I celebrated my 69th birthday two days ago with a sumptuous meal, broke a tooth and swallowed it.
My 32nd birthday was somewhat more dramatic — I came face to face with my first crocodile victim and learnt about a legendary man-eater called “Bujang Senang” or “Jolly Bachelor”.
Named after Sungai Senang, a tributary of the crocodile-infested Batang Lupar, the 19ft-3in reptile was reputed to have killed at least a dozen people at that time.
On my birthday 37 years ago, I received a call from the Sri Aman police, who had found the remains of Bangan Pali — he was killed while scooping shrimps five days earlier.
Bangan had accidentally stepped on the reptile and in a split second, he was gone.
As the first journalist on the scene together with cameraman Adnan Hassan, we witnessed a gruesome sight — a human head and upper torso.
So I made up my mind to write about Sarawak’s killer crocodiles, and this led to the publication of three books over the last 40 years — “Bujang Senang: Terror of Batang Lupar”, “Man-eating Crocodiles of Borneo” and a Malay version titled “Bujang Senang, Raja Buaya”.
Man-eating crocodiles have existed long before the days of the white Rajahs as Sir Spenser St John and Charles Brooke would testify.
Charles in “Ten Years in Sarawak” mentioned an 1850s incident along the Sarawak River where a huge crocodile grabbed a woman while she was bathing her child in the presence of her husband.
He wrote, “The poor man jumped after his wife, and actually touched the alligator, but it was hopeless his attempting to rescue the victim.
“A few moments afterwards, the monster rose to the surface and swinging its prey over its head, it exultingly swam in front of all the houses in the village. The unfortunate woman was still alive and her cries were piercingly audible.”
Looking back, I remember the days of 1968 and 1969 when my classmates and I frolicked in the Sarawak River.
One day after school, I decided to swim back home across the river to my father’s residence behind Fort Margherita and was soon joined by some of my classmates.
However, our foolhardy activity came to an end when my father, who was the commissioner of police, explicitly forbade anyone from doing this.
In 1988 though, when the Sarawak football team made the Malaysia Cup semi-finals for the first time, I joined fans and coach Awang Mahyan as we jumped into the Sarawak River to celebrate.
As for Bujang Senang, the reptile killed Dayang Bayang at Sungei Pelaban, a Batang Lupar tributary, on May 21, 1992.
Dayang’s brother Enie Bayang, who was informed of the incident, was just in time to see his sister in the mouth of the crocodile. He fired at the reptile and it released the victim and continued upstream.
Enie, accompanied by relatives, followed the crocodile’s trail. He fired at its head, blinding it.
Enie’s cousin Sidi Imam and two others, Jupong and Mandau, shot and threw spears — one hit the target.
An excerpt from “Bujang Senang: Terror of Batang Lupar” described the final moments of the reptile.
“As the tide began to ebb, the villagers noticed the killer reptile making its way upstream
with the tempuling (spear) sticking from its back. Mandau grabbed the tempuling and pushed it deeper into the crocodile’s body.
“Finally after being chased and shot, the reptile, realising it was trapped, reared up and stood on its tail. As it opened its mouth and roared ferociously, Sidi, Enie and Mandau fired simultaneously into its mouth.
The crocodile began to thrash about and attacked pieces of wood and debris in a death ritual. In the end, it bit a tree stump, too weak to open its mouth and died. It was 12.45pm.”
Today, Bujang Senang’s skull is at a crocodile farm owned by Sarawak’s own “Crocodile Dundee” Johnson Jong.
While there are still large crocodiles in Sarawak, it’s difficult to find any big ones in the Sarawak River.
During high tide, the waters are calm but as the Malay saying goes, “Air tenang jangan disangka tiada buaya” — underneath the placid water, a crocodile could be lying in wait.
Which reminds me of the time I jumped into a tributary in Miri to check a crocodile bait.
When I was in the water, I thought to myself, “What if the crocodile was snared…would it remain still or attack?”
With that, I was out of the water in seconds!
In any case, if you offered me RM100,000 to repeat my 1960s swim, I would think twice.
The views expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the New Sarawak Tribune.
