In 1998, the government relocated my longhouse—along with many others—to Sungai Asap because they wanted that land for the Bakun Dam. I was seven years old at the time, and my memory of the event is hazy at best. They say the relocation was voluntary but we all know what “voluntary” means in this country. The Bakun Dam is 205 meters tall and has a surface area of 695 square kilometres. For contrast, Singapore is 728 square kilometers. Yes, all of Singapore.
Last year, I discovered a two-hour-long, twenty-year-old video of my old longhouse. It was like looking at a ghost, like seeing a place from a dream you had a long time ago. It was posted on my cousin’s Facebook page and, as it turns out, was filmed by my father. I was shocked, but at the same time, not shocked at all. He never offers up information unless explicitly asked, and I don’t know if that’s a cultural thing, or a generational thing. Perhaps, as is often the case, it’s a little bit of both. My father was documenting the days leading up to our exodus. He was walking up and down my old longhouse’s wooden verandah, recording the old doors, the old walls, the old land, the old river, the old trees, because that would be the last time any of us would ever see them.
In one scene, a pui ake’ (grandfather) was performing a ritual. He was saying goodbye to the land. The video was pixelated and the audio was muffled, but I heard him saying, “We are leaving this place…” and someone from off-screen interjected, yelling: “We’re not leaving, we are running away! We are running away.”
It must have been one of my uncles, but I couldn’t recognize his voice, twisted by pain and anger and defeat. The same pain and anger and defeat that has haunted me since I was old enough to understand how things are done in Malaysia.
Decades later, my father, along with quite a few of my relatives, returned to Bakun and built floating houses, homestays, and lodges. I guess we got tired of running away.
— Above a Drowned World, Existence is Resistance By Bethany Luhong Balan