Life in the tiny state of Brunei seemingly could not be better. The sultan is a generous, if absolute, ruler and oil wealth and natural beauty appear to go hand in hand. So where is the catch? Rob Crossan investigates
Do not bother looking for dissent while you are in Brunei. Even in the unlikely event of you finding any, it will not provide you with any penetrating or useful insights into this country and its people.
‘Oh yes, of course we love the sultan.’ ‘If I ever met him I couldn’t say anything, I’d just have to listen.’
‘He is so good to us – we are so very lucky to have such a blessing on this country.’
Such are the results of a brief poll I carried out during my stay. Brunei seems as if it could be the happiest place on earth, and it does not take long to figure out why everyone seems so delighted with their lot. What Brunei, under the absolute rule of Sultan Hassanal Bolkiah (or, to give him his monumental full name – Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Mu’izzaddin Waddaulah), the 29th Sultan in a line stretching back over 600 years – possibly the longest unbroken line in the world – lacks in democratic debate it more than compensates for in generosity to its subjects.
This is a nation where any native has access to medical care for the fee of one Brunei dollar (about 70¢) per hospital visit – no matter how lengthy, or even unnecessary, the treatment (stories abound of people getting one dollar cosmetic nose jobs). This is also a place where petrol costs around 30¢ a litre; where all education is free; 50 per cent of foods, including rice and sugar, are subsidised and where, in a yearly lottery, 300 families are given their homes for free by the sultan.
The reason why this miniscule country, which takes up less than one per cent of the landmass of Borneo, is so incredibly wealthy is, predictably, oil. Rumour has it that supplies are expected to run out by 2030, but natural gas reserves, plus the sultan’s position as one of the wealthiest people on earth, means Bruneians can afford to be myopic for a long time to come.
The country’s real golden age, arguably, was back in the 15th and 16th centuries when Brunei controlled all of Borneo and parts of the Philippines, too. Brunei had been an important trading centre since the 8th century, with its power increasing under early rulers such as Sultan Sharif Ali, the man who consolidated the monarchy with Islam.
Over the course of centuries, the Dutch, Spanish and English gradually seized land and the Javanese Sultanate of Mataram rose and fell as a regional power, yet Brunei held Sabah and Sarawak until the late 1800s.
Slipping towards obscurity, Brunei became a UK Protectorate between 1905 and 1971, with the British maintaining an influence in the state’s defence policy and its foreign affairs until it became fully independent in 1984. Many Bruneians believe that had the British not taken over, their country would not exist today. Rock salt, spices and rubber ensured Brunei survived economically until the discovery of black gold in 1929. It was then, under the rule of the present sultan’s father, known as the ‘architect of modern Brunei’, that the country began its fast ascent to become one of the wealthiest places on earth.
Praise for the sultan is ubiquitous. At the Royal Regalia Museum, I learn from the text commentary on the many pictures of the monarch at various stages during his 62 years that, ‘since childhood he has had a very cheerful, generous and benign personality’.
I also gaze at some gifts of quite astonishing vulgarity, handed over by visiting dignitaries – the lowlight being a half-metre-high gold elephant pulling a carriage into whose side is embedded a clock – a present from neighbouring Malaysia. There is even a chair on which the sultan sat during an Asian summit in 1996. It looks as though it would be better suited to a dentist’s waiting room than a national museum.
The attitude of awe is understandable. Not only do the people of Brunei have one of the highest living standards in the world, public criticism of the sultan brings with it a jail term. Hanging is still enforced for drug trafficking and murder and a brand new Sharia law court building (on the site of the country’s original hospital) seems to be gaining influence in everyday affairs.
The country’s gradual Islamification is filtering through to every facet of society. One young Bruneian complained to me that his end-of-school party had been cancelled because an Indonesian pop band, booked to perform, had been refused permission to enter the country. This is a drastic departure from the 1990s when Michael Jackson and Mariah Carey performed in Bandar Seri Begawan.
Bruneians used to drive to work to the raucous tones of London’s Capital 95.8fm, via satellite. Not any more, the service is no longer available – nor is alcohol, any visitor who fancies a beer has to drive to the Malaysian border to get it – being sure to re-cross into Brunei by 10pm that same evening if they do not want to be locked out of the country for the night.
You will not get much entertainment from The Brunei Times, either, unless you fancy an update on the daily activities of the sultan and his associates. People in the West are better informed about the very public fall-out between the sultan and his youngest brother Prince Jefri, currently banished to London allegedly having embezzled up to $16bn during his time as finance minister of Brunei.
The Sultan’s daringly futuristic palace (called ‘Istana Nurul Imam’ meaning ‘Palace in Light of Faith’) is the largest residential palace in the world. Rising up above the mangrove swamps to the east of the capital, it has 1,788 rooms – a few of which are opened once a year when the sultan invites the entire nation to his house for three days of festivities and the chance for a chat with members of the royal family.
Sadly, my visit was not timed to coincide with the sultan’s epic social. Instead I journey to Kampung Ayer, an extensive village built on stilts in the Brunei River. This jumble of timber houses is home to over 30,000 people and everything is connected by wooden walkways with water taxis weaving through the maze as they travel to and from the mainland. Among the buildings are a mosque, schools and even a fire station. The houses shudder with the hum of air conditioning and their retro-patterned lino floors are home to everything from boat parts, to giggling children, to the occasional woman, wrapped in a gaudy tudung headscarf, preparing ambuyat.
This has to go down as one of the great unsung foods of this region. The de facto Brunei national dish, it is made from the grated pith of the sago palm. Hot water is added to this sawdust-like powder to create a viscous, semi-translucent goo which looks and feels a lot like industrial glue.
Wooden chopsticks, called chandas, are then twisted and turned in the bowl so that a decent amount is wrapped around the sticks. Next step is to dip into a selection of condiments that include durian fruit, binjai (a sauce made from a mango-like fruit) or belacan paste – a fiery combination of shrimp and chilli peppers.
The initial texture on the tongue is, in a word, gluey, but the trick is to swallow your mouthful quickly, letting the tastes rebound onto your tongue – the strong flavour of the spices is then offset by the bland base of the ambuyat.
The dish owes its status to the fact it became a staple during the Japanese occupation of World War II, when the population of Brunei was reduced to semi-starvation.
This kind of hardship is ancient history now – oil wealth has seen to that. And there are other benefits from prosperity. Unlike in other parts of Borneo, the primary rainforest has barely been touched in Brunei. Take a boat downriver from the capital, towards the remote province of Temburong and you find yourself in a different world. Thick foliage hangs over avocado green waters, while the sky, a crystalline blue one moment, quickly turns a bruised grey as the afternoon ticks by. Rapid-fire showers drench the rubbery leaves of the rattan plants and create a standing ovation of noise as the storm gets into its stride.
Visitors with a head for heights can take a canopy walk. This is best enjoyed as dawn breaks and requires a 60m climb up 1,288 steps and a vertigo-inducing wriggle up a steel climbing frame.
The trees bulge and swell, their upper branches bursting through the filmy cloud. The cloying mist slides across my skin as, down below, leaves flutter as pygmy squirrels, light-bulb eyed miniatures of the species, peer out at the invaders. Walking across the narrow canopy bridges, strange, shrill noises drift up from below and to the sides.
A cicada, known locally as the tangil, sounds exactly like a dial-up internet connection to a modem, its chirrup replaced as morning begins to break by the occasional hoot of a gibbon. Frogs and toads make a noise like water being emptied from a bucket, while all around are massed curiosities such as the strangling fig tree – known by the indigenous people of Brunei as the iban and said to be capable of eating souls, which they catch in their tangled roots.
Lichen is everywhere, encrusted like decades-old wallpaper and tufted like miniature shrubs in shades of grey, green, red, black and blue. Giant fern fronds grow to the size of aircraft wings and lianas – woody climbers – are attached like ships’ ropes to many of the trees.
Perhaps, I conclude as we ride past the mangrove swamps on the way back to Bandar Seri Begawan and its incessant resonant hum of affluence, when nature speaks this fluently, it is unsurprising the people give so little away.
HOW TO GET THERE
Royal Brunei Airlines
offers flights from various countries. www.bruneiair.com
WHAT TO DO
Sunshine Borneo Tours
offers a range of itineraries.
www.exploreborneo.com
The writer stayed at the Ulu
Ulu National Park Resort in the Ulu Temburong National Park Rainforest.
www.uluuluresort.com
Comments are closed.