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strange coincidence!
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Hello

A strange coincidence has lead me to joining this forum in order to track down one 'McDangle' and or the person who took this photograph:



I was conducting an image search the internet for somthing totally unrelated when this image was found, it caught my eye because of the one of the individuals looks like a 'young version' of freind of mine, Andil Ak Uneind.

Imagine my suprise when I clicked on the image which took me to this website and read the description beneath it:

"mcdangle" and Andil (Iban tracker), B Company, 1 KOSB, at Niyor Rubber estate, near Kluang, circa July, 1956. Photograph taken just before the Iban tracker's friend Dempi was killed in a CT ambush.

Andil Ak Uneind was a Sarawak ranger, who served in the malayan emergency and talks fondly of the scottish soldiers with whom he fought alongside.

If the image of 'Andil the Iban Tracker' I've found on this here is the same Andil I know, and I'm pretty confident that it is, this is what andil looks like now:



He doesnt have any photographs of his involvment in the Malayan emergency, and if I can track down the person who has the original copies of these photographs I would very much like to take a copy of them with me when I visit him next.

also, if your reading this and you go by the name 'McDangle' I'd very much like to hear from you.

please let me know if you can help out with this

all the best

Stuart

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Welcome Stuart, to this site and Forum.......and thank you for bringing with you to the Forum such great news and the means to bring two old comrades together again...I know that 'McDangle' will already have been in touch with you and I am additionally aware of his great excitement over the 'rediscovery' of his comrade Andil.

My most sincere congratulations and regards to all concerned....


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Jock,

You have said it all. I am absolutely thrilled and more than a little bit excited that I may be able to renew, through Stuart, an old friendship formed in the jungles of Malaya in mid 1956. I have sent Stuart a private message to-day and will look forward to further contact and information. I will, of course, keep the forum advised. I just cannot believe this, I am totally gobsmacked! Andy.

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Stuart that is fantastic news and what a coincidence, quite remarkable. Please convey our thanks to Andil and his colleagues for the assistance that these guys afforded our guys, please keep us updated on any progress being made Smile


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Hello all


I've just finished replying to McDangles PM.

I met Andil a couple of years back, my meeting with him was again coincidental.

I often spend time each year travelling and living with the Nomadic Penan of the interior forests but on this occasion the Bush flights required to get me into the upper baram region where all grounded, as a result I ended up sitting in Linggi's bar on the Brunei border whilst the expats stocked up for the return to Brunei.

I got chatting to Linggi, the Iban owner of the bar, he was returning to his families place for the weekend to collect supplies and asked if i would like to come with him, its an eight hour drive and we could share the driving.

I have always had great interest in the cultures of different tribal groups around the world, and quizzed Linggi on the Iban culture specifically their tattoos, unfortunately Andils generation where the last to bear the traditional suit of tattoos and sadly neither the meaning nor the methods have been passed on to the younger generations as they have little interest in 'the old ways' and modern Malaysian culture frowns upon the traditional practices of the Iban, so Linggi was unable to provide much information. He did however suggest that after he had finished his business we drove down the logging roads to the interior longhouses where life was more traditional and speak to the old men who could answer my questions.

we visited many long houses all without much success, eventually arriving at Rayang ulu where the old men were delighted to show off there tattoo's but they couldn’t speak any English and no matter how hard they tried they could get me to understand Iban, so they took me to Andil, who at the sight of me rose up straight as a soldier on parade and announced "good morning sir!"

Those of you who knew him will be happy to know that Andil is in good health and as fit as an Ox!

He talks very fondly of Scottish soldiers, ration packs, sausages, hammocks tied two to a tree bunkbed style and he still has his issue shorts and service medal.

I have been returning to Andil’s long house whenever I’m in Borneo since, last time I visited I promised to find out as much information as I could about the regiments he served with and perhaps some photographs of the conflict, I didn’t expect at the time that I would ever find a picture with him in it!!!

And I didn’t initially, I searched the internet but found little information on the Sarawak rangers in Malaya, its wasn’t until I had given up that I stumbled upon this website, whilst searching for turn of the century photographs of Iban for a lecture I was due to give on the tribes of Borneo, and instead found this photograph.

I owe Andil and his friends a great debt of gratitude for the kindness they have showed me during my stay with them, and the time they took to teach me 'the old ways’, I am indescribably happy to have found a way to keep my promise and return his kindness in humouring the interests of an 'Orang puteh"



Last edited by Stuart on Fri Jul 11, 2008 7:39 pm; edited 3 times in total
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Stuart,

Looks like you have made another old man happy. I am delighted you have got in touch with me on this site and I am sure you will be hearing a great deal from me over the coming months. What a very strange coincidence that you found us. Perhaps the British bureaucrats will now realise that comradeship and honour amongst our troops outshines all the prevarication and dishonour we are dished out from them about why we cannot wear the PJM, an honourable medal from an honourable people and to my great shame not a word I can use for our present decorations committee.

Some things are hazy but I can remember Andil pointing out some very strange snakes etc on one jungle patrol, and he made me a knife (parang) as the British issue one was rubbish and would not have cut butter. Unfortunately I lost his knife in the jungle.

The photo of us was taken together as I recall him telling me his name was Andil and as I was Andy it seemed the same. Andy.

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We had a Corporal with us in Borneo who had returned to the Regiment after a tour or two with the SAS; Sandy Powell, and he had the Iban tattoos as well as a wife somewhere in the country! He was a dammed nice guy and good soldier, he used to take me running with him in Hong Kong but whereas I used to puff and pant he just kept going without a care in the world. I wonder what happened to him?

John

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After returning from my initial meeting with the Iban community at Rayang ulu I wrote a magazine article which I’ll include here, as it explains how I came to know and form a friendship with Andil, and contained some of the best photographs I have of him.

Marked, but Unharmed




The repetitive tapping of wood on wood which had echoed around the hallway for over 7 hours now ceased abruptly and the searing pain that had accompanied the sound began to abate. This was only a temporary reprieve, whilst those who laboured on me stopped to drink and stretch aching muscles.

I opened my eyes and stared at the dozen Human skulls which peered down at me from the ceiling, I couldn’t help but wonder what series of events had put them there… how old were they?

The shape of Andil’s smiling face appeared over me blocking out their gaze. I turned to look at him as he squatted next to me, the symbols that adorned his throat, shoulders, back and legs reassured me that he knew exactly what I was experiencing. His hand rested on my shoulder and with an outstretched palm he produced a small pile of rock salt crystals, I nodded in appreciation and swallowed them with gulps of water, wiping out the pools of sweat that accumulated in the depression around my eyes with the heel of my hand.

Seizing the opportunity to shift position and relieve the pressure on my hip and ribs I saw that Kumbung and Sigan were ready, their instruments where back in their grip, their muscles refreshed. They glanced at me as they took up their positions, my smile was all the confirmation they needed to commence.

I closed my eyes.

TapaTapahTapahTapahTapahTapahTapahTapahTapahTapahTapahTapahTapahTapah It’s strange how pain clarifies otherwise random thoughts into lucid daydreams…

I first saw an Iban man with a full suit of hand tapped Tattoos three years ago when I began exploring the emerald interior of Borneo. The complex maze of symbols covering the arms, chest, legs, ribs, back and throat represent a spiritual suit of armour protecting its wearer from evil spirits and making him visible to his gods, they recounted important life events, his prowess as a warrior and without them he could not successfully pass into the afterlife. Perhaps more importantly no self respecting Iban woman would marry a man who had not been on bejelai (a quest) and displayed the tattoos to prove it.

At one time the Iban were the worlds most prolific and infamous headhunters, although headhunting was made illegal well over 100 years ago, it was revived during the Japanese invasion of Borneo during WWII with the last heads reputedly being taken around 1955 - 1960 during the ‘Malayan Emergency’ and subsequent ‘Indonesian confrontation’ where the Iban fought alongside the British and Australian forces to repel communist guerrillas from the jungle.

Now such elaborate suits are becoming difficult to find, the last of the traditionally tattooed Iban are now old men in their 70s. The once proud and fearless culture of the Iban has succumbed to outside influence and religion. Christian and Muslim missionaries are still regularly encountered deep in the forest doing their self-righteous best to stamp out the last few remaining animist communities and force them to cast out the skulls taken by their ancestors.

I had arrived in Borneo prepared for a solo expedition to the upper Baram to search, as I had successfully in previous years for the last of the nomadic Penan hunter/gathers. An expedition which failed before it had even begun when I discovered that the twin otter bush planes which I had utilized last year, and on which this trip was equally dependant had ceased flying shortly before my arrival. There was talk of a new company taking up the routes but the time this materialized it would be too late.

So I found myself looking for another expeditionary task and decided to travel into the interior by 4X4 along the numerous logging tracks with an Iban called Lingi, whilst he visited his family I would go in search of the last tattooed Iban to study their tattoos and the process by which they were made.

I visited many longhouses only to be repeatedly disappointed; most were now Christian and had no interest in humouring some Orang Putay (white man’s) interests in the old ways. Even when I did successfully find old men who knew how the process was undertaken I met with disappointment when they told me that they were too old to do it anymore and besides no one had been interested in having it done for decades, it was no longer important. With time running out and disappointment setting in Lingi explained that he would have to be heading home, but he would drop me at a remote longhouse which his uncle had told him “still practiced the old ways” before setting off.

It didn’t look very promising from the outside; it was a modern longhouse with walls of concrete and a corrugated steel roof, it certainly didn’t look like the last refuge of traditional Iban life. But the welcome from its inhabitants swept away my initial doubt, children froze in their tracks with mouths aghast when they caught sight of me, young women ran inside shouting “Orang Putay!” and brought out whole families to meet me, old women took my right wrist with both hands bent double to press their foreheads to my hand. The men ushered me in and each of them brought me their own personal stash of Tuak (rice wine) for me to drink by the glass, whilst the women rushed to their kitchens to make as much food as I could eat. Every Iban longhouse I had visited in the past had treated me with a modicum of polite hospitality, but none had bestowed a welcome this intense, I was utterly overwhelmed.

It was soon established that no matter how hard they tried I simply couldn’t understand or speak Iban and so I was lead by the hand to the home of Andil Ak Uneind (Andil son of Uneind).
As I was guided through the door of his bilik Andils eyes lit up, he drew himself up straight like a soldier on parade and with great effort and care he announced “Good Morning Sir!”

Andil a man in his early 70’s with a traditional suit of tattoos explained with great pride that he had been a Sarawak Ranger in the 1950s a unit made up of Iban conscripted by the British army and lead by British officers to fight communist guerrillas. His English was very deliberate and forced with each word formed by great concentration, he explained that he hadn’t spoken a word of English for almost 50 years, he also informed me that I was the first white man to ever visit this longhouse community and that not only could they demonstrate to me how the tattoos used to be done, they could actually tattoo me!

The opportunity to be tattooed in the traditional way, by the last of the Iban Warriors to go into battle with a spiritual armour of tattoos, the last generation of a vanishing culture; how could I refuse?

My acceptance was celebrated with much drinking and feasting of boar and rice, I admired the skulls that hung from the ceiling and the entire community came to sit with me as I unpacked my belongings and passed them around, each item seemed to bring back a flood of memories for the old Sarawak Rangers, my hammock brought much amusement for the young whilst the rangers described how the British soldiers would sleep two hammocks to a tree bunk bed style one above the other and reminisced about ration packs containing sausages and bake beans, lamb and beef stews. Late into the night my mere presence continued to entertain a sizable audience, having run out items in my pack to demonstrate and given away my fire steel, I resorted to rope tricks and showing pictures of my previous travels, pictures of African Bushmen appeared to draw the most interest.
Tomorrow we would start work on the designs, the old men no longer had the stamina or eyesight to do the work but Kumbung now in his 50s and his son Sigan would undertake the work, overseen by the older tattooed men.

I had decided to have the tattoo done on my right thigh, the traditional symbol for this location was the spirit symbol of the crab, which men with much discussion drew and redrew on assorted bits of cardboard, the first set of drawings they produced were so large they would have covered my entire thigh from the hip to the knee, more than a little fearful of enduring the many days of suffering required to tattoo something that large, I tore a page from a text book and explained that this was the surface area available for them work with. The men explained that tapping in the complicated crab shape that small by hand would be very difficult, but they could do it.

Meanwhile Kumbung spent the day preparing the tools required, tying needles onto the end of lengths of bamboo in groups of 3,6 and 8 and carving the hammer sticks that would drive them into the skin, oil lamps were set burning with tins suspended above them to collect the lamp soot whilst we slept, this would be mixed with honey collected from the forest to make the ink.

With the design decided upon, the tools prepared and the lamps burning in the darkness, handfuls of beetle nut and several more bottles tuak were produced, Indicating that it would be another long night. a sudden burst of sporadic laughter emanating from a small group of elderly women weaving baskets in the gloom caught my attention, noticing my interest a young man explained “they don’t think an orang putay can take pain of pantang (tattoo), they laugh that you will run away”, “Oh” I replied with a grin, trying to hide the growing anxiety that grew in the pit of my stomach.

Alone in a remote area of jungle on the other side of the world; I would place my skin and trust in the hands of these men, whom I had met only yesterday and whose language I didn’t understand, to perform a procedure they hadn’t undertaken for over half a century, in conditions that were far from sterile.

Tomorrow would begin one of the most deeply uncomfortable 9 hours of my life.


...................................................................................................................................................................................



Visiting the last Iban warriors and documenting their tattoos


The Sarawak rangers (Andil on the right)



The skulls


Kumbung collecting soot for the ink


and mixing the soot with honey collecting from a type of jungle bee to form the ink


getting started, Kumbungs son Sigan working on the outline with Andil overseeing the procedure


outline finnished:


starting to fill in


half way


Andil puts in the finishing touches personally (his son Changgai holding the ink)


Whilst Andil works Kumbung makes fun of the faces I pull when in pain Very Happy


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Stuart,

Thanks for these great photographs. Andil's son is so like the Andil I was photographed with at Niyor Estate, near Kluang, Malaya, in 1956.

I spoke to Stuart to-day on the phone and I have promised to try and find more photographs of Iban trackers who served with British forces in Malaya/Malaysia during the Emergency and Confrontation.

If you have any photographs of Iban Trackers I would appreciate copies which will eventually be handed over to Andil.

By-the-way, Andil has not applied for his Pingat Jasa Malaysia yet. Having served with British forces I presume that he will have to apply through the Malaysian Embassy in UK. Andy.

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A quick Google turns up these pages

http://images.google.com/images?q=Iban%20Trackers&rls=com.microsoft:*:IE-Address&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&sourceid=ie7&rlz=1I7ADBF&um=1&sa=N&tab=wi

http://www.google.com/search?q=Iban+Trackers&rls=com.microsoft:*:IE-Address&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&sourceid=ie7&rlz=1I7ADBF


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Post Iban Trackers 
This photograph was taken in "Semengo Camp" Borneo, around about 1964 I - hope it helps to indentify any you may have known.




Thanks for your fascinating images - rather you than me with the tattoos!

Tony


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John Cooper wrote:
A quick Google turns up these pages

http://images.google.com/images?q=Iban%20Trackers&rls=com.microsoft:*:IE-Address&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&sourceid=ie7&rlz=1I7ADBF&um=1&sa=N&tab=wi

http://www.google.com/search?q=Iban+Trackers&rls=com.microsoft:*:IE-Address&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&sourceid=ie7&rlz=1I7ADBF


Thanks John, that;'s exactly what I want to compile an album to be sent to Andil. Andy.

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Thanks Tony. Andy.

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