"A Postcard from Kuching"

A postcard arrived here today

From a land that James Brooke cried for

That took me back to the rifles crack,

And the land I almost died for!

To the rivers and seas, the jungle trees,

And the island of Borneo,

And a dirty little war and so much more

Fifty long years ago!

I was twenty-one and just one day,

‘Twas time I earned my shilling!*

A silver ‘plane carried me away

Judged old enough for killing!

Little I knew, as away we flew

They’d sent me to Sarawak.

And over the years, through smiles and tears

That land still calls me back!

James Brooke had been the Rajah there,

His rule was fair but stern.

You could feel his hand upon that land

At almost every turn.

The people had loved him dearly

And his rule had stood the test

And now many years later

The land was different to the rest!

Bung ‘Karno* sent his troops raiding

Far and wide across the border.

Attacking defenceless people

So we went to bring back order!

We went because we had to,

But what was unexpected,

Was how much we came to love,

Those dear people we protected.

Jungle longhouse, kampong, town,

Back at Police HQ

From the people of that blessed land

Kindness was all we knew!

Though force of arms protected

The friendly people on our side

In the end what really mattered,

‘Twas “Hearts and Minds” that turned the tide.

Now as this postcard reaches me,

Time and distance calls me back,

Is it to sweat and blood, the bloody mud,

Or the whip-lash rifles crack?

No, it’s laughing eyes so deep you’d drown,

And voices that would say

“We love you, love you, love you here,

Oh won’t you, won’t you stay?”

We were always welcomed back,

People hugged us and they kissed us

From jungle swamp or mountain track.

They told us they had missed us,

Long-house base or back in town

Gave us fruit and sat us down.

Then we’d eat and drink so hearty

Every meeting was a party!

Be it song or poem to entertain

Christian Hindu Taoist Jain

Everyone would do their party pieces!

For there we had brothers uncles nieces!

Never a thought of racial strife

Would mar these peaceful peoples life.

Whether we slept ‘neath trophy heads,

Or cool on silk on Chinese Beds,

We’d friends in the market, thick as thieves,

We ate fried rice off banana leaves.

I remember well the wind in palms,

The friendly market places,

The clasp of silky dusky arms,

The beauty in their faces.

I remember all the kindnesses,

The words and touch of love,

And oh! Those magic tropic skies,

And the dawns that bloomed above.

Only a simple postcard, fifty cents or so

And satu ringgit* postage to days so long ago

And there it sat on my mat as if ‘twas yesterday,

When kit and gun, and me so young, once again away!

But that is just a fancy of an old man’s mind,

But how I yearn once more to turn to those people kind.

I still sometimes smell the markets there,

But no Mee Hoon Soup for many a year.

But it’s little things that call my heart a-while,

The loving words that taught me how to smile.

Even today, people say, Sarawak is different, through and through,

And those of us whom Sarawak touched, we are all different too!

*Earned my shilling = Taking the Kings (or Queens) Shilling = Joining the Army or Navy and possibly Air Force, (though they’d have wanted more than a shilling!)

*Bung ‘Karno = Brother ‘Karno = President Soekarno of Indonesia.

*Satu ringgit = One Malaysian Dollar.

Words Copyright © Res JFB 16th October 2012

Top photo Copyright © Albert Teo 2000

Middle and Bottom poto Copyright © Anna Photo Kuching

With thanks for the Postcard to my dear friend Michelle Sim, a lovely lady from Bau, Sarawak, Malaysia.