A Day in the Life

4 Oct 06

Out of the guesthouse, I walk into the all too familiar stickiness ofthe tropics-cough-except with the added challenge of breathing. Icould myopically make out river boats in the distant. The visibilityand air quality continues to deteriorate (already pass unhealthylevels) in Kuching due to an enveloping haze cause by the forest fires index (API) reached 800 in 1997-98. Anywhere above 300 is hazardous;currently, the levels are around 150s. I mentally add the purchase ofa respiratory mask on list of today\'s agenda.The locals don\'t seem toomuch affected; setting up hawker stalls and bustling along with theusual day to day activities.

Kuching is a varied and diverse city. While the population consistspredominately of Chinese and Malay, there are at least 26 ethnicgroups present in Kuching. According to my hosts, the dayaks arelabeled according to area of occupation and grounds of retreats fromthe headhunters. These days the indigenous societies are classifiedinto three main groups: Ibans (Sea Dayaks), Bidayuhs (Land Dayaks),and Orang Ulu (upriver people). The last includes Penan, Kayan,Kelabit, Berawan, Lu Bawang, and Kenyah. An enormous selection ofnative handicrafts are on display in the shops lining Jalan MainBazaar. If there is a chance of finding a Sarawakian kite, it would bein one of these shops.

-----A Malay guide waiting for clients on sampan jetty on the kampung(village) outskirts confidently insists trad. Kites can be found onthe main souvenir strip: easy.Except I have spent a good part of 2nd evening in town and this daycombing gift shops and art galleries to no success. The shopowners aretypically Chinese. Not only do not carry Sarawakian kites amongsttheir stock but they have never seen one. A few inform me that Ishould be able to find some by visiting the traditional longhousevillage but they are also the same ones that misdirect me to othershops.

Just when I was about to call my search off, a passing localpatron directs me down a jalan (road) leading to the mosque.Anticipating another false hope, I ask him several times to test hiscertainty. He press, "yes yes, I am sure layang layang, that means", kites lah, yeah sure lah those things you fly with la, down that way."

I head through the Little India, transverse pass the numerous hawkerstalls that have since increased since the morning selling foodstuffsto those breaking their fast at sunset, continue pass langsat stands,toyshops, and then, beginning to suspect another dead end yet hangingon to an inkling of hope, I spotted there hanging outside an ice creamcafe, were layang-layang. Not one, but 4 types-I practically flipped.

Aside from the wau, there were 3 other distinctive shapes.The wau consisted of three basic colors and noticeably absent of anelaborate template seen on those in KL\'s central market. I tried todetermine the origins. The shopkeeper guessed they were fromIndonesia. He consulted neighboring shopkeeper who said they werelocal.

I asked if they might be from India. "ah yea sama sama...kindof same but different." a 3rd generation India stated. Soon it becamea full blown public debate, passing locals joined in to offer theiropinions.

There is no kitemaster; making kites such as these are commonknowledge. The trick is adjusting the bridle. A local dubbed"computer" by his friends disappeared and came back with string whichhe then handed over to me. He described how the apex of the bridletriangle where line attached had to meet corner to corner.He then made off directly into traffic with the kites laughing widesmiled. I laugh too but frightened by how oblivious everyone was tothe oncoming traffic I suggested we go across the street to waterfrontstrip.

Computer agreed it was a good idea and said he wanted to comealong to accompany me.I was excited to finally play with the kites. As it turns out computerwas equally eager. There was hardly any wind. I quickly learn that thekite did not need much to leave the ground.
Quick pacing generated just enough wind to lifet the kite. I watch as computer ran back and forth all giggles and childlike, watching the kite tail behind him. It made me smile and eager to feel the kitestring in myown hands. Computer handed it over briefly but soon dominated againwhen the kite came down. Later he thanked me for stopping by for hehas not fly the kite for awhile and started back towards the roti (eggpastry eaten with dahl) cafe.

I walked him back to the shop, picked up another kite and hurried backto the waterfront to set it in flight in the dying hours of light. I ran in circles back and forth along a stretch on the waterfront tryingto keep the kite in flight as the locals cheered on. For the first time, I did not notice the haze (neither the perspiration running),absorbed in wheeling string out and keeping the kite up.