The mud of the compound is being drenched by monsoonal rain. I'm
sitting in a corner of the garden, corrugated iron and barbed
wire forming the perimeter. The garden is pleasant -
bougainvillaea, hibiscus and even a jasmine bush flourish. But
it feels strange and it wasn't until a few days ago that I
realised why. All the bushes are planted away from the
fenceline and there are no trees - this garden, in the women's
section of Lambir prison, is 'escape-proof'.
It's day four of our sixty-day sentence for criminal trespass and
with one piece of typing paper and a blunt pencil in hand, it's
time to record the story of how I came to be here.
When looking back upon my life, I can see the threads weaving
together to reach this point, themes emerging, hiding and then
resurfacing to their fullest expression in the events of the last
three weeks. To have been a participant in the planning and
action at Kuala Baram in Sarawak on July 5th, to openly and
honestly state our views on the devastating effects of the inter-
national tropical timber trade environmentally, economically and
culturally, was a vital expression of my deepest beliefs.
I had previously done some voluntary work for social justice and
environmental organisations in Australia. Whether focussing on
the environment, social inequality, nuclear weapons and peace,
feminism or indigenous land rights, we're really all fighting the
same disease and aiming for a more just and equitable world.
During two previous years spent travelling and working around the
world, from Japan to Europe, the Middle East and Asia, I had the
opportunity to experience the extremes of beauty and poverty,
humour and violence, love and injustice. Despite having a clear
vision of a better world, I felt basically powerless to change
anything. I also wanted to continue formal studies and gain
knowledge on how the current world system was run and how it had
evolved historically.
The early months of this year were spent sitting out the Gulf War
in an ashram, learning invaluable spiritual practices and ponder-
ing over why humanity had to repeat the same mistakes again.
Perhaps it was just the shock I needed to translate my beliefs
more fully into action. There is an immense release of energy, a
power able to transform in such events.
At Limbang, I was lucky to stumble upon semi-settled and nomadic
Penan camping in a pavilion by the river. They had been called to
trial for the blockades set up in 1989. In the evening by candle
light we heard their stories - of having to walk for days to find
food, at hearing bulldozers coming closer, and of mistreatment by
police and loggers. One man said he didn't care what colour the
Chief Minister of Sarawak was, as long as he had a good heart.
The next morning I attended day two of the trial. As the Penan
and Kelabit men filed proudly into the stifling, silent court-
room, adorned with rattan and the mood of the jungle, I wondered
how we as a culture had wandered so far from the essential truths
encompassed in their way of life - of love and respect for one
another.
At 10am a man entered the court and passed me a note saying
"please come outside Miss, we have some questions to ask you." I
refused to get into the car they had waiting and walked escorted
to the police station for questioning by the "Special Branch",
three men and I in a closed room. They told me that it was OK to
visit the caves and beaches in Sarawak but not to show such an
interest in internal affairs - why was I there? Which organisa-
tion did I work for? Where had I been in Sarawak? Which local
people had I "instigated"? The government and press constantly
dismiss the voice of the Penan people and their requests for
recognition, through claims that they are merely being "instigat-
ed" by outsiders (Bruno Manser is a particularly favoured scape-
goat in this respect!). This is the main reason that the focus of
our action was on the tropical timber trade in which our coun-
tries are intimately involved. Hundreds of Penan and Kelabit
people blockaded in two different locations only days before but
for us to join them would have diminished their cause in the eyes
of the Malaysian government. The irony is however that rather
than acting as instigators, we have really been inspired by them.
Somehow, I managed to convince the "Special Branch" that I was
just a naive and harmless tourist, it's not an experience I would
like to repeat. I left Limbang on the next plane out after flush-
ing all incriminating evidence down the toilet in the hotel. In
no way could I jeopardise the international action planned for
three days time. The Penan had asked us to do all we could to
save the forest. After over four years of blockading, arrests,
re-arrests, hunger and harassment, some of them were beginning to
lose hope. ....[The next line was unintelligible]
It's an amazing experience in life, when you just know that
something is right, all the signs are crying out to be followed
and providence moves in your favour. I found out about the
planned International Action in Sarawak whilst visiting the
Rainforest Information Centre in Lismore. And from there every-
thing fell into place, even a cheap air ticket suddenly became
available. There were mixed reactions to the idea among the
various environmental groups but I just knew I had to be there.
The nature of the action meant most of the planning would be done
once the group met in Sarawak. A certain amount of trust and
faith was required by all of us who ended up participating. I had
two rushed weeks in Perth to prepare and spend time with family
and friends, and sold most of my clothes to raise money for the
Penan food fund.
As we flew over Borneo, the extent of the deforestation could be
seen. In Kalimantan, rivers wound their way through a landscape
where the trees huddled together in valleys too difficult to log.
Upon entering Sarawak, I had a number of personal experiences
which confirmed the urgency of the situation created by a rate of
logging which, at 18 million cubic metres per year, is the fast-
est in the world.
After a day of travelling by various express boats and long boats
upriver, we reached an area in the Baram district where there
were villages of semi-settled Penan. Many of the Penan, who are
the last remaining hunter-gatherer peoples, have been forced to
settle over the last ten years due to food shortages created by
continued logging and government pressure. The media in Sarawak
portrays the Penan as being a backward and uncivilised people,
grateful that the government sends in the military to build
longhouses and give them clothes. Their blockades at logging
roads and constant struggle to protect the forest are ignored by
the strictly controlled press.
I found the Penan people to be among the most loving and generous
I have ever met, despite the fact that they are being gradually
destroyed by poverty and disease. We drove overland through a
dense network of logging roads and erosion to a second village
which seemed a little better off. One family and I went on a day
trip up a river to collect rattan, through one of the last re-
maining patches of jungle. They were transformed when walking
through the trees - sensitive to all beings that are part of
their forest home. Due to the continued destruction however the
forest can no longer provide. They fished during the day and the
men spent the night out hunting, but still no food was found.
Rice and sago is the staple diet as although they are "semi-
settled" they rely almost solely on the forest for subsistence.
The chosen site of the action, the mouth of the Kuala Baram could
be seen clearly from the air as the plane flew towards Miri. I
watched as loaded barges glided down stream towards Japanese
ships eagerly waiting offshore. I counted four barges within only
two bends of the river. The surrounding land was deceptively
green and it didn't take more than a second look to see that
there was no canopy, no life or diversity in this "regrowth".
The day of the action arrived. our group of * persons willing to
be arrested had been pruned down from 20. Others were providing
media and communication support. Although most of us had never
met before, we were a strong committed group, comprising five
different nationalities.
As Jake and I walked as inconspicuously as possible through the
timber yard my stomach was tight with anticipation. At 8.30am
under clear skies we ascended and occupied four cranes, two of
which were on loaded barges. Dayak workers shouted out "we sup-
port you" and we could see the press hovering around in boats
below anxious to obtain footage and have it on its way to Singa-
pore before the police arrived. We were exhilarated, after weeks
of planning everything had gone better than expected. We had
stopped the export of logs from the yard for 8 1/2 hours, delayed
the ships waiting offshore, and hopefully conveyed our message
world-wide.
One of the most valuable aspect of the action was the chance it
provided to speak with workers, journalists, police and onlookers
about why we were there - why, after years of pressure through
the conventional channels had such an action been called for in a
plea to be heard both within Sarawak and internationally. It was
an excellent opportunity to communicate directly with various
people and to hear their views. My impression is that the majori-
ty of people want the logging of primary rainforest to stop but
they are frightened and unable to express this publicly. The role
of the Western nations, the buyers, should be one of enabling
countries worse off to conserve the environment through compensa-
tion, debt relief and a new economic order.
Afterall the forest is vital to the continuation of all life on
this planet. Our task is to co-operate and care for one another
beyond the political boundaries currently carving up the globe.
The means to do this will crystallise when we are unified in our
aims.
And as I sit here, in prison, I smile and see the vision gradual-
ly unfolding before us to become a reality.
Nancy Rolfe, 21/7/1991