Kuching

---

Kuching

Fri 21/03 - 23/03/08

I arrive at KL's LCC (Low Cost Carrier) terminal to catch my flight to Kuching, Borneo. The others are flying from the main airport, so I'm left alone. I have over three hours to wait until my flight, so I spend 45minutes on the toilet, dealing with another of those situations that nagged and bothered me all the way during the journey. This is the problem, for me at least, with early morning travel. My bowels are generally steady and calm until around 11am, when storm winds start blowing and I have to find a safe passage for my cargo. Trying to make a delivery any earlier than this is just a waste of time and energy. All this means that I all too frequently find myself hanging on my the seat of my pants, stuck in some coach or taxi, willing the wheels to turn that bit faster.

When I emerge, I wander around for a bit. There is nothing that can occupy my time, so I just sit, and try not to fall asleep. For no other reason than to add a bit of variety to proceedings, after half an hour I decide to be reckless, and take to my feet again. I pass a departure board, and glance its way. Next to at least half of my carrier's (Air Asia) flights are the words "cancelled" or "delayed". My eyes move down the list, and I see that my 5pm flight is among those scrubbed off. I quickly move to the Air Asia desk, and am lucky enough to get transfered onto an earlier flight, leaving is less than hour. No more waiting around - I check my bags and hit the gate.

Once on board the plane, it strikes me that I might not be in the safest of hands. A number of those flights that were delayed also displayed the tagline "...due to technical difficulties". I'm not brimming full of confidence. The way things have gone so far during the last two weeks, there would be a degree of consistency, if not poetic justice, if my plane were to plummet in flames into the sea, making kitchen fires and phone theft look like small fry; minor fuck ups when compared to grim death and destruction.

Always best to prepare for the worst, and I buckle up tight and put my life in meaningful order. Pretty soon, the turbulence kicks in like Indian war drums, shaking the plane this way and that, up and down and side to side, like it's trying to escape an arse-tickling from the grab-happy clouds. Some people around me look concerned - if they knew the kind of luck I carry around with me, they'd be screaming in the aisles and foaming at the mouth. Best keep quiet, and just ride it out.

I touch down on dry land, and get picked up by Richie, a Malay guy from the Singghasana guest house where we'll be staying for three nights. I share the ride with Lisa and Anita, two of the Negara group. They tell me they've had a great time. Lisa was also originally doing the Zoo Assistant programme, and switched like me. She didn't fancy being left alone in the zoo with the only other volunteer, who apparently lacked social skills, but from the pictures I've seen, made up for it with an imposing forehead that hinted at latent telekinetic powers. As I speak, she's probably running around the zoo drenched in pigs blood, dealing out fiery justice.

At the hostel, I meet up with Amy, and then a little later, the other three, who travelled on a separate flight. I check into a room with Toby, and we briefly meet Leo, a tall, strange looking man, who is coordinating our stay, and wants to meet us all at 8pm for a introductory meal.

I meet most of the other group, and nobody seems too frightening or top heavy, brow wise, so I feel safe. We meet Leo upstairs, in the bar, and sit and listen as he talks the talk. I don't pretend to keep up everything Leo says - he comes on like a speed freak, spitting out gospel with wide-eyed tenacity, diverting off on weird tangents and circumnavigating his original point for long enough for me to forget what it was by the time he comes back around to it. Essentially, he appears to be running "The Great Orangutan Project" in Borneo. The aim of the project is, rather obviously, to save the Orangutan from extinction. They use the money people like us pay to finance rehab centres and sanctuaries.

Man, this sucker can TALK. On and on he goes, when he stops no one knows. Leo is a pretty interesting guy to watch in action. I fairly sure he's in the midst of some meth amphetamine freak-out, and I'm waiting for him to start swatting invisible demons in the air, and urinating off the side of the balcony. He's clearly very much in love with the sound of his own voice, which isn't to say that he's not worth listening to. How many dumb, ignorant fucks like to stand up in front of a crowd and spout shit about nothing in particular, with no point to make other than how fucking great they are? At least Leo's out-pouring has substance. At least his issues are relevant, even if I sense I certain amount if hyperbole. He clearly likes to talk about how much influence he has with the government of Sarawak, and is keen to emphasise the insignificant amount he's paid for his services.

He's a man of bold statements, designed to stand out and make you prick up your ears and listen. Fair play to the guy. Looking into his eyes, I feel he's seen his fair share of hard, unhappy times. Somewhere along the line, like so many sad, lost souls, he found a calling and a place in the world. Why wouldn't you want to celebrate the fact that people actually pay you a bit of attention? Why wouldn't you want more? He gets a buzz from doing something meaningful, and if he gets to stroke his ego at the same time, that's not so wrong.

When at last the rhetoric ends, we all go out for dinner. We are led to a food court on the top level of a multi-story car park. The speed has clearly affected Leo's appetite and he orders a crazy amount of Chinese food for all of us. We do our best to finish it, but it's impossible. After dinner, we walk back and go up to the bar. Leo says goodnight - he'll see us tomorrow at the Matang Wildlife Centre. We have a few drinks, and most people go to bed in good time. I stay up a bit later talking with Sandra and Max. Apparently, they've been getting news about our progress and our problems in Taiping, relayed by Aida to their coordinator, Maz. Sometime around midnight, we end the night.


Saturday. We get driven out to the wildlife centre. We meet Leo, and he takes us on a tour. We meet some of the Orangutans first, including Chiam, a female with a record of biting humans, and a younger female, named Doris. Leo explains how the apes are rehabilitated and introduced back into the wild. Their carers, often volunteers, will spend time in the jungle with the Orangutan, and eventually, when they're deemed ready, they will attempt to break the bond they have formed with them, usually by scaring or upsetting the apes in some way, so that they realise they can no longer rely on their human friends for support, and have to go it alone. This sounds like a harsh, difficult process for both parties.

We get told a few stories, including several about Orang's that have returned to the centre, and attacked foolhardy visitors, who expect them to be soft and cuddly. We walk around to the other side of the enclosures, and up into to a viewing tower. Down below is Aman, a 19 year old, 130kg male. He's fucking huge, and handsome as hell. When males become dominant, their cheek pouches puff out, like big dinner plates. Aman has nobody around that can challenge him, and his pouches are about as big as they can get.

Aman is also a world famous Orangutan - previously blind due to cataracts in both eyes (possibly caused by him chewing on electrical cables), in 2007 he became the first primate to undergo an cataracts operation. His sight was restored and now he sees perfectly. The story made the papers back in the UK and the world over. He sits below us, staring up. Has face is the most expressive of all of the apes I've met so far - his eyes may be small, black dots buried at the centre of a massive face, but they draw you into his world like tractor beams.

We move off up the track and view some of the centre's other animals. These include Pig-Tailed Macaques, Porcupines and Sun Bears. Leo tells us that he thinks these are even more endangered than the Orangutan, and could be extinct in the wild within 20 or 30 years. He says there are only 2 or 3 people in the world working on re-populating the Sun Bear, and that he is one of them. Again, this strikes me as grandstanding, but I'm an ignorant son of a bitch, and I have no way of knowing any better. It's encouraging to hear Leo pour scorn on the most pessimistic estimates about the Orangutan's survival, though even if he is right, they are still headed steadily and depressingly for wipe-out at some point in the next 100 years.

We look out over the Sun Bear enclosure, which is significantly bigger than the one at Zoo Taiping. Suddenly, everybody's attention is drawn by two of the bears getting it on directly below us. Leo is ecstatic, and wants everyone to take pictures for him. Apparently he's never seen this happen before, so is very excited. We watch the bears mate for an unhealthy amount of time, and I can't help but feel we should either look away, or cheer them on - standing and staring voyeristically just seems rude.

At the end of the tour, Leo tells us one more story, which tops all the rest - a sad tale of weird freakishness; the tale of Pony the Orangutan Prostitute*. Pony was found by conservationists in a Indonesian village, in Borneo. She was chained to the wall, and her body shaved. Men would pay the madam of the brothel to have sex with Pony, who was seen as something of a local celebrity. The villagers refused to give her up, despite several attempts by the conservationists and local police. They were met by armed forces and a number of tense standoffs ensued. Eventually, after a year of trying, they went in with 35 police and army officers, armed with machine guns and heavy weaponry. When they took Pony away, the madam burst into tears and screamed "They're taking my baby!" For some reason, nobody in the village was ever charged with anything.

I don't think there's any point commenting on this story - it speaks for itself and for the Great Human Condition. We return from the wildlife centre, and back to the guest house. Tomorrow is Toby's birthday, so we look around for something cheap and nasty to buy the little fucker. Evening comes, and I find myself upstairs in the bar again. Both groups seem have come together as one, and everyone is bonding well. I'm more of a social retard, and find it hard to adapt to the new surroundings as quickly. I like everyone, so that helps - I just have to keep the alcohol levels topped up and wait for shit to click into place.


Sunday 23rd. We're up early again, and off to visit Semenggoh National Park. There's no Leo today, and we're left to ourselves to wander around. The park is home to semi-wild Orangutans, essentially the next stage along from Matang in their rehab. There are a lot of people visiting the park, and a good proportion are fucking idiots. For some reason, I have developed a festering hatred of tourists - snap-happy fuck wits who never wander off the beaten track and who can't pass by a simple church or colourful street corner without whipping out their camera, spit pooling at the comers of their mouth as gawk and gaze. I'm not sure how I'm any better - I'm in the same place, in a tour group just like them. Still, rational or not, I drench them in filthy looks.

It doesn't take us long to see what there is to see. We stop for around half an hour to watch the Orangutan being fed from a platform. Several mothers swing through the trees, tiny babies clinging on, and somewhere up above us, the big male Richie sits and waits his turn. Richie never makes it down to be fed, and we can only make out his massive frame peeking out from behind a shield of green.

We get back on the bus, having given Toby his birthday card, and we're taken back to base camp. We meet in the bar at eight, and then go for a meal. The rain is coming down hard, and we duck into a Chinese restaurant just around the corner from the hostel. Toby wants to watch Liverpool play Man Utd, which is on at 10pm. I'm not sure if this is such as good idea - firstly, it will break up the rhythm of the night, and halt momentum. More importantly, Toby and I are both Liverpool supporters, and given the team's shocking record against Utd over the last few years, I foresee I significant cold shower on the horizon, ready to dampen proceedings. I don't want to see a man reduced to tears on his 19th birthday.

Still, we settle down to watch, though I don't really pay so much attention. I've eaten too much food, and there's not much room left for beer. I'm trying really hard not to be a pathetic loser, but my body has been taken over by extreme and crippling tiredness, and the desire to go to sleep is pulling me under, bed singing out like a Siren. I leave the bar and go down to my room. My bed is a dirty, disease-ridden whore, but somehow, I can't resist her charms. I figure if I close my eyes for half an hour and come back for the second half, that will still leave me accepted amongst polite society, and as long as I stay above the covers, I'll not come up crawling with afflictions.

I lie there for a bit but sleep doesn't come. Instead, I give my brain a vicious pep talk, and demand it pump an adrenaline shot deep into my body, to fire things up. Fuck, if only there were hard drugs on hand. I'd go out and scour the streets like a drooling junkie, but it's raining and the penalties for such things for white devils like myself are severe and often fatal. I just have to ball up a fist and dig deep; no matter how narrow things have gotten, I'll force an opening.

I swing my legs off the bed and my body lurches along behind. Fuck yourself buddy, you're coming upstairs for more harsh and enduring punishment, courtesy of our old friend alcohol. I know your organs are rusted and creaking, and your blood as thick as porridge, but tonight there will be no excuses. Suck it up and tuck it in.

Back in the bar, things aren't going so well in the football. I watch the end of the game, with Liverpool going down 3-0. I hide my disappointment, but Toby is clearly shaken - his innocent young eyes should not have to see such savage brutality. Now that the game is over, people start to relax more and get on with things. I decide beers are not gonna cut it tonight, so switch to G & T's, a sign of my sad slide towards womanhood.

I strange American girl comes over and starts to talk to Jenny and I. I don't know what she's been smoking, but she's several chapters short of a full plot. She babbles some crap about being a doctor, and talks about her tattoo, apparently some quote by her favourite poet. She's boring and pretentious, and I don't have the energy to spare on the likes of her. Jenny gives it a go, and fakes some interest, and I admire her fortitude.

Our posse fills up the dance floor, spurred on by dirty old schools tracks like "Pump up the Jam." Mandy is a dancing machine - I've never seen anything like it. Not one drop of liquor has passed her lips, yet she's thrashing it out, pounding the floor like a pilled-up raver, dripping with sweat. When I see shit like that, I feel like even more of a loser; sitting next to the bar, nursing my drink, fighting with myself to dig up the energy to have a good time.

We start to limbo, using Sandra's leg as the bar. Lower and lower, deep down and dirty. Another Gin and Tonic finds its way down the black, black hole, and slowly, my brain starts to shut the fuck up and throw in the towel, giving up its sobriety. Better late than never - I join the others on the dance floor, the air pop-popping with the flash of cameras, capturing the chaotic scene. Time has ticked on, and everybody else has left the bar. The poor bar man, who looks no older than 17, is kept busy. Every ten minutes I pop my head up and he goes off to make me another drink. I hope he gets paid overtime - having to bare witness to the mad frenzy before him, as eleven drunk fools dance and limbo into the early morning.

Eventually, it comes to an end. Its around 4am, and yet again, we have left precious little time for sleep. Tomorrow, we head for the jungle of Borneo. We'll be staying in a guest house on the river, alongside the Iban tribes people. I have heard a rumour that there will be rice wine in the jungle. Fingers crossed, people. I've been off the hard stuff way too long - I need to put the burn back in my belly, the blood shot back in my eyes.

We leave at 11am, a little later than usual, so maybe I won't wake up still drunk, as I have for most morning departures; and maybe, with a bit of luck, I'll have time for my body to turn a few gears and produce a bowel movement before I board the transport, saving me the trouble of sitting there, teeth gritted in an idiot grin, enduring another ride on the bodily function roller-coaster. I've no head for heights - I'll take the log ride every time.






*type this into google to find reports on the full story.

---

Comments

[OrgJb]

LIMBO
hey dude..is that upskirt LIMBO?...can I try plzz..:)