Bruno Manser Fonds
Heuberg 25
4051 Basel
Switzerland
phone +41 61 261 94 74
fax +41 61 261 94 73
updated 2001-05-25
Documentation "Totem for Bruno Manser"
Text for Bruno
Written by Mutang Urud
in rememberance of Bruno; a friend who is sometimes more than a brother, may 2001
"Beyond the boundaries of normalcy, Life holds great expectations" -Bruno Manser.
Bruno's words were wrapped around these arguments during one of our deep midnight conversations in Thusis. He has taught us that if we live within the confines of society's boundaries there is nothing much to learn. One has to step beyond that line to experience new things and fresh dimensions. In restricting ourselves to society's norms and standards, we rob our generations of creativity and inventiveness.
This is the image of Bruno that I often bring with me -the passionate and non-conformist advocate. He often carries with him a pinch of naughtiness and prankish jokes interspersed with meditative silence over moral truth.
Today, after 10 months since he disappeared, I came to meet with Bruno's ghost. It may still linger in his tiny room in Kleinlutzel. This is the only comfort for me, since Bruno is a very dear brother and what ever happened to him is very troubling. On entering his home my attention is directed at the walls which are covered with photos and artifacts of nature he has collected. I see images of peoples and places that we both knew. I'm staring in the faces of outspoken Penan men Kurau Kusin, Maleng, Along Sega and this cute Penan boy hugging a pet wild boar. Photos of your beloved dog that you couldn't bear to see put down, and sheep's in the Alps you've tended. Postcards of flowers and places you've been to, people you met and caves you've explored. Hornbill feathers from Borneo on the wall and mistle toe hanging from the rafters.
A chill runs through my body, as I discovered partly hidden behind the hanging coats, the caribou and muskox horns that you collected during our Arctic trip. The bull muskox horns which you labouriously cut with your Swiss Army knife connects us once more, where one is with me. On your worktable lies dried arctic cotton, multi-coloured lichen on stones and muskox hairs. That wonderful trip was the last that we shared together in nature. Those moments allowed us to catch up with personal and intimate discussions. I remember hearing how painful it was for you to discuss your fatigue caused by the decade of campaign for Sarawak. Despite the creativity and dedication in the strategies, the light at the end of the tunnel remains blurry.
In nature as in political company you are untamable. To ordinary people, your rests would be called high-risk activities, but to you it's child play. I remember on one of our hikes, how your curiosity got the better of you and a charging bull muskox almost attacked you. You put yourself in grave danger on this trip, like undertaking a canoe trip in the stormy ice waters on your own, but your indomitable will to survive and a superior survival skills kept you alive. Will your guardian angel be at work once more?
I came here to see you. To engulf myself in the place you call home. To see you in the things you gathered and enjoyed. To take comfort in your material collections, though it's a small respite. I wished to go to all the places where you put your foot to, to feel the ground that you lie on, to soak up the views over the Jura that brings peace to your soul those times when you're tired. I want to feel the textures of things that you have touched; the stones, the books, your drawing pens and your knife. To smell and breathe the air that filled your lungs. To console my spirit, I collected and brouhgt home with me kindling and rocks charred from your campfires. I searched desperately around for signs on the trees, or anything at all that you might have disturbed. I can still see the saw teeth marks from your Swiss army knife cutting through the fir branch to feed your fire. The aroma of the pinesap left on the living trees bore your signs. I lie on the grass where your soul has found warmth in the summer wanderings. As I look out to the alpine horizon my body heaves uncontrollably and my eyes are blurry. I called out to the wind, "Bruno, where art thou my brother?"
Your last words on the phone in May seemed different from other times. Whomever I talked to about your last words with them, you seemed to evoke the same kind of emotions -among your families and friends. It was a kind of sadness, which leaves me speechless and regretful. Was that your goodbye?
My first public appearance during this recent trip to Switzerland was at the Romero House in Lucern for the screening of Tong Tana II, filmed last March with Bruno as he made his way to Sarawak. Outside, there was an unusual roar of thunder and lightning, as wind and rain poured down while we listened to his interviews. In my talk I said, "If Bruno dies, he is where his happiness is realized, for he died doing what he loved. Our people, the Kelabit believe that the spirit of the wild has called him to permanently be in his beloved jungle. Even as we remember him tonight, the universe echoes our sorrow, coughing thunder and spitting rain."
You are notoriously reckless at times and your blunders even tickled the world, just like when you lost a quiver of poison darts hidden in the bush at a train station, while you rushed to check out a retail store that sells tropical wood. Your campaign is your life, and your life is the campaign.
Sometimes, it is disconcerting to see your actions, which are so untraditional and dangerous. Indeed, you live beyond the boundaries and it scares people, including me. It pricks us at the limit of our own comfort zone. But, those are heroic deeds and the very thing that attracts people to you, and brings admiration. As for myself, a person from within those forests, it is truly wonderful to have found someone who cares so deeply and one who gives without expecting.
The legacy and spirit that Bruno left must remain and the flame you lit in so many hearts all over the world must continue to burn. Often, social scientists and anthropologists chose not to act on behalf of the people they study or know so well. But, Bruno stayed true to his promise for the people and forest that sustained and received him well in his sojourn. For more than a decade after his return to Switzerland and until his recent disappearance, he tirelessly campaigned for the forest and Penan. Your selfless spirit and altruistic nature stands as an example for the advocacy world to emulate. You lived the communal and noble spirit of the Penan life. You became one of their kind. You opened the eyes of many to see the sanity of being generous and caring for our fellow human being though far away.
Truly, your life has been wonderfully exciting. You have left us with the challenge to do our best. Wherever you are brother, know that we will hold fast to our struggle.
As the Kelabit would whisper to the wind upon hearing the loss of loved ones far away, "Ngaéé ngaéé lawéé narih ale' ". Go in peace, my friend!
Mutang Urud