Rumble in the jungle

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Since I last wrote ALOT has happened. I shouldn't be at an internet cafe. I'm back at the place that smells like prawns and cat. But it goes something like this...

After a beautiful reflective day spent playing with children at the Iban peoples jungle longhouse I felt peaceful. We stayed up soaking it all in. I was surrounded by inspiring faces. I slept below a mozzie net on the floor listening to cicadas.

But after a late eve tasting the local rice wine the relentless chorus of crowing that woke me before day break was unappreciated to say the least 😊. Don't their bloody throats get sore? I questioned my vegetarian spirituality in regard to roosters. Combined with arresting chilli gut cramps (yes I just can't stop tasting it!) not a brilliant start to the day.

I should have been careful of what I wished for. My whining about the weather has certainly lead to a crazy day. I asked menatally for an adventure and yesterday that is EXACTLY what I got. Ironically it's a year to the day since I fell badly down my front steps causing a permanent divet in my backside. Well I think I topped it 😊.

We set off excitedly after breakfast, heading for almost 4 hours upstream in a thin, old, wooden longboat. Meandering through the coffee coloured rapids and water, cradle like in our boats, all speechless as the trees floated by lulling us to near sleep. Finally we got to the start of the muddy Headhunters Trail. Dry skies but hazy and overcast. Leech socks at the ready we all set off.

At the back of the group with a food porter behind me I kept stopping to take photos. Madly trying to not get soaked in mud too quickly. Before I knew it my face was heading south to graze the ground and my left knee took the blow of my full weight on a rock. I thought I was ok. A little embarassed and now covered face to feet in brown sludge.

The porter helped me up. I hobble a few metres, I felt dizzy, sharp pain, and then it hit me. A wave of nausea and a good jungle vomit. I fought back tears and then I couldn't move. The reality of some serious damage at only 3km into a 12km trek wasn't joyful.

The porter ran ahead as I thought hard. With no English and the rest of the group now far ahead all he could do was hand me his sheathed machete and say 'DANGER'. He motioned me to wait. GREAT. I just couldn't go on, we had a whole day of trekking and the next, after a camp stay in the jungle overnight. With two days of walking up steps through caves to follow that. I was screwed, remote and nauseous.

It had taken us almost two days to get to the start of this and a long way back to a doctor. My guide rushed back, I tried to keep walking, thinking I might of been a tad melodramatic and it would stop hurting? My group suggested coming back with me, but for most of them it would ruin 2 days out of their 10 day trip. I decided to beg the porter to take me back somehow.

The kindness of this man will always remain with me, strangers can often remind you that the world is a good place and we are all somehow ok. This 60 year old short man with no teeth could only say 'good' as could I in Malay say 'Bagus'.

With my Malay limited to 'Good Morning, Good Night, Thanks, Good, How Much?, Where is the toilet?' and some essential food we were in for a challenge.

It took 'Brown' - his name, and I over 2.5 hours to sludge back 3km through the mud. He macheted me a walking stick, carried me breathlessly on his sweaty back and lifted me over tree roots. He had no shoes. I cried. He knew the words "Please don't cry". So I didn't. I was crying for his kindness. I had all the gear to carry on my back so every few hundred metres he ran ahead through leech central to put my bag ahead, run back and help me. It was getting late and we where in the ultra dense jungle with almost black clouds and rumbling thunder. He smiled. He picked leeches off me. We kept patting each others shoulders and saying 'good'. So beautiful.

Finally we got back to the river, my bandaged knee throbbing. Just as we got to the waters edge I spotted a group of small, superbright yellow butterflies hovering around a large black one that look injured. It was prophetic and not lost on me. I took some photos to remind myself of that moment and one of Brown - unsmiling and too proud to show his broken teeth.

We had a four hour long boat ride to a small river village to endure. No seats but a wooden floor. We covered my pack in plastic as I layed down on it. He jumped in the river hot and exhausted. Then the rain came. Not a drizzle but a force. My absolutely pathetic poncho mocked the monsoon rain as I lay in the boat soaked. The rain biting my face as Brown sped against the pending dusk to get us to the village safely.

I didn't realise until then that my ankles where covered in leeches and bleeding and I couldn't care less. The river laughed at my clumsiness as we sped by, heavy white clouds covered the trees like a cloak all the way upstream.

Finally at 7pm we reached some timber shacks. It felt like the whole village came out to greet us. Everyone was so caring, smiling, and gesturing advice. I had to get to Limbang another hour away to a warm room, shower and phone. I was soaked through and freezing. I managed to hire a driver, a cousin of Browns to take me through the pot holed road to the city. I emptied my wallet of $50 AUSD for Brown, with my hand on my heart I thanked him as best I could. Kids ran and waved through the rain behind the car as we drove off.

From my warm room reflecting on the day and this lesson I realise there are so many messages. Simply you could say 'shit happens' and be open to letting people in to help you in every way. Human kindness is a reflex that people don't think twice about, the language barrier crosses all forms of empathy. I'm sore but I feel blessed.

I have visited the hospital, I have a torn ligament that will heal. I can't do any walking the rest of this trip and need to rest, leg up watching Malay cooking shows and fuzzy CNN. I'll be flying to Kuching tomorrow probably to wait for the group post cave visit and celebrate turning 37 on the waterfront somewhere.

Sisters, please tell Mum and Day I tried to call but the phone system here is unreliable and I can't get through. It's funny no matter how old you are you still need to hear your parents voice at times like these 😊.

I'm good though, heading for a 2.5 hour facial which is mega cheap and should ease the pain 😊). Some pampering is always helpful.

Something is really staying with me though, and it's the smiles on the faces of people from the last few days.

A smile is like honey on my tongue, a child reaching for my hand, a dogs head on my foot.
A smile is global and it speaks every language.
A smile can be heard long distance and felt for eternity.
I have been surrounded by so many smiles it's almost to hard to bare.

So sending you all a big grin from smelly Limbang
Kris
xxx

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