I spotted Anoura cutting betel nut with women and sat with her chewing the nut wrapped in bitter tasting leaves, promptly forgetting about my bamboo mission. Our asli neighbours were having a celebration. I’d watched them cooking since morning and communicated in stilted Bahasa I wanted to taste Orang Asli cooking. With big smiles I was led to their rumah.
Cute kids peeked at me from behind mother’s skirts and the men shot curious glances. But honestly, I was concentrating on the food piled high on my plate. The men asked me to invite my friends and that’s how the tribe at the top of the hill came to meet the tribe at the bottom…finally. We brought guitars, of course.
The women laid out another mouth watering spread of food. Freshly killed wild boar made into three delicious dishes, coconut sauces, fresh bamboo shoots, wild picked jungle vegetables and the traditional crunchy crackers, all topped off with a sweet caramel pudding. Even the vegetarians were happy.
Our French/Spanish friend Micky’s eyes were popping out of his head as he exclaimed between mouthfuls, “it’s so fresh, so clean, so full of taste.” He would close his eyes after every mouthful of boar and mumble something half Spanish, half French. One of the brothers shot a mid-sized male boar in the jungle a day ago and the women told me they never eat meat from the town because of the chemicals. Throughout the meal, I had mental pictures akin to Asterixsk and Obelix cartoons, wild parties in the forest with bountiful food and glistening sides of wild boar…this was what it was like!
After eating came the songs!
Of course, we are always quick to sing (and Happy Birthday featured prominently). But funnily enough, we had a newly arrived New Zealand couple with us, a very proper, tight collared private school teacher and her husband. He surprised us all, first asking if he could sing a song, and then, gently putting aside the guitar offered to him, he promptly took off his shirt…in front of a crowd of open mouthed foreigners and curious asli, he proceeded to do a totally impromptu, very impressive version of the Hakka! In the brief moments of shocked silence that ensued, I quickly translated the song was from the asli of New Zealand and this man (with his white, white skin, short shorts and curly hair) was not asli, but had learned their music. The Temuan grunted with understanding gave him a proper applause.
Micky sang a Spanish song accompanied with some gypsy kind of dance (inspired in part by the local wine) and Stas sang a Russian ballad. With the help of a much better translator, a half Malaysian friend Aslan, they shared old folk stories of the Temuan in the area. Accompanied with a promise that the next day they would drive some miles to visit the local elder for more lore.
The two tribes met and now it feels as though we have more brothers and sisters. Let’s hope we respect our new friendship and know that it will add much more to our lives and experience in this magical place.
