Sarawak has always been a popular destination of both domestic and international tourists for many reasons. In most cases, they come to Sarawak to experience hands on unique and diverse culture and multi-ethnic character, its ancient rainforests, scenic mountain trails, hundreds of rivers and streams, the longhouse, headhunting practices of the past, and the list goes on.
But there is one thing that might interest others to know that Sarawak has tens of trails and exits to cross the other side of once called ‘Borneo’. Sarawak is nestled in one of the largest rainforests in the world, and around it are ‘border’ communities of Sabah, Kalimantan in Indonesia and Brunei Darussalam. The political history of Sarawak speaks of dynamic, uninterrupted social interactions in border communities even as new political divisions and maps have been drawn as a result of the formation of Malaysia as a nation-state. Appreciating border interactions is to acknowledge that no political remapping, or redrawing of political maps around the issue of territorial sovereignty restrains people’s social and cultural connections. It means that historical social ties involving extended families remain central in their cultural world although territorial redrawing may also transform relationships and social meanings.
The modern-day mapping of territories consequent to political delineation, independence struggle, or postcolonial administration has produced a kind of relationship where communities are required to comply with the new border regulations like applying a border pass before they are allowed to cross the border.
So what does a border in Sarawak look like, and what makes it an interesting place to visit? Ideally, there is an ‘official’ border where the Customs, Immigration, Quarantine, and Security (CIQS) complex is installed. In Sarawak, there are four identified exits with CIQS. This is a busy channel since varied activities are observed: traders with their goods, tourist vehicles for visits and educational tours, or private vehicles for medical and hospital services. Another type of border is where there is no CIQS and border crossing is strictly limited. There are layers of security outposts manned by Immigration personnel and the army soldiers. One requirement is the Pas Lintas Batas (PLB), although, after the pandemic, this PLB is strictly issued to local border residents only. But there is another type of border where no security outposts are installed, and is popularly known as jalan tikus (rat trail) by outsiders. Local residents know the physical terrain as if it had been inscribed on the palm of their hands and use these trails to and from their farm or fruit orchard.
In its physical form, a landmark is erected to remind any passerby which country owns which land (see photo 1), like this marker I took during my recent visit to Ba’Kelalan highlands. It is about 4 km from Kampung Buduk Nur. It is connected to Kalimantan via a logging road. There are layers of security that Malaysia and Indonesia have installed. From the Sarawak side, the first outpost is manned by the Department of Immigration from Lawas Division and immigration personnel come on a monthly shift. The second outpost is composed of combined army soldiers from Indonesia and Malaysia, and this is where an identification card and PLB pass are shown to the security personnel. The nearest trading town close to the Sarawak-Kalimantan border is Longbawan. Trading has always been a regular economic activity which ranges from frozen chicken, dry goods, and drinks, to construction materials. However, subsidised goods such as gas, cooking oil, rice, and sugar cannot cross to Longbawan as these are meant for Malaysian consumption. The border pass however limits the physical movement of border passers within the 30 km radius, so, then, local trading is no longer conducted in earlier identified town areas; instead, goods are sent to particular areas for pick-up.
Border roads are challenging to negotiate. Roads exist not primarily for trading or border crossing but people follow what they call as ‘timber’ or ‘logging’ roads. In other border communities in Serian or Miri division, people use the oil palm roads constructed privately by plantation companies operating in these areas. Border crossers may decide to walk, which is tiring when it rains or when the blistering sun is up, or use private vehicles. However, the usual travel to the border is interesting when one is feted to the beautiful landscape of the high mountain ranges on the horizon, the padi land in the foreground, and a cluster of few houses on the hills (see photo).
The ‘busy-ness’ of the borderlands reflects the social and cultural life of border communities. It is a ‘social pulse’ i.e. the extent to which border communities across the territorial maps interact and share rituals, beliefs, signs and symbols across the national divide. Marriage, weddings, funerals, and festivities are cultural rituals that are shared, hence maintaining social ties. So, border mobility has its own rhythm dictated by these cultural norms and practices. For instance, when a crossborder wedding occurs, a rombongan is organised consisting of a cluster of families. Or, during gawai (end of harvest festival), when it is also an occasion to visit family members, relatives, and friends across both border communities. It is interesting that borderlands vary from one community to another because they are occupied by distinct ethnic communities traditionally been living in those areas. In the highlands of Ba’Kelalan are the Lun Bawang, Bario the Kelabit, while in Lundu the Iban, Mongkos the Bidayuh, and down south of Sarawak, Biawak both Iban and Bidayuh.
Borderlands can also be a source of contention, especially when crimes and syndicates could conveniently operate leading border residents to become victims. The drug menace is affecting the tranquility and security in certain border communities. In addition, the COVID-19 pandemic has impacted the goings-on in border communities in ways that crossing requires paperwork and mental preparation, as well as perceived fear of virus infection.
Dr Linda Lumayag, Research Fellow, Ungku Aziz Centre for Development Studies