sample of a soil profiling
without aerospace engineers
without material engineers
without electrical & electronic engineers
without mechanical engineers
without chemical engineers
Greetings. Today, when I was stalking into some of the Sarawakian folks’ blog, I was vehemently flabbergasted by everyone’s posting – it’s all about the Batang Ai by-Election which will be held on 7th April 2009 – and the most interesting part is, above all the issues, the never-ending Native Customary Rights (NCR) Land topic is the hottest cake!
As someone who had no land at all registered in my own name, I really don’t have to give a shit to this matter but as I came to my consciousness, for God’s sake, I MUST have my say because these lands of whom my forefathers had bequeath upon me are sacred to us!
Every part of the land is sacred to my people. Every shining morning drizzle, every mist in the dark woods, every clearing, and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of all. The sap which courses through the tree – unfortunately being rampaged severely by logging activities – carries the very fond memories of my people. Their struggle, beliefs and destiny are all intertwined in harmony with nature.
The perfumed flowers are our sisters; the deer, the alligator (especially Bujang Senang), the great eagle (War God, Aki Lang Sengalan Burung), these are our brothers. The rocky crests (Gunung Santubong), the juices of the swamps, the body heat of the wild and man - all belong to the same family.
The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water but the blood of our ancestors. Since development is inevitable and should you acquire our land, you must remember that it is sacred, and you must teach your children and your children’s children that it is sacred and that each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father that forever echoes till no end.
The rivers are our brethren; they quench our thirst and feed our children. Should this land is to be yours, you must remember, and teach your children, that the rivers are our brothers.
How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?
But if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. And if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where even any man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the fluorescent’s flowers.
You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with lives of our kin. Teach your children what we have taught our children that the earth is our mother.
When the last of my kind has vanished from this earth, and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the meadows, these shores and forests will still hold the spirits of my people. For they love this earth as a newborn loves its mother's heartbeat.
So, if we sell our land, love it as we've loved it. Care for it as we've cared for it. Hold it in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you take it. And with all your strength, with your entire mind, with all your heart, preserve it for your children, your children’s children and so forth because this land is not what we inherited from our forefathers but it is what we borrowed from the future generation!
"We are not asking for more, neither do we want less. We are just asking for what we believe we deserve"
A Voice from the Long House of IBAN.
