Downtown Kuching, Kingdom of Sarawak, 15 December 1907
Ampingan did not know what to expect, but it certainly was not
this.
“
Tumpang lalu!” a voice shouted from behind him and Ampingan hurriedly stepped aside as a group of elderly Malay ladies shuffled past to enjoin in the already long line for the foreign-looking sweetmeats. Nearby, a trio of children in colorful finery chased each other around the legs of passers-by, giggling to themselves as the adults scolded them for their brazenness and yanking of clothes. In a neighboring pavilion, two large families began to filter out from the serving tables, only to be replaced by three large groups now swarming around the spiced rice and roasted buffalo meat.
As a Kadazandusun from the north, the scene looked like organized chaos.
“There you are!” Ampingan turned around to find his wife Semitah emerging from the crowd, holding what looked like packets of food wrapped in banana leaf. “Come! I found a good place by the river! Some new friends I made saved a spot!”
Walking towards her, Ampingan took one more look at the scenes surrounding him. The wedding of the Rajah and the new Ranee was intended to be a grand affair – how could it not, with their title as rulers of Sarawak – but he never thought the celebrations would be
this lively. Kuching was bedecked in tents and pavilions, with the city’s great field now covered in towering gold cloth peaks held up by wooden pillars, sheltering the throng of locals enjoying the great feast from the midday sun. Musicians and performers walked the streets, attracting crowds that closed the roads to hundreds of quarrelsome rickshaw drivers. On the Sarawak River, a multitude of boats, prahus, and sampans packed the wake-tossed surface like water-striders, transporting hosts of locals, foreigners, and forest peoples to and from the celebrations.
Semitah walked quickly through the throng, her feet weaving through fruit sellers and laughing children before stopping before an open riverside hut. Within, there were already a few couples sitting down and enjoying themselves to food. “I’m back!”
“Ah, with your husband? Welcome!” A woman rose up and greeted Ampingan. “Come, come! Sit! Your wife mentioned you were from Penampang, and it is so nice to see such familiar faces down here.”
Ampingan was surprised. As far as he knew, he is the only trader from there who has come this far south. “Oh, you’re from there too?”
“We
were from there.” Another man spoke up, his food-stained hands pointing at the informal group. “But some of us decided to head south for our own reasons before the War. My family came down to Maling for trade, while Kunul and Saiful over there married Malays. I’m Sagan, Jon Sagan, and the sweet lady that greeted you is Mary Mainah.”
“Sweet, really?” Mainah laughed at the playful tone, but perhaps it was for the better as she did not saw Ampingan’s flinch at the…
Kristian names.
Is everyone down here a convert? For some reason, the increased number of fellow Dayaks he saw going to mosques and churches down here are somewhat unsettling.
What happened to all your pride?
But right at that, a horn sounded from the direction of the Astana and hundreds of heads drew to the Sarawak River. From the hut, it seemed that all the boats and vessels are hurriedly heading to the banks, clearing the waters for a few decorated prahus. “Oh, the boat races! I never knew there would be that today!” Kunul exclaimed.
And with that, Ampingan was left to wander in his confused thoughts.
Catherine Margare Tonek, Clayton Brooke: The Rajah of Transition, (Bimasakti Press: 2000)
The match with Ellen Clunies-Ross may have saved a royal family from succession anxieties, but it also led to an unexpected complication: the wedding itself.
For the Brookes so far – and for most transplanted Europeans, at that – a colonial wedding is a primarily Christian affair that often involves a ceremony in a church, attended by close family members and friends. A feast may be prepared afterwards, but such affairs are only for the wealthy and are mostly little more than a social gathering for fellow white colonists. For Rajah Charles, his marriage to Ranee Margaret was practically unspectacular, having occurred in the cool latitudes of England.
By contrast, the Malays and Dayaks of Sarawak view weddings as a community celebration. The union of a man and woman would be marked with multiple rituals, celebrations, appeasements to spirits, and a solemnization ceremony in a local prayer hall for village Muslims. Family members, relatives, neighbors, and close friends would often be involved in the preparations, which can range from sewing wedding clothes to setting up offerings; the grandest weddings of ex-Bruneian lords would have entire platforms and pavilions built out of sticks and bamboo as imperial Bruneian custom dictates the nuptial couple to be ‘Rajahs and Ranees for the day.’ In fact, to have a humble wedding or a simple ceremony is to give the impression of being completely destitute and friendless to most Malays and Dayaks.
Needless to say, Sarawakian weddings were far from humble.
Thus, a grand celebration was pushed by the Astana staff and local notables, with feasts and entertainments that would echo the grandeur of old Brunei, showcasing the might and splendor of the Brooke dynasty. Given the regional circumstances and Sarawak’s rebuilding of the far north, the new Rajah Clayton had to personally turn down some of the more outlandish proposals, which were noted in his journals. Among the more eye-popping suggestions were:
- To import the Dean of Singapore to officiate the wedding vows;
- To reconstruct Kuching’s wood-built St. Thomas’ Cathedral in stone and marble;
- A three-day feast with ingredients sourced from all across the kingdom;
- A fireworks display with shells imported from Singapore and/or China;
But given the attention of Malay nobles and out of a need to present continuity with tradition, a few proposals were carried out, albeit in a reduced form. After the wedding ceremony in the cathedral, a troupe of Malay and Dayak warriors would hold performances of hunting, dancing, and traditional martial arts before the newlyweds
[1], and a one-day
bersanding ceremony would be held in which headmen, nobles, and great chieftains would travel to bear gifts and give congratulations to Ellen and Clayton. On the day, a public feast was held for Kuching’s residents with musicians and entertainers being hired to enliven festivities, though they were eventually halted due to the Sarawakian propensity to rain in evenings.
But the highlight of the day was the morning and midday boat races known as the
Regatta, in which teams of Dayaks raced up and down the Sarawak River and past the Astana to receive grand prizes, cheered by adoring crowds…
********************
On the opposite side of the Sarawak River…
Karol Michałowski had seen many things, but he had never seen
this.
As his father was too infirm to travel, it was Karol who took up the responsibility of attending the marriage ceremony of the Sarawak Rajah to give his thanks; as the uncrowned first family of Medan, and one of the few whom had ties to European nobility, the Michałowskis were unsurprised at being invited. But the scene before him was unlike anything seen in Medan.
Before him, the Sarawak River was being cleared of all activity. The cacophony of vessels, sampans, and the like were all corralled to the banks to open space for a few long canoes paddled by forest natives. The riverbank was already packed with locals jostling for a better view as the contesting prahus lined themselves on one stretch of the rippling waters. Despite the friendly atmosphere, the Dayaks on board seemed determined to put on a competitive streak.
All this, for a wedding? When will we
have one of these for our own?
A signal was raised, and the music began. Slowly, Karol watched alongside as the couple of the day presented themselves to the Astana riverfront, followed by an array of courtiers, ladies, and chieftains all ready to officiate the Regatta. The face of the new Ranee Ellen seemed awed, but as the group stopped before the riverside pier, Karol noticed the Rajah Clayton looking… stiff. And far-sighted.
Odd.
He looked to the river. Following the Rajah’s gaze amongst the crowd on the sampans and on the opposite riverbank, among the hundreds of locals and travelers cheering for the teams. Amongst the mass, Karol saw a figure.
It was a Dayak, with a strong bare-chested body and multiple tattoos on his arms and legs, collected perhaps over a lifetime of wandering. He seemed to stare uncommonly too, not at the assembling boats, but… to the royal couple. To the Rajah himself.
But Karol blinked, and the man was gone.
____________________
Notes:
From old family tales as well as sources on old Malaya (Wikipedia is
frustratingly bare on this; a good alternative is the book
What I Saw In Malaya by Jeanne Cuisinier as a general backgrounder) old Malay weddings are supposed to be grand events that involve the entire community, and this spirit has not changed in any way ITTL. The wedding events also act as a public signal to everyone which person is ‘off the suitors market’, so to speak.
[1] These type of performances is still carried out in traditional weddings among Malays and a few Dayak tribes. Performances of dances and martial arts are seen not only as entertainment for the couple and guests, but also for blessing the event and the bride and groom.