Indonesian Gold by Kerry B. Collison Page A

came to mind the

shaman’s hand dropped to his waist, reassured when his fingers touched the golok’s carved

handle, the machete handed down from his father. Jonathan knew that this weapon had accounted for

a number of heads; his father had proudly imparted this knowledge on numerous occasions, during

community gatherings in their village longhouse when ageing warriors boasted of their

kills.
    The Penehing villagers had kept their twenty-five

year secret, the withered, white man’s skull never displayed openly. His father had removed the

helicopter pilot’s head after the Bell clipped the forest’s treetops and crashed. Incredibly, the

pilot had staggered away from the wreckage only to be slain by the Dayak chief who, along with

the others in their isolated community, had never seen such an aircraft, let alone had one drop

from the sky. Terrified, the village chief had bravely slain the white spirit, the decapitation

evidence of the dukun’s power over evil. The story had not been embellished in any way,

nor revealed to any outsiders for fear of reprisals.
    As Jonathan’s generation had emerged and assumed

leadership over the village community, with the exception of the occasional, isolated incident

that inevitably arose because of territorial or intertribal disputes, headhunting had become a

thing of the past; the stories cherished and passed down from father to son. The Penehing,

Modang and other Dayak groups had been absorbed into the greater Republic of Indonesia, with

many of their number accepting Christianity or the Kaharingan beliefs. And, without

exception, Jonathan Dau’s community, all professed.
    The shaman recalled a time when the presence of a European

attracted great curiosity along the Mahakam’s upper reaches. The first to come were the fair

haired Dutch explorers followed by missionaries, but their mark had not been felt until the delta

communities commenced trading further upstream, bringing Western religions and cultures to the

untamed hinterland. For centuries, accounts of cannibalism carried back to civilization

discouraged visitors, leaving the greater part of plateau-dwelling communities without any real

change until the quest for gold drove the more adventurous deeper into the mountains. When the

Japanese occupied Borneo, even they had hesitated in venturing too far into the wild jungle and,

of those who did, some remained for decades after the war had come to a close, without realizing

that hostilities had ceased.
    But now, Jonathan’s people, their land and culture were

under threat with an increase of mining activity over recent years, the impact upon the

downstream-Dayaks, devastating. His concerns had grown with reports of wild game, fish and,

occasionally, humans dying from pollution associated with the foreign controlled, mining

operations throughout East, Central and Southern Kalimantan. Recently, he had traveled downstream

and witnessed the devastation brought to one community, where the streams were severely polluted

with mercury, the water fouled forever as a result of unsupervised gold extraction.
    Jonathan firmly believed that if the Dayak communities

failed to form a common front to combat the spread of migrant settlements, then it would soon be

too late, and they would be overrun by Madurese and Javanese settlers.
    ****
    Angela Dau fought back the tears as she pulled away from

her father, his powerful hands holding her firmly by the shoulders. ‘Thank you again,

Papa,’ was all that was left to muster. The orang-utan at her feet knew,

instinctively, that she was about to be abandoned, and wrapped her disproportionate arms around

Angela’s thighs.
    Jonathan shook her gently. ‘If your mother could only

see you now…’
    â€˜But, she can, Papa, she can.’ Stoically, Angela suppressed the threatening tide of tears.
    â€˜Goodbye,