"There are those who dwell in the forest“
There is a saying. The Orang Asli are like Pokok Lerek . The Orang Asli use its leaves like small packets to fill rice and these packets will be placed in a special bamboo called Buloh Betung. The Bamboo is then burned to cook the rice which will then serve as compact snacks for them as they travel in the tropical rain forest.
Pokok Lerek is unique. It is a plant species that thrives in the tropical rain forest. Take it out of its habitat and place it in your garden, no matter all the care you may give, it will very likely wither and die.
The winding road exacts greater concentration even though I have over the years practised defensive driving on the road. However in unfamiliar roads I have always felt safe in my Swedish Tank.
The hand phone rings. The caller is a Malay gentleman whom I call only as “Haji”. A well travelled man all around the world. As much as his tonality of speech, his manners and decorum are impeccable. In a polished tone he asked me where I am and I immediately took a swift glance at my wrist watch.
If I do not reach the point of contact agreed between us in 15 minutes then I will be late. With only about 10 Kilometres to do, I felt assured that my late father from his resting place known, roaming places unknown would over the years with heart’s content smile satisfactorily that I have guarded his advice religiously but what I then in my formative years considered orders that were absolutely abusive and totally dictatorial.
Fifteen minutes is a very long time to think of the many past events where the images of my late father flash upon my thoughts. I have experienced where in less than a minute flashes of almost all my past vividly displayed in my thoughts as I gripped a slippery rock and clung to my dear life while rock climbing without any safety harness many years before.
I smiled to myself as I positively identified Haji standing by the roadside as I remembered the many times in the past my father admonishing me. His favourite line is “be punctual always”. Punctuality to him is the hallmark of a gentleman.
Together with Haji and some three hundred fifty others from all walks of life, I am to embark on a journey from Pos Bersih (an Orang Asli Settlement in Ulu Slim Perak) to Raub Pahang. The distance is about 24 kilometres cutting across the jungles of Titiwangsa Range.
But this otherwise memorable experience is marred by a disease that I experience every where in our society. The utter disregard for punctuality is something I find hard to come to terms with.
People who are habitually late must be frowned at but people who are habitually late and pretend nothing serious had happened and do not even offer a heartfelt apology deserve no respect.
When the expected people to kick start an event or a meeting or any scheduled activities do not observe the sacred rule of punctuality, many deductions can be made and many things can go wrong.
To start with on a personal level these people can be considered as self centred and selfish, utterly inconsiderate and lack urgency and seriousness in the tasks that are undertaken and as a consequence they become bad examples for the many who look up to them for inspiration. And what is worse is these habits are displayed for the colleagues who are subordinates, students and university undergraduates’ to absorb as well.
The future generations of leaders are given the false impression that it is alright to be late. Individually it forms a habit and collectively it becomes a culture. This culture leads to a logistical nightmare.
Over the years I had watched with amazement why the forest had always been exceedingly kind and protective of the Orang Asli. No matter how much I ponder I still cannot comprehend the symbiotic relationship between them and the forest. There is an unexplained synergy between the forest and the Orang Asli.
Pos Bersih offered me more of this symbiosis and synergy that energizes the Forest and the Orang Asli.
The children gathered around me and ushered me to their playground. As I walked very carefully in that slippery path, I could not but marvel at the agility and speed with tremendous balance in which they ran in the tiny path leading to a pristine stream that was gleefully parading its many rapids. It was certainly a live orchestra that never stops its musical melodies as the shallow water strummed the blunt boulders.
Before I could say “be careful” the last of the tiny children had jumped from the dangerously looking jagged and slippery rock into the flowing stream. They disappeared in the deep waters only to emerge some distance away.
When the time ticks and alarms 75 years, with hearts content I will be ready to meet the maker but 86 years old and leading a physically healthy band of youth in the forest amazes me with how the Gods of the Forest have kept this old but young spirited Orang Asli man in the top shape of his health and vitality. No matter how hard I tried to stay within the noticeable distance from him I must eventually concede that the Gods of the Forest chosen people are indeed the Orang Asli.
In the Forest I watched young men in the best and sophisticated trekking gear drop by the wayside and nurse their bleeding hands, cramped legs, twisted ankles. Women screaming leech bites and wasp stings. The young ones fear the strange sounds of the forest. Only loud sounds of fire crackers could keep them safe from the advancing army of wild animals.
But why? I wondered that the Orang Asli need nothing of these sophisticated gadgets and gear to keep them safe in the forest.
As I immersed in my thoughts and struggled to grasp all the occurrences around me as much as enough air to breath and keep me moving , I had realized that none of those who walked with me were ahead of me and none anywhere behind me.
I was now alone in the forest. None of the sounds of the human feet striding were heard nor felt. In that moment the forest and all the unseen and the unheard, I know for certain were watching me. They are the dwellers of the forest. When my heated body chilled momentarily I knew that there is only one way for me to feel safe. To whisper in my heart “I know you are watching me, please grant me permission to pass through your sacred land lest I become a trespasser not ready and willing to endure your punishments.”
An answered prayer for a man who hardly prays?
A platoon of steps with sounds getting louder made me feel safe as I stood still to absorb all the abnormalities around me. From nowhere a small group comprising five or six Orang Asli youth gingerly ran as their bare footed steps barely crushed the fragile dry leaves that were scattered all around the path leading me to the trail that will safely unite me with the rest to complete the journey.
Strange things.
The alluring strange flowers that were hiding behind the thick shrubs are only ready to smile shyly for those who are willing to search and look harder for them in the otherwise similar looking environment.
But none of the captured images looked the same as in their natural habitat. Whether the auras of these dwellers of the forest will remain the same in captivity is a question that remains to be answered as I look harder and harder at the images of the same dwellers in my ‘flat screen’.
Unknown to myself, I suddenly threw all my modern devices in my bag as I approached the sacred Elephant Rock (Batu Gajah) that stands as the gate-keeper between the borders of Perak and Pahang. It is my unconscious mind that insists that the Sacred Rock must remain without its privacy invaded even in captured images.
With the mark of respect for The Sacred Rock that the Orang Asli often show brought down to me by Haji, I took a branch with leaves, hit my knees many times before placing the branch at the Sacred Rock to continue my journey further.
Some who have completed the journey complained that the recording devices as well as cameras malfunctioned within the near distance of the Sacred Rock and enquired whether I had taken any moving or still images of the area. I just told them that I cannot explain why I did not find the need or urge to do so. Even an expert using Global Positioning System (GPS) complained that he had lost five kilometres in the forest in his GPS.
There are things that science cannot explain and the limit of human’s thinking capacity cannot comprehend. Until answers are found it will remain as paranormal.
Eight hours of non-stop walking and there are many unexplained occurrences in the forest. The same forest is now calling me again and I must go.
But this time I must go alone.
Augustine Anthony