In the previous episode of his ongoing missionary journey, he found himself drawn deeper into the life of Marudi, learning the rhythms of the school, the river town and its people with a mixture of wonder, humour and quiet purpose. From the classrooms and cultural festivals to football matches, basketball nights and the odd travelling circus, he saw how faith and ordinary life were woven together in small, unforgettable moments. By the time he looked towards the wider river missions, he had begun to understand that this journey was not only about serving others, but also about being changed by the place and the people he had come to love.
With the new vicariate came the inevitable expansion and two more missions were built, one midway upriver at Long Lama and another on the Tinjar River at Long Loyang. These two missions were free of all the entanglements which so beset the older missions and the priests were at last free to do the straightforward evangelisation that every young priest longs for and often does not come to.
The work demands constant travelling on the river in long boats; some preferred to do the driving themselves while others entrusted this to a mission boy and read or dozed as they went their way. There was always danger from submerged tree trunks especially when the water was high. When the water dropped in a dry spell, a special watch had to be kept that the keel did not touch bottom. Most of the engines were from about 20-40 horsepower so that weight was always a consideration. The overhead sliding roofs could prove too heavy and had to be abandoned. The passengers were then subject to rain and sun. As a regular way of getting around, although necessary, it was quite uncomfortable and yet these priests did this day after day and for long hours.
These missions were very isolated but fortunately the bishop was always able to have two men there at a time. There were no telephones, or mail; they depended on Marudi for any information or communication. It was sometimes possible to get hold of a trader or government official going that way if there was something urgent to communicate. It was out of the question to send someone just for that because the price of petrol was prohibitive. And yet the great Shell oilfield was producing millions of barrels just a few days journey away. We rarely saw our fellow priests except when they were down to town for buying provisions or on the way to and from Miri for visits to the bishop. He himself was an inveterate traveller so no one could ever say. “We never see the Bishop.” The priests were constantly on the move, from one longhouse to another; any concept of a timetable had to be abandoned for no one knew the state of the water the next day and it was this that dictated all movement.
A relative of one of the priests in Long Loyang had come to pay a visit en route to Hong Kong for a business appointment. On this particular Sunday, in the early afternoon he had to be on the plane at Miri for Singapore and then onwards to Hong Kong, where early on Monday he had this very important meeting. The Tinjar River decreed otherwise. He managed to get to our place by Sunday afternoon from where he was able to hire a speedboat for Miri and then fast taxi to the airport. Of course he missed his appointment. He was so impressed by the difficulties of travel that he presented the mission with the money to buy a speedboat. In due course the boat was built, a lovely streamlined craft and great to ride in, if the driver and passengers had a strong stomach. The idea was that it would be used to keep close communication with all the three upriver missions, but based in Marudi.
It was a great idea- on paper. None of the missions was able to afford the petrol which it consumed greedily. In the end, everyone continued on in the old ways, chugging along with their low horse-power engines and taking hours to do that under the sun and rain. It was not the first time such a thing had happened, people donating lovely boats which the mission could not afford to run. The lives of many missionaries would have been made more comfortable if only . . . there was a plentiful supply of money, if only we all had, as the Malays used to call it, a money tree.
