Living With The Mahmeri People of Pulau Lumut, Selangor1

Nadiyah Elias Faculty of Human and Social Development

Universiti Utara Malaysia ( nadiyah@uum.edu.my )2

Suhaidi Sujak

Sekolah Menengah Kebangsaan Ayer Hitam, Kedah (abuisa@ictkedah.edu.my )

This paper is a personal narration of my experience living among the people of Mahmeri for seven months. It also includes my observations of their life and worldview during the pre development phase of the island. Life in Pulau Lumut, now known as Pulau Indah, has changed drastically due to the development of West Port. The Mahmeris of Pulau Lumut has experienced reduction in their catchment of crabs - their main source of income. Whenever we visited ‘home’, I share their sadness when they talked about the changes in their lives. Some of their daughters had gone to mainland to work in factories, and were having social adjustment problems. It is beyond my field of study to report the sad changes in their lives. I am writing this paper in the hope that it might stimulate interest in other researchers to carry appropriate studies, or design programs that will help the Mahmeri people to cope with the changes and survive with their culture intact.

Keywords: Indigenous people, ethnography, personal narrative Background: Moving In to Mahe’s Place In 1993, I met and married my husband, Aidi, he was teaching at the Sekolah Rendah Pulau Lumut, Cawangan Orang Asli [Pulau Lumut Primary School – Branch for Indigenous People]. He had volunteered to work there as a pioneer teacher for the new school, and had been with the people for about two years. He had been staying in the Malay village, but when we married, I suggested that we move in and live among the people. I was in between jobs, and was interested in learning more about indigenous people. Plus I was newly married, and the idea of living on an island with the natives appealed to me as romantic at that time. My two children would attend school with the Mahmeri children, and my husband would not have to commute to work. I was supposed to read and write, and make plans about my life. Aidi’s original vague plan was to live his life as a Mahe, marry a Mahmeri woman at some point of time and become a batin of some sort. With us around, he changed his plan to simply co exist with the community. I would apply for the post of a community worker (penggerak masyarakat) or continue my freelance consultancy work in mainland. We were to stay there for at least three years - however, we only managed to hold out for seven months before moving out of the island, in search of an easier life. Before the development of West Port, Pulau Lumut has only a small community of Malay village people living on one side of the island, and the Mahmeri people living on the rougher side of the island. There were around twenty inter-related families, living in small huts along the bank of a man-made canal, next to a mangrove swamp. The school was built in the middle of the settlement on the same bank, consisting of two blocks of building, a rainwater reservoir with a single pipe, and a single zinc-walled outhouse. The Orang Asli school had one trained teacher assisted by three teachers on attachment, who lived with the Malay community and commuted to school on their motorbikes cross a four mile dirt road.

1 Paper presented at the International Qualitative Research Conference, Johor Baru, August 21-23, 2005. 2 Although this paper was written by the first author, the collected stories and anecdotes were collaborative efforts of the four family members. Muhammad can be can be contacted at matzx76@hotmail.com and Iman can be contacted at Imanhafizah@hotmail.com

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On rainy days, the road became muddy and were sometimes inaccessible, needing high dexterity in handling the motorbike. When the regular road became impassable, the teachers would try to get to school using an alternative back-road, which was not any better. I was always amazed at how the two female teachers were able to handle their motorbikes, as I was not able to pick up the ‘motor cross’ skills. In the language of the Mahmeri people, “Mah” means people, and “Meri” means “sea”. However, the term “Mahmeri” is only used by outsiders to refer to them. The sea going people refer to themselves as “Mahe”, meaning “our people” or “we the people”. We loved the name Mahe, and I referred to the peoples as Mahes, and I named the place in my journal as Mahe’s Place. The settlement had no real names, and the Mahe never referred to their place as a named address. The Mahes have nicknames for the various people who lived around them. “Mah Nincang” (People who will hack you to pieces) was the name given to Indonesian workers, people they considered dangerous and were afraid of. The Chinese were “Mah Cinak” - no nicknames for the Mah Cinak because the Mahes were on good terms with the Chinese that they dealt with. The Chinese person that they dealt with were referred to on a first name basis. The Malay people were called “Mah Jobok”. To this day, I still have no idea what it meant, but I knew for sure that it was derogatory, because parents would hush their children when the terms were used in front of us for describing other Malays. My family was not a “Jobok” because we were Mahes – living with them had qualified us as one of the family. Mahes also liked to give names to people they like, and the names would be something outstanding about the person3. My husband’s Mahe name was Cikgu “Lempen”- meaning “flat”, a reference to the flat Afghanistan cap headgear that he used to wear. The women referred to me simply as “Gauk” – a general term to mean sister. The men and the children simply referred to me as “Cikgu”, even though I was not officially a teacher. They seldom referred to me by my name. Our first task with the move was to create a living space. There were no living quarters for teachers at that time, so we moved around some portable dividers, and created our living space in the classroom block. For rain protection and privacy, Aidi put up several bidai, rolled up curtains made with tarpaulin sheets, weighted with bakau poles (a pole from the mangrove tree). Aidi’s adopted father, Pak Hemping, donated sheets of attaps, and build a lean-to roof for our outdoor kitchen. The Shah Alam JHEOA (Department on the Affairs of the Indigenous People) people helped us transport my possessions from mainland - my books, our clothes and kitchen utensils – I had sold all my furniture and electrical appliances, but there were still too many stuff for moving to an island. I had brought all my kindergarten furniture and material because they would fit with the school environment. The wooden boxes doubled up as storage containers and the children’s bed - which they nicknamed “the coffins”. We slept on two kindergarten low tables, joined together. On top of that, the department officer added a dresser as a wedding present from the department, which added to our things. It was a big effort to move the things from mainland into the boats, but when we arrived at the island, the Mahe people, adults and children, simply lined up and picked a piece of something and carried them into our living space. It was the best kind of greeting I ever had in my life, and it really felt like coming home4. Adjusting to Being a Mahe Although the people were very welcoming and accommodating to us, the place was not. There were plenty of agas (gnats), whose bites were more vicious, and lasted longer than bites from mosquitoes.

3 This reminds me of the way deaf people pick a sign to use as your name. If you were fat looking, deaf children would conveniently use the verb fat to refer to you. 4 I must state that I was never there as a professional ethnographer. We had “gone native” even before we started. Although this account might be of some use to anthropologists and ethnographers, it is definitely not a systematic ethnography.

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The Mahes taught us to maintain a portable smoking log around the clock. The bakau logs were the kind that burned slowly and produced a lot of smoke that seemed to deter the agas. It was burned in a square can, and I would lug the “asap” around, even into our living space. I learned to love the smoky smell, but our shirts would have little holes in them burned by the sparks. Once, when we were sleeping, the log burned out of the can, and some of my books caught fire and it burned our good carpet. The Mahes did not need the smoking logs at home as they appeared to be immune to the agas, but they told me that they would smoke the logs for their babies who had not yet grown immunity against the agas. It was difficult to carry out the daily tasks of housekeeping and preparing for food. I had to scrub our clothes by hand, carry water for cooking and bathing, and gather firewood for the agas smoke. I brought along the gas stove, but it was hard cooking in the windy outdoors. Aidi had nailed planks on three sides of the stove table, but the wind would still blow out the fire from the open side. I managed to windproof the stove by surrounding the pot with tin cans, but we burnt our supply of powdered milk, sugar, and cocoa powder. We ended up with a lot of different wastage due to the rough conditions. A lot of my stuff were ruined from rain and fire sparks – and the dogs were forever circling our kitchen, trying to steal sugar or eggs. I kept all my rations in a big garbage can5 screwed tight. Somehow, the Mahe dogs were smart and they learned to overcome my changing security system. Every time they won, we would be out of sugar and eggs. Since it was hard to get vegetable supplies from outside, I followed the Mahe’s way and gathered my own greens, which would consume a lot of my time. As eggs and bilis6 were our only available source of protein, I had to supplement our meal with whatever variety of sea food given by the Mahes. Processing strange fishes was hard work for me. There was no electricity, so we used a gasoline lamp7 at night. Aidi never quite learned how to pump the gas, so we burned a lot of bulbs. Although the Mahes did not use gasoline lamps, but they were good at setting it up. The few times Aidi had to go outstation, somebody would send a person to help light up the gasoline lamp. The cost of gasoline, I remember, was higher than my previous electricity bills. The Mahe did not appear to need heavy lighting. When we visited their houses at night, they would have one or two pelita8 for a house. They either went to bed early or simply sat in the dark - conversing, listening to the radio or drinking tea. The Batin’s house has a generator, but it was only used for the television set, shared with the rest of the community. The Mahes may sleep early or stay up very late into the night. They were used to shifting sleeping hours as their boats trip were regulated by the shifting tide cycle. The Mahe’s jetty was only accessible when the tide was full, so they needed to time their going in and out according to the schedule of the tide. Once, we followed Pak Hemping on a trip to pasar minggu in Klang. Trusting his judgment, we did not ask about the tide schedule. It was only later that I learned that the tide would be just right at three o’clock in the morning. Pak Hemping sat there on the beach, spouting wise sayings and teaching me about the tides and other important things in life. I had to convince myself that we were normal, sane people - we were just using Mahe’s norm. You could probably say that it was not unlike waiting for a bus to go home. To the Mahes, five hours of waiting was not considered a high price for a trip to pasar malam. There was also no piped water at Mahe’s Place. We relied on the rain catchments for drinking, cooking and bathing. Each house would have their own rain water catchments and a place for bathing 5 Since we had no use for our garbage can, we upgraded them to be used for storing food. This was not proper behavior for the Malay culture, but we were using Mahe’s philosophy, “be practical and never waste.” I believe that once, when we were holding a kenduri, the food container was again upgraded to a drink container. 6 Dried and salted little fishes eaten by Malaysians and other Asians. 7 It was actually kerosene lamp, but Malaysians called it gasoline lamp. 8 A small traditional wicker lamp using kerosene

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and washing clothes. It would usually be a few planks in a secluded place, a bit away from the house. There was no wall or screen, but the ladies were careful about their privacy, and probably took their bath at discreet times. Aidi said that he had never seen a Mahe woman bathing. Apart from the un-walled bathroom, the Mahe had no toilet. The adults would perform their toilet task out in the bush further inland, behind their houses. If they sensed someone approaching, the person would give a certain warning call in order to maintain privacy. It was the same greeting call that they use to hail each other from a distance9. The children had no reservations among themselves. It was common practice for them to go down the banks of the canal right after recess10. The place offered privacy from anyone above the banks, but they would be in sight of each other. I was not sure on whether there were sex segregation because they would loudly protest should we approach anywhere near the place. The Mahe children usually bathed in full clothes. They would apply soap on their clothes while bathing. Afterwards, they would simply wring their clothes and continue to wear them, letting the clothes dry on their body, already cleaned. They would wear the same clothes for two weeks or two month, depending on the durability of the clothes and the availability of replacement clothes. We were fortunate for the single zinc-walled toilet, which I also used as a bathroom. My two children soon learned that it was easier to follow the Mahe children’s method of bathing than to carry buckets of water to the toilet. I drew the line at wearing wet clothes, so my children complained about having to scrub their clothes and hang them up to dry – to them, it was very un-Mahe and so unpractical. The Draught and the Storms Although we lived in the wet equatorial Malaysian climate, the flat island was known to endure severe long droughts. Heavy clouds would drift cross the island, but they would not bestow rain on the flat island. It was during this time that I learned about the considerateness of the Mahe people and their hardiness in facing their tough life. During times of plenty, the water from the rain reservoir was used by all Mahes. They would take a bath there after coming back from the sea, and ladies would sometimes scrub clothes at the pipe. However, the adults stopped using the pipe during drier times. After the water dropped below a certain level11, I noticed that even children did not approach the pipe. It appeared that they had somehow collectively agreed to reserve the water for our family’s use only12. During the drought, the Mahes transported their drinking water with their boats, getting the supply from mainland, or from the Malay village13, storing them in plastic containers using their boats. Although they did not make trips for the sole reason of transporting water, they probably paid the highest price per gallon among residents of Malaysia. However, I never heard them complaining

9 Whenever we used that call, I would be amused because it would also remind me of the call out in the bushes. 10 The toilet practice was due to having their first meal of the day during recess. The children were given free meals during recess, under the “Rancangan Makanan Tambahan”, a supplementary meal program for poor children in primary school. All students from indigenous school were considered eligible for the program. The teacher living in the Malay village would bring the food in the morning, along with some extra goodies to sell. 11 Monitoring water level was part of life on the island. The children would climb up the wall of water reservoir and report to us the water level, whether it was half a tank, or a quarter. Different water level would determine different style of water usage. 12 I did not know how they got into collective agreement, but there were a few other times I have experienced the people making uniformed moves that appeared to be the result of a meeting. One example of collective action was when all the children suddenly stopped joining our daily prayers. I was sure that they did not hold formal meetings, but their sudden uniform or collective moves made it appear that way. 13 During dry times, the government supplied water barges to the villagers. The Malay village also had a small mini-electric powerhouse that supplied electricity in the night-time.

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about this. To them, transporting drinking water was probably accepted as part of the price of living - the way we pay for gas and rent. Many of them offered to transport water for us if we could provide the plastic containers, but we declined because we could not afford to compensate them for the gasoline for their boats, and we felt that transporting water was too much of a hard life. So we chose to drastically ration our water usage instead, learning to bathe with the littlest water possible, using cups as dippers, and we learned to pray the istiqsa prayers14. It would probably be a smart move to stop bathing altogether, but we have not progressed to that level of smartness yet. I was not sure how they bathed and cleaned during those dry times. They probably bathed somewhere during their mainland trips, or skipped bathing altogether – but the water from the school reservoir seemed to be reserved for our family use only. After a few weeks or months of water various level of water shortage - the season changed and we got back our much needed rain. With the wet season came severe thunderstorms and gales. Because the place was a small flat island with no hills or wind barrier, it was not unlike being on a big ship in the middle of the sea. When the storms hit, I felt like there was no protection from the weather at all. The thunders would strike right above your head – and there was no tall buildings or even coconut trees to take the hit. During those times, all activities ceased, and I would just huddle with my children and pray. Once, we felt so threatened that Aidi got up and called out the azan15 while I just cried because I was afraid that he might be hit standing up. The children and I were afraid because we were not used to it, but Aidi was more afraid for us because he knew what the storms could do. During the same season a year before, the storm had blown away the roof of the school building. Classes were held at Pak Hemping’s house while the building was being repaired. After the desperate call of azan, the thunder cooled down a bit, and the rain began to come down - I must say that living on the edge would really keep your thoughts close to God. The next day I asked some Mahe women about the storm, but they did not appeared to be affected by the storms. Thunderstorms just meant that they would not need to transport water for a while. It was interesting that none of their small huts have been blown off by the winds. I believe that they knew more about their environment, and was good at adapting to it. Their simple architecture was more suited to their environment than the government built schoolhouse. The Daily Life of the Mahe People True to their given name, The ‘sea people’ exists with the sea. The sea to them was more than a source of income - It was their home. The Mahe women told me that in their ancestors used to live in small boats. Some of them were known to do it from time to time – for about a week or more - in between their homes in various islands, or they would venture out to further seas spending a few days on a boat. Their boats could be fixed with a small low roof, and they had a simple, but highly efficient portable stove – wood chips burned in an old pot. You could put a wok or hold another pot on top to cook things, but most of the times, they simply grilled the fish on top of the pot-stove. Aidi has no idea how they did their bathroom tasks in the boat. The times that they were with him, they took care to periodically land for his prayers16, and he never thought to ask about it.

14 A special prayers requesting for rain. It is carried the same way as a regular Muslim prayers, but carried out in the open, under the dry sky. 15 The azan or call for prayers are also called out by Muslims in distress. Muslims also practices calling out the azan during fire breakouts of natural calamities. I have recorded reports of the Tsunami victims in Kota Kuala Muda, Kedah, of them calling out azan when they saw the tsunami coming. They believed that it was the azan call that helped saved their lives.

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Before marriage, Aidi used to follow them on overnight fishing trips. They would take him to various favorite spots for certain kind of fishes that they wanted. They would always warn him not to tell the Mah Jobok about the spots. According to them, Mah Jobok would fish a place to death, so they could not be trusted with the knowledge. Most of the times, the Mahe people would go out to the sea and come back daily, their hours shifting according to the cycle of the tide. They would usually go in pairs - whether a husband-wife team or a team of two males. Females were known to handle boats on their own, something that I much admired and envied. However, women only ventured out on fishing trips with their husbands, and it was also common practice for them to stay at home and take care of babies and young children. The Mahe would catch fish more for their own consumption, but their main source of income were from the ketam minyak (oil crab)17. The crabs fetched a price higher than the regular crabs, and much higher than the fish. The crabs could be found in holes in the mud swamp. The Mahe would either walk to the swamp around the settlement during low tides, or they would take their boat and park it at other mud swamps. The Mahe would walk bare footed, and they performed a quick shuffle walk that made them appear to glide on the mud. If you do not have the skill, you will sink down to your ankle or your knee before you can lift the other foot. The big crabs lived in holes in the mud, and the Mahe knew which holes would have crabs and which would have snakes. They used a thin bar with a hook at the end. When they poke this in the whole, the big crab would grab at the hooked end thinking that it was enemy. You need to quickly pull the crab before it realized that it was being pulled. Given enough time, the crab will dig its other claws in the mud, and you will only get half a claw. I have not ventured on crab hunts to even get half a claw, but Aidi told me that he sank in the mud, and that the Mahe would not let him go barefoot because the mud was full of sharp bakau roots. The Mahe has already developed thick resistant soles because of their habit of going barefoot even on land. When they caught a crab, The Mahe would tie up those big nasty two claws to the side of the crab’s body and put them in their backpack basket. These baskets looked like those traditional indigenous open backpacks, but the Mahe made them from synthetic material such as those used for fishing nets. Sometimes they would let the crabs roam free in the sampan. I have seen unsold crabs roving around in the houses of Mahe, their claws tied to their body. I stopped eating those crabs after I tried to cook them. The first few times I ate them was when the Mahe or Aidi prepared them. They tasted sweeter than the regular crabs, plus they had more meat on them. One time when Aidi was not around and somebody brought us a live crab, with a warning not to take off the rubber band from the claws. I was supposed to hit the crab, but neither my children nor I could do it. So we decided to just put the crab in the wok and sort of just cook it off first. What happened was the crab ran around in the hot wok, and we sort of laughed or shrieked in horror. We probably gave it to someone to eat, and the oil crab was striked off from my list of food. The Mahe would sell their catch to the Chinese towkay who supplied their boat and engine. The agreed price for the Mahe was much lower than the retail price outside, which my husband thought was exploitative. However, the Mahes thought that it was a fair deal since the towkay supplied the boat and the startup money for the gasoline. Once, he tried to be the middle person and bought them the crabs at a higher price. He tried the project for a few days before giving up. The Mahe people

16 This is another example of the Mahe’s considerateness and sensitivity to other people. Aidi never requested for his prayer times because he did not mind praying in the boat; but the Mahes would go to the land for his prayers, or wake him up for prayer time. 17 The ketam minyak is a big black crab that could survive for quite some time on land. The island villagers assured me that it was permissible in Islam to eat the crab, but I was not too sure about it. The crab is also known as ketam nipah in some parts of Malaysia.

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would only sell to him the crabs left over from their sales to the boat towkay. Not really understanding the value of his teacher salary, they suggested that he buy a few boats for them to use so that they would be able to sell all their crabs to him. The Mahes were also scavengers by tradition. They would collect from the sea, anything they consider useful. These treasures were called “yong lin tang”. A Mahe would show off his yong lin tang the way a person show off their hunting bounties or the way shoppers show off their good bargains. The most common yong lin tang are driftwoods. Surprisingly, the sea offered plenty of good wooden planks, beams and other building material. Mahes do not waste their money buying building material beyond nails, but their hut appeared to be well-built. They would chop off bakau trees for the pillars and the beams, and weave ‘pelop’ or nipah sheets for the roof. The floor and the walls would be from their yong lin tang. It was common for a Mahe’s house to be in a state of incompletion. Some parts of the walls would be unfinished or not even started. They would start their house with pillars, beams, and floor, and then only continue with the roof. They would already be living in the house, while carrying out the building in stages. Aidi asked about this logic because to his knowledge, the traditional Malay way of building a house was to start with the roof before the floor. They told him that they did not mind the rain and the sun, and if they put up the floor first, it would break their fall, should they have an accident in putting up the roof. Even a finished house would not have a whole wall in full. Apart from the one bedroom, they would usually be put up the bottom part of the wall, letting in light and air. The houses did not have any bidai (blinds)- I imagined that the rain would blow in during the storms. I would assume that the Mahe did not mind a bit of water because the design was not due to lack of yong lin tang. Parents would sleep in the one bedroom, and the daughters would sleep outside. Bigger boys would start collecting their own yong lin tang, and start their own mini-hut, a bed size hut next to their parents’ house. The Mahe Children: My first experience with our Mahe children was at the national zoo of Ulu Kelang. Aidi was taking them on their first trip to the zoo, and he invited me to be with them. I had previously worked with other indigenous children from mainland, but they were from more integrated communities, compared to the island Mahe. My first jolt was seeing them I uniforms of various states of dishevel ness. They were small in size. Some of the younger girls looked like they could be three years old, and some school uniforms were almost to their ankles. They were standing in a line, their hands up to the shoulder of those in front, not moving at all. They were at the entrance and were disturbing the flow - so I asked the girl to move. She did not appear to respond. It was only when Aidi came and lead the front girl by hand, that the line moved – still hands to shoulders. When they got into a clear space Aidi gave the command “jatuh tangan”[hands down]. I laughed and asked Aidi why he treated his children as robots. According to him, they only behaved like this because they are not used to the strange and new surrounding. “See for yourself when they are back in school”. It was hard to believe that they were the same children when I saw them later in their own environment. I was commissioned to carry out an educational motivation project with them, sponsored by Pusat Dakwah, a government agency. In my assessment, most of the children were sharp and quick to learn. The younger children were up par on their Math and reading ability, and they showed their Mahe tendency to be a quick learners. I sang a made up song to them as and entertainment, and to my surprise they were able to follow me after the second time it was sung. I was later told that the song became ‘top hit’ for a few weeks afterwards.

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There were 34 students in the school. A few older boys already refused to go to class because they were already interested in going out to the sea to earn money. Their ages were from 6 to 14 years old. The whole school was divided into only two classes - Standard 1 and Standard 2. The six year old and the seven year old were in the standard one class, and the rest were in standard 2. Aidi told me that the children were not able to tolerate stranger at all when the school first started. If a nurse or a person from any agency happened to visit, they would all run and hid in the bushes or down the river bank. Then only one or two of the braver ones would come back and ‘ricky’ the strangers. By the time I arrived, the school was already two years in operation, and the children were open to visitors. The younger children were very reticent when we first met, but now that I was their ‘cikgu’, they became physically affectionate. They would sit on my lap, or on my side. One would be fanning me from the agas, and the rest would be fingering my watch, my bracelet, and tracing the patterns of my shirt. I would not consider this behavior as developmentally appropriate for five to eight year old Malay children - but it appeared to be a normally acceptable behavior for chidren of that age in their community18. They also loved to give simple observational comments.

“Cikgu putih, ya cikgu?” ( Teacher, you are so fair, is that correct?) These comments were given spontaneously without reflection judgemental or social aspects. “ Cikgu gemuk , ya cikgu?” (Teacher, you are fat, is that correct?) and also, pointing to my acne ; “Ini jerawat, ya cikgu?” (Teacher this is called jerawat, is that correct?) The children were very obedient, and strictly observe the few rules they have learned in school. They would not eat unless they recite the eating prayers first, and they were very careful to keep their classroom clean and discard trash into the waste basket. However, this rule was practiced only within the school compound, and did not stop them from littering their home compound. I am not sure who taught them that watches have got to be worn a certain way. I have a habit of wearing my watch with the face inside my wrist. During the program, every time they sat next to me, they would turn around my watch, saying: “Cikgu pakai jam salah” (Teacher, you are wearing the watch wrong). I only spent time with a few Mahe women who were my immediate neighbors, but I spent a lot of my time with the Mahe children. After school, they would go home to change clothes and come back again almost immediately. This caused a bit of discomfort on my side as I often did not have time to eat with my family in private. I was not sure about their arrangement of meal times, and I forgot to enquire. I believed the Mahe women cooked whenever convenient, and their children would eat at home whenever food was available. They probably did not have lunch because they have just had a good meal during recess, so they would be milling around during our lunch time. The children would not ask for food, but they would willingly sit down and eat with you if invited. I could not afford to feed them daily, and was not comfortable eating around them. So in the end I learned to request that for them to not come back during our meal times. This they took in good grace, but I had wished that I could afford to buy more rice, eggs, and bilis. The Mahe children loved eggs. If you asked them what was their favourite food, they would unanimously vote “kepoh hayyem!!!” (chicken eggs). They did not happen to like chicken. We never bought meat or chicken during our stay, but once on a mainland trip, a good Samaritan managed to arrange for a free KFC pack for the children. The Mahe children only ate the buns, leaving the chickens to me and my two children who have not yet lost taste for chickens. 18 The parents around did not reprimand them to act their age, or show more respect to visitors.

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After an agency visit, the visiting officers would sometimes leave rations for the Mahe, and we would cook for kenduri ( mass eating). Even though I hated cooking, I would enjoy these activities because the women would all come to help and the children were willing workers. Because of their life style the Mahe cooks simple dishes, but they love to eat the Malay coking which needed elaborate preparation. I forgot how we got the condiments and the coconut milk for these occasions, but they would be there. (The Mahe probably went to the shop on the Malay side to get these). I remember preparing curry with meranti or semanti leaves. The Mahe’s way of preparing it was to boil it first with water and pour out the bitterness before eating it. My way was to pick only the tender shoots so that it would not be too bitter. I trusted their pickings and they trusted my cooking. In the end, we had a wonderful looking fragrant curry that was too bitter to eat. The Mahe did not complain about my bad cooking. They simply fished out the leaves and ate them anyway. We spent a lot of times cooking what they brought back or picked. One of our reliable source of protein was the siput sedut- the mud slugs. These slugs were in plenty, and the Mahe children would pick them up and sell them to the village shop to earn their pocket money. I would send my children to get some siput, or pick semanti or hele, and the other children would volunteer to help them with the tasks. Then all of them would help me process the food, and we would all eat together the meal, usually supplemented with eggs or bilis. I washed the dishes in a home made sink- a plastic basin fitted in a hole in the shelf. The water needed to be carried from the school pipe, but there were many volunteers. Once in a while, I followed the children on their hunt for siput sedut or lokan (abalones). Once I followed them on their leaky boat along the water canal. The children had one leaky boat for a play thing. Somebody had to bail water all the time, but it provided good practice for the children. They had me sit out in front because “cikgu gemuk”. While half of them rowed and the other half bailed water. When you passed through the bridges, you have to lie down because the bridges were so low. I realized afterwards that we could have arrived faster had we waked along the canal, and that I had just participated in child play – Mahe style. Most of the Mahe children had good fine motor skills, and coordination. Aidi told me that most of they were very good at drawing. Their favorite drawings were that of boats and sampans, and they would draw this in fine details. In following them on their rounds, I observed that even the girls were able to climb the short coconut trees and pick out coconuts. The villagers had coconut orchards, and according to the children the owner had offered to them that they could pick out some any time. I trusted them because I have not seen occasion when they have lied to me. So the girls climbed up and picked a few coconuts, and we lugged them back all the way to Mahe’s place. They also showed good ability in picking up language. When school first started, the children did not know Malay, by the time I arrived two years after, they were all conversing fluently with me in Malay. I was also able to teach them to follow simple instructions in English. Unlike the Malay children I have taught, the Mahe children were not intimidated by English. To them, it was just another language to pick up. They were also very sensitive and curious, which made them quick learners. For example, in one lesson, I would jump and say the word “jump”. Being ever responsive, they would immediately jump and say the word “jump”. The next day you say “jump”, they would immediately respond. Not only that -if you teach one child a word, he would go around showing off to other children, and the lesson would be spread to other children. We were also proud to see the children progress fast to being at ease with the outside society. Several agencies were good at giving money for school trips, so we were able to arrange for trips to mainland. In one trip to Matic19 and Central Market, I pointed to some tourists and told the children; “Those people spoke English”. The children took turn to shake hands with them and asking “What is your 19 A government sponsored cultural complex where tourists can watch cultural shows.

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name?” Although they were very shy as an individual, they did not have problems when functioning as a group. We were able to put on a spontaneous show during our visit to central market and the national library. Upon request from the management, these children performed their traditional sewang dance, and we had to coax Malay children who were too shy to join them. I must admit that I was so proud that they had surpassed the Malay children in social courage. Schooling: In general, Mahe parents tolerated schooling and were very positive towards it for young children. However, they probably see the school as a pleasant social activity, and not as preparation for future life. The younger children would attend the school regularly, but once they got to the age where they could be of help with the fishing work, the boys would start to come less frequently and ended up dropping from school. It was Aidi’s dream that the boys would finish schooling and get university education so that they could take care of their community. He believed that an educated member of the community would be the best person to champion the community, and they could help the community better themselves. There were a few indigenous people working in the JHEOA, and we admired them for being quite outspoken in some matters. After we left the community, we heard later that some of the boys went to the boarding place for indigenous people, in the Hulu Langat District, and attended a secondary school. We have not yet not heard them schooling beyond that. Aidi described his first day of school as a stage show - the children and him in a small classroom, and the parents watching from the outside. Whenever he gave an instruction the parents would all shout the translated order. For example, he would say “bangun” – the parents would say – “leg leg leg” until all the children has stood up. When he said “duduk” there would be prompts of “kop kop.” He picked a few Mahe words this way, and met the children halfway, and that was how they got into the business. There was one mentally retarded child called Jimmy. He would not wear any clothes no matter how anyone try to persuade him. He did not looked too naked because his body was smeared with dried mud. Jimmy seemed to like me probably because I always tried to give him some shirts in the hope that he might wear them. He had this habit of surprising me from behind and thumping me hard on the back. It was disturbing, but I did not know how to stop him. However the children would help me by announcing his arrival, so if I were facing him when he approached, he would not thump me on my back. My Children’s Adjustment to Living at Mahe’s Place Among the places that they have been throughout their childhood, my children both agreed that the best times of their lives was being a Mahe. They were nine and ten when they were there, at the age where friendship means a lot. Iman was having problems finding new friends every time we moved, so it was the first time she had gotten so many friends who accepted her conditionally. Muhammad experienced positive interactions instead of his past experienced of being bullied. The children learned to climb, swim, walk in the mud, and they picked up the habit of running around bare-footed. They were careful to wear their slippers around me, but they told me later that they would shed them off as soon as they were out of my sight. Wearing footgear was a disadvantage in many of their activities. Aside from attending school, they spent their days collecting siput sedut , hele or meranti. The rest of the time was spent playing in the water, playing games or scavenging around the settlement. Part of their activity was gathering edible fruits in the wood. The Mahe children taught them what could or could not be eaten. They grew very dark, and picked up the habit of wearing ragged clothes. If you go by looks or behavior - you could not distinguish them from other Mahe children.

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My daughter, Iman, told me that one time the Mahe children ventured out to sea with them in the leaky boat. The children had miscalculated the tide and the river had dried when they were on their way back, leaving their leaky boat stranded on the mud swamp. They had to drag the boat while doing their shuffle walk, and tempers blew along the way. They got back safely, and continued playing, and did not even bother to recount to me what they went through. Towards the end of our stay, the headmaster of the main school for Pulau Lumut insisted that our two children attend the main school for the Malay children instead of taking classes with the Mahe. I was not sure of his motive, but he gave the reason that the level of education at Mahe was too low for our children. The children were transferred to the village school, and Aidi had to send them and fetch them daily. The children were not happy to be away from their Mahe friend, and they resented having less time to play around the area. Iman also felt that it was her duty to explain to her Malay friends that her Mahe friends were real people. After the transfer, a few children from the Malay community came to our place to get extra tuition together with my children. The bigger Mahe children stayed away from these classes. I was not sure whether they were shy with the Malay children or whether they considered intensive tutoring to be too boring. I was sad for the gap of interest, but I did not know how to handle lessons with mixed groups. Among memories that Iman recalled was learning to love dogs instead of fearing them. Most Mahe households would have at least one dog each, and they were considered part of the family. The Mahe children loved their dogs, and Iman learned to appreciate them too. The Mahe dogs would bark at strangers, but they would respond to anyone’s discipline. When you want to discipline a Mahe dog, you say in a firm voice; “hancit”. There is no direct translation for the word hancit. It was a reprimand word used only for dogs, but the Mahe did it with affection, the way they would reprimand their children. The voice was strict and sharp, but you could see that they were proud of them. I believe that hancit could be loosely translated to – “beat it!”. The dog would respond by moving away slightly. Mahe dogs reacted to the adults the same way the children did- they were obedient in a casual, non-threatened way. In case you did not succeed, a sterner warning would be “hancit- log!” (beat it- do you want a stick?) However, those were just empty threats. I never saw a Mahe beat their dog and I never saw any Mahe physically discipline their children. According to Muhammad, what he remembered most about his Mahe friends was that he never saw them raise their voice or got involved with fights. He did not even recall anyone saying bad things to anyone else. When I asked him about the boat incident, he recalled a different story from Iman. According to him, their leaky boat were about to be swept out to the sea by the receding tide. Iman wanted to row against the current, but Jamil wanted to get to a bakau tree and hold fast. He and Iman was panicked, and they fought. However, Jamil simply ignored Iman and coped with the situation according to his judgment. After the current passed, they resumed rowing halfway, and pulled. I am inclined to accept Muhammad’s version because I have seen how the Mahe boys coped with Iman whenever they disagreed with her. If they were in the middle of a game and she turn on her bossy act, the boys would slink away fast, leaving her alone- hands on hips. Aidi used to say this about her; ”There goes a leader without any follower”. When the children wanted to watch television, they would gather with the Mahes at houses that had a television set. They acquired a taste for Tamil and Hindi films because the Mahes watched them and nothing else. The agencies knew about this because if they came to visit, they would sometimes show an old Tamil film on an outdoor screen. Rain or not – the Mahe would be out there, my two children included.

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The Mahe adults were generous towards house guests. They would hand out soft drinks or goodies to everybody, if they happened to have them. Muhammad treasured those treats since he was not able to go to shops often. The only times we teach the children to differentiate ourselves from the Mahe were during their festivities. In celebrating, they would get drunk with the free liquor from their Chinese boat owners. During those nights, we would keep our children indoors. The Mahe never invited us to their festivities involving liquor, but Muhammad recalled that someone would bring us some drinks and goodies so that the children would not miss out. Learning the Mahe Language: As much as they mixed around with the Mahe children, my two children did not pick up the Mahe language. This was because the other children used the Malay language with them all the time. I was able to pick up the language because I kept a systematic log of all the words I have learned, and I actively seek out meanings of words from my list of important words. This I would do by asking the children and the women. The children enjoyed being my teachers, but the women were embarrassed when I asked them too many questions. Although Aidi was more fluent in speaking Mahe, I believe I had more vocabulary than he did. From my observation, the Mahe language is an offshoot of the Malay language. The grammar and the sentence structure was exactly the same, and learning them was simply a matter of knowing the substitute words in Mahe. To me, learning Mahe was more similar to learning the sign language than say, learning English or Arabic. After going through my word list, I discovered that the words in Mahe simply consisted of basic words such as basic behavior, gender, body parts, and things around the house. The Mahe people supplied the same words as in Malay for things like the names for animals, colors and complex adjectives. I did not know whether the Mahe did had different words for those, and they were forgotten due to assimilation to the Malays culture, or whether the Mahe really did not concepts for those words. However, I believe that most languages would have names for colors- at least for the basic colors. It could also be that the Mahe were not interested in supplying me with the words. I am only a layperson in language, but I am inclined to believe that the Mahe language is simply an offshoot of the Malay language. Some Outstanding Characteristics and Observed Cultural Difference Bright and Intelligent. One outstanding characteristics of the Mahe people was that they were intelligent and quick learners. In their own environment, they were very adaptive, learning how to use boats, co existing with outside societies, and being with the changing world around them. You could see the way they make use of material, that they were creative people. One example was the back-pack woven from synthetic material. They also built their own houses, use gadgets they considered useful such as radios or television set. The Mahe adults were also fast in learning new skills. When I taught them reading, they were able to progress fast, some from nothing to being able to pick out words from the newspaper. However, the class lost its novelty and did not last long. Some complained that hard work and they were not making progress, and some were satisfied with their level of skills and did not see any reason to continue. Monetary Transactions and Private Properties One basic difference that I had to deal with was the Mahe idea of individual property and shared property, and their reluctance to have monetary transactions among Mahe. The Mahe shared alike what they have and make do with what they did not have. This was hard on us because we would like to keep our food supply steady. The Mahe close to me had no qualms about coming over and asking for a cup of sugar. It was hard on me because my sugar supply ran out faster than I could handle. I

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knew that I could run over to them and ask them for some instead of worrying about going to the shop, but I could not bring myself to do so. I also had problems getting protein supply because the Mahe would not sell their fish to me. In the outside life, I could probably just order something like five fish per day and pay the vendor daily or monthly, but if I asked a Mahe for some fish, they would bring too much one day, and refused to take any money for it, and then forgot about me until I asked again. In the end, I resigned myself to a diet of bilis, sardines, and kepoh hayyem. We were lucky that the Mahe children loved kepoh hayyem so much, because we could ask children for the siput sedut and repay them with meals of kepoh hayyem. Looking back, I realize now that the Mahe was open to barter trading, but I had not learned the skills yet. What I should have done was to ask for the fish – and then, pay them with sugar or eggs. I also should also have learned to say no without feeling bad. The people did not know how poor or well of we were. They probably did not know which supply was from outside agencies to be shared and which was our private property. If I had said to them that I could not share the sugar because I would have difficulty in getting some more, they would have understood. However, in my previous culture, I had never been trained to handle issues such as daily borrowings of sugar and eggs. Once, I met some army officers during a fishing expedition. They probably took pity on me and later came visiting with a whole box of army rations. The Mahe people were used to agencies visiting, bearing gifts. They proceeded to each take a few stuff back home, leaving me in despair, because I have not learned how to tell them that those stuff were meant for my personal usage. One thing that I did not like about was the way Mahe spend their money. Although they only earned a little money, they would spend them without budgeting, and they did not seem to care about the price. For example, they would spend all their money on food when visiting the mainland pasar minggu. When we visited the pasar minggu, we would stock up on bilis, onions, and eggs. Instead of buying provision, the Mahe would spend their money on expensive ready made food to be eaten for the day. During the stay in the settlement, they would just make do with eating hele with rice, or only salted fish and rice. They would also buy sardines from the village shop when they could buy it at a lower price in mainland. It also did not make sense to me that they would sell all their fish at a low price, and then spend the hard earned money buying sardines at an overpriced cost20. They would also buy vegetables at times, something that bothered me. I tried to explain to them some of the “Jobok” economy, but it did not make sense to them. To them, money was to be spent, and as long as you were happy, it was well spent. They did not spend time gardening because they have not been trained to cultivate the earth. After a while, I began to understand their logic towards money. Since they did not need money for the basic living necessity, money was only for getting extra comfort in life. They did not have to pay rent or buy a house, or pay monthly utility bills. So, it was logical if all their money went into buying food – especially ready food that they did not know how to prepare. If you have money – you could spend it all, and if you don’t, you could still survive. Therefore, as a Mahe, there was no need to budget or make plans for money. Mahe’s Economy – Efficient Use of Resources Although the Mahe was not careful with their money, they were not by nature wasteful people. In their own environment, they were very efficient in using their resources. I would not consider them wasteful extravagant people, or extremely thrifty people. It was just that their economy was different. For example, while they were spend all their money o ready made food, they would not waste it buying clothes. A Mahe would wear a dress till they fall to tatters, but once they got a replacement; they would discard the clothes for the new ones. I admired this disposable mentality because I wished that I could discard my stuff and lead a simpler less uncluttered life.

20 While the regular Malaysian people may consider sardines as second-class emergency food, I later learned that the Mahe considered them as treat food – their reason for occasionally buying sardines.

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A Mahe would also hoard new clothes if they looked too new to be worn daily. They saw no reason to wear good clothes for playing or going fishing. I had boxful of clothes entrusted to me by the Malay people. The Mahes would take the clothes hoe, but they would still be wearing their old clothes. Later I discovered that they would only wear the next to oldest clothes until they wore out. The good clothes were supposedly saved for visits to mainland, but I never saw them with the newer clothes. With our interfering Jobok mentality, we would often try to entice them to wear newer clothes by getting them to trade in their old clothes in order to get new ones. At school, the children would eat the watermelons together with the rind so that nothing was left. They would also eat up the innards of the bilis. I discovered this when I asked the children to process the bilis for one kenduri. The children were taking out the heads and the innards of the bilis, but instead of discarding them, they were efficiently putting them in their mouth. This was one of our funnier culture goofs. After witnessing the children enjoying their snacks of raw bilis heads and innards, we cooked the bilis whole - innards and all, whenever we were cooking for them. It certainly saved a lot of time and effort, and we had a lot more to share compared to processed bilis. Migratory People, Not Land Settlers Although the Mahe lived in houses and settlements, they did not hold to the common idea of permanent dwellings. The Mahe that we lived with had previously resided in Pulau Carrie. According to their explanation, half of them moved to Pulau Lumut due to some conflict in the Pulau Carrie community. They did not explain the nature of the conflict, but it appeared to have been settled by the move because the Pulau Lumut Mahe often visited their Pulau Carrie counterparts. During the time we stayed there, young Mahes would come and stay for a period of time, and then disappear. Sometimes, a whole family would arrive and build a house, only to move again after a month or two. Even the Mahes who appeared to be permanent would sometimes mention their other houses we never saw. Even in the same settlement, they would easily move houses if they have reasons to do so. A death in the family would prompt them to abandon a house and build a new one a few steps away. Sickness or any misfortune could also provide reason for a house move. Before I lived there, there was an episode when five or six of their babies died from an unknown plague. It was a very high number for the small community, and the government health ministry carried out investigations for the cause of the death. The Mahe responded to the distress in their traditional way, abandoning their houses, and building new ones at the other end of the swampland. They lived in their temporary houses for a month or so until they felt secure enough to move back to their old houses. ‘No Fault’ Divorce and Interrelated Marriages The typical Mahe family can be described as blended and inter-related. Although the community was very family oriented, they were not averse to divorces. A divorced Mahe could also easily marry again with no social repercussions. Thus in the small community, a person might be married to their former sister-in-law, and a person’s stepdaughter could also be his niece. A person’s niece could also be her sister depending on the changing marital relationships. With the exception of very young couples, most of the couples would have had prior relationships. However, there were no incestual relationship if we use Western or Muslim standards of judging incest. The relationship between the former spouses were very amiable. Former spouses could live next door to each other, and we never saw any apparent conflict or bad mouthing between formers spouses. Aidi

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joked that the Mahes were so good at practicing the ‘no fault’ divorce, even the Mat Salleh21 should learn from them. The Mahe also appeared to be casual and liberal about child custody. Children can choose to live with either of their natural parents. In the Malay community and the Western community, it is more common for young children to live with the natural mother, and even bigger children seldom choose to stay with their father. In the Mahe community, we could see young children living with their natural father and their step-mother, and the split was about fifty-fifty. In the Mahe community that we lived in, it was not uncommon for a young male to start their marriage by pairing off with an older, more experienced female. There were also many older couples in which the man was considerably younger looking than their wife. Some of the women looked old enough to be the men’s mother. Because we had a similar pattern of marriage, I was very sensitive to this situation. I felt that it was very advanced and liberal of the Mahe to not be concerned about the reversed age difference, and the divorced status of women. However, Aidi had different interpretation on this. To him it was a mere coincidence, and he did not consider it to be standard Mahe practice. To me, the high ocurence in a small community showed that the tolerance was related to the Mahe’s accepting attitude towards people and life. During our stay we did not get the opportunity to observe a divorce in proceeding, but we observed an elopement of two married persons, which was considered illegal and was morally disapproved by the community. The couple lived in a secluded place on another island and hid from the community, but they were caught and were about to be charged at the tribal court. This showed that although they tolerated divorce and remarriage, the community did have some community rules that needed to be observed. We did not investigate the unwritten rules to explain them here. The community also had strict rules for adolescents dating. Couples ‘caught in the bushes’ were reprimanded and charged in the tribal court. However, they were quite practical regarding the solution to this problem. After the tribal reprimand, couples would usually be betrothed to be married. Aidi’s standard 2 students22 were ‘caught in the bushes’ and were about to be married when we left the island. I attended the betrothal ceremony. It was very small and informal, carried out in a light bantering tones since everybody knew everybody. They passed around the rokok daun (rolled cigarette), and the person who played the role of the bridgeroom’s representative recited a Malay poem saying that they had a wish to pick a certain flower in the garden of the house. The bride’s father answered in Mahe “Bungak kamik bungak su ut!” ( Our flower is a bad-smelling flower) causing much laughter in the audience. I did not get to witness a Mahe wedding ceremony. However, Aidi witnessed one wedding, and he wrote an article on it that was published in Harian Metro. According to him, the Mahe was fond of adopting other community’s customs, and making them their own. For example, in worshipping their ancestors, they build altars that looked like the Chinese altar. They also celebrated their festivities the Chinese way, practicing having grand dinners- and drinking liquor. In the wedding ceremony, the Mahe had bersanding, wearing songket and other wedding attires. However, the decorations of the dais were nearer to the Indians, using woven coconut fronds. It was hard to say whether they copied directly from the Indian people who lived in Pulau Carrie, or whether they copied everything form The Malays, since the Malay wedding tradition were also heavily influenced by the old Hindu customs.

21 Malay nick name for Westerners. 22 They were around the age of twelve and fourteen years old.

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Health problems: Death of babies were quite high among the Mahe compared to the national standard. One of the common reason was because some Mahe mothers have gotten the wrong idea that bottle feeding was better than breastfeeding. Bottle feeding is bad for a community with lax attitude towards hygiene. The Mahe did not understand the concept of sterility and the need to practice it with the feeding bottles. Moreover, some of them substituted milk formula with sweetened condensed milk, or use a diluted formula to economize, not understanding baby’s nutritional needs. Their babies were known to contract diarrhea. When the nurses gave them oral rehydration salts, they were not diluted according to the instructions. However, once a baby got into toddler age, they were tough and did not seem to be in need of medical attention. During the time I stayed with the community, the nurses have stated educating them on the advantages of breast-feeding. They were also open to get prenatal checkups. I had helped bring the ladies to the village clinic on my bike because going by boat would need to be timed with the tide. During my stay, I had the opportunity to see three babies arrive, and they were healthy at the time we left the island. All the Mahe women I knew gave birth at home. Even with her first baby, I observed that a young Mahe mother to be was very relaxed and ready for her birth. After the birth, the lady was given a bath in the house, which looked like a ritual of some sort, and a lady administered a massage by foot to her body. The massage by foot was not unlike a type of massage practiced in some parts of The Malay culture. Parents did not normally name their babies. They would ask the grandparents or other significant relatives to name the baby. While Aidi was there, the honor was given to him since he was the one handling the registration. They appeared to favor Malay names for official registration. I got the honor of naming one baby, and I gave him a grand name of Muhammmad Adil. The baby was registered under that name. A week later when I visited the baby, the family has forgotten the name. The names given to the baby by relatives or other chosen people seldom stick. Parents would later give their child descriptive nicknames, which would be used more often. Examples of such names were Bayam, Ketam, Inci, Tahil, and Hemping. The most beautiful descriptive names I remember was Gadis Ayu. She really was a beautiful little girl. Funeral I had the opportunity to observe a Mahe funeral. The dead person was a woman who had married a Muslim man, and had lived on mainland. When she was sick, her husband brought her back to her brother’s house, which was next to the school building. When she died, the Muslim man did not take any action to arrange for a Muslim funeral, so the community arranged a Mahe funeral for her. We knew that the husband was a Muslim, but we were not sure whether she was a Muslim or not, so we did not take any action. We still feel guilty for our non-interference because as a Muslim, it was our duty to act on behalf of our dead fellow Muslim. Being buried in a non Muslim way would be considered unacceptable for a Muslim, so we should have clarified about her status before the funeral started. However, living among the Mahes and being isolated from the Muslim community had dulled our reaction to this situation. When we saw that her husband did not protest, we simply assumed that she was not a Muslim. It was only after her funeral that we were given her national identification card and confirmed that she was a Muslim.

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The incident was later reported to Pusat Islam, and their officer came over to visit us. They decided to not exhume the body as it might lead to more complications. (May Allah forgive our weakness, and bless the fellow Muslim) According to Aidi, the Mahes were very careful with the funeral rites because they believed that the dead would come back and disturb them if the rites were not carried out right. The body was bathed and clothed, and a white or yellowish paste, I forgot which, was applied to the whole body. The body was then taken in a boat to their graveyard on a small unnamed island located in between Pulau Lumut and Pulau Ketam. There were three boats, and the procession was very grave. Once they got to the island, they dug a shallow hole, a few feet deep, enough to deter from wild animals. While a group was doing this, another group fashioned a low stand and put some clothing and a few articles belonging to the dead. These tasks were done efficiently, without any conversation or chanting. After the body was interred, the thing on the stand were burned, not unlike the Chinese burnings, except these were real articles instead of from paper, and they not new. Once the task was finished, everybody walked to the boats as fast as they could. The boats took a different route home, and went at a fast speed, as dictated by the custom. They explained that this was done so that the spirit would not be able to follow them home. As we got back on land, before entering the settlement, we were treated to a ‘decontamination’ rite. Two children hid behind cut coconut fronds on each side of the bridge. As the procession walked pass, the children would jump out from their hiding and hit our feet. All the Mahe jumped as if trying to avoid being hit, and they were giggling as if it was a joke. This we did not understand because I have never heard of any culture where people laugh at funerals. The powder or paste seared on our feet appeared to be the same kind of paste applied to the dead body earlier. After that, each person would pick a stick and hit a gong like thing as they passed a place, and the funeral rite was finished, and life continued as usual. The Mahe appeared to be very practical about death and missing people. The next day, I saw the mother of the dead fussing about with her two grandchildren, and she waved at me cheerfully. I was still mourning about the fate of the two motherless children, and the fact that they were not going to be raised in a Muslim environment. The grandmother, however, were already carrying out casual conversations, as if already forgetting about yesterday’s death. However, the family left the house empty, and moved to a different place. The Mahe also did not like to talk about people who were not there. Once, Pak Hemping had to stay at a hospital in mainland. When Aidi visited him, his message to his wife and family was “Jangan sebut” (do not say my name). Aidi was puzzled about this message, but Pak Hemping explained that the Mahe people believe that if you mentioned a missing person’s name and talk about him or her, the person’s spirit would be disturbed, and the person would not feel easy. A socially appropriate behavior would be to carry on in life as usual, and not mention the missing person’s name. Moving Out from Mahe’s Place I only managed to stay on the island for seven months. The hardest pressure for me has nothing to do with the Mahes or the lack of basic facilities. I could not get used to existing as a housewife without a professional identity and an independent income. Because it was very difficult to travel from the settlement to mainland, I could not maintain enough contacts to sustain my freelance motivational consultancy jobs. There was no opening for penggerak masyarakat for our Mahe community, and the person in charge told me that even if they have an opening, they would prefer to hire males for the job.

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Aidi, who had flourished there when he was a bachelor, also found it hard to cope without the basic facilities now that he has a family to take care of. I felt guilty for canceling his life plans, especially when I did not have any definite life plans of my own. However, we agreed that I should move out first and seek for a temporary job on mainland. We would then live in the Port Klang area, and Aidi would commute to school. They have already built a bridge across the island now called Pulau Indah. Although the bridge was not officially ready, locals were allowed to use their motorbike at their own risk. Aidi commuted from Port Klang for a few months, and later applied to transfer out of the island. We did not say any formal good-byes then, because we were supposed to keep in contact. Later, I got a job in a different state, and we moved again without saying good-byes. Life went on as usual for the Mahes, while we started our new life with different sets of rules. Epilogue With the distance of our current workplace, and the busy schedule of “Mah Jobok” life, we seldom had time to go back “home” and visit the Mahe. The few times back there were sad and disappointing, and tinged with guilt, and a bit of resentment. Now that I was out of the island, the government finally built a house and appointed an extension worker. That was the position that I applied for, and failed to get. We were there during the school holidays and the extension worker was on leave. We did not get to meet the teacher who succeeded Aidi, or the person who got my dream job. The house that we never dreamed of was termite infested and rotting to the ground. It strengthened my belief that only yong lin tang planks and bakau logs were suitable for the environment. The school compound appeared neglected and abandoned. At least to us it appeared like a ghost from our previous life. The government had also provided neat houses for the Mahe people, but they were built too far inland for their comfort, and the houses were built on the ground, unlike their huts on stilts. The sea going people preferred to live in their old huts close to their mangrove swamp and their familiar sea. Jimmy was the only familiar child. He was still at the same size, and he was still without clothes. He recognized me and gave his familiar thump on my back. The rest of the children we knew had all grown up and left the place, but the faces of their younger siblings replicated them in the old days. Aidi had dreamt that his school children would grow up, enter university, and come back to educate their people. As with my two grown children, the cohorts that he had taught would have been a grown up by now, twenty to twenty five year olds - but we did not know where they were and whether they have finished schooling or not. The old people were still there, but the community have shrank. The younger people were moving out to work in factories. I was told that since the West Port was built, there were fewer and fewer crabs, and the price of gasoline was steadily increasing, it was not worth it anymore to fish or search for crabs. I could not help wondering - had we stayed there, could we have helped them through the changes? I do not think that we could have done much. When we were living among them, we were the ones needing their help in order to survive and live in their elements. We could not help them much then, and I doubt if we could help them more now. Meals were eaten, pictures taken. I have never regretted leaving the place because I knew that I did not have the resources to survive there for long; but somehow, I bore the guilt of a wandering daughter, neglecting my adopted family to survive on their own.

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Appendix

List of Mahe Words noted by Nadiyah

Words underscored are the same as in the Malay language. BODY PARTS face mukak eyes met ears tik teeth jemoi mouth pak neck nose muh hair suk body kékhét blood maham men's private parts lop women's private parts huuj pony tail ponyok stomach u uk PEOPLE/FAMILY MEMBERS mother amak father apak sister gauk younger sibling ading older brother yek baby kenon nephew/niece hmok aunt gomok uncle ibah bride/bridegroom koh grandmother géndoi PRONUNCIATION I éét she/he héngkik you ihik who huma what masa there huki

VERBS fishing igap kar cooking gorek(goreng) cook rice nagak walk cok run baluk lie down gétik ngot sleep getik cry yap smile ngoit laugh gelak talk melebok yell/shout/scream temoh eat naca bathe hum watch/read celiau saw kayye bite kaget swim ngubang open hntoh sit kop carry (a baby) khambuk fight/hit ngahit hit kapet tie khabut fall bédék stick out your tongue kélél defecate o ok/ ma ék about to cry lékak jump kéten climb/ go up yal ta halok understand sékhét

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ADVERBS big kadoi/ kada small kénen long/high jelek down/low hatik hard kehek soft lemot kind elok bad jahat quiet ngot noisy mekak pretty lawa ugly clever hip hardworking lajit (rajin) hot hangat/lepok cold hijup (sejuk) heavy hénchéh colors all the same many/plenty nom pain/sick guhup night time Lu uih/jain day time cohoi ripe(fruits) njuup a little muncit wet tekom blunt bukuut old howok bad smell su ut good smell do op burnt hangut/ héngét undercooked rice cacit under/down hatik far lép full / appetite satisfied puying/ bihik tear khut pain g’huk hard géhék broken tégét tight lengkin tired (muscle) angkieh out of breath kahaih

FOOD/ KITCHEN banana hntok fruits péle eggs kepoh bird chilli pedas cheng chili boh pedas kerik cup cibok wok bangak( belanga) gravy jumak mortar dulak pestle aluk cigarette makau(tembakau) vegetables pékhen/ pékhek tapioca ngalé ferns hele meranti semanti ulam raja jobong OTHER THINGS water doh fire u uh/ u us boat prahuk firewood angek storm aih luh roof sheets pelop wind buak strong wind buak kencak balloon pepet basket gakhet bus tukah( motorcar) table kholok skeleton ja aq grave bauk rain gemah clouds kabut river alor cloth hndi

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COMMON EXPRESSION/ ORDERS where are you going? cok manik? reprimand to the dog hancit severe reprimand for dog hancit log go cok what masa come ahok please move away au coki stand up leg sit down kop who? huma understand? sékhék ai? just now nong no more hup alé help me É ét shia light up th efire tungku u uh go get goi go up yal ta halok go down céloi help me é ét shia I want some kaget kélé give me jét quick! namé dék don't! dék I do it myself genak é ét Some more,please haga alé it is finished déd jah/ hap fall down bédék hatik do not swim ngubak dék don't go there coki dék I'm not yet done buoh alé I already did it nong dah what a waste! majen (when you lose in a game)

negation ngot/ngan/dék /hé /hap

right nahél/ nimang I'm not kidding akal ngot just now nong today aik homong