Into the Heart of Borneo

This is such a goofy (is that the right word) travelogue about an early 1980s foray into the heart of Borneo.

Borneo is serious business: snakes, leeches, more insects than I'd ever care to see. And yet the writing style of this book treats the journey as a somewhat irreverent romp. I wish there were more pictures. However, it was apparently hell to photograph due to all the humidity.

I'd recommend it if you like Bill Bryson type books.

I have had this (in fact all four of Redmond O'Hanlon's books that I own) on my re-read list for a while now, and it was only the fact of being unable to locate it in my shelves that slowed me down. I originally read it back in the 1990's having picked up my copy (from the look of the writing on the inside cover) in Malaysia at some point.

O'Hanlon, author and naturalist, shows in this book a particular interest in birds, but also stakes his biggest prize as seeing a Borneo rhinoceros. At this time of this expedition, the rhino was suspected as being extinct, today it is considered critically endangered, there being a single female in captivity, and a very small population left in the wild - perhaps only just enough to breed from in captivity. Apparently a sanctuary for this purpose is being established in the Kelian Protected Forest. But I digress.

Joining O'Hanlon on this expedition is James Fenton, poet. As the story rolls out, it is hard to imagine two men less suitable for such a venture, but it is testament to their tenacity that they overcome the difficulties, often with humour at each others expense, and complete their journey up the Rajang River in Sarawak to Kapit, then up the much more remote Baleh River to the Tiban massif, which takes them across the border into Indonesian Kalimantan. To their credit, the humour is never at the expense of their guides, although there is plenty of banter between the men.

They travel in a longboat with Iban (also known as Sea Dyak) guides (a headman, a boatman and a guide) who undertake the route planning, transport, hunting, fishing and food preparation, as well as the interactions with other villages and tribes, and are generally responsible for their safety (and getting them drunk). Anyone who has visited a longhouse in Borneo, no matter how touristy the visit was, will know that drinking the local rocket fuel is part of the visit, whether you want it or not. Drinking until it is finished is also a part of this tradition, resulting in plenty of late starts for the expedition.

While O'Hanlon's telling of the expedition is hilariously funny, it is certainly not without perceptive observation of the Iban, Kayan, Kenyah and Ukit people, this in spite of Redmond often having no idea what is going on around him. Certainly the frequent spotting of birds features heavily, and O'Hanlon freely quotes from historic naturalist works, in particular Bertram Smythies - The Birds of Borneo, but many others also. The communal lifestyle of the tribes gives ample opportunity for interaction and observation, and the two travellers are drawn into the ways their guides follow through the fact of not having a choice. Smoked and salted fish (Sebaru, described as tasteless, but full of bones) and rice make up the bulk of their meals on the river, supplemented with wild pork and occasionally deer. Whiskey and tobacco make up a large proportion of their stores, the later running out far too quickly.

Of the dangers, the river seems the greatest, given the amount of time they spend in travel, but the three Iban men are superbly able, as opposed to Fenton and O'Hanlon, who nevertheless contribute by assisting with dragging and pushing the longboat where required. Leeches feature heavily, while more disgusting than dangerous, produce plenty of anecdotes and discussion. Other than injury, the risk of giving offense to (former) head-hunters is probably the other risk, although once again their guides are there to steer them away from cultural misunderstandings.

The guides themselves probably consider Redmond and James the biggest risk to themselves, Leon constantly reminding them that “Redmon is very fats, Jams is very old”.

One of the more telling sequences was the interaction with the Ukit people. The younger people of the tribe having turned their back on their history, considered the elders ‘stupid' and old fashioned, and simply wanted to learn a disco dance from O'Hanlon. It was a sad reminder of modernisation of ancient peoples. With that, and the modern issues of deforestation for timber harvesting and palm oil, much has changed in Borneo since this books publication.

A few quotes to finish off.

“Redmon,” he said, sotto voce, “I hopes you and Jams not go with hotel girls?”“I haven't seen any hotel girls.”“They on top floor. Very naughties.”“Do you go with hotel girls?”“No Redmon,” said Leon with great seriousness, “there is new diseases here. Your spear it rots. You go to hospital, they look at your spear, you take medicine. We have a word for this diseases. I not know it in English. We Iban, in our language, we call it syphilis.”-Inghai huddled over his cauldron, stirring it with a stick...“Fish soups very specials for we Iban,” said Leon, helpful as always. And then, with a passing twinge at the back of the throat, I remembered the rudiments of my fish biology lessons. The top of the pot was dancing with swim-bladders, the internal balloons of the sebaru.-We crept up on the camp in a line, with Dana and Leon slightly forward on the wings. Poor James was peacefully reading, his back to us, in the shade of a large boulder. He just happened to be opposite my position in the assault. I edged forward across the shingle until I crouched behind the rock and then, with what I imagine to be a Ukit-cum-Clouded leopard assassination howl, I lightly touched his neck. The Iban yodelled a particularly horrible battle cry. I can't say James's hair stood on end, because the sample is not statistically significant, and he emitted only a smallish scream; but his legs went convulsively stiff and shot up in the air and he threw his arms wildly over his head.“Jesus Christ!” said James. And then very slowly, “I have allowed myself,” he said mournfully, “ to come to the middle of nowhere, the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of maniacs.”

On second reading, 4.5 stars, so I will stick with my 4 stars originally awarded.




Original Review 17/4/16 Retrospectively changed from 3 stars to 4 stars.I liked it more than 3 stars, and have recently read an excerpt publication of this book - a Penguin 70 called [b:Borneo and the poet|883272|Borneo and the Poet|Redmond O'Hanlon|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1179172989l/883272._SY75_.jpg|868546].