Similajau National Park and Kota Kinabalu
March 28, 2009
After the church dedication services we left the longhouse for Similajau National Park in Bintulu, Sarawak. For the next couple of days we enjoyed the chance to relax on the beach and explore the park’s hiking trails. I enjoyed Similajau more than Bako last year, especially since there were no thieving monkeys at Similajau.
We spent our last day in Borneo in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah. We stayed in a hotel Friday night and attended an Adventist church on Sabbath. Saturday night we did a little shopping near our hotel. It was well after dark as we walked through the rain back to our hotel through the bustling city streets. A little boy about ten years old appeared out of the shadows and trotted beside me, shaking a dirty yellow cup. I looked down at him for only an instant, but he spotted the sympathy in my face and followed right at my elbow. I knew he most likely wouldn’t be able to keep the few coins I dropped into his cup,that they would probably go to some creep hiding in the shadows. That was the first time I’ve ever encountered a begging child.
Sick as a Dog
March 24, 2009
I slept little that first night and woke up in agony. My entire body ached, my stomach was churning and I was burning up. My bed was on the second floor of the house I was staying in. The sun hadn’t risen yet and I had to use my headlamp to see anything. I crawled out of my mosquito net and very shakily made my way downstairs and out into the main hallway (we’ll call it the inner veranda) to find Dr. Carter. He diagnosed it as the flu and gave me medicine.
I spent the day just inside the door of my house, lying on a mat and drifting in and out of restless sleep. The three ladies of my household took care of me as if I were their own child. They gave me water (which I could only sip slowly), rubbed my feet and back, and laid damp cloths on my hot face. They truly demonstrated God’s love. We go on mission trips intending to serve, and we do, but often we receive far more than we give.
On the second day I went to a clinic in Tatau with Pastor Del (the district pastor) and Pastor Henny (who was going in to get his asthma checked out). I nearly fainted about three times while we were at the clinic. I couldn’t stand for very long before collapsing. It was very hot and I hadn’t eaten hardly anything in two days. The doctor gave me some more medicine and told me to come back if I got worse (which wasn’t all that helpful but it was an interesting experience; going to a clinic in another country). A nurse helped me to the car when it was time to go and I slept most of the way back.
The heat was stifling that afternoon as I lay on my mat in the longhouse. My fever had broken and I was damp with sweat. I remember looking through a window high on the wall and watching clouds stack up in the sky. I prayed for rain, not only for myself but for my friends working on the churches. When that first breeze swept through the longhouse, it felt exactly as if someone had brushed a cool hand over my face and I jerked awake. It did rain at last and I listened to the rain drumming the metal roof above me.
Good Times
March 22, 2009
I took advantage of every opportunity to mingle with the locals, to learn their language and culture and history. I mostly talked with the pastors, all of whom speak English. There were over twenty pastors there from all over Sarawak. I peppered them with questions and tapped in to their knowledge of Sarawak and their insights about God.
This year I brought, along with six other books (missionary stories and compiled Guide Magazine stories) a copy of Nyla and the White Crocodile, an old story of how God used the daughter of a chief, a mysterious white crocodile, a man-eating python, and a young Christian teacher to convert a whole longhouse. They don’t have the book in Sarawak, and though the story happened many years ago it is well known. We were only an hour away from the place where the story occurred (it happened on the Tatau river). A mission school called Bukit-Nyala (which means “hill of the shining light”) had been built near Nyla’s longhouse. The books were gifts for my friend, Pastor Sim. Several of the pastors wanted to read Nyla and the White Crocodile and it was passed around throughout the week. I talked for over an hour with a man named Morris, who attended and taught at the Bukit-Nyala school. Today the school is abandoned, I never did find out the reason why, although I do know there is a newer Adventist school in Kuching, the capitol city of Sarawak. It’s called Sunny Hill School. (Sunny Hill, Hill of the Shining Light…don’t know if there’s a connection but I plan to ask one of the pastors in an email someday soon). I also had the privilege of meeting Nyla’s nephew. I worked with him on the church but didn’t know who he was until the end of the week.
For those of you who’ve never read Nyla and the White Crocodile, I highly recommend it. I read it many times as a child but it still inspires me. I can’t describe how profound it was to be there, so near to where God worked such miracles. I had always known that the stories were true, but I didn’t know how true they really were. Morris asked me to send more copies of the book and I definitely intend to.
And even more: Pastor Sim told me there are many other stories like that one that no one has ever written down. God’s planted a dream in my heart: I want to write those stories. I can’t think of anything I would enjoy more than writing about the miracles God has worked and is working in Sarawak. In fact, by the grace of God I plan to return to Borneo with UCA next year, and after a couple years of college I intend to go to Borneo as a student missionary for a year or so. I spoke with the SDA mission president while I was there this year and he wants me to come teach English or help with missionary work in the longhouses. One of my best friends, Abby Hochhalter, has the same dream and we are going to go as SM’s together. I am so thrilled about working in Borneo that I feel a burning in my heart when I think about it.
VBS, Sabbath and the Waterfall
March 21, 2009
By Friday I was well enough to help with VBS, which was held at our longhouse. One of the ladies in our group organized and led out, and one of the Sarawak pastors, Pastor Phillip, translated and provided accompaniment for song service on guitar. I told them a story, and Pastor Phillip introduced me to them and made them repeat my name. For the rest of the week the kids delighted in shouting out my name at random times.
On Sabbath morning families from nearby longhouses came streaming in for church. I recognized some of the children from VBS and as they approached I took their pictures. They wore clean clothes and bright smiles and as they passed me they said in perfect English, “good morning and happy Sabbath, Danielle.” I was so pleased and surprised.
After lunch Sabbath afternoon many of us went on a hike to a waterfall deep in the jungle. We followed a stream bed most of the way and the refreshing swim at the waterfall made the long hike well worth it.
Reunion
March 18, 2009
The planes taking us to Bintulu were small, forcing our group to split in half and fly out a couple hours apart. I was in the second group and when we arrived in Bintulu we discovered that most of our luggage had not arrived with us. I guess the airport employees reasoned that since all of our luggage could not fit on our plane, why not just keep it there in Kota Kinabalu until the next morning? Not like we would need it or anything. Something like that.
We left Bintulu in busses for the final stretch of miles between us and the longhouse (our home for the next week). It took about an hour to reach our destination near the city of Tatau. The busses halted at the base of a hill over which ran a dirt road. Our longhouse was just on the other side of that hill. As I climbed I paused to rub a bit of reddish-orange clay between my fingers. From the top of the hill I saw a crowd gathered at the longhouse below. The fading sun drenched everything in warm light and the vast, vibrant jungle stretched the edges of the world. I soaked it all in. I’d waited an entire year for this moment. During many dark, frigid winter nights back at home, I had closed my eyes and imagined this very moment. Before I even reached the longhouse I began spotting the faces of my friends in the crowd and rushed forward to greet them.
The welcoming ceremonies included speeches by the mission president and various leaders, dances by native women, and of course (the crucial part of any Iban celebration) food. I didn’t eat a lot—I was much too busy talking to my friends, pastors from all over Sarawak who had come to help us build churches. Many of them I’d befriended last year.
A longhouse is kind of like an apartment building…a long hallway with household doors on the left. Each door is a separate household, although sometimes it’s difficult to keep straight who lives where (especially where the children are concerned) because the longhouse folk often visit other families’ houses. We were divided into groups of 8-10 (boys were on one end of the longhouse, girls on the other) and assigned to houses.
As my luggage hadn’t arrived I didn’t have some things such as a sleeping pad, but my host family generously provided what I lacked. They even lent me a change of clothes!
McFlurries and More
March 16, 2009
We reached Kota Kinabalu located in Sabah, Borneo after midnight their time. Most of our eighty-person team left to spend part of the twelve hour layover in hotels, but about a dozen of us (I was one of the lucky few) stayed at the airport to keep an eye on our mountain of luggage.
The golden arches of the airport’s McDonald’s lured us and thoughts of ice cream filled our minds. But before we could buy anything, we had to exchange our U.S. Dollars for Ringgit, which is the currency used in Borneo. None of the exchange stations were open, and we wandered for almost an hour before Pastor Fred figured out a way to exchange some many at an ATM.
We hurried back to McDonald’s, but just as we arrived they finished closing for the night. We stood in a pathetic huddle, our hopes dashed. The manager was still standing nearby, and Pastor Fred approached him and asked, “Can we please buy some ice cream?” They must have felt sorry for us because they opened back up just for us and Pastor Fred treated us all to Oreo McFlurries.
Dominic, Marlayna, Allison and I opted to enjoy our frozen treats outside where there was a spectacular view of the city. This was my second trip to Borneo, and I had waited eagerly to come back. It was so good to see the jungle mountains rising in the distance, the moonlight mingling with the orangey glow of the city, the palm trees stirring in the breeze, and to breathe in that damp, earthy Borneo air.
Borneo is an island in the country of Malaysia. It’s vastly different from America, literally halfway around the world. During that twelve hours in the KK airport we absorbed the fact that we had left the world of snow, toilet paper and burritos far behind. The airport police took a little getting used to. Dressed sharply in dark uniforms they carried lethal rifles slung casually over their shoulders. But despite their forbidding appearance they were actually quite cheerful and friendly. When I greeted them with the Malay words for good morning, “selamat pagi,” their stern faces lit up in smiles.
After sleeping for a couple of hours, several of us girls washed our hair and faces in the bathroom sinks and brushed our teeth. There were a couple of Malaysian women cleaning the bathroom, they probably thought we were crazy but it felt so good to be clean.
As the sun rose over the distant hazy jungle mountains we enjoyed breakfast at McDonald’s. Several hours later we boarded a plane bound for Bintulu in Sarawak, Borneo.