CC10: A story about Bibi

I finished my CC manual after a long one and half year. I spent at least one of the Sunday monthly in the past three months to keep up the momentum to achieve my goal.

For the last speech, it was to achieve the goal of "Inspiring Speech". My assigned evaluator ppk me due to miscommunication. Luckily, I managed to find another evaluator, Wai Ying on the spot. After delivering my evaluation, I overheard someone asking her to give her goodbye speech. Then, I was curious and I asked about her new endeavour. She was going to ShenZhen. This might not sound as exciting as Africa or Alaska, but it surely sounded that a fun "rock and roll" in the foreign land. Going to miss you, girl. Take care there... :)

Surprisingly, the final speech delivery came pretty natural to me. Over here, I must thank Donkoi for giving me the idea to create a fictional character to narrate the story. Initially, I drafted a speech with facts and figures. Even when I read it, I felt like dozing off and the numbers were as hard as remembering the exact year Parameswara setting his feet on me-la-ka land.

Anyway, I learned more related to Penan people, especially their struggle in this modern era to survive and to progress for a better living standard. Instead of setting up a F1 team, I would like to remind my dearest Prime Minster regarding his the other ONE project, which is 1 Malaysia. Please act upon your own propaganda. :)

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It happened on a day when I was still five years old. The sky was sadly gloomy. I saw my father wearing his warrior necklaces through my mother’s teary eyes. Then, he starred at me, who was peeking through the small door opening. He signaled me to go in. I pushed the door slightly with my small palm and walked in. He carried me up with his right hand and kissed me gently on my forehead. He then extended his left hand to hug my mother. A while later, my father armed himself with his blow pipe and bid us goodbye.

That was the last time I saw my father alive. I remembered vividly that Tua Kampung coming to our house on the dawn of the next day. I heard him whispering to my mother. Then, my mother roared, “No…how could this be?” I was shocked. I ran to the hallway to see my mother collapsing on the floor with her hands covering her face. Tua Kampung said to me, “Bibi, you have to listen to your mother from now onwards.” I could not understand him back then. Whatever happened after that was weird; everyone was treating my mother and me with high admiration. We were greeted respectfully everywhere we went in the village.

After that dawn, I tried to probe my mother a few times regarding the whereabouts of my father. It ended with my mother sobbing in silent. She would always mumbled, “You would understand one day, Bibi.” Slowly, I learned not to ask about my father.

The secret remained unspoken until Bruno Manser visited our village. Everyone called him “Penan Man”. He used to wear a pair of spectacles. As a kid, I was curious about it. I asked him once while pointing at his glasses, “What are these for?” He replied, “It is for me to see the answers to my questions.” I was bewildered and excited at the same time. I asked him, “Can I borrow this from you? I want to know where my father is.” He gave me an awkward smile. Then, he padded my head and narrated, “Bibi, your father is a true hero for your tribe. He had scarified himself in order to preserve your homeland. As he was a good man, the God has taken your father to stay with Him in a world without pain and deceive.” From that point onwards, I was empowered with the strong urge to succeed in life and bring justice upon my father’s murderers. I excelled in my study. I looked forward to the day that I can stop the excessive resources exploitation of my homeland.

However, my dream was crashed on the day that I finished my final SPM paper. I hitched a timber lorry to go back to Baram. There were a few other villagers on the lorry. At the mid way, the timber workers stopped and chased all the villagers out of the lorry, except me. I wanted to escape, but one of the workers held on to me. I yelled and screamed when the lorry was driven away. No one was there to help me. I plead the workers to let go of me when my school uniform were torn apart. I cried and cried. But, my prayers were not answered. I was penetrated by one of the workers with force while the rest of the workers circled around me laughing and cheering. At the edge of losing my consciousness, I saw my father. I could hear him repeating to me, “My child, don’t let the evil prevails. You must live on.”

Then, I woke up to see my mother by my side. It was three days later. Words failed to come out from her moving lips. Tears flew down on her once cheerful face. I vowed to myself that enough is enough. I would not let these sinful devils taint my soul. I wanted to seek justice. My mother was frightened when I conveyed to her regarding my wish. When I told Bruno Manser Fonds members regarding my will, they strongly supported me and arranged me a trip to the Kuala Lumpur to seek redress for my plight.

A year has passed by without any news from the ministry office. My hope was beak. Once again, I believed that we were forgotten by the Malaysia community. Then, I saw encouraging news on Malaysia Kini in my campus. PKR wanita chief Zuraidah Kamaruddin and her team went protesting in front of the ministry office. When she was granted a copy of the investigation regarding the sexual harassment upon the Penan womenfolk by the logging workers, she confronted the government to take legal actions against the perpetrators. 35 local NGO formed the Penan Support Group to seek the long-awaited justice for all of the victims. Many outspoken local leaders joined in to bombard the irresponsible authorities.

Far away in England, I am inspired by the sense of justice among these local leaders. I would continue pursuing my dream in becoming a lawyer. I would not rest my battle against the bias code of conduct in the logging industry. I would bear my father spirit to end the struggle of our tribe against the timber companies.

Ladies and gentlemen, I created a fictional character today to narrate to you the pain, which is currently incurring upon many of our country aborigines. During the moments we detest the US invasion upon Afghanistan or Saudi Arab, there are bulldozers waiting to act violently upon the human barricades of Penan people. Are we not cruel and inhumane to our own people if we continue our silence upon these crimes? So, from today, I urge you to share your awareness with many people. With more support from the public, I believe we can pressure a change in the loosely controlled timber industry and bring punishment upon the criminals.