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updated 2001-07-03
Documentation "Mahnbaum für Bruno Manser"
Text for Bruno
by Thom Henley
BROTHER BRUNO
In many respects I knew that Bruno was my brother before I ever met him. Our shared love of the rainforest and the people of the forest, our vagabond ways and uncoventional lifestyles made us kindred spirits on a number of levels. But there was more. The Penan had bestowed upon Bruno the name "Ukap Urip", "Opening Life Up", for like a flower blooming he had brought them new hope. Years after my first encounter with the Penan in Sarawak I too was given a Penan name, based on Bruno's name I was told: "Pepejek Urip", "Lifting Life Upright".
Passing the House of Parliaments, may 23rd, 2001
I first went to Sarawak in April of 1989 as part of a four person fact-finding team -- The Endangered Peoples Project. Our video documentary and report to the Congressional Human Rights Foundation in Washington, D.C. put me in Bruno's camp, at least in the eyes of the Sarawak state government. The simple truth was I had never met or consulted with Bruno, nor did I want to. The Penan were forever encouraging me to go with them to Bruno's place of concealment but I did not wish to expose him or myself to any further risk of being arrested by the authorities. Anyone not totally blind could see for themselves the environmental and human rights atrocities taking place in Sarawak and one did not need to be part of an international co-ordinated campaign to take a stand on the issues. One thing about Bruno that impressed me even from afar was the Penan's obvious affection for him.They loved to repeat his clever play on Penan words and his songs that poked fun at the authorities and encouraged the people in their struggle. He had not set out to make the governments of Sarawak and Malaysia his adversaries, but they both made him theirs. Even though the Penan protest of logging clearly preceeded Bruno's arrival it served the state controlled media well to portray him as an outside agitator. It certainly saved the Malaysian government from having to do any real soul-searching of its own. There is nothing the Penan love more than keeping a secret from their enemies; concealing Bruno for 7 years had almost become the Penan's national sport. Since the Christian pacification of the Penan's traditional enemies -- the headhunting tribes, there had been little need for Penan secrecy. Bruno's presence and illegal status changed all that. I recall one visit to the Ulu Baram where a group of Penan designated for me Bruno's place of concealment by making a map of stones. "This is Bruno", they would say placing a stone on the ground. They then encircled that stone with many others, each representing a nomadic band of Penan. Any time that the police or the military came within this perimeter Bruno would be shifted to a new location and the security perimeter would be re-established. Knowing that nomadic Penan movements are never erratic but dependent on sago, wild fruit and game availability I came to realize the hardship the Penan put themselves through in concealing Bruno's location all those years. He was important enough for them to make the sacrifice and, in spite of huge reward offers, it is a tribute to his relationship with the Penan that no one ever betrayed him.
My involvement with the Penan through the Endangered Peoples Project was also drawing more and more heat with each successive visit to Sarawak. I recall bathing in the river one evening near Long Iman when the Penan suddenly held my head under water as a motorboat jetted past. If a government agent or anyone other than a Penan ever entered the settlement I would be quickly ushered out the back door of the longhouse and concealed in the jungle until they were gone. In Marudi I was repeatedly interrogated by the police when I would so much as speak to a Penan awaiting trial for logging road blockades. The fear and paranoia was so thick in Sarawak in those days you could cut it with a dull parang, and my own experiences must pale to insignificance compared to Brunos'. My first actual encounter with Bruno came in Hawaii of all places -- on the second day of the WILD (Wilderness Is The Last Dream) Conference in the summer of 1989. At one point during the formal proceedings I was quietly ushered out of the conference hall and taken to a nearby tropical garden beside a small creek. There was Bruno squatting on his haunches (Penan-style) enjoying a ripe mango. Without any words of introduction he sliced off a choice piece of the fruit put it in my mouth -- feeding me like a fellow Penan. He had heard of my efforts through the Penan and the growing movement on their behalf, and I had certainly heard of him; words weren't necessary at all. We just sat there on our haunches in the cool shade of a tree, munching on mango and listening to the friendly babble of the brook.
It was a full year later, in the autumn of 1990, that we embarked on a joint effort -- the "Voices for the Borneo Rainforest World Tour". It would put us together for two months and take us to 23 major cities in 14 countries, bringing the plight of the Penan to the world stage. I was the coordinator for the tour, Bruno and his close Kelabit friend Mutang Urud were the translators for the Penan, and Unga Paran and Mutang Tuo were the two Penan delegates chosen by their people to take their message to the world. It was designed as a high level tour which involved private sessions with the UN Secretary General, Senator Al Gore, Prince Bernhardt of the Netherlands, Madam Mitterand, ministers of government, corporate executives and countless news conferences, TV appearances and radio talk shows. Throughout the tour Bruno never once put himself ahead of the issue. In spite of his celebrity status -- especially in Europe -- he never let the press shift the discussion away from the Penan's plight and into the extraordinary story of his life in Borneo. Attempts to produce a Hollywood movie based on Bruno's story were viewed by him as diverting too far from the issue. I always admired him for that steadfast integrity and inspiring humility. The world tour did not produce the quick results we had hoped for but none of us quit our efforts. The Penan returned to Sarawak to carry on their struggle with their people, Bruno went to Switzerland to start up the Bruno Manser Fund, and Mutang Urud returned to Sarawak to start up the Sarawak Indigenous Peoples Alliance only to face arrest and imprisonment for his efforts. Mutang was later released and granted refugee status in Canada where he carries on his work to this day. For me the tour never really ended as I continued my globe trotting campaign -- presenting slide lectures on the Penan's plight as a keynote speaker at international conferences in more than a dozen countries. Like our brother Bruno Mutang and I also found ourselves officially banned from entering Sarawak.
It wasn't until the summer of 1999 that I got to spend some quality time with Bruno again. Mutang Urud, now a neighbor in Victoria, B.C., and Bruno joined me on a trip to the Canadian high arctic. We were all able to afford the flight to Cambridge Bay thanks to the bonus points my extensive air travel had racked up. It was a wonderful trip; Bruno came totally alive in the vast open space of the arctic tundra. He ran like a wolf over the tussocks, challenged the musk ox herds , played hide-and-seek with arctic fox cubs at their den site, and lost himself in the endless summer daylight. We would often go our separate ways during the day but meet up near midnight to cook dinner together. While snowy owls hunted for lemmings around our camp site, and the midnight sun worked its way slowly along the northern horizon, we would strategize on ways to save the Penan's beloved Tong Tana, half a world away. Bruno seemed sad and frustrated that the world had yet to embrace the Penan cause. He seemed weary of the struggle, the endless office hours and relentless lobbying. He spoke of wanting to do something else with his life, to have a family and pursue new adventures. Bruno stayed on in the arctic after Mutang and I returned to our homes in Victoria and other commitments. He nearly ended his life that summer due to his persistent stubornness and recklessness. He had told us that he wanted to go off totally alone to loose himself in the vastness of the landscape. Refusing our food, warm clothing, tent and stove, I told him that the only time the Inuit ever go off alone on the land is to die. Bruno did not die in the Canadian Arctic, of course, but it was little more than blind luck that saved him. As much as I admonished Bruno for his carelessness I secretly admired him for his daring. Without such daring he would never have had the life experience with the Penan which he had. Bruno's life has inspired me in many ways; it even influenced my first attempt at writing a short novel. The pain, the sorrow, the uncertainty we now feel after more than a year of his absense proves more than anything how many lives he touched. For me the cause he carried so nobly will continue, must continue. The Penan have never abandoned hope so why should we? Bruno is in Tong Tana, the place he most dearly loved, but I will always remember him where I last saw him -- playing wolf with the muskox in the high arctic. Good memories, brother.
Thom Henley May 21,2001 Victoria, B.C., Canada