Coming Home

Coming home is always a bittersweet experience. So many emotions, memories, sights, sounds and smells come rushing back; with such intensity that it catches you off guard and makes you wonder why you had submerged those memories for so long. Life certainly does that to you though. It relentlessly pounds away like waves against a cliff face, posing new challenges and obstacles that distract you from remembering and honouring your roots.

I’ve come back to Sibu just recently. My sister has just given birth to her third child, a strong little tiger by the name of William. I find it interesting to always check myself at the door and gauge how I’ve progressed as a person each time I walk through those doors. And each time, I see in myself chronological growth and an appreciation for my place in the world.

As soon as I got myself settled, I did my ritual tour around the whole property; re-acquainting myself with the place I called my first home for so many years. Starting off on the inside, I examined all the family photos that my dad put up around the house. It was refreshing to see that all the photos were in their old places. Made me think how it’s nice to know that despite the crazy pace of activity and action in our lives, it’s good to come back to something that hasn’t changed since you were a kid. Or not that much, for that matter. Change in some form or another is always inevitable.

I was distressed to find a few places where the wood panels had lost their battle against the elements, but what is to be expected from a house over 30 years old, that has stood as strong as a sentinel against the tropical climes of Borneo? I got to the kitchen and did what I always do when I come back, which was to go to the herb and veggie pantry, open it up, and deeply inhale all the memories of my childhood spent watching my mother and Ah Kiew cook in the kitchen. Those are happy memories. It’s funny how the sense of smell rekindles old emotions and casts one’s mind back to a time you had thought was long forgotten. I went to my old room, which is now used by my little nieces whenever they are back in town with their parents and doting grandmother. I couldn’t help but notice how I felt totally safe and secure, despite the fact that I’m more than big and ugly enough to look after myself.

As I write this, I’m sitting on my balcony, watching a tropical storm brew. The wind has picked up and the trees are rustling; serenaded by the sound of the growling thunder. The sky occasionally flashes with lightning in the distance. I miss these storms. It makes me remember my childhood, where my family would scream at me to come inside to avoid being struck down by lightning. Getting back inside, I’d sometimes sit by my father’s feet as he sat there and plucked hairs off his wise old face with tweezers.

Back to the story. Going outside was a little bit harder for me. You see, my father was somewhat of a nature enthusiast. So much so that he brought the tropical rainforest to his house. Our garden was where I spent the majority of the waking hours of my childhood. In fact, the best memories I have of my childhood were spent out there. After all, how many other kids can lay claim to the fact that they had a miniature zoo in their backyard? Dad reared many different types of bird from Asia. Birds were Dad’s fascination in life. He spent so much time talking about them in our walks around the garden. I have my father to thank for giving me a deep appreciation of the natural world around us. Not only did we have birds, but we also played host to a whole raft of other interesting animalia.

Over the course of my childhood, Dad, at different times had the garden filled with the most amazing creatures. I can remember the gibbons that dad rescued from poachers. Gibbons are the smallest of the ape family, and are natural acrobats amongst the tree tops despite their lack of a prehensile tail. They have hyper-mobile spines, and elongated, padded fingers which help them power through the trees at a great speed.


Dad also rescued an Orang Utan in similar circumstances. Unfortunately back in those days, there was a lot of poaching going on, and Dad used to do his best to rehabilitate the poor creatures until they were good enough to send away back to their natural habitat. He was a hero in my eyes for doing that.

Apparently before I was born, dad had a clouded leopard for a while, which was also sent away when the time was right. I can remember a crocodile that dad had, that we kept in a separate pond. We also had Proboscis nose monkeys, bats, peacocks, a macacque, porcupine, slow loris, deer, and squirrels. Of the deer, we had two kinds. We had the kijang, which is a jungle deer slightly larger than a goat, and we had mousedeer, which, funnily enough, are tiny. They are the smallest deer species in the world. I remember the bats with great fondness. Dad had a whole extended family of fruit bats, which happen to be the largest species of bat in the world. They have faces that slightly resemble that of a fox, and have huge leathery bark brown wings, with a torso covered in thick black fur. In their natural environment, they leave their roosts in trees at dusk and travel to other trees that bear tropical fruits, thereby helping cross pollinate plant species. They would always be upside down at the top of the cage, and as soon as you produced some fruit and stuck it in between the rungs of the cage, they’d chatter animatedly, and clamber downwards as fast as possible to get the lion’s share of the meal. Inquisitive eyes would look at you trying to figure out if you had anymore food on you, and nostrils would flare in the attempt to confirm their wily suspicions.



Dad’s birds were all of Asian origin. He had some fantastic specimens, of which include pheasants, the before mentioned peacocks (that had an attitude problem) parrots, exotic pigeons, owls, eagles, and a huge range of other smaller birds. He even had a cassowary, which used to scare the crap out of me. They originate from the forests of equatorial new guinea as well as some parts of Australia. It wasn’t long before dad found another home for this impressive beast.


We also have a freshwater pond, where we used to have scores of tilapia fish, arapaima and soft shell Chinese turtles. The arapaima were really impressive. We have had two sets of two of these fish. Their natural habitat is in the rainforest rivers of south America, and they grow to be an impressive size; some growing to up to three metres plus. Our largest ones were about two metres in length. I used to stand on the edge of the pond and throw them bits and pieces of chicken meat, and as soon as the meat would hit the water, they would jump up and snap it up with their large and powerful jaws. Now, the pond has no fish; it is home to my pet terrapins. The oldest of which I’ve had since I was five, which makes him 21. Sorry big boy, I should have brought you a big fish for your 21st.


We have always had lots of dogs at home. With large grounds and lots of trees to hide around, home security has always been a big concern. I can never remember a time in the history of our house that we didn’t have at least 8 dogs. Doing a headcount today, I was impressed with the fact that we had 16 present, despite the lack of absence of my favourite dog who ran away a few months ago. Have to say it was heartbreaking to hear that. She’s a really special dog to me, as she was given to me by a friend, and I raised her during her infancy. She used to jump up on my chest as I lay down, and fall asleep nuzzling up to my chin. I hope she finds her way home. Unfortunately for her, dog meat is still a very treasured food in my home town, so I pray that she avoids the butcher’s knife and comes home where she’ll be loved and looked after.

Most of the dogs we have now are either her offspring, or her offspring’s offspring. What a great little mother she was. Her first litter of pups all survived and grew to be beautiful dogs with personality and alertness. They all share her same sense of inquisitivity; although none match her intelligence and affectionate social charms. We still have one Rottweiler left. We used to have a pair, but unfortunately the female passed away from health complications. That’s the problem with purebreds. They’re not very resilient in the tropical climate, and are far more susceptible than the local mongrels to diseases. The female was stupid beyond belief though. She had two litters in her lifetime. Her first litter only bore two, but I suspect there were more unborn inside her that didn’t manage to get out in time. One was stillborn, but the other one was alive and kicking, and I quickly scooped him up and hand reared him. He slept beside me in a little box, and I would wake up periodically to feed him some milk. Sometimes I even took him out with me when I was catching up with friends at night. Unfortunately, I had to leave town for a bit, and partway through my trip, my sister called to say that he had died one night. Guess he was kind of doomed from the start, but it didn’t take away the feeling of helplessness at nature’s unyielding rule of survival of the fittest.
The rain has really started to come down now. The flashes of lightning and the peals of thunder growing in intensity and frequency. It reminds me of how powerful the forces of mother nature is in this enchanted land of ours. Borneo is an incredible place. Situated right smack dab in the middle of the equator, it is a land of extremes. For the heat that we experience, we also get a lot of humidity due to our abundance of rainforest. Wow, I just saw the most brilliant flash of lightning right in front of me! It lingered for a few seconds, and closing my eyes, I can still see the flash burnt into my cornea. Some fear the thunder and lightning. For me, I have always been fascinated by it. It is a permanent reminder to me that despite all of man’s technological advances and progress through the ages, we are still vulnerable and expendable to the supreme might of nature.

Soon, it will be night. The swiftlets will begin their dusk cry, and start making their frenzied way back to their nests, which in urban environs are usually situated on the eaves of houses. The Chinese believe the swiftlets bring them luck and good fortune, so many people are hesitant to remove these nests from their houses. The swiftlet nest is made up of a mixture of fibre and saliva, and is remarkably rigid, considering its construction materials. Atypical of the Chinese, even though we do not remove the nests from homes, there are farming operations where people use the nests to produce a local delicacy; bird’s nest soup. I know, I know. What a weird thing to make a soup out of. But haven’t you heard the saying? All things wise and wonderful, all creatures great and small, all things bright and beautiful, the Chinese eat them all.

Home has also been host to a bunch of unwanted pests too. Given the vast amount of animal cages we have, it has always attracted rats. I can remember fun times hunting rats by myself as well as with my father. When by myself, I always used my trusty slingshot, which was pretty much always in my pocket even if I was indoors. I became quite a crack shot with it; sometimes managing to kill a rat with a lead slug at a distance of 15 metres. I also used a home made blow pipe. But with the blow pipe, I usually liked to tease the dogs. I’d chew on some paper until it was soft, then wad it into a ball. With these wads, I’d shoot the unsuspecting dogs on the butt. It never hurt them, but it certainly made them wonder what the hell was happening to them. Unable to see me from my perch up in the trees or on the roof, they’d growl and saunter off in a confused amble.

Whenever I went rat shooting with dad, he would carry his .22 rifle. I was always his spotter, and my sharp eye was always praised by dad. Once, I can remember, he shot two rats with one bullet. He was always a hero to me. I wanted so much to be like him when I was a kid. I still do. Yeah, you may be thinking, what’s so great about shooting two rats? But my dad was just “the man”. No matter what. When you’re a kid, things like this are important to you. Sometimes I think they still are. We used to feed the rats to the owls, who would hoot and bob their heads appreciatively as we threw them their dinner.

We’ve also had snakes and iguanas. I have killed many a poisonous snake in my garden. The very first one I killed was when I was 8 years old. I separated its head from its body with a parang; a local machete. I have only ever killed one python, of which I still feel bad for to this day. Back then, I didn’t know that they were endangered, but it was in one of our bird cages and was trying to rustle up an easy meal. It was a six footer. I still have the photo of me proudly holding the snake, with my parang in hand. I can remember once, on Christmas day, Ah Kai and I (my best friend) were up early, as kids usually are during the silly season. We were waiting for everyone else to wake up so we could dig into our presents. We saw a huge python coiled up on the verandah, just outside the lounge. I ran to my father’s room about to wake him up. My sister stopped me before I could pound on his door, and asked me why I was doing such a foolhardy thing. Dad hated to be woken by anyone other than himself. I told her there was a snake. She said to me not to bother Dad with such a trivial thing. Funny, because she’s such a snake hater. To this day she still can’t look at a snake on TV. I told her to go down and have a look for herself. So she did. Nevertheless, she came screaming back upstairs hollering “Dad, dad, get your gun!” The snake proved to be over four metres long. It was caught by the resident snake catcher and released into the wild.

The iguanas are good to have around here, although most locals don’t seem to think so. They help keep the rat numbers down. We have had some large ones; casually ambling past our long driveway. Occasionally we see smaller ones, which is a good sign that their numbers are still healthy and that they are still breeding. As always though, these iguanas are also considered a local delicacy, so as long as they stay within the grounds of our compound, they are safe. I quite often despair when I think of the way we treat the wildlife and the environment. We need to do more. Much more. We kill everything in our path, and if it isn’t edible, it is simply discarded. I hope one day it will change. I hope, through my writing, a new generation will learn to appreciate the wonders that this earth has. I know I am guilty of killing animals, but I have always been guided by these principles:

1. Never kill anything endangered. I have only done that once, with that poor python. I’m sorry, Mr Python. May you rest in peace.

2. Only kill what you can eat, if it is an edible species.

3. Kill any pests that may potentially harm endemic species, or species whose numbers are low. You are actually helping the environment in this case.

4. Use as much of your kill as possible, so as not to waste. I despise people that hunt purely for the pleasure of it, and people that kill animals for some perverse thrill of control over another.

Thus endeth my sermon. I hope I have managed to paint an accurate description of where I grew up. Despite all the bad stuff that happens here, it still is my home. A home I will love for the rest of my life. A home I hope my future children will have the same experiences I had as a child.

PS. Thanks to my good friend, "li'l D" for her inspiring words today. I love you, my good friend.