Kidang and boys' fight

When boys are in school together, it is impossible to stop them from fighting at certain moments of their lives. Animals tumble in playfulness and lose their temper. Human beings banter with each other and start pointing a finger. More often than not, a small incident could trigger a fight between two boys.

I was small and easily bullied by any one around. I am not saying that I allowed these bigger boys to bully me. To bully another person comes naturally to a lot of boarding school boys, probably due to the fact that we are living in very close proximity. Like chickens in a coop, there is a pecking order. I was then the smallest and darkest of the little boys and definitely I was at the bottom of the pecking order.

The feelings of the haves and the have nots were already very well developed during our hostel days. Boys from a certain community from the urban area were well endowed and they would make their milo and talk about anything right into the night and even early hours of the day. The other boys who had nothing for snacks would try to sleep in order to contain their hunger. But unknowingly, or knowingly, these richer boys would talk and talk, and very often louder and louder. Usually I found it very difficult to sleep, not when I felt the hunger pangs;not when I could hear the deliberate loud stirring of a metal spoon in a tin cup and not when I could smell the fragrance of milo floating dreamily across the hot humid hostel air. Then my mouth would water when I heard the loud slurps. It would be many years later when I could afford to buy a tin a milo. The long deferred satisfaction of a great longing was almost unbearable.

(In later years when I had to teach my children not to make a lot of noise when they make a drink.....Go gentle into the night...and don't make a lot of noise when you make a drink.. and don't slurp..."

How did all these tie up with Kidang?

Kidang was my uncle by blood and we came from the same area. Being a bigger person in built and a natural fighter , he was often the protector of the small Iban boys around him. One day ugly words were exchanged between the different racial groups and a fight ensued. Being the smallest boy I was the one picked on by the bigger Chinese boy (perhaps as an example, or perhaps I was the nearest to him). I was picked up by the collar by the boy and every one jeered at me, the victim. Kidang came in just at the right time and punched the Chinese boy. The two fought very well indeed as I remember, better than the World Wrestling Federation episodes that I was to watch from 1968 onwards in West Malaysia.

What ever were the real reasons for that fight, the atmosphere was definitely not cordial and I remember Kidang saying,"Don't lay your fingers on any Iban boys. Fight with me first."

Kidang was very muscular and he was not afraid to show his almost Mr.Universe body. He also walked tall and proud. As fate had it, he was not as lucky as most of us. As he did not pass his Sarawak Junior, he joined the Field Forces the following year. He rose to the rank of Captain but very sadly he was shot dead by the Communists in 1968 in Sibu. Thus he could be considered the first Iban martyr of the century for not only the nation or merdeka but also against the communist. I do not think he was ever decorated or his family rewarded for sacrificing him in that way, at such a young age.

Iban families lost a lot of their able bodied young men at the prime of their life. The old parents were often unaware of their rights and they continued their hand to mouth existence until the end of their days without complaining. Their attitude was such that their sons were heroes of the day for the government. That sense of pride was enough.

If you ever visit the longhouses in the interior, you could still see the faded pictures of the Agong, Tunku Abdul Rahman, Tun Razak and Tun Hussein on many walls. These pictures would not be framed but they would be literally NAILED to the wooden walls! The Ibans are very patriotic in fact to the idea of Malaysia.