here, it is mostly sandy. In my old home upriver, the soil quality was excellent. Now of course the rice is growing, because the land is just recently cleared, it's my first time planting on it. I believe after 3 to 4 years, the rice will not grow well.

The Government claimed that there would be tarred roads here, but they yet have to construct them. So what are we supposed to think? Even decades from now, so long as the roads are not properly built, the people in Long Liko will not be able to farm on our lots.

How can we eat meat when our money is finished? The only reason that I get to eat now is because my son is a teacher. If our children were not working, we'd be dead by now, we - those who are old. In the old place, meat was never really sold. We'd cut it up and give it away to everyone. Here, there is a fierce "selling culture". In the old home nobody would think of selling vegetables ... the cekur manis would be growing in the wild. Paku - they probably grew in tons.

I am really very baffled by all these - why did they not provide us with adequate space for all our basic activities? There is simply insufficient space for farming.

Just look at my longhouse Long Liko. We have been fighting over the state land nearby our house with the Kelep Longhouse. I think the dispute has a chance of getting really nasty. We've been having meetings - with huge attendance.

I know it is not that they deliberately wanted to provoke us. The underlying problem is insufficient farming land. We cannot say that they are bad people - they are just desperate. They attempted to clear the state land nearby our place because they were pressed for land.

There is talk that the authorities are going to dismantle our longhouses in the old place. A lot of people are rushing back to the old home these days. I went back once too, because I had a few belongings left. I suppose they want all the empty longhouses there to wear down quickly. So that we could never return.

LAHANAN LONGHOUSE

A elderly man who refused to be named

There is no freedom here. No freedom to wander around looking for vegetables, hunting for meat, fishing. Every one feels trapped, like being in a cage. You can't go searching for food, you can only plant vegetables in your own compound.

We dare not move around, because some areas are considered as state land. People dare not trespass into other people's compounds, into the compounds of the other longhouses, and as such people are depressed. There is no freedom - back there in the upriver, you could go anywhere you wanted to. There you could hunt until nightfall, go fishing alone even. Here there are limits.

Those who love hunting, it's sad. There is nothing much for them to do here except to just go to their farms, come back, sleep and sleep. You want to look for a job, but there are no jobs. The oil palm plantations prefer employing Indones-ians because their wages are cheaper. Of course if they just give the locals RM7 a day, I think it would be difficult. They always say, 'We're all full, no vacancies.'

Anyik Udit, 49

So what's going to happen now? What's going to happen? Last year the paddy was good. But that was also a problem ... it was useless. It was too much for our own consumption. We wanted to sell, but there was no place to sell. When it didn't finish, the rats ate it.

I eat rice with only vegetables frequently, without meat. We only buy meat when they bring it around to sell.
The wood that they used for the house is bad. And the communal veranda is too small. When there is a celebration, there is not enough space. I had to do my own renovation because when we sat on the first floor, and people walked on the second floor, the dust would fall on our heads.

The old houses there were priced at RM35,000. But they were bigger, much bigger. And this house, when it rains, it leaks a lot I tell you. The renovation works came up to about RM10,000. That's why we don't have so much money any more. We had to make rooms on the second floor.

The fight for burial ground has also become a problem. We have been fighting amongst ourselves -some people cannot afford to spend money on cars to bring the body to the burial ground, which is so far away. We have asked for our own burial ground, but they didn't hear our plea.

UKIT LONGHOUSE

Betty Lijap, 30++

The compensation money that I had received is all spent. We had to buy our daily needs and spend on our schooling children. We are mothers - our children get sick, our children need milk. Sometimes the school would ask for money. Then, to do marketing, I'd have to hire transport. The fish is now "in kilos."

Before we moved, all our leaders said that if we moved, our children would be receiving education to the highest level, they would be eligible for the scholarships given by the Bakun Trust Fund. But my younger sibling who is attending the University of Malaya filled in all the forms and has yet to hear anything from them.

Our meals sometimes would consist of rice and vegetables only. If food is there - it's good and well, if it is not there, then it is not there. Only when we occasionally manage to obtain some money would we be able to taste good food. I have not eaten wild boar for six months already.

I am just sitting still here, not being able to move around. Previously, I could weave, I could go for picnics. My only diversion here is growing vegetables. But then, even the soil is infertile.

Lily Lusan, 16

I quit school because my parents told me to. I quit after my PMR examinations in February. Now I just help them with the farm.

They never really said, why I must stop schooling. My guess is - money was the problem. I needed RM100 a month for my schooling expenses like the textbooks and all. They simply could not afford this any longer. Of course if I could I'd help them.

I get anxious when I meet my friends who are still schooling. They are moving ahead. I feel embarrassed when I see them, I'd get sad - living in the hostel was so much fun.

There are many others in other longhouses who have also dropped out of school, like me. I have tried asking my parents what was the reason behind me having to quit school. They said that I just had to. I don't know what will happen to me in the future. I will just have to wait and see.

Buyun Abun, 38

Here, there is no rattan. In my old home in the mornings, I'd be weaving mats and baskets. I could finish weaving one whole mat in two weeks and receive RM500 for the effort. I also had my sampan then. I could fish. I could travel around. Now I just sit around, eating and sleeping.

Here I only plant vegetables. But the yields are poor. And there is no place for me to sell the vegetables. They are only for self-consumption. Once, I went around Asap, from longhouse to longhouse with 100 bundles of vegetables on my back. I did not even make one sen. I had to go around on foot - but in the end, I did not get anything. I was only making myself exhausted.

Food is no longer plentiful. Things are especially difficult if your husband cannot find a job. In the old home, you could eat until you are full. Here, when I tried putting up my fishnets and fish traps, I could not even manage to catch a single fish.

My daughter Linda, she is 8 years old and attends the primary school here. She has to board in the hostel during weekdays. She misses me and cries a lot there. On weekends sometimes, she'd actually walk back home. If she uses the land rover, she'd have to pay. Sometimes, it is RM1, sometimes RM3, sometimes RM5. Sometimes, I don't have the money to pay and she'd be scolded by the driver and she would end up crying. She is at home now; she has been missing school for three days already.

BALUI LESUNG LONGHOUSE

Bit Buneng

Here, we can't just follow our own talk, we must see what the Government says. But some people, worried about money, they plant fruits, plant this, plant that, but with no purpose. If the Government had directed it, then there is a purpose. If we want to plant what we like, don't move. Stay at the old home, plant as you like.

Here we should ask the Government, "what will happen to what I plant on this 3-acre land?" The Government then should make a decision. Then it will be fine. Then we can live. If they say, 'this will happen. So this group do this, this group do that, and there would be a factory for this, and a factory for that.' Then the longhouse community will carry out the plan. Then there is purpose.

Like if we plant fruits, I have fruits, you have fruits, where do they all go? How do we sell, how do we buy? We can't finish eating them, and people who want to buy have no money.

This is what people call living temporarily. Back there we were not living temporarily, there was a larger purpose. Here it's living temporarily.

My rights to [all] my properties back in upriver - if they don't want to grant me compensation... I don't want to pay for the electricity [anymore]. If they cut the supply, I'll sue. Then we go to court.

Actually I think that if I had not paid from last year, it would not be a big matter. I feel that they are laughing because a lot of money has gone to them. We have paid a lot you know. The Government does not come to see how we are, does not arrange this and that for us, they don't come at all, why should we keep on paying every month?

The 3-acre compensation land is far from my longhouse. Look at how bad the roads are? They haven't built the roads to our lots. They were saying back then, they would build roads into our lots, from the longhouses. There would be many junctions and lanes. Then farming would be easier.

When we reached here we saw only tree stumps, no oil palm, no cocoa. There was nothing else. The Government has done wrong here. They have lied and misled us into moving. That's the truth.

Ubit Ego

My movement is restricted here because we don't have the money. In my old home, I could travel and go to where ever I wanted to. I could find fish and vegetables. I could find the tengkulung snails. But here, things are difficult - all the longhouses are too close to each other.

Not long ago, in my old home, the one way women could find their own money was by weaving mats, baskets and hats. We also made beads into traditional trinkets. In the old place it was so easy to find rattan and other necessary forest produce. Here, there is only grass. No rattan at all. Back then, we could make some RM300 to RM 400 a month!

Another way was tobacco. They grew in abundance in the old place. Women would do the entire planting, harvesting, gathering, drying and selling by themselves. We would stay up until dawn, processing them. Here the plants do not grow well at all because the soil quality is poor.

Here, the women, they do not do anything. They only wait on their husbands and children. They'd be farming in the compensation lots and then the crops would not even grow well.

We don't have money and we cannot find the means to find it. Everybody has to buy chicken and wild boar. Back then, we had fishnets, fish traps. Now our money is our fishnet. Often, we end up eating only rice with salt. No fish or meat.

I cannot afford to move around. I don't have my motorboat or sampan. I cannot afford to buy petrol. I am also no longer strong. To go to the clinic, I would either have to walk or hire a car. If the owner is sympathetic, he'd charge RM2. If he is not, it would be RM5.

When I was leaving my old home for Asap, of course I cried. It was my home, my garden. There were even people who lost control over their emotions and they were rambling and ranting incoherently. There were boats that capsized with families losing all their belongings, including possessions that had been traditionally inherited from their ancestors like musical instruments, kitchenware and mats. If we did not have to move, all these would not happen.
And this new house - the stairs are terribly constructed, the toilets leak, the pipes are faulty. We had to spend close to RM6,000 repairing our new house. And we could not even afford to build the ceiling. Had we proceeded to build it, the renovation cost would have been even higher.

I still dream about my old home. I still think about it. My life was so peaceful then.

PENAN LONGHOUSE

Layo Dian

All the other 14 longhouses have decent land. Ours is not so. We don't even have fishponds. At the other longhouses, the fish grew really well and big, but here, that did not happen. In the farm, we tried planting vegetables, pepper and cocoa. They just didn't grow well. The soil quality is just so poor, unlike the soil upriver. Here, the soil is sandy.
The other day, the Government people came over. I scolded them. "You had your big talk about Asap. Where are they now? Where is the decent land for Uma Penan?" I will die staying here. If the YB wants to ask if we are living better now, my answer is no.

The compensation for the old home - when was it that they paid us? Our house compensation is in the Government's bank. Not in the Penan's bank. The difference in individual house compensation varied greatly. There were houses that were valued as RM20,000, RM15,000. My two-room house was valued at RM7,000.

If people ask you to settle the payment for the house, when you don't even have a place to look for food, you will die. It's like suicide. What is the use of a beautiful house when you are growing thin?

Wild boar meat, I cannot afford. I don't have the money. When they carry it around, only my eyes can afford to see. Only my eyes are full. How do you say it is not difficult living here? There is no place to even fish. I do eat rice. When rice is not there, I'll eat bread. What kind of life is this... eating bread. In another two, three years, I'll be dead.

Terai Longop, 30++

I have five children. It is difficult for us.

Now we do eat rice, but not much. We have to buy the rice, vegetables and fish that we eat. Here, one bundle of vegetables is RM2. Those who have money, they will eat better. But we don't have money. And finding money is difficult. I have a young child so I can't go looking for rattan in the forest, so we don't have money. That's why we don't eat much.

Some days we eat rice, some days we eat sago. Sometimes we don't have vegetables with our rice, just salt. Sometimes we look for wild vegetables here and there. But we definitely can't have meat, because we don't have the money to buy it.

I only eat once a day. Who can stand not eating this way? Once a day. Like this morning, we have eaten already, so that's it for the whole day.

We can't live like this. I want to run away from this place with my children. Because after a year of living here, I find that life here is too difficult. Living here is not like living in our old homes. There we had free vegetables, free fish, free wild boar meat. We didn't have to buy anything at all.

When people bring traditional cakes and chips to sell here, my children would cry. Because we have no money to buy them. We just rush the kids away. Who wants to live this way? They asked us, where our money is? How can the money last until now? That is the reason we did not want to move here. Because the Penan, know that they are poor.

In our old homes, we could make some money. We could find rattan, weave mats, sell them to the Kayan or Lahanan people. They would give us money, or pay us with rice, salt, ajinomoto. That was our work. Here there is no rattan at all. So we can't work any more.

We just stay at home here. We do want to go around, to other places around here. But what is the use of going around when there is nothing to find? So we just sit around and sleep. Who can stand living like this?