North Kalimantan

As much as I enjoyed my time in Kalimantan Timur, the island’s Eastern part, it was time to move on. Locals from whence I came, warned there really weren’t a lot of things going on in the North. Spending a week there, those weren’t entirely unfounded claims. At least from a tourist’s set of eyes.

I’d made contact with a woman up there, willing to meet and help out during my stay there. She was a history teacher, living in Malinau and working in Setulang village, three-quarters ride away. I was told the salary was substantially better out in the districts. She conceded though, that it was tough working out here on her own and that it did take a toll on her emotionally, but claimed that for her, it was a better choice. It allowed her save up and go on her own travels one day.

Back in Malinau, I was trying to understand better where the hell I had brought myself. While true that there was a whole lot of nothing in this town, there were discoveries to be made and observations to be had.

A bunch of missionaries has based themselves at the hotel I was staying at. Christian, white ones. Presumably, they also owned the hotel. Grace hotel was its name. Fitting.

From what I could see, they loved being there. Every moment of it. After all, they were out here doing important work. The work of none other than the God almighty himself. Preaching to unsuspecting people the existence of the legendary figure, sending people to heaven or hell, based on how well they behaved.

I come across these people and their symbols frequently in these parts and they always pause me to think.

Later, in the restaurant, a table of 3 next to me. They’re discussing business. Curious to have a white face in their midst, they invite me to come join them. One has thoroughly mastered the English language, having learnt it from an early age. A privilege that can not be understated. They’re discussing mining.

Soon his friends leave and I’m granted an audience with what strikes me as an important man for the region.

He’s struck gold, literally. Geologists surveying his land, found it and now he’s working on setting up operations and securing finances, but, it needs to be carried out in secrecy. Mining is political in Kalimantan, as that’s where much power lays and the extension thereof, money. All sorts of shady things happen to make political statements in that regard.

He gives examples that political entities will sabotage mining operations causing them to leak poison into the rivers, killing downstream marine life and its water drank by people. This, just to create problems for operators somehow working with the wrong side. He brings up Bruno Manser, the Swizz environmentalist who mysteriously disappeared having taunted the Borneo elite for decades. In his view, killed, further making references to The Borneo Case, a documentary putting the spotlight on the crimes committed on this island, where the money went and who was behind.

In this part of the world, you’re free to do what you want. Rape, pillage and uproot humans, their communities and culture(let’s make no mention of other fauna(or flora)) at your own peril. Just make sure to pay the right people. Stories most of us won’t hear. Even if we did, it wouldn’t have mattered. The story of a rainforest that overnight became a plantation.

Back in Malinau, I’d been invited to attend an event that consisted of a van full of books and children reading from them. The absence of a library, prompted resourceful community members to come up with this initiative in an attempt to inspire and provide young people an opportunity to become familiar with the world of books. Asked to do an interview, I mumble it’s a good thing they’re working on providing different avenues for children to educate themselves.

Soon after I leave for Tarakan, capital of the North.