By the time all the TV and generator fixing was done, Tuai told us the barbecue was ready. They had prepared a large number of chicken wings and had some rice wine with it. We feasted until we couldn't eat anymore. When we finished we both felt a little ill. It might have been from eating too much or perhaps the strong Tuak that Belikau gave us after I fixed his TV.

Tuai's wife was diabetic. To my surprise she drank beer with the barbecue. (No one else at Nanga Bangkit seemed to drink beer). Tuai offered us beers but seemed to indicate they cost 10 ringgits. We couldn't tell if he was saying that that was how we spent some food money we gave him earlier, or if he was charging us then. Anyway they weren't at all chilled. We declined.

After the meal we rested a bit on the livingroom floor. But five minutes later, Tuai came back and said dinner was ready. We looked at each other as if to say, "Didn't we already eat dinner?" We both were way too stuffed to eat anything. It never occurred to us that the barbecue was just a prelude to dinner.

It actually took a fair amount of effort to get up off the floor and walk into the dining room. I sat down at the eating area quickly, so I wouldn't fall. Immediately someone handed me a big bowl of rice. I tired to take a token amount of everything not to be rude.

After about five spoons of rice my stomach couldn't take it anymore. I quickly told Joan to tell them I was going to the bathroom. I walked out casually and then accelerated out the front door, across the great hall, out of the longhouse, and down the stairs to the toilet where I puked. I felt lots better after that and was able to eat some more.

We had become somewhat popular at Nanga Bangkit and soon after our second dinner we got an invitation for drinks next door at Sooyau's parents' place. We drank some more rice wine (Joan: actually I was feeling pretty ill all evening, and barely ate anything at our second dinner, and refrained from rice wine. What a bummer. To be totally sick on our party night.) there and like before, I could never finish my glass. It was always refilled. (Joan: later I remembered that a note in the guest book read, "Beware of the Jungle Juice. It kicked my Ass.")

So the events of the rest of the night are hazy in my memory. I remember meeting a guy named Nuing who taught at the school and spoke excellent English. I used him as a translator. The principal of the school, a young guy with a goatee, was also there. The only thing I heard him say was "Bottoms Up."

We asked Nuing why Badul was not in school Monday or Tuesday. Nuing got the same expression that Sooyau got when we asked him the same thing. It was a sort of hopeless, "What are we going to do with Badul" kind of look. Nuing kept calling him "This Boy," as in "This Boy is mischievous." The only answer we got from anyone was that Badul didn't like school. He had come to the longhouse several years earlier to live with an aunt, and had attended school for two years. That was it. For some reason he refused to go for more. We couldn't understand why they didn't force him. (We were forced, that's probably why we think other kids should be too). Aren't there truancy laws? It made me sad that a great kid like Badul is destined to be illiterate.

The party moved several times. At least I moved several times (Joan: when the party moved out of Tuai's room I stayed behind and that was the end of the night for me). At the end I found myself in Belikau's place. The old man sat next to me and put his arm on my leg and we talked through Nuing. I found out Belikau had attacked the Japanese occupation army at the city of Song during W.W.II. The Japanese had guns and Belikau's gang had spears. I told him my uncles also fought against the Japanese. I didn't have the guts to ask him if he got any heads. (Joan: when I heard this later I thought it was ironic that Belikau now watches a Sony TV, which still has its Sony sticker on the screen).

I played my horn several times and got the usual deadpan response. Someone requested "Oh, Susanna," which I don't know how to play. The horn was most popular as a toy. We passed it around the circle and everyone tried to make a sound. No one got more than a blaring car horn noise. I don't know if they liked what I played or not, but at least they could respect that it wasn't easy.

(Joan: The next day, April Fool's Day, we left early in the morning for Rumah Kalop, another longhouse down the river. When we planned our trip, we thought we'd stay two days at Nanga Bangkit and two more at Rumah Kalop. We mentioned this to Tuai the first night and he said, tactfully, that Rumah Kalop was best seen in one night, not two. He said they were moving. He didn't say Don't Go. I wish he had. But I think he didn't want to diss his neighbors. Still, he seemed so reluctant that I suggested we stay three nights total at Nanga Bangkit, and then only one at Rumah Kalop. Tuai seemed psyched. He totally jumped at the opportunity to have us for an extra night, and said he'd arrange things with the boatman.)

So on April 1, we got our boat to Rumah Kalop. The ride was short, maybe just 20 minutes. We passed some nice looking longhouses but stopped at one that looked awful. I remember thinking, Please don't let this be it. It was way high on a hill, with very flimsy steep docks leading up from the water. I was sure I'd break my neck. I moved so slowly on the dock (really just planks) that eventually a woman came down to help me up.

Once there we made several mistakes. We failed to find the headman, as he was off logging in Brazil. We then failed to find the acting headman. Instead we gave our offerings to a woman who accepted them and never mentioned them to her compadres. She and her friends fixed us some of the tea and crackers we brought, but basically just tolerated us. At one point the women brought us over to a nearby area where the men of the longhouse were building a new longhouse--the floorboards on the old one were rotten. The men greeted us enthusiastically and served up some palm wine.

But it was all downhill from there. They wouldn't let us help because I think they had enough help. So we went back to where the women had fixed us tea and laid down to rest. I slept and Eric read a Grisham book. We were total lumps. We did nothing and were ignored. I tried several times to help, and at one point they did let us help move some things from the old longhouse to the new one. But when I tried to help some more, they threw some baskets at me. I thought they wanted me to load them up with things to move. But it turns out they were selling them. We bought them to be polite. (Actually they're pretty cool souvenirs).

Finally the acting headman, a one-legged man who had joined in an enthusiastic greeting earlier, asked us why we had arrived without a guide. We told him that a guide had sent us, and showed the guide's letter. The letter mentioned that we had brought provisions. The acting headman asked where they were. Of course by that time the woman we gave them too had put them away. We could not explain this. Then he encouraged us to leave. At first I balked, but then I realized that we were in his house and he didn't want us there. We both felt embarrassed and awkward. The acting headman said he could get us a boat to the town of Song for about 60 ringgits (US$15). That made me mad because we had already paid another boatman for our passage back. But we had to get out of there. So we smiled, paid the money, and scrammed.

After that we realized that as amazing as visiting the natives can be, we don't want to do it again unless we are invited by someone we consider to be a friend. This native gawking tourism is just a bit too weird.

We spent the next week or so working our way out of Sarawak, stopping at Song, Sibu, and then Kuching, where we stayed several days.

On April 10, we flew back to Singapore and headed straight for Kris and Anne's house. They were away, but had arranged for us to stay there anyway. They came back a few days later and we spent the next week partying with them in between bouts of preparing our taxes. We had a total blast. They are awesome hosts. (One amazing night they took us to an all-you-can-eat Paul Prudhomme buffet). We owe them and their progeny big time. If you are friends of theirs look us up and tell us we owe you one.

We left Singapore May 19, on a boat for Tioman Island, Malaysia.

Next: the Malaysian Peninsula

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