Sunday, 10 February 2008

Iban Craft: The Pua Kumbu

The Legends Of Weaving


The pua kumbu, the hand-woven warp ikat textile of the Iban, represents the quintessence of Iban culture. It is, depending on the design, historical archive, a mythological or religious story or a personal tale. It is a statement about the soul of the weaver and her relationship with the spirits.

Throughout history, women have been inextricably associated with textile arts. No matter what materials are used, no matter what form of culture is referenced, their participation has remained constant in influencing, shaping and evolving numerous varied techniques. When one reviews historical and anthropological literature, this fact is seldom recognised or is relegated to rather insignificant cultural importance. Thus it is not suprising that although much has been written on Iban culture, emphasis has been on male dominated activities. As a result, very little research has been made into women's contribution on the technical aspects of weaving, there has been little study of the pua kumbu in a cultural and social context. Discussion and ensuing interpretation of the symbolism has been limited to the study of individual motifs rather than examining the pua composition as a whole.

The first objective of this article is to appreciate the application of the technical, creative and artistic skills of the women, who are weavers and dyers, that signify the social values of Iban traditional society, the second is to examine the evaluation of a hierarchy of women's status, identified through attainment of weaving skills and the third is to examine the traditions and related functions of the symbolic language of the textile design in the pua kumbu. Such information is important for a greater cultural understanding of Iban textile weaving.

As there is no written documentation of Iban cultural history, it is impossible to trace an accurate record of the origin and development of this textile tradition. History is best remembered through oral traditions passed from generation to generation in the form of pengap, timang, pantun, sabak and renong by the bards (lemambang) and belian by shamans.

According to legend, some twenty-four generations ago, Singalang Burong, the God of War, taught his grandson; Surong Gunting the use of the most sacred of all the pua, the lebor api, after a period of warfare. The tradition was established that heads captured in war should be received ceremonially on this cloth, which has to be dyed a deep red colour, and was often woven using a special supplementary weft technique (sungkit). This pua was woven at Batu Gelong the longhouse abode of the goddesses of weaving, Kumang, Indai Abang, and Lullong, Indigo (tarum) and other plants used for dyeing were planted around the longhouse. Beyond the longhouse on the farm, cotton (taya), the most important crop next to padi, was planted.

The following sections of this article will discuss the basic technical skills required to make the pua kumbu.

In the old days before commercial thread was available, the Iban prepared the yarn form a locally grown cotton plant called taya (Gossypium sp). The taya was planted on a farm-fallow soon atter the hill padi was harvested. The taya plot is called empalai kasai.

After the cotton had been picked and the remains of the pericarp removed, it was dried in the sun for a few days. The raw cotton was then put through a gin (pemigi) to separate the seeds from the fibres.

After ginning, the cotton was threshed out on a mat with a cotton-beater (pemalu taya). The threshing of the cotton would always be done outside the longhouse on the shingle beach of the river (kerangan), for fear that this particular process would bring bad luck to the longhouse concerned. The cotton was threshed to form a flat mass ready for spinning.

The fibre was spun on a simple wheel called gasing which was turned by the right hand while the fibre was twisted with the left. The rotation of the spindle supplied the neccesary twist to the drawn out fibre. The process was intermittent since each length of yarn had to be wound onto the spindle before another length was spun. When the spindle was full of thread, it was wound off into a ball or onto a separate piece of wood, ready for dyeing. It has been noted that Iban yarn is strong and the colours wear well.

The Iban have traditionally made use of a large number of plants to produce a wide range of rich beautiful dyes. It is the dyers' ingenuity in making creative use of the different botanical resources available in their environment that has made Iban weavers renowned in this part of the world.

Many types of roots, bark and leaves may be used in addition to the three basic ingredients discussed below, in order to create the shades of colour desired by the individual dyer. Each dyer had her own special recipes, the details of which were a closely guarded secret. However, with natural dyes no two shades are exactly the same, and the results are sometimes not always to the dyer's satisfaction. For my ancestors, who were I am told among the great weavers of the past, the dyeing process was laden with pitfalls, but little did they know that the chemical content vary depending on the chemicals in the soil and the condition of the dye producing plants. This unpredictability has created a whole folklore of beliefs and taboos which have enolved around the art of dyeing.

Engkudu (Morinda Citrifolia) This plant produces, in combination with other ingredients in a mordant bath, shades varying from vibrant red through to deep maroon and brown, depending on the skills of the dyer in combining and mixing all the ingredients. A skilled dyer will knwo the secret of achieving a deep red colour which will be woven into pua embun. Pua embun is highly prized and is recognized by its deep colour, and the distinctive smell of ginger and oil of the kepayang fruit (Pangium edule) both of which are respectively the most important mordant and presevative used in Iban weaving.

Engkerbai (Psychotria Virdiflora) The leaves of this shrub are mixed with lime. The yarn is soaked in this solution only there is no need to use a mordant bath. The resulting colour is a dull brown and the yarn used in this is made up into pua mata as distinct from the more prized pua embun.

Tarum (Marsdenia Tinctoria, Indigofera) The indigo producing plant used by the Iban grows wild, but may be cultivated near a longhouse. It grows as a shrub to a metre high. It has light feathery leaves which are collected, punded, placed in a wooden trough, and soaked in water. To render the dye soluble in water, slaked lime (Kapur) is added to the solution. The yarn is completely submerged in the dye overnight, and then hung out to dry in the sun the following day. This drying process, after dipping, is necessary to oxidize the dye so as to form the indigo colour on the fibre.

Dyeing in the indigo solution (tarum) will produce black and diffierent shades of blue. The parts of the pattern that are to be dyed blue are untied and exposed to the solution. Shades of blue-black are achieved when yarn that has been previously dyed in engkudu is exposed and dyed in indigo solution. Thus during this stage of dyeing with indigo (narum) two colours may result. A white colour in the pattern is the result of excluding the tied portions from the engkudu and tarum dyes.

The raw yarn is treated with mordant prior to dyeing. The basic utensils required are a wooden trough (dulang), a wooden mortar and pestel (lesong alu), and a small coconut shell cup (tachu).

All the ingredients, which usually include ginger, salt, and oil are finely pounded in a wooden mortar, then are carefully mearued out - one coconut shell each, and put inside a wooden trough, where hot water is added; half-filling the wooden trough. The officiating master dyer (indu nakar indu gaar) and experienced weavers then plunge their hands into the mixture to stir the concoction. This is a test of their competence, and also offers them a chance to find an amulet (Pengaroh), which may miraculously appear in the mixture.

The yarn is dipped into the mixture, trodden with the feet, turned three times and it is then left in the bath for three days. During this time great care is taken to see that the yarn is well saturated. After the three days of soaking, the yarn is taken out and washed thouroghly in clear water, usually in a river. It is then stretched on a mat for twelve hours and afterwards hung on an upright frame and put on the outside platform (tanju) of the longhouse during the day time as well as at night for roughly sixteen days, so that the sun and dew may complete the process. Throughout, great care is taken to ensure that the yarn gets the right amount of sun, and that it does not get wet from the rain. This process of drying the yarn out in the sun during the day, and putting it on the outside platform (tanju) at night to be subjected to dew (ambun) is called ngembun ubong and the pua made from this yarn is called pua embun. The yarn is now ready for dyeing.

The ikat technique is one of the most widespread techiniques of patterning cloth in this region. It is a process by which designs are dyed onto the threads prior to being woven. The ikat technique may be applied to either the warp or weft yarn, but the Iban only employ the warp ikat. The patterns are produced by excluding parts of the web from dye by tying them with a dried fibre from a leaf known as lemba (Curculigo villosa) which grows in great abundance on old cultivated fields or rubber gardens near longhouse. Beeswax is used to coat the lemba strips for strength and waterproofing. This work is highly complex requiring great skill.

Before the tying process is done, the thread is unwound and stretched in the weaving loom to ascertain the length of pua to be woven. This is usually done by two women who sit in front of a weaving frame and continuously pass between them two balls of thread placed in containers made of coconut shells, to prevent the threads from twisting. This process is called ngirit ubong, (literally 'pulling the threads'). The threads are divided into strands of three to make one kayu, using two large rods (lidi). The threads are carefully counted to determine the number of kay used; this in turn would determine the pattern and the width of the pua.

The yarn is then taken out of the loom and fixed to the tying frame (tangga ubong), where another thread of a different colour is inserted into the divided strands (kayu ubong), to tighten them and to keep them in place. The large rods (lidi) are removed. A weaver then begins her tying process to create the desired pattern.

Using trips of 'lemba' coated with beeswax, the threads which are to remain white, or become black or blue, are tied, leaving the background part of the pattern exposed.

A set of weaving equipment (preka tenun) consists of the following a warp beam (tendai), breast beam (rakup), beater-in (belia), heddle road (karap), shed stick (blabungan), two pairs of laze rods (lidi), back strap (sengkabit), spool and spool case (jengkuan).

Men, in the old days, would make the weaving equipment for the women in the family. Bamboo spool cases were lovingly carved with intricate designs, and the head of the beater (belia) might be carved with a special design. The weaving equipment would be a source of great pride to the men in the family.

The back strap loom has no rigid framework so that the warp beam can be set up in any part of the longhouse, wherever there are two convenient posts. The breast beam is attached to a back strap that goes round the weaver's waist and so by a slight movement of her body she can manipulate the tension on the web. The warp is wrapped continuously round the warp and breast beams and the threads are prevented from becoming entangled by laze rods. When the odd numbered threads are first lifted, one rod is passed through, and then the evenly numbered threads are lifted and another rod is passed through the shed. The ends of each pair of laze rods are usually tied together by a cord. Rods are used at the beginning of the weaving to keep the warps evenly stretched. The raising of alternate warps or of groups of warps is effected by a shed stick and the single heddle to which one set of warp threads is fastened by loops or lashes. A sword-shaped beater is used to press home each pick of the weft, which is carried on a spool.

On removal from the loom, the unwoven warp threads are cut at each end between the upper and lower webs which have been tied together during dyeing. The upper and lower webs are identical pieces of cloth that are joined together along a selvedge with a lacing stich to form a large blanket-sized textile called pua. There are generally one or two rows of coarse twining to give firmness and good weaving quality to the edges of the pua.

The sercrets of making a pua kumbu are passed on from mother to daughter. In adolescene a young girl will begin to accumulate the knowledge and expertise in a process that will continue throughout her life. She will be guided through each stage from the preparation of the cotton yarn, the tying of threads, the dyeing process and the selection of a design. Each stage is circumscribed by ritual to appease the spirits. Her progress and ultimate success is dependent on a acceptance from the world of the sprits. As she develops her skills, she learns a larger lesson, that of establishing a relationship with the spirits through her art. If she fails in this relationship, by attempting a skill which she is not ready for, she will fall into a state of lifelessness (layu). This is because she has transgressed the boundaries of a naturally sequenced order sanctioned by the spirit world. Every woman fears and dreads such a fate as in such a condition she may fall physically or mentally ill, the only release being death.

Weaving is a means of evaluating status for women in the Iban community. A woman, depending on her use of dye, design and skill, will fit into a certain rank within the community. In order to be a master weaver, a women has to move up from rank to rank. To be successful, a woman has to have a tacit acceptance as an individual of a variety of spiritual agents as well as a creative understanding of the art of weaving. A good pua kumbu is not only a demonstration of her relative success in terms of knowledge and expertise but also the state of her soul. Even though Iban society has moved ahead and new ideas are replacing old beliefs and traditions in many respects, a pua kumbu is still valued by criteria of the important ritual and technical processes which determine the way it has been woven. The criteria for evaluating the status of weavers is discussed below.

The first category is for women who do not weave. They are ordinary housewives, who may not come from weaving families, and thus have not had the opportunity to learn. It may be difficult for them to accumulate wealth to pay for the services of a dyer, or to obtain designs. They may have scarce food resources, and all their time is taken up making sure there is enough food to eat.

This category is for women who are good hostesses. An indu temua indu lawai may be a headman's wife; she has enough rice to entertain guest, and she has enough time to weave. She is able to accomplish a basic pattern such as a creeper or bamboo design, perhaps with the help of another woman.

A beginner will always start by weaving a simple design buah randau takong randau, on a small piece of cloth. She is only allowed to start weaving a piece that is fifty kay wide. A kayu refers to the warp in groups of three single threads. By the time she is ready to weave her tenth pua she will be weaving a piece that is a hundred and nine kayu in width. These restrictions are rigidly adhreed to, as they are prescribed by the spirits.

Once a woman is recognized as being adept she is considered indu sikat indu kebat. She can weave basic patterns, but she is unable to make up her own. She is dependent on copying the designs of her mother and grandmother. If she needs or wishes to widen her reprtoire, she has to make a ritual payment to obtain a design from a more proficient weaver. If the master weaver, the indu nakar indu gaar does not posses the required design, she might obtain it from the next category down, the indu nenkebang. However, both women will expect ritual payment.

A women of this status can invent her own designs, inspired by the spirits in her dreams. She is an extremely proficient weaver, and will have the power to attempt potentially dangerous patterns. She is widely respected by the community and wears a porcupine quill tied with red thread as a mark of distinction. She is likely to be quite wealthy, being paid well by other weavers for designs.

A woman reaches this position if she is able to judge the correct quantities for the mordant bath and the dyeing solution. She literally knows her salt. She is primarily a chemist able to complete the dyeing process (nakar) successfully throught the application of mordant and natural dyes, which prior to the arrival of imported commercial threads and chemical dyes, was the only way of dyeing the cotton. Although the ingredients of the mixture which comprise the mordant are common knowledge, the completion of the nakar process, which is the application of the mordant to the raw cotton and fixing the dye to the cloth, is a difficult ritual process. It is the acquisition of the knowledge of these various ingredients which determines the essence of the position of indu nakar indu gaar, because without spiritual intervention, the desired colour is not achieved.

To achieve status as a member of this respected class a woman is required to excel in all areas of knowledge, skill and behaviour. In addition, she must win the approval of the spirits in the metaphysical world who will appear to he in dreams to bestow their acceptance and consent to he requests in recognition of her abilities. The appearance of spiritual forces to an Iban woman serves as both an initiation and an important confirmation of her new role. A spiritual visitation in a dream is an event that is eagerly anticipated not only by women but by the community as a whole. It can be also happen that someone else dreams for an indu nakar indu gaar confirming her status.

It is likely that a woman of this position comes from an ancestral line of weavers and dyers, and she will inherit the knowledge of designs and dyes and precious amulets from her ancestors. More often than not the men of the family will be war leaders (tau sarang), having provided extra labour in the form of captives in war to work in the fields. In this way, the indu nakar indu gaar does not have to worry about farming but can devote all her time to her weaving and dyeing skills.

It is also possible for an exceptional woman to work her way up to the position of indu nakar indu gaar. She will need to be courageous and daring to overcome the fear of transgressing the ritual prohibitions and becoming layu.

The indu nakar indu gaar leads the rites for the mixing of the mordant bath. An animal - a pig or a fowl - is sacrificed, offerings are made and prayers are said. The ceremony is referred to as kayu indu which means women's warfare. It is essentially a private ritual, and the officiating expert has to be as courageous and as daring as any warrior, in order to control the unseen and dangerous forces present at the ritual. If she fails, lie a warrior, she faces death, but in her case it is the spiritual lifelessness of being layu.

The indu nakar indu gaar is also recognised as a leader in other public rituals. For example, at the Gawai Burong she is conferred the honour of throwing glutinous rice at the ceremonial kelingkang pole. She will also prepare special garong baskets to commemorate the deceased indu nakar indu gaar of previous generations at the Festival for the Dead (Gawai Antu). At her death, in her funeral eulogy, the highest honours will be bestowed on her as she enters the afterworld. He worth is deemed equivalent to a highly prized jar (satu igi rusa). Her widower also will be conferred high honours.

Thus the weaver of each pua is accorded an important status which is of ritual and economic significance within the community. The pua is valued by the same criteria as its weaver: the complexity of the design, the width of the cloth, the ritual significance of the pattern. It is also important to consider the purpose for which each pua has been woven. It cannot be emphasized enough how important the pua kumbu is to a person who practises Iban traditional religion and culture. The textile is used for the entire gamut of life rituals, and none would be complete without it. The designs of a pua kumbu define the rituals for which it is to be used, and the ritual itself is given a special individual quality by the use of a particular pua kumbu. Thus in the next part of this article we will look at some of the different kinds of pua kumbu, their use, and their designs.

The designs and patterns on each piece of textile represent meanings which have resulted in varied interpretations by collectors. An attempt to individualize and itemize every single design or represented symbol in a given piece often distorts the true meaning, and there is often a danger of misunderstanding. The interpretation of the true spiritual significance of the design on a piece of pua lies in the combination of the symbols and the general layout of the design. The literature to date on the subject pays attention only to the individuals symbols and has missed this most important point.

A detailed description of the appearance of these symbols alone has little meaning and falls short of why a piece of pua is designed in a particular way. It is important to consider factors such as the purpose for which the pua has been woven, its date and historical context, the life story of the weaver herself, as well as to be aware of a rich repertoire of references to Iban legend, religion and oral history. The pua kumbu is essentially a sacred cloth, which may tell a mythogical story, or a personal tale, or represent a historical archive.

The pua kumbu is used for the many rituals of a person's life from birth to death: to wrap a baby for the ceremony of its first bath (mering anak mandi) and at death to screen a corpse (sapat) while it is laid out in state on the verandah before burial. The latter is an example of the way the pua can be used to define ritual space, or a sacred area, forming a boundary between what is mortal and what is considered transcendent. A pua kumbu can mediate between man and the spirit world, and for this reason, the cloth has spiritual power woven into it with its design. Only a very experienced weaver can make one of these sacred pua and there is a particular type of design which is woven as evidence of a weaver's power in handling the potent forces in a sacred design.

This is a particularly rare type of pua kumbu, as it is considered sacrilegious (mali) for a weaver to undertake it unless she is sufficiently experienced and spiritually mature. Kelikat refers to the abstract zig-zag pattern which is repeated in horizontal rows the length of the pua kumbu. These motifs combine to form a rituallly powerful cloth which is a challenge, even for a master weaver. In all pua kumbu, the potency is in the central panel, and this has to be confined by well-defined vertical borders (anak) and vertical bands (ara) on each side, and horizontal border patterns at the top and the bottom (punggang). On the border (anak) of this pua are half bird motifs, and the stripes on the edge (ara) are in a combination of black, white, red and yellow which denote the proficiency of a master weaver. At the top of this bali kelikut pua kumbu is the sepit api or fire tong motif. This is a metaphor for strength, endurance and the supernatural power to withstand fire, a virtue of Selampandai the supreme spirit who created man with fire tongs at his balcksmith's forge.

This is one of the most sacred of pua also known as pua sungkit. It was woven for a ceremony called encaboh arong, the first stage of the most significant Iban festival, Gawai Burong. During this ritual, it was customary for the wife of a war leader to receive on the lebor api the trophy heads which her husband had brought back from war with the other longhouse warriors. This particular example has been a family heirloom for seven generations. The characteristics of a lebor api are its deep blood-red colour, dyed in a mordant bath using the embun process, and the weaving technique sungkit which involves the use of a supplementary weft, giving the design an embroidered effect similar to tapestry. The motifs woven into the central part of the pua are unique to the time it was woven, and even perhaps to the weaver, they elude comtemporary interpretation and have to be left as secrets of history. On the border (anak) are bird motifs, important in Iban thought, as earthly apparitions of spirits, or augurs of omens, mediating between the mortal world of mankind and the heavenly abode of the spirits. The punggang or horizontal border consists of a design typical of the lebor api, leku sawa, a moving snake. This is a reference to Keling, the archetypal Iban warrior reputed for his strength, bravery and handsome form, who often appears to humans in the shape of a snake.

This is another pua woven for a ritual purpose, for the eighth stage of the Gawai Burong, when a ceremonial pole tiang ranyai is erected. The central part of the pua is woven with decorative patterns bubol aja and gelung paku. Out of these abstract motifs the two vertical poles (tiang ranyai) emerge down the length of the cloth, cluminating in two branches opening out into stylized trophy heads (tangkai leka balang). At the base of each pole (tiang ranyai) is a face with pierced ear lobes representing Nising, a demon giant, who is keeping watch over the trophy heads. This pua kumbu comes from the deep area where there are restrictions on the weaving of human forms, and for this reason the face of Nising is of minimal size. Underneath Nising is the final border design of sepit api, three sets of fire tongs, again the metaphor of the creator god Selampandai known for his supernatural powers to endure fire. At the other end is a border composed of motifs of thetail feathers of the argus pheasant (tugang ruai) which are highly prized as decorations for traditional costume. This piece was woven by Nangku anak Dingat, a master weaver and indu nakar who acquired considerable wealth through her commissions. She would weave out of inspiration and not cease until her task was completed. This piece is typical of her work, as there no side border (anak).































Wednesday, 23 January 2008

Bintulu :The gas town

Bintulu is a coastal town in the northern region of the Malaysian state of Sarawak, Borneo. It has the world's single largest natural gas processing plant which is owned by Malaysia Liquified Natural Gas (MLNG), a subsidiary of the government-owned oil corporation Petronas. The main economic activities of Bintulu are centered on the oil and gas industry and the Bintulu Port which is Malaysia's second largest port.Until March 2003, Bintulu had an airport which was located right in the middle of the town. The town is also known for its shrimp paste or belacan. Most families make their own shrimp paste during the shrimp season. There are five secondary schools in Bintulu - SMK Bintulu, SMK Bandar, SMK Kidurong and a Chinese independent school.Bintulu town is a centre of Bintulu Division, situated in the northwestern part of the State of Sarawak. From a quiet fishing village in 1970s, today, Bintulu town has transformed itself into a bustling industrial centre hosting multi-billion ringgit investments. The population of Bintulu town increased dramatically from 25,000 in 1970’s to 102,761 in 2000.














Wednesday, 2 January 2008

Old Ceko Market

This is the regular view at Jalan Gambier where as ceko wet market situated,the wet market established since early 20th century where as Ceko and jalan gambier become centre for people across Kuching met and having various business transactions.Before supermarket,mini market or other wet market established in other part of Kuching,ceko market considered as first market in Kiuching and still ,today become the main attracttion and centre for farmer,fishermen and other produce from Kuching area to sell their product.

Across the ceko market there is whole saller selling their item to shopkeepers.Not far from that area is Kuching Old Mosque which was erected middle 1800.Between the mosque is where some Indian retailer still selling curry herb and various product in old way (not like what we have now in supermarket where curry and other type of herb already in package.)

In my point of view,there is no other place in sarawak that that look same like the ceko area. Beside the ceko market,there is also 5 foot hawkers that selling vegetables,ikan terubok and sometimes local cake (kuih),for past few years this stree hawkers playing cat and mouse with local enforcement officer(DBKU = City Council Enforcement Officer).The reason for this enforcement officer playing cat and mouse with these street hawkers because this hawkers are labelled as ILLEGAL,with defibition they loiterring the area and dont have any permit selling their item there.

Beside of some hawkers complaining that these illegal hawkers disturbing their business..in other word,the customer are buying from the street hawker not from the ceko hawkers..As for some reason and complaint and lot of application from the so called ILLEGAL street hawker,finally the local council giving chances they selling their item there as long they keep the place clean,make way for other hawkers.











Sunday, 23 December 2007

Sanctuary Hotel and mall Kuching


This building proposed to be build in current Ceko market,across of Astana Negeri.This building will be known as Sanctuary Hotel and Mall,where as the building consisting of Shopping Complex,cafe and hotel.This building is part of the new waterfront extension in Kuching whereas the next phase of Kuching waterfront stretched from this Ceko market to Brooke Dockyard All this pics(i mean the brooke dockyard itself) will become part of History as next year,this place will be demolished for giving place to New Kuching waterfront,so Kuchingites ,grab your camera and start to take pics of surrounding Brooke Dockyard to ceko.

Wednesday, 12 December 2007

The girl who would be queen

The White Rajahs of Sarawak ruled over their kingdom for more than 100 years, but the outlandish behaviour of the last Ranee, Sylvia Brooke, helped to bring about their downfall. Philip Eade traces her story

At the Daily Telegraph obituaries desk in April 2002 we were telephoned by a man introducing himself as Stewart McNair. He was the only son of Valerie Brooke, a colourful figure known as 'Princess Baba' during the 1930s, and the grandson of Sir Vyner Brooke, the last White Rajah of Sarawak, whose extraordinary wife Ranee Sylvia had adopted the sobriquet 'Queen of the Headhunters'. Mr McNair, himself a headhunter, the recruitment kind, was calling to suggest an obituary of his aunt Elizabeth Brooke Vidmer ('Princess Pearl'), who had recently died in Barbados. In the process of cobbling together a piece for our page, I was drawn in to the curious story of the Brooke family.

Sylvia Brooke
Sylvia Brooke in 1930

The Brookes had ruled their jungle kingdom on the island of Borneo for just over a century. They were the only English family ever to have occupied an Oriental throne and seem to have been remarkably popular with their subjects. They had their own flag, currency, postage stamps and constabulary, and each White Rajah had the power of life and death over half a million Malays, Chinese and Dyak tribesmen - notorious for their custom of taking heads. During the 1930s Rajah Vyner, a cloud-living Old Wykehamist, was one of the few monarchs left in the world who could still say 'l'Etat, c'est moi'.

Yet he ruled his kingdom rather as if it were an English country estate, with tribal chiefs always welcome at the big house. His family appeared in Burke's Landed Gentry as 'Brooke of Sarawak', and his career was encapsulated in one of the more arresting entries in Who's Who: 'Has led several expeditions into the far interior of the country to punish headhunters; understands the management of natives; rules over a population of 500,000 souls and a country 40,000 square miles in extent.'

Prior to the Second World War, the press in Britain continued to romanticise the Brooke Raj, but in truth the dynasty was in decline. In December 1941 Sarawak was overrun and occupied by the Japanese while the Rajah and Ranee were - conveniently, it was muttered - out of the country, and after the war Rajah Vyner controversially abdicated, ceding Sarawak to Britain as its last colonial acquisition.

The whimsical Rajah, his Rasputin-like private secretary and the ham-fisted British government all bore their share of responsibility for the clumsy way in which the Raj was brought to an end. But in many people's eyes a bigger villain was Ranee Sylvia, the extravagantly dressed author of 11 books who was submissive consort one moment, outrageous self-dramatist the next, described by the press as 'that most charming of despots', and by her brother as 'a female Iago'.When Steven Runciman wrote his history The White Rajahs (1960), he admitted privately that tact and fear of legal proceedings had 'kept me from saying too openly what I think about the later stages'. 'Of the Ranee,' he wrote in a letter to Rajah Vyner's niece, 'I've said very little, as I didn't want to risk libel.' There being no risk of that after Ranee Sylvia's death in 1971, I decided to write her biography, although one esteemed historian confessed he was baffled that I should want to write about such a 'wretched' and 'seedy' character.

Sylvia's elder sister Dorothy - later better known as the Bloomsbury painter 'Brett' and the third in DH Lawrence's ménage à trois in New Mexico -recalled being wheeled in a double pram with Sylvia by their nurse in Hyde Park one day and being told to wave to their father, Reginald Brett, who was out walking with a friend. Reggie wondered to his friend why those children were waving at him. 'Perhaps they are yours,' the friend ventured.

Reggie Brett, a courtier who succeeded his father as the second Viscount Esher in 1899 when Sylvia was 14, was a fabulously well-connected man, the confidant of Queen Victoria, Edward VII and George V, and of every prime minister from Rosebery to Baldwin. Yet he was a remote and often cruelly insensitive father to his children when they were little, apart from his younger son Maurice, whom he worshipped. Girls, in particular, were 'tiresome things until they are grown up', as far as Reggie was concerned.

Written off as plain and tongue-tied by her father, subordinated by her brothers (it was her duty every morning to do up their bootlaces) and mauled by her father's secretary, Sylvia made two attempts at suicide by the time she was 12: she first tried ptomaine poisoning, buying a tin of sardines from the village shop, opening it and leaving it on top of her cupboard for seven days before eating it; when that failed, she sought to catch pneumonia by lying naked in the snow.

After suffering further agonies of adolescent inadequacy, followed by miserable seasons as a ballroom wallflower, she sought refuge in her writing. Lunching each day at 'Lord Esher's table' at the Savoy Grill, she befriended JM Barrie, who helped her to publish her short stories. One of these, The Left Ladies, was inspired by Sylvia's fear of being left on the shelf, a fear exacerbated by the stuttering progress in the closest thing she had had to a love affair.

She had first met Vyner Brooke, the Rajah Muda of Sarawak, in 1903, when he was 29 and she had joined the all-girl orchestra cunningly formed by Vyner's mother, Ranee Margaret, as a means of introducing suitable young ladies to her three shy sons, each of whom would eventually marry a member of the ensemble. Vyner had quickly declared his love for 18-year-old Sylvia, but a combination of her parents' hostility (Reggie Esher not only thoroughly disapproved of despotic forms of government, but also regarded the White Rajahs as characters out of a comic opera) and her own uncertainty meant that it was not until 1911 that she finally accepted him.

At their wedding the press turned out in force, eager to report the news that Lord Esher's daughter had married the heir to 'one of the most romantic sovereignties in all Asia', 'Lord and Taker of Life', 'the greatest autocrat on earth'. When they returned from honeymoon, George Bernard Shaw, Sylvia's other literary admirer, had sent a nursery rhyme:

'Ride a cock horse
To Sarawak Cross
To see a young Ranee consumed with remorse.
She'll have bells on her fingers
And rings through her nose,
And won't be permitted to wear any clo'es.'

A year later, in 1912, Vyner took Sylvia on her first visit to Sarawak. After a week she wrote from the royal palace (Astana) to tell Shaw that she was 'alas no longer what I was, a humble, dutiful wife, but a howling snob with a head as swelled as the largest coconut in the land - every time I go to pick a flower in the garden the guard turns out, and every time I go to buy a button in the village, 60 people gather about the shop, when we go to dinner our national anthem is played as we go up the steps, and we sit upon cloths of gold.'

In 1918 Vyner succeeded his father, Rajah Charles, and Sylvia became Ranee. By this time she had produced three daughters but no son. (Before each birth the old Rajah had primed the bellringers in Sarawak to announce the arrival of a future heir to the Brooke Raj, but they clung to the ropes waiting for a signal that never came.) Shortly after the birth of her third daughter, Valerie, Sylvia was told that she could have no more children, so instead she hatched various schemes aimed at overturning the rules of succession in favour of her eldest, Leonora - 'Princess Gold'. At the same time she took every opportunity to blacken the name of the heir apparent, Vyner's nephew Anthony Brooke, accusing him of folie de grandeur when Vyner briefly left him in charge of Sarawak. She said that he had clamped a golden cardboard crown to his car and instructed that all traffic draw aside at his approach.

Sylvia was hardly one to talk, having confessed to her father shortly after her marriage that she wanted 'crowns plastered everywhere'. In general she did not do dignity. Her lack of restraint as Ranee shocked serious-minded members of the Sarawak service - in 1930 the chief justice complained to his mother about the 'unbelievable amount of smut in Her Highness's conversation'. In 1946, after observing the Ranee dancing with two prostitutes in a nightclub and taking them back to the palace to paint their portraits, a visiting MP from Westminster concluded that 'a more undignified woman it would be hard to find'.

Sylvia's daughters, meanwhile, grew up with little in the way of boundaries and Sylvia was happy to live vicariously through them, relishing the fact that 'they never had to stand in a row of anxious virgins as I had done, waiting to be asked to dine or dance'. The 'dangerously beautiful' Brooke girls eventually married eight times between them; their various husbands included the 2nd Earl of Inchcape and the bandleader Harry Roy. According to cousin Anthony, their antics turned Sarawak into 'a music hall joke'.

When, in 1937, Valerie, the wildest of the three, fell into the clutches of the European middleweight 'catch-as-catch-can' wrestling champion Bob Gregory, her wedding was attended by a blaze of publicity which they eagerly fanned by driving around London in a white open car with 'Baba and Bob' painted on the back, and Valerie carrying a toy monkey, larger than she was, wherever she went. They later announced they were going to buy an island in the Netherlands East Indies to be called 'Babaland', where 'every man would be Rajah'. 'We're going to have a democracy,' Valerie declared, 'but with a court and things - maybe an aristocratic democracy. I think a country without lots of uniforms and braids is no fun.'


Publicly, Sylvia joined with Vyner in disapproving of the match, but in the view of the stern chief justice, she was entirely to blame for bringing her daughters up 'like tarts'. At the same time, she contributed to what Anthony called 'this rotten, cheap publicity' by making wildly inaccurate statements whenever she stumbled across a journalist. She did nothing to dispel the impression that Sarawak was populated entirely by headhunters and lotus eaters, and saw to it that her position and influence as Ranee remained enshrouded in myth. But while her peculiar status and activities were endlessly celebrated by the press, the Colonial Office (CO) had long regarded her as 'a dangerous woman'.

In 1942, when she arrived back in England from Sarawak, imaginatively claiming that she had just 'escaped' from the invading Japanese, and volunteering to go on a lecture tour, the CO could think of nothing 'calculated to do less good and more mischief than a lecture by this lady'. After the war, she wanted to be part of the advance party to Sarawak to help re-establish 'normal life', but it was tersely minuted that she 'ought to be the last civilian in the queue - her spiritual home is Hollywood'. When she eventually returned to Sarawak, in 1946, it was to accompany Vyner as he prepared to abdicate. Although she maintained otherwise, she had been secretly pushing for a transfer of sovereignty since the late 1930s. With the country now on its knees after four years of occupation, and with Anthony's presumptuous attitude over the succession becoming increasingly irksome to them both, cession to Britain in return for a financial settlement had become all the more attractive.

On this, their final visit to their kingdom, they landed as usual by flying boat at the mouth of the Sarawak river and transferred to the royal yacht, with Sylvia standing on deck waving her silk scarf all the way upriver to the capital Kuching. 'Never before had we received such a tremendous welcome,' she recalled: 'hundreds of little boats lined the river banks, and behind the boats the crowds were so dense they looked like a forest of dazzling flowers with their golden sarongs and little coloured coats.'

As they went ashore, a 21-gun salute boomed out from Fort Margherita, and as they walked among the people, Sylvia four paces behind her husband (according to Sarawakian custom, she was his slave), Malay women surged through the guard, prodding Vyner beneath his royal yellow umbrella and teasing him that 'the Rajah has got fat'. Later on, as they looked down from their upstairs veranda at the palace, the crowd sang Salamat rumah Tuan Rajah (Blessings on your house, Rajah) and Salamat Tuan Ranee. Sylvia recalled that she 'would have felt further from tears if some of them had denounced us and called down curses on our heads instead of invoking this gracious and merciful benediction, this unanimous affection.' She wondered if it was crossing Vyner's mind not to go through with the cession.

Over the next few days, Dyak chiefs came to the palace to tell of their wartime experiences. Sylvia's old favourite, Temenggong Koh, was now aged 76 but he looked younger than he had before the war, 'refreshed' by the renewed headhunting that had taken place during the occupation. In Sarawak as a whole it was estimated that 1,500 Japanese had lost their heads - which were particularly prized by the Dyaks for being 'nice round heads with good hair and gold teeth'. Officers in the Sarawak service thought that 'this three and a half years of glorious hunting' would not make the Dyaks out of hand, but rather the fact that they had replenished their head supply would tend to keep them quiet.

Vyner and Sylvia later made one final journey up the Rejang river to Kapit, where Temenggong Koh had summoned hundreds of Kayans and Dyaks in their war boats, scarlet capes and hornbill feather head-dresses. When the Rajah came ashore and made a speech, they all fell silent. As Sylvia later wrote, 'he was amongst the people that he loved; and as always in such circumstances, his shyness disappeared. I don't think I have ever admired Vyner more than I did then, as he stood, a tall informal figure in a khaki suit and an old white topi, addressing his warriors and their wives, explaining to them the reasons for the cession. He did not read his speech, but told his story in their legendary language and in the only way that they could really understand; and their fierce lashless eyes never left his face.'

They spent their last night in a longhouse, and the next morning inspected a collection of Japanese heads, which had been smoked and hung in a special corner of the longhouse. The Dyaks explained that they had sent their prettiest daughters down to a pool in the jungle to bathe, and, as Sylvia recorded, when the Japanese had crept up to stare at them 'they had simply lopped off their heads as they went by'.

On July 26, 1946, soon after Sylvia and Vyner returned to London, the Privy Council ordered the annexation of Sarawak to the British Crown. For the first time during their marriage they were now entirely redundant in her affairs, 'shorn of our glory,' Sylvia wrote in her autobiography, 'and faced with the necessity of adjusting to a world in which we were no longer emperors but merely two ordinary, ageing people, two misfits...'

After her unhappy childhood, Sarawak had been 'like a dream come true', and when it ended her existence seemed 'pointless and monotonous, waking up in the morning with no definite purpose, no plan of activity, and with no future to look forward to, only the past to remember.' At night she 'still seemed to hear the Dyak gongs and the distant resonance of muffled drums; to inhale the perfume of the flowers in the little Malay girls' hair. Would I ever cease to long for that enchanted land, or to forget that I had once been part-ruler of it; or break myself of the habit of standing whenever Vyner entered a room, or walking dutifully four paces behind him? Now that we no longer had our country, we had a feeling of isolation, of not belonging. Where was the sentry presenting arms as we went in and out? Where were the Malay boys softly and gracefully waiting on our every wish? Perhaps I had enjoyed it all more than I should...'

Her desolation was compounded by the fact that she and Vyner now lived separately, she in a flat in Archery Close, just north of Hyde Park, he in a house in Albion Street around the corner, which grew increasingly dilapidated as the years wore on. A budgerigar flew freely about Vyner's drawing-room, occasionally pausing to bathe in a jug of water, from which the old Rajah would then pour drinks for his guests. When it became old and ill and obviously dying, Vyner turned his face away and said to his secretary, 'Put it in the water jug.'

Occasionally, he would ask Sylvia to help him get rid of one of his girlfriends, whereupon she would go round to his house and play the indignant wife. She affected to tolerate his endless affairs as 'part of his colour and charm... his little foolishness', adding that in any case it was not entirely his fault, for although she had 'thawed considerably in the Sarawak sun, I was still, to all intents and purposes, a frigid woman'.

She denied that she felt jealous, explaining to her sister Dorothy that she and Vyner had 'too good an understanding for that', and that they had 'made a glorious success of our marriage just because we don't behave like any other husband and wife have ever behaved. We go out together, dine together, have lots of fun, and then at night we call it a day, and go back to our virgin beds. No one who has ever married has so hated the sleeping together more than either he or I did... It's all right when you are young, and it's all right if you want kids. But as an act it is both ridiculous and awkward, and I take a very poor view of it indeed.'

'Sylvia, Queen of the Headhunters: An Outrageous Englishwoman and her Lost Kingdom' (Weidenfeld & Nicolson) by Philip Ead

Charles Vyner Brooke's colourful past

Charles Vyner Brooke.
He was a charmer and womaniser who grew up in the shadow of an autocratic father and then sold his crown for a million pounds. PREMILLA MOHANLALL digs up some juicy stories on Charles Vyner Brooke.

Getting lost can lead you on a voyage of discovery! I had taken a wrong turn after a shopping trip in London and found myself wandering through quiet Albion Street when I stopped to stare at a bronze plaque that read:

Brooke, Sir Charles Vyner (1874-1963)
Last Rajah of Sarawak, lived here.
13, Albion Street W2
London, England

This sent me trawling through the history books to find colourful stories about the family that are little known to most Malaysians.

Charles Vyner Brooke’s best claim to fame was as the rajah who sold his kingdom for a million pounds to the British Colonial Office. He then retired to lead a reclusive life in London, a broken “king” but with a sexual appetite that didn’t wane – he died in the arms of a 17-year girlfriend at age 87!

Brooke, the grandnephew of James Brooke, was an easygoing and spendthrift young man. His father, Rajah Charles, the second White Rajah of Sarawak and James' nephew, once warned his heir: “Our family never entertained the idea of founding a family of Brookes to be European millionaires!”

But his advice fell on deaf ears and the young man, together with his queen, squandered the family money and title, and eventually died in relative obscurity in London. His life reflected his rejection of the spartan lifestyle that his frugal father had imposed on the family.

Young Charles Vyner grew up in the Astana, in Kuching, that was sorely in need of renovation. His father, however, refused to change even one stick of furniture. It was reported that when a resident, A. B. Ward, took it upon himself to replace the moth-eaten tablecloth in the Astana, the enraged Rajah Charles flung it out. Rajah Charles abhorred luxury and comfort saying that he could live as rough a life as his subjects, especially those in remote villages.

From all historical accounts, Rajah Charles was a model ruler. He had inherited a bankrupt state in 1870 from his uncle, James Brooke, the first White Rajah of Sarawak.

The new rajah was a quiet and severe young man who dismissed the British Colonial Office’s model of administration for the colonies as being “apt to exalt Western civilisation to the exclusion of native customs, forcing home-made laws upon reluctant people.”

However, he was opposed to slavery and headhunting and devoted his energy to abolishing these practices. To effect these reforms, he started the Sarawak Service, with 50 officers. He encouraged his officers to marry local women, something that did not endear him to the English ladies of Kuching.

As the white rajah, he, however, considered it his royal duty to produce a white heir. He returned to England to marry Ranee Margaret, a lively young lady, 20 years his junior. Fort Margherita is named after her.

The newly married Rajah Charles then built the Astana, now the official residence of the Governor of Sarawak. Not surprisingly, the Astana was a no-frills affair. He sired three children but they died on a trip back to England on board a British mail boat. From then on, Rajah Charles travelled only on French liners.

He later sired three boys – Charles Vyner, Bertram and Harry. His succession assured, he and Ranee Margaret led separate lives – he preferred the quiet life of Sarawak while she enjoyed the gaiety of London society.

Ranee Margeret socialised with the London literary set and displayed great courage when she chose to ignore convention and protect the two young sons of Oscar Wilde from their father’s homosexual scandal that rocked English society in the 1880s.

Rajah Charles.
Rajah Charles, meanwhile, attended to the affairs of the state with unstinting devotion. He built the courthouse, now a Kuching landmark, where he heard several cases daily. During his reign, gold and oil deposits were found in Sarawak. He also encouraged crop cultivation for exports. To work the mines and grow crops, he encouraged the Chinese to migrate here. This period saw new townships in the predominantly jungle landscape – Sibu, Bintulu and Samarang. Kuching also grew fast.

Charles was a keen horseman who loved racing. He built the Kuching Turf Club to feed this passion. He proclaimed a Race Week once a year, something like the Melbourne Cup Week or Ascot. The first races were held in 1890, using ponies from Sabah; later he imported studs from Australia.

Two racing days were declared public holidays, when Kuching society gathered at the turf club in Pandungan. Grandstands were allocated to Europeans and native chieftains, with a line of huts across the grandstand for locals.

Like his uncle James Brooke, Rajah Charles ruled Sarawak, independent of the British Colonial Office.

Charles Vyner Brooke inherited a financially well-managed state. An affable young man, he married Sylvia Brett, the daughter of Lord Esher and godchild of novelist J.B. Barrie and Bernard Shaw.

She was a social butterfly, who organised dances and amateur theatre for the European community of Kuching. The Rajah built a cinema that was named after her. He also renovated the Astana, transforming it from a ramshackle building to a stately mansion and had an elaborate coronation. Ranee Sylvia proclaimed yellow as the royal colour, for the exclusive use of the Rajah and his family.

This was the heyday of social life in Sarawak, portrayed in the novels of Somerset Maugham – of theatre, dances and Whites-only clubs. During this period, locals were discouraged from entering European clubs, a practice that ran against the previous Brooke rule of encouraging integration.

Charles Vyner was a charming personality and Ranee Sylvia wrote in her biography published in 1972 (released after she died in 1971) that he was a man with a voracious sexual appetite on the trail of skirts, especially local ones, many of whom became close family friends.

In her book, Ranee Sylvia describes the pleasures and strains of life in Kuching, where as the Rajah’s wife, she vetted and accepted philosophically his many mistresses.

Ranee Sylvia was bored and given to big spending; he, on the other hand, did his best to improve the lot of his people but did not enjoy the rigours of administration.

Before long, the state coffers began to dwindle and just months prior to Japanese Occupation, Vyner, who was tired of ruling, announced that he planned to celebrate the centenary of Brooke rule by divesting himself of absolute power.

He had no male heir; the Sarawak Constitution drawn up by the earlier rajahs clearly stipulated that the ruler must be male. Charles Vyner had three daughters and Ranee Sylvia tried to amend the constitution to include female rulers but she failed.

Fort Margherita, built 1879, was named after Ranee Margaret. — Starpix by RAPAEE KAWI
After the war, nationalism was on the rise. Charles Vyner realised that he might have a losing battle on his hands. Besides, he wanted out. So, he ceded the state to the British Crown. He handed over Sarawak’s accumulated reserves of £2.75mil on the understanding that £1mil pounds would be set aside in a trust for himself and his family. Thus ended 100 years of Brooke rule in Sarawak, which became a British Crown Colony on Jul 1, 1945.

Charles Vyner and his wife went their separate ways – he went into exile in London, where he died in 1963.

Ranee Sylvia continued her royal role abroad. Dressed in the royal regalia of Sarawak, she entered the lecture circuit and toured America, where she was received as the Queen of the Headhunters (it’s also the title of her autobiography). A woman with a sense of drama, she also took the Brooke family saga to Hollywood but nothing came out it. She died in 1971 in Barbados.

Their daughters Leonora, Elizabeth and Valerie gained notoriety for their public brawls, family feuds and illicit love affairs. Elizabeth went on to become an actress and died in 2002. Little is known of the other two. W

Brooke Trivia

  • James Brooke was romanticised as a buccaneer and it is said that Charles Kingsley dedicated the novel Westward Ho! to him.

  • Errol Flynn was tipped to play the part of James Brooke in a Warner Brothers movie in 1930s. The script was so heavily fictionalised that the Brooke family refused to endorse it – Hollywood wanted James to be portrayed as a womaniser, which he wasn’t, given an injury that had made him impotent.

  • Rajah Charles was considered an eccentric. After losing an eye in a riding accident he replaced it with a fake eye that was destined for a stuffed albatross!

    Originally published in The Star on Saturday October 30, 2004