In the previous episode, after being stationed in Brunei, the missionary found himself less familiar with Sarawak, a region that had recently changed hands from the Brooke family to British colonial rule. The local society was a mix of old Brooke officers and new faces from the Colonial Office, even Australians as district officers. In Miri, the missionary met John Fisher, a tall, relaxed figure who seemed every bit the colonial gentleman but was deeply connected to the people and fluent in their languages. Fisher’s wise leadership kept Miri peaceful during the political unrest that swept through neighbouring regions, and the missionary marvelled at the burning skies over the Seria oil-fields and the challenging roads that marked their travels. Settling in Kuala Belait, the missionary began learning Malay from Fr Jan van de Laar, an old-timer known for his warmth and stories, and gradually became part of the local history and community, finding both adventure and welcome in this new chapter of their journey.
The original church still stood from 1929, at the time when the oil was discovered in Brunei State. The house, a compact little bungalow, was new. It replaced a previous building which had served both as house and school. A few years previously, a huge metal safe had crashed through the top floor into a classroom beneath; miraculously there was no one there. It served as a milestone in history “Where were you when the safe fell?” A safe on the grand scale was a necessary piece of furniture in all the missions stations; it contained some cash and perhaps some legal documents but principally the baptismal book, usually a huge tome, mildewed and chewed by silver fish, but surely too big for anyone to steal or mislay. This book had to be submitted to the bishop for his signature on his visitation. God knows what penalty would have befallen the poor parish priest if it was not there. The house contained a decent-sized bedroom, with bathroom, an office for the conduct of parish and school business; Jan was in charge of both. Then there was a little after-thought of a tiny room for a visitor where I was to live. A dining cum- sitting room completed the picture. After the verandahs of Miri, this house was very hot in the afternoon or evening. I had a tiny little fan which must have been the most useless piece of equipment ever put on the market. It took its time turning towards me and then hastened away to circulate the air for the benefit of an ungrateful wall; periodically, it would give up, the effort being too much.
The mission ran St John’s Primary School, English-medium. Many of the pupils had already completed their Chinese education before joining St John’s in Primary 4. This meant that the Primary 6 class had teenagers as well as children. In a previous generation, it was said that a pupil would be absent for a day or two. The grapevine would have it that he or she had gone off to get married. Since it was near the end of the school year, a time when principals are anxious to provide some variety if not entertainment for the pupils, Jan asked me to give a few English classes. The poor children must have been awe-struck for I was the first European teacher they had ever had. Their English was equivalent to what was later known as ” Singlish.” One had to adapt to it to be able to hold a reasonable dialogue. Later on at St Michael’s, it was not so amusing when I had to try my best to cure this before submitting the students to the bleak stares of the Cambridge examiners.
The little church was well attended, mainly by Shell employees. Although by now the main work was centred in Seria, there were still a few departments in Kuala Belait. Of course, the main government offices for the whole district were there. English was the church language but Malay was useful for confessions. The organist had a peculiarly harsh, off-key voice and dictatorial manner which had alienated the choir who were now huddled in the body of the church, in a non-cooperative mode. This created problems for the poor parish priest. It was somewhat like the case of Peter in the gospel, “Lord, to whom shall we go?” For the organist was not only a teacher, but also a very good cook who provided the mission every Friday with a beautiful egg-curry and the famous sweet, “Gula melaka”, the product of the coconut, sago and sugar palm. Her husband was a kind man, a one-man parish council. Thus we continued to praise the Lord each Sunday, however inadequately.
Brunei State just the year before had been joined with the 4th and 5th Divisions of Sarawak to create the new vicariate of Miri- in view of the rising importance of the area and the swelling numbers from the neighbouring countries who came to work in the oil industry. This was the second time it had changed its ecclesiastical status. Previously to this it had been under the control of the Prefecture of Jesselton in North Borneo, many of whose priests still had contacts and friends in Brunei. Thus it was I met a ghost from the past. Fr Ben Walshe arrived one day at the mission from his place in Labuan, an island about 40 miles offshore.
In the upcoming episode, our missionary’s adventures take a turn for the unexpected—think less Indiana Jones, more “Carry On Up the Jungle.” From wrestling with luggage and statues on London buses to dodging lawnmowers on tropical runways, it’s a journey where even the dogs at dinner get a starring role. If you thought missionary life was all solemnity and sermons, wait until you see what happens when a half-crown, a shaggy dog, and a forgotten train fare collide. The next chapter promises more surprises, a dash of chaos, and plenty of laughs along the way.
